Chapter 54: September 2nd, 1995, Hogwarts
I woke up very early that morning; I didn't have the mental ability to go back to sleep. I got up and got dressed, grabbing my bow and arrows and walking out to the Grounds.
I wasn't really going to hunt or shoot; I just wanted to go into the forest and find Herin before breakfast. The bow and arrows were so that no one would question my being out here. The grounds were extremely misty; a low fog was hanging over everything. I sighed and continued walking, heading out into the forest deftly. Upon entering the woods, I had to lean against a tree and take multiple, long, deep breaths – it was nerve-wracking to be out here, but at the least, it was a different forest.
Just think of Neville. Just keep thinking of Neville.
It worked; soon, I was breathing easier, not being transported to some world that I wasn't willing to be a part of. My heart felt fine; it was almost like being myself again. I swallowed happily and sprinted deeper into the forest, continuing to run until finally I felt safe enough to shift. Shifting – with no fear of being found – was glorious. I dove in and out between the trees, bobbing and weaving, until finally I stopped in the dead heart of the forest.
"HERIN," I shouted at the top of my lungs. Well, roared.
I waited a while; there wasn't any sign. "HERIN!" I repeated, now floating up to a higher branch to shout it from her head level. Now I could hear thumps – she was walking towards me. I waited expectantly, until she emerged from the trees, staring at me expectantly.
"Hello," I stated calmly.
"Hello," she responded, "I hear that you almost did not return."
"Erm… yes," if I had been a mammal, I would have blushed.
"The Americans are… unhappy with who you turned out to be," Herin was staring at me sternly.
"So was I," I flicked my tail nervously.
"But you are here," Herin stated.
"I got the help I needed," I muttered.
"The Americans claimed that you were unable to be helped," Herin growled.
"I found a way," I paused, "A friend."
"Which friend?" Herin demanded, "They insisted they had to give you drugs to even make you cooperate."
"Erm… the really tall one? The kind of chubby one?" I asked softly.
"The one you are with almost as much as your brother," Herin stated slowly.
"Yes," I mumbled, embarrassed.
"He helped you? So you no longer are using the chemicals?" Herin asked.
"I am not. I still am sick, up here," I motioned to my head with my claw, "But I am doing better. I can help now."
"You left before you completed your training," Herin glared slightly, "How much can you help?"
"I found my constant," I muttered in annoyance, "What else was there?"
"Halflings have special abilities as humans," Herin explained, "You are much more agile. They were to train you in Halfling martial arts."
"Oh," I paused, "Can you?"
"Do I look like a Halfling to you?" Herin snorted, "I cannot help. However, I believe one Halfling will make the trip over to finish your training, especially if I send word that you are indeed a viable asset."
"Thanks," I muttered darkly.
"They were convinced that we were doomed – one said it was like not having a Halfling here at all," Herin snarled, "You were dead to them."
"Yeah, well, I was dead to myself too," I muttered, "Are we done with the berating? I got help."
"Fine," Herin fluttered her wings in irritation, "I do not like to dwell on past misdeeds. We have much work to do."
"I've told some people. They all believe me," I sighed.
"They do? That we need to work together?" Herin asked.
"Yes. I've told my friends – I know that isn't much, but at least they'll help – and I've told one of the professors at the school. Not the white-bearded man… the lady in green," I explained calmly.
"The one who taught you to be a Halfling?" Herin questioned. I nodded.
"That is good. You must tell the white-bearded man immediately. Can you?" Herin asked.
"I can try. It's been hard for me to get a hold of him," I admitted sheepishly.
"You must. You must today. The Halfling is going to come and she needs to stay in the forest – and he needs to know," Herin shook her head, "You come back here regularly. I will keep you updated. But do not return until the white-bearded man knows. Then, I will send word."
"Alright," I nodded, "Alright. I will."
"Good. You have to continue your training. Only the Halfling will come… she is an adult, and volunteered," Herin paused, "Your trainers from the summer had to return to school."
"They were all students? I didn't realize," I growled.
"Yes. They are all almost done with schooling, though, and will enter the Riders next year… At any rate, I believe continuing with a new person is still good. The old group did not sound very enthusiastic about you," Herin sneered.
"No, they weren't," I sighed. The sun was getting higher in the sky; I had to go.
"Go. Keep up appearances. Come back when you have told him," Herin nodded. I flew back towards the edge of the forest; I landed high in one of the trees, looking out over the Grounds. The fog was still thick; I had to peer carefully, though sharp vision seemed to be a shared trait between dragons and birds.
Sure enough, out on the Grounds, a woman dressed in pink was walking around, looking into the forest.
Umbridge must have seen me out here. I immediately went on edge; my wings were rigid, my teeth were bared, my tail was high above my body. I growled very softly; there was no way she could hear me.
Umbridge continued to pace around the forest; she was waiting me out. I had an edge that she wasn't aware of; she look at the sky or the treetops once. It was good to know my animagus form was still a secret, at the very least.
