Umbridge began the lesson with her usual "Wands away." A few overly optimistic students put their wands back in their bags and took out their textbooks. Morgana and I, who shared a desk this time, had our copies of Dark Arts Defense already open in front of us, prepared for the painfully dull lesson we were about to have.

"As we finished chapter one last lesson," said Umbridge, "I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

I had finished chapter one last week and had continued onto chapter two in an attempt to keep myself occupied. Now, I flipped to chapter three and started skimming over the pages of the textbook. Every once in a while, I'd add a doodle of a stick figure putting a hex on toad-Umbridge to the margins.

"Granger's at it again," muttered Evie under her breath.

I looked up from my doodle and saw that, sure enough, two desks in front of me, Hermione Granger had her hand raised in the air and her gaze fixed on Umbridge. Umbridge was trying to ignore her, but as more and more students stopped doing their work and started to watch, Umbridge had little choice but to ask, "What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read chapter two," said Granger.

I rolled my eyes. Morgana and I had all finished chapter two as well, but we weren't going to brag about it. Common sense said to move on to chapter three.

"Well then, proceed to chapter three," said Umbridge with a toothy smile.

"I've read that too," said Granger. "I've read the whole book."

Evie scoffed. "Overachiever."

I had never seen a surprised toad until I saw Umbridge's blank face. She quickly recovered, however, and said, "Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named," said Granger without missing a beat. "He says 'counter-jinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."

Umbridge was impressed against her will.

"But I disagree," said Granger.

Umbridge's expression grew colder, and in a low voice, she asked, "You disagree?"

"Yes, I do," said Hermione loudly. "Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you?" said Professor Umbridge. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

Granger opened her mouth to argue. "But—"

"That is enough," said Professor Umbridge, rising from her seat and moving to the window. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House."

The Gryffindor students all scowled at this.

"What for?"

No one was surprised when Harry Potter's voice filled the classroom.

"Don't you get involved," hissed Granger.

I agreed with Granger. No one liked Umbridge's lessons, but that didn't mean we had to argue with her every single class period. Why couldn't Potter—and Granger, for that matter—put their heads down and pretend to do work like the rest of us for just one class.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Umbridge smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them—with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects—would have passed a Ministry inspection—"

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Potter loudly, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

I hid a laugh behind my textbook. Morgana heard and turned to stare at me. I tried to pass the sound off as a cough; Harry Potter had an impressive sassy streak.

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge.

I sighed and returned to the book in front of me. Potter and detention was quickly becoming the norm in our Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Can you believe it?" hissed Hermione Granger, her sharp voice interrupting my attempts to solve Problem Seventeen on the Arithmancy worksheet. "Umbridge is Hogwarts' first High Inquisitor."

Ernie Macmillan glanced around nervously as if afraid someone might overhear their conversation and take away his shiny prefect badge. In a low voice, he said, "Well, there are some teachers who ought to be sacked. You know about Professor Trelawney, right? You walked out of her class third year, didn't you?"

"Still," said Granger hotly, "it's Professor Dumbledore's decision."

Tuesday had brought with it beautiful weather, and sunlight streamed in through the window of the Arithmancy classroom, while the few fifth-year students who had decided to take a math class instead of Care of Magical Creatures or Divination were pouring over sheets of numbers.

Personally, I enjoyed Arithmancy. I liked learning how to predict the future and detect signs of magic with numbers, learning a way to understand magic beyond just saying random words and waving a wand. It was the most mentally challenging class I was taking, but it was also the most interesting. And of course, I was also very good at it.

"Did you get Problem Twelve?" asked Morgana, leaning over to examine the scribbles on my spare piece of parchment. "The number 823,543 keeps coming up."

"It's seven multiplied by itself seven times," I said.

Morgana squinted at the parchment in front of her. "It is?"

"Magical numbers multiplied by themselves occurring naturally indicate magical interference," I explained.

"I know that," said Morgana. "But what does that have to do with—"

"Did you hear what happened?" asked Granger. "Umbridge inspected the fifth year Divination class."

Macmillan nodded. "I heard Umbridge demanded that Trelawney make a prediction on the spot."

"Harry told me," said Granger. "That Trelawney—as per usual—predicted grave danger and Umbridge scoffed and said 'Well, if that's the best you can do…'"

"She said that in front of the whole class?" asked Macmillan, scandalized.

Granger nodded.

I'd always liked Tuesdays because I had no classes with Gryffindor house. The only Gryffindor I had to see the entire day was Hermione Granger in Arithmancy, and today, she was doing her best to make up for the absence of the rest of her house.

I turned to Morgana and said, more loudly than necessary, "Is 859 a prime number?"

Morgana opened her textbook and flipped to the table of prime numbers in the back. "Looks like it."

"How can they force that horrible woman on us?" asked Granger. "And fifth year too. We've had bad Defense Against the Dark Arts professors in the past, but she's the worst by far. I don't want to fail my OWL just because the Minister of Magic doesn't want to believe You-Know-Who is back."

I glared at Hermione's back. Yes, Umbridge was terrible. Yes, the Ministry shouldn't be interfering with Hogwarts like this. Yes, we would all like to pass our OWLs. But some people were actually trying to do their Arithmancy work right now and didn't want to hear about what a horrible person Dolores Umbridge was.

"Try not to kill her," muttered Morgana.

"Justin, Zacharias, and I were talking about getting the older students to teach us," said Macmillan. "They've already passed their Defense Against the Dark Arts OWLs, so they know what will be on the test."

"That's a good idea," said Granger. "But are the older students willing to teach the material? Don't they have their own exams to study for?"

"We haven't asked yet," said Ernie.

Granger went very still all of a sudden, as if she was considering something