I've got to get out of here. I glided right in front of Umbridge, but behind enough trees that she wouldn't be able to tell. I landed on another tree from behind her; she was still pacing on the edge of the forest. I kept gliding far away until I reached the far end of the trees; I drifted down to the ground and shifted. I then ran, as fast as I could, into the castle; my quiver bounced loudly on my back but I was plenty far away from her by now, she wouldn't hear. My heart was pounding in my chest and I could hear the blood pumping in my ears.
I reached the west courtyard entrance; I ran inside and closed the door behind me, panting heavily. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, took a deep breath, and wandered up to my new room. No one seemed to be awake, still. I looked at my watch – it was only seven in the morning. I ran up to the room and hastily whispered, "Draco prima," before getting inside and closing the door behind me.
"Where the hell did you go?" Neville asked angrily behind me. I turned around to see he was only half-dressed (pants, no shirt), looking at me in a panic. He seemed to be getting dressed in a hurry – I must have worried him.
"I'm sorry," I sighed, "I went out to see Herin."
"And?" Neville asked, quickly putting on his polo shirt, blushing somewhat.
"She wants me to tell Dumbledore immediately," I sighed, "When I do, another Halfling is going to fly over to continue my training. I have to learn dragon martial arts – I mean I've noticed this but my physical abilities as a human are still pretty… superhuman," I muttered.
"Alright, why do you have the bow?" Neville asked, "How did you deal with the forest?"
"It took some getting used to, but since nothing particularly terrible has happened to me in that forest – well, nothing that gave me PTSD – it didn't take me long. You've really helped me recover, Nev," I mumbled softly. Neville's face flushed more.
"Erm – the bow?"
"In case someone asked me why I was out there I wanted a plausible excuse. Any of the old professors wouldn't have given a crap," I frowned.
"But…?" Neville looked at me nervously.
"I had the sense to fly most of the way back – checked to make sure no one was on the Grounds outside the forest. Well… Umbridge was," I hissed angrily.
"Oh no," Neville groaned, "Do you think she saw you enter the forest?"
"Probably – why else would she be out there? At any rate, I flew around her to the other edge of the woods and ran back up here. I don't think she saw me," I shook my head, "At any rate, it would have been an amazing feat of speed for her to reach where I flew to by the time I ran out onto the Grounds; if she saw me after that, she can't prove I was in the forest."
"Good," Neville sighed, "You're going to have to be careful – if she catches you –"
"I know," I grumbled, "I'll have to go out at a different time… when it's more busy out on the Grounds, and she'll have less of a reason to question my being out there."
"Yeah, that would work," Neville paused, "We should go down to breakfast."
"I want to try and catch Dumbledore, first; breakfast hasn't technically started yet, he might still be in his office," I muttered.
"Alright… let me leave and make sure the coast is clear. I'm a Prefect… should count for something," Neville muttered irritably. He left the room quietly, and I waited for him to let me know the coast was clear – when he knocked, I quietly slipped out of the room.
"Come on, let's go," Neville muttered. We walked together though the corridors, up towards Dumbledore's office.
"Do you know the password?" I asked him hopefully.
"I'm a Prefect, not the bloody Queen – I'll try knocking," Neville groaned, "It's too early for this."
Neville knocked on the door, but no sound came out – I groaned in annoyance, nervously shifting the strap of my shoulder bag. Neville ran a hand nervously through his hair.
"Hem hem."
We both turned around in nervousness to see Umbridge standing before us, her hands folded neatly over her abdomen, a small smile on her face.
"May I ask why you both wish to see the Headmaster?"
"Er…" Neville stammered.
"Just wanted to ask him a question," I lied smoothly.
"Surely you could ask a professor your question?" Umbridge asked in a much-too-sweet voice.
"This is specifically for Dumbledore," I repeated calmly.
"How do you have a close enough relationship with the Headmaster to have a question that could only be answered by him?" Umbridge simpered.
"It's been a long four years," Neville responded, his lips drawn into a thin line.
"It would serve the both of you well to… limit the situations in which you need to privately see the Headmaster in the future," Umbridge's smile didn't seem to match her words now, "Now, you both should go down to breakfast, yes?"
We nodded; Neville put his hand on my back and hurried me away from the office. We both walked quickly down to the Great Hall, looking at each other in terror. We sat down quickly, me nervously shifting in my seat and looking around everywhere.
"How'd it go last night, guys?" Hermione asked, walking up and sitting across from us. Harry joined her, looking at us expectantly.
I shook my head wordlessly, looking around nervously for Umbridge. When I saw that she had taken her seat up at the front table, I turned and leaned in close to them, Neville following suit.
"It's been a nerve-wracking few hours," I muttered, describing the situation in the Forest, my need to speak to Dumbledore, and Umbridge ambushing us outside of his office.
"This is worse than I thought," Hermione whispered, her face white.
"What do we do?" Harry muttered angrily.
"We have to do everything as secretly as possible. She's already after us and classes haven't even begun – she's watching our moves like a hawk," I muttered, "I have to figure out a way to see Dumbledore soon."
"How are you going to do that?" Neville frowned worriedly.
"Efficiently. Meet with McGonagall tonight, ask her for the password," I shook my head.
"Or, corner him after breakfast," Harry nodded at the front table. Dumbledore was eating and chatting pleasantly with McGonagall. I frowned, pursing my lips, as McGonagall got up and walked over to our table.
"Course schedules," Hermione whispered, "Look normal."
I looked up and smiled at McGonagall as she came towards us; she gave me a look that clearly indicated she knew something was up as she handed me my schedule. History of Magic, Potions, lunch, Ancient Runes, Defense on Monday; Charms, Transfiguration, Lunch, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology on Tuesday, Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Lunch, Herbology Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy on Wednesday; History of Magic, Potions, lunch, Ancient Runes, then Astronomy late on Thursday; Defense, lunch, Arithmancy, Charms on Friday.
"Every class has two sections and one is a double!" Harry groaned loudly, "What the hell?"
"It's O.W.L. year," Hermione answered simply.
"We're going to die," I groaned loudly.
"We're not going to die," Neville muttered, though he didn't look convinced by his own words.
"So what happened to you lot?" I asked sullenly, already dreading the amount of charms I would have every week.
"Er…" Hermione flushed nervously.
"Let's just say your absence from the dormitories was noticed, and in your case Maggie, celebrated," Harry grumbled.
"Oh no," I whispered.
"Yeah… I excused Neville as doing Prefect stuff… but…" Harry frowned.
"Siobhan believes the Daily Prophet. She's been saying you have to sleep somewhere else because you're dangerously violent," Hermione muttered, "Lavender doesn't go quite that far, but she believes the stuff about Harry."
"So does Seamus," Harry muttered irritably.
"Bloody hell," Neville groaned, "Should I be in the dormitory to stop him from being a prat?"
"No, I can do that on my own," Harry rolled his eyes.
"And I threatened Siobhan with detention if she didn't keep her mouth shut about you," Hermione continued proudly.
"Thanks mate," I smiled weakly. Dumbledore was getting up from the front table; Umbridge was still eating her breakfast.
"I'm going to sneak out. Don't follow me; don't want to draw attention," I hissed. They all nodded and I quickly got up amongst a sea of second years who, thankfully, knew not to be afraid of me. The first years flinched whenever I came near. I followed the second years quietly and then sprinted up the steps, running after Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore!" I gasped, "Wait!"
He turned around and looked at me curiously.
"Can I talk to you?" I breathed, looking around nervously.
"Alone?" I added in a whisper.
"Don't you have a lesson soon, Miss Johnson?" Dumbledore asked, a trace of teasing in his voice.
"It can't wait," I muttered quietly. Dumbledore nodded, and I followed him up to his office quickly, eagerly sitting in a chair.
"So, what is so urgent and secretive that you needed to tell me now, in my office, Miss Johnson?" Dumbledore asked. I swallowed heavily.
"I am sure Professor McGonagall has told you about my animagus form."
"Yes, she has," Dumbledore peered at me over the tops of his spectacles, his eyes twinkling madly.
"Has she told you about… what I told her when she came over the summer?" I muttered quietly.
"She said that you had something to tell me, but she seemed to think it would be best if it came from you," Dumbledore acknowledged.
"Right, well… when I first shifted, I talked to this dragon that lives in the forest. Herin," I sighed, and then launched into my story bout the dragons, Voldemort, and America. When I was done, Dumbledore was looking at me, clearly thinking hard.
"I cannot say that this is entirely news. While the United States does not advertise its Dragon Riding program and initiatives, it is not hard to figure out from context clues. And dragons would make powerful allies, this is true… However, it would take a lot of work to accomplish, and put you into danger if the Ministry ever got wind," Dumbledore frowned, "Danger I cannot justify."
"It's not entirely up to you whether or not I do this, though," I responded angrily, "This needs to happen. You'll be ensuring my safety if you help me."
"You do realize that Professor Umbridge isn't only here to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Dumbledore asked quietly.
"Yes," I shrugged, "I'm telling you, I don't seem to have much of a choice. I tried to get out of it over the summer and they found me."
"Alright," Dumbledore paused, "When is the next time you have a break during a class time in your schedule?"
"Thursday," I muttered softly.
"That seems a bit far away from what your friend Herin would wish. Tomorrow we will go out during one of the universal breaks and enter the forest together. If you're with me, you cannot get into trouble," Dumbledore paused, "Do not go into the forest before then."
"Oh trust me, I won't," I sighed.
"Good," Dumbledore nodded, "Now, you should get to your lesson. I doubt Professor Binns will notice your absence, however, if you were to be caught in the hallway…"
I nodded in response and hurried out of there, walking through the hallways. Class hadn't started yet, thankfully, and I managed walk into Binns' room quickly, taking my seat next to Hermione.
"How'd it go?" she hissed quietly.
"We're giving Herin the okay tomorrow," I muttered in response.
"Oh good," she sighed.
"Anything happen in my absence?" I hissed. She shook her head.
"We left with the crowd and Umbridge didn't try to find us. I don't even know if she noticed your absence, but I wouldn't be surprised if she had," Hermione muttered, "You have to be more careful, Mags."
I nodded sadly, looking over at Harry furtively. Professor Binns was starting lecture, and Hermione was taking notes.
"You know who doesn't have a nickname in the Potter Squad?" I hissed.
"Potter Squad is better than Team Potter?" Hermione asked, looking at me in bemusement.
"Er… no it's not, never mind, scratch that one," I frowned, "But come on – Mags, Nev, Mione – Harry doesn't have a name!"
"No," Hermione frowned for a minute before looking at me mischievously, "That seems like something we should rectify, doesn't it?"
I grinned eagerly, "It does."
"Sadly, we can't use the same method we have for the three of us. All of our nicknames are shortened versions of our names… Harry's options are just 'Har' and 'Ry' and, well…" Hermione frowned again.
"Har would be friggen hilarious thought," I giggled. Hermione flicked me in the arm, clearly as a method of saying pay attention. I sighed and lazily doodled on my parchment instead. Today we had three-quarters of an hour of giant wars as the topic of conversation. If it hadn't been taught by Binns, maybe I would have actually been interested… sadly, this was not the case. Class ended and we all walked out, heading towards potions.
"Last first potions class ever… last first potions class ever…" Neville kept muttering under his breath.
"That is a song of hopefulness," I chuckled softly.
"Well it is," Neville smiled serenely, "The best potions class of my life, of course, will be the very last one – but this comes close."
We reached the dungeons and sat inside, Harry and I taking our table and Neville and Hermione taking theirs. I sighed, waiting silently, until Snape slowly walked into the room.
"Before we begin today's lesson," Snape began slowly, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my… displeasure."
Snape looked briefly at Neville, but I growled softly under my breath. Snape quickly looked away.
"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me. I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye," Snape sneered at Harry, and I rolled my eyes. Frankly, his routine was old.
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell, so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students. Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. The ingredients and method," Snape flicked his wand, "Are on the blackboard. You will find everything you need in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half… start."
I sighed and got started on the potion, mixing it slowly and following every line. Neville nearby was sweating profusely, and appeared to already be making mistakes – Hermione was hissing in his ear.
"I hate this class," Harry muttered angrily.
"Yeah, well, life sucks. If this was organic chem I bet I'd be better," I mumbled in annoyance, "Like what the fuck is in hellebore to make this work – I don't even – ergh."
"Your dad is an apothecary, how the hell aren't you better at this nonsense?" Harry snorted, adding syrup of hellebore to his potion.
"You know, this is a very good question," I paused in amusement.
"Your father merely sells potions ingredients," I looked up to see Snape standing over me, "He does not utilize them."
"He does stuff all the time – we don't buy any of our potions," I muttered in anger.
Snape sneered slightly in disbelief before announcing to the class, "A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion."
I breathed a sigh of relief – Harry and I were both in the clear. Neville's potion, however, was spitting green sparks.
"Tell me, Longbottom, what is this supposed to be?" Snape sneered.
"Th-the Draught of Peace," Neville mumbled. It was so terrible to witness – whenever Snape talked to him, it was as though he had been transported back four years.
"Tell me, Longbottom, can you read?" Snape asked softly. Malfoy laughed in a corner; a handful of ingredients crumbled in my tense hand.
"Yes," Neville muttered.
"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Longbottom."
"A-Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two d-drops of syrup of hellebore." Neville looked positively ill.
"Did you do everything on the third line, Longbottom?"
"No," he mumbled so quietly I could barely hear him.
"Enunciate, Longbottom – unless you do not know the meaning of that word –" Malfoy roared with laughter.
"I know what it means," Neville muttered angrily.
"Five points from Gryffindor for cheek, Mr. Longbottom. Did you do everything on the third line?"
"I forgot the bloody moonstone," Neville snapped, "Because I couldn't read the instructions in your bloody, steam-filled classroom! Why not write something on a piece of parchment for a change? How is anyone supposed to be able to see that?"
The entire classroom went completely silent. Harry and Hermione's mouths dropped open in shock. Ron dropped a handful of leeks into his cauldron, causing it to explode into his face, but Snape didn't make any motion to help him in his current state of being on fire. My face, however, had grown into a large grin.
"Detention, Longbottom. And twenty more points from Gryffindor for your insubordination," Snape hissed.
"Why don't you write it down, though?" I muttered, "I can barely see it either."
Snape slowly turned to look at me, his face torn between the fact that he owed my mother, and the fact that I was undermining his authority in the classroom.
"You know what's really surprising?" Neville continued, his hands balled into fists at his side, "I do research for Professor Sprout, and you know – when I don't have you breathing down my neck – and I have the instructions on a piece of paper, right in front of me – I never get it wrong."
Snape looked absolutely furious now, and made a motion with his had – almost imperceptible – as though to grab hold of Neville's neck.
"A week's detentions!" he finally snapped, "I would hold your tongue from now on in my class, idiot boy."
"How many other students in this class are conducting research?" I muttered angrily, "Sounds like he's far from an idiot."
Snape looked at me furiously, his hands trembling at his sides.
"Detention for you, as well, Johnson," he finally got out. Ron had been put off sometime during this exchange by Seamus, who was fairly well-versed in eliminating fires – but now he was shocked that Snape had given me detention, and had dropped something else into his cauldron, setting more of his hair on fire. Snape couldn't ignore it any longer and waved his wand, but everyone looked at the proceedings in shock. It was well known by now that I was the one Gryffindor he never gave detention to.
"Longbottom, this slop is utterly worthless. Evanesco."
The contents of Neville's cauldron vanished; he looked absolutely seething with rage, his hands still tightly balled into fists.
"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing. Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday," Snape dismissed.
I handed in my potion, glaring at him angrily, and following Neville out of the classroom.
"I am done," he stated immediately, before Hermione could reprimand him, "I am not going to take any more of his shit. I am not an idiot. I am not a moron. I do not deserve to be treated the way he treats me – Goyle's potion was much worse than mine! Ron's was practically on fire already! And fuck it, whenever I have to do shit for Sprout, I do it perfectly. I have conducted one hundred and sixty-three perfect extractions of the curse-blocker protein from my plants, but do we ever fucking hear about it? No!" Neville shouted as we sat down at the Gryffindor table, "But the media paints me as some sort of moron, and Snape has spent my entire education fucking helping them! Where was I this time last month? Tracking Maggie down in the middle of London, without magic. I defeated the Devil's Snare when I was eleven – I fought a fucking basilisk when I was twelve – I faced a serial killer when I was thirteen – and I am done letting him bully me!"
Hermione was rendered speechless.
"Good for you, Neville," I praised, beaming proudly at him.
"Well it's all thanks to you, Mags," Neville stated calmly, his breath slowing back down, "If it weren't for you believing in me since – I dunno, the first minute of bloody first year – I might have just cowered in a corner during that lesson. Fuck, if it wasn't for you believing in me, I probably wouldn't even be Harry's friend."
"Oh man, that would have been bullocks," Harry frowned, "Maggie did push me into being your friend first year – I'm glad she did, mate –"
"Who else would make sure you didn't blow a gasket every second?" Neville smirked.
"No one – who would I even have been friends with?" Harry frowned.
We all slowly looked over at Ron, who looked extra funny without any eyebrows. His mouth was full of food, and he looked at us looking at him in surprise.
"Wha?" he managed to say through the food.
Hermione's eyes grew wide and she just slowly shook her head in bemusement.
"Speaking of friendship, Hermione put the kibosh on Potter Squad," I informed Neville sadly.
"Dammit," he groaned, pulling out a pad of paper and crossing off a line on list.
"Wait, you have a bloody list?" Harry demanded.
"Came up with a bunch of alternatives last night while we tried to fall asleep," I explained.
"So that's what you two do in bed," Hermione murmured very quietly into her soup. I splurted out the pumpkin juice I was drinking in shock.
"Oi!" Neville shouted, hitting her lightly upside the head. She giggled loudly.
"At any rate, Neville, as wonderful as it is to see you sticking up for yourself, you are a Prefect," she hissed quietly, "You need to stay out of trouble!"
"I don't really care," Neville snapped, "I didn't ask for this."
"For Snape to torture you, or…?" Harry asked.
"To be a bloody Prefect!" Neville shouted, "I don't want it, I meant it when I fucking got it – I can't with this, I'm going to the Greenhouses, I have the next class off, I'll see you lot in Defense." He got up and stomped out of the room; you could practically see steam coming out of his ears.
"He really has snapped," Hermione commented lightly.
"Shouldn't someone go after him?" Harry sighed.
"I would, but I'm trying to not draw attention to myself," I muttered, looking up at the front table in worry. Umbridge seemed to be staring at me, but that couldn't be right. It had to have been someone else.
Hermione and I slowly made our way out to Ancient Runes together, her looking to be deep in thought. Sam caught up with us, looking at us in confusion at our sullen expressions.
"Neville finally snapped in potions," I sighed.
"Well it's about bloody time," Sam snorted. Hermione sighed heavily.
"He really seems to be on edge – I think taking care of the three of us all the time is finally getting to him," Hermione muttered.
"Between my flashbacks, Harry's anger issues, and your anxiety, we are a couple of crazy people," I acknowledged.
"It's never been this bad before. Neville's always been the listener, for the three of us, but the three of us have never all had problems at once before…" Hermione frowned, "I don't think it's fair to keep piling this on him."
"No it's not," I agreed, "We should try and be more understanding."
"Yeah," Hermione nodded.
Professor Babbling had come out then; she looked as friendly as ever, though somewhat serious. Sam was sitting back in his chair, sitting alone as per usual; he looked annoyed at having to be here.
"Welcome to your third year of Ancient Runes! This year we will finish our studies of the major Wizarding Rune languages. Now, for those of you who choose to continue on to the N.E.W.T. level, know that we will be examining more obscure texts in our final two years of study; it will become much more difficult, and much more esoteric as we continue. However, first, we must continue with our foundations. Now, I hold my O.W.L. students to very high standards indeed – I have never, not once, had a failing grade in my class. Do not be the first year to let me down," she smiled at all of us.
I did love her class; I was happy enough to comply with her wish. I spent the rest of the day learning the Arabic alphabet; Sam and Hermione actually switched seats, as she already knew it; she spent the whole class laughing at us as we struggled.
"Would you stop being such an overachiever," Sam muttered in annoyance.
"No," she practically sang.
"Let her have this, she has to deal with so much slack for her heritage," I rolled my eyes.
"Yes, not making fun of me for knowing the alphabet of my ancestors totally makes up for years of racism and anti-Semitism," Hermione snorted.
"As a representative of white people, you're welcome," I laughed.
"You're not even white!" Hermione threw a quill at me and I laughed harder.
"She's more white than either of us," Sam pointed out.
"Good point," I frowned, "I forget that."
"You're proud of being Scottish!"
"Stop it with your words of logic," I snorted at Hermione, who threw another quill at me.
The rest of the class passed without incident; it actually managed to put me in a halfway decent mood, though I knew Defense was coming up. Unfortunately, we were given the assignment of copying down Arabic letters onto a foot of parchment.
"This is on top of Binns' foot and a half long essay on giant wars, and Snape's foot long essay on moonstones – bloody hell!" I shouted in amazement.
"Wait, Binns assigns a foot and a half?" Sam groaned loudly, "Oh no."
"And Snape a foot," I repeated.
"Oh no," Sam groaned again.
"What have you had? What do we get in other classes?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"Oh Merlin – well the Umbridge woman is a piece of work," Sam sighed, "I wanted to rip her throat out."
"Oh no," Hermione groaned.
"We're headed there now," I moaned.
"You spend the whole time reading the first chapter of the textbook – there's no use of magic, mind – and then we have to read chapter two next class. No homework though," Sam offered with a grimace.
"No magic?!" Hermione and I gasped in unison.
"Er… yeah," Sam frowned. We were almost at the classroom; Sam looked at us in worry. We must have looked absolutely furious.
"I have Herbology now, with the Slytherins… Erm… you lot going to be okay?" he asked worriedly.
"Yes," I snapped peevishly, "See you in Charms tomorrow."
"Yeah…" Sam didn't look convinced as Hermione and I went inside the Defense classroom and sat down. Neville was already in the seat we usually shared, fiddling with the pages of his book.
"Sorry for freaking out earlier," he muttered quietly.
"It's okay. I have a feeling someone is about to freak out themselves in this class," I hissed.
"What do you –"
Harry had walked in and sat next to Hermione; she was still looking furious and class hadn't even started yet. We only had Defense with the other Gryffindors in our year; Professor Umbridge walked in and sat at her teacher's desk, still wearing her fluffy pink cardigan. She looked like a large, fluffy toad.
"Well, good afternoon!" she simpered when we were all inside.
"Good afternoon," Neville muttered, but few people joined him.
"Tut, tut," Professor Umbridge sighed, "That won't do, now will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," we all stated dully in unison.
"There now, that wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."
I had known this was coming; still, I was not happy about it as I set the book on my desk. Umbridge had taken out her own short wand and waved it at the blackboard; words appeared there that said Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Return to Basic Principles.
"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" Umbridge began, "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."
Words once again appeared on the blackboard: Course aims: 1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic 2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used 3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
I copied it down in shorthand; soon she ordered us to read the textbook, and so I grabbed it silently, already feeling like I was going to want to kill myself for being in this class.
However, the entire class looked on in shock as Hermione raised her hand into the air, her textbook not even opened.
Between Neville's outburst in Potions and this, it was a banner day for the Gryffindor fifth-years. Everyone stared at Hermione in shock, and then at Umbridge, waiting expectantly for her to answer Hermione's question.
"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge finally had to acknowledge when half the class was staring at Hermione, and not at the book.
"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione sighed.
"Well, we're reading just now," Umbridge smiled much too sweetly, "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."
"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione said softly.
"And your name is -?"
"Hermione Granger," Hermione responded calmly.
Umbridge's smile grew wider, "Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."
"Well, I don't," Hermione responded bluntly, "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."
"Using defensive spells? Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?" Umbridge simpered.
"We're not going to actually practice?" Neville demanded.
"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. –?"
"Longbottom," Neville responded irritably, raising his arm into the air almost sarcastically.
Umbridge smiled wider and turned away from him. Harry and Hermione both thrusted their own arms into the air; I didn't know whether or not to do the same myself, so I just sat on my hands.
"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"
"Yes," Hermione sighed, "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Umbridge asked sweetly.
"No, but –"
"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way –"
"What use is that?" Harry asked loudly, "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a –"
"Hand, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge sang.
Everyone looked at, not Harry, but me in shock – usually it was me who had angry outbursts, but all three of my friends had done so today before me. My spat with Snape didn't count as an angry outburst; we slung wit at each other like that every class.
Harry thrust his hand in the air, but now everyone else was raising their hands. I was mad, but as was so often the case since I had developed PTSD, I couldn't get as red-hot angry as I used to.
"And your name is?" Umbridge asked Dean, who had raised his hand.
"Dean Thomas." Dean and Seamus had been holding hands before, but now they weren't; Seamus looked positively peeved that Dean was talking in class, on the side of Harry.
"Well, Mr. Thomas?"
"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" Dean said, "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free –"
"I repeat, do you expect to be attacked during my classes?" Umbridge was still smiling. The old me would have wanted to rip it off of her face – frankly, the new me did too.
"No, but –"
"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed – not to mention," Umbridge laughed nastily, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."
My quill pen snapped in half in my hands; Neville looked at me in amusement. Hermione did too. It was almost as if they were encouraging me.
"if you mean Professor Lupin," Dean responded angrily, "he was the best we ever –"
"Hand, Mr. Thomas! And I would remind you that it is not proper to keep it in the hand of another man's!" Umbridge screamed.
My mouth dropped open in shock; so did everyone else's. Every Gryffindor had responded to their couplehood with cheers last year; not a single person was against them, at least in-House.
"That was homophobic!" Seamus couldn't stop himself from shouting, all the color drained from his face.
"I'm afraid I do not know what that nonsense means – as I was saying, you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day –"
"No we haven't!" Hermione protested, "We just –"
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"
Hermione put up her hand, Umbridge ignored her. My fingers were beginning to shake; I had to force myself to count to ten.
"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you –"
"Well he turned out to be a Death Eater in disguise!" Neville shouted, "We learned loads from him, though, doesn't matter –"
"Your hand is not up, Mr. Longbottom!" Umbridge sang, "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, looking intently at Parvati, who had just raised her hand.
"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the coutnercurses and things?"
"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Umbridge responded dismissively.
"Without ever practicing them before?" Parvati asked incredulously, "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"
"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough –"
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry demanded angrily.
"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," Umbridge said softly.
I couldn't help it; I snorted very loudly.
"Something funny, Miss Johnson?" Umbridge asked sweetly.
I looked at her for a long time; I was carefully constructing my response.
"Just, you know, if this wasn't the real world in here, I really am surprised, since it has felt like it," I said calmly, "I mean, you know, I've nearly died, what – three, four times? Probably more? And I mean, it's really comforting to know that this wasn't the real world, cause then I wouldn't really die, would I? I'd get to come back and everything. Good to know, thanks," I nodded, fake-smiling up a storm.
Umbridge looked at me in fury; I seemed to have touched a nerve.
"I do not know what circumstances you have gotten into that have made you think you were going to die, Miss Johnson, but I can assure you –"
"It's simple. There was Lord Voldemort trying to get his body back first year – oh, and then that giant snake sitting in the basement second year – and then my favorite, a serial killer who wasn't incarcerated third year – and then last year, you should remember this, it wasn't too long ago, I was in the middle of a giant forest, where a fellow student was put under the Imperius Curse and then killed another member of the task," I frowned, "You know, yeah he used Unforgiveable Curses in front of us, but if he hadn't done that I wouldn't have known what the Imperius Curse even was, and then Angelina might be in Azkaban right now, and lord knows, she didn't do anything wrong."
The class was stunned into silence. Neville was grinning at me.
Umbridge was staring at me furiously, "Those first three situations were those that you should have left to the proper authorities – and it was your own fault for getting into them. Last year's tragedy, sadly, was just that – an abnormal event that could not have been predicted."
"The warning signs were everywhere!" Harry shouted.
"The entire year was completely mad from the start," I agreed, still surprisingly calm, "People were disappearing all over the place – if there was ever a point at which to think, hey, we should cancel this deadly tournament we started, it was then!"
"There were no warning signs –"
"Yeah there were! Loads of them!" Harry shouted.
"Who could have been giving warning signs for such a thing, Mr. Potter?"
"Hmm, let's thing," Harry stated sarcastically, "Maybe… Lord Voldemort?"
Lavender Brown gave a little scream; Siobhan fell off of her stool; Seamus gasped loudly.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, Miss Johnson," Umbridge said, her smile growing quite evil.
"Now, let's make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark Wizard has returned from the dead –"
"He wasn't bloody dead, are you mad?" Harry said, "But yeah, he's returned!"
"Mr. Potter, do not make matters worse for your self!" Umbridge said one breath, "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."
"It is NOT a lie! I saw him, I fought him!" Harry roared.
"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge stated, "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a li. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means –"
"Look, let's just say that Voldy-pants isn't back – which he totally is, by the way," I interjected angrily, "Remember that serial killer on the lose two years ago? You never caught him. What you just said was a complete lie."
Everyone fell silent. Neville looked like he was about to clap.
"Miss Johnson –"
"And you know what, this is irresponsible governing. Frankly," I felt anger rise in my chest, "Even if Harry was lying – even if Dumbledore was wrong – it is in the best interests of the public to prepare for any sort of disaster! You don't tell people living in California to just hope that earthquakes won't happen. You don't tell people living in the tropics not to be ready for hurricanes! Wishful thinking doesn't make bad things go away! Hoping that the tragedy in Rwanda wasn't happening didn't magically make a genocide disappear! But you know what, preparing for those things – even needlessly – can save lives! Preparing for Voldy-pants' return might seem superfluous, but at the very least, you'd be prepared if it happened, or if another Dark Wizard rose up, or what have you!"
"Detention for you, as well! Come by my office tomorrow at ten o'clock," Umbridge stated calmly. I was standing up with anger; my hands were balled into fists.
"Do you completely deny that bad people exist?" I asked calmly.
"I do not deny this," Umbridge responded, "The Ministry has measures in place to deal with –"
"Clearly not good enough ones, or else Voldemort never would have happened in the first place!" I shouted.
"And if Voldemort isn't back, according to you, Effi Rosenthal dropped dead of her own accord, did she?" Harry stood up too, looking at me out of the corner of his eye.
Everyone looked at Harry in shock; he hadn't described the event to anyone apart from the three of us.
"Effi Rosenthal's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge responded coldly.
"It was murder," Harry responded through gritted teeth, "Voldemort killed her, and you know it."
"Also," Neville stood up too, "Homophobia, Professor Umbridge, is hatred of people who are gay. Now, I don't know Seamus or Dean's orientation, but it's a good catch-all term for disliking people in same-gender relationships. It's bigoted, it's backwards, and it's reflective of a very ignorant point of view."
"And Professor Lupin was the best professor we ever had for this class, and his ability to teach us had nothing to do with whatever conditions he may have had," Hermione also stood up, her eyes narrowed angrily, "We learned more that year than the other three years put together."
Umbridge looked at the four of us for a long moment, but then whispered, "Mr. Longbottom, Miss Granger, you both have detentions as well. I will see you, Mr. Longbottom, on Wednesday at ten o'clock. Miss Granger, I will see you Wednesday at five."
"We have astronomy," Hermione answered surprisingly calmly, as she hadn't received a detention since first year.
"Then I will see you both the next time you do not have astronomy," Umbridge corrected.
"Friday," Neville muttered angrily.
"Mr. Potter, please come here, dear," Umbridge simpered. Harry walked up to her desk as Umbridge pulled out a roll of pink parchment and started scribbling on it; after a minute, she rolled it up and tapped on it with her wand, so that it sealed itself.
"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," Umbridge ordered.
Harry left without another word, slamming the door to the classroom behind him.
"Now, if you all could please open your books and continue reading –" Umbridge began.
"This is insane," I hissed softly.
"You should hold your tongue in my class, Miss Johnson, if you wish to –"
"Freedom of speech!" I shouted, "Is a thing! It is a thing!"
"Not in my classroom!"
"What other rights will you be taking away from us, then? I just want to make a note in my calendar!" Neville laughed sarcastically.
"Now, Mr. Longbottom –"
"Oh I wouldn't hold tightly to too many of your rights, Neville, since she doesn't apparently believe in the personhood of Remus Lupin!" Hermione laughed shrilly. We were all still standing.
"Now, in all my hears, I have never known any witches or any wizard to behave –"
"I AM NOT A WIZARD!" Neville shouted before he could stop himself. Hermione and I stared at him in shock, my eyes widening madly, her mouth dropping open in shock.
"Don't be silly, Mr. Longbottom…"
"I AM A WIX!" Neville roared, "It means I am a magic using person who is neither a man or a woman! I do not have a gender! I am, in fact, agender! Gender is ridiculous and stupid! And I ask that you use this term from now on!"
"Mr. Longbottom, there is not such thing as wix. You are a man if you are born with male genitalia, and a woman if you are born with female genitalia. I do not know what fantasy world you have been permitted to live in –"
"If he says he's a wix, then he's a wix! What does it matter to you?" I shouted.
"The comfort and safety of students is more important than the preservation of your worldview!" Hermione agreed.
Umbridge stared at us all for a minute before saying, "Mister Longbottom, please take this," she scribbled out another note and give it to Neville, who was fuming, "And go with Miss Johnson and Miss Granger to Professor McGonagall's office."
We all left quickly, Hermione looking terrified, Neville still looking furious.
"Neville – you do know they all know, now, right –"
"Who cares if they know?" Neville roared at Hermione, "They might as well! I'm sick of people calling me a boy!" He kicked a statue in the hallway in his rage and it actually toppled over; but we kept moving.
We entered McGonagall's office; Harry was already there. She read the letter without a word and sighed heavily.
"I see you lot are terrible at following my directions," she muttered in annoyance.
"Since when were we ever able to follow the rules," I sighed.
"Well, at any rate, all four of you have detention this whole week. You'll have to work it around your astronomy lessons. I'm sorry, but I cannot argue with her, she is your teacher and she has every right to give you all detention," McGonagall shook her head, "Your detentions all start tomorrow."
"Bloody hell," Neville swore.
"Neville, I am not your enemy, and I would appreciate being treated as such," McGonagall stated calmly.
"Sorry," Neville muttered sheepishly.
"Let this serve as a lesson to you all. Keep your heads down, and your tempers under control. I'll see you this evening, Maggie," McGonagall nodded, walking over and holding the door open for us. We all left in a crowd, wandering off to dinner together, Hermione hissing to Harry what he had missed.
"The Lightening Bolts?" Neville asked as though nothing had happened. I looked at him and smirked.
"Absolutely not," Harry responded behind him, "Don't be mad."
"I already am," Neville laughed humorlessly, walking into the Great Hall with a grim expression on his face, "I already am."
AN: Please review! Thanks!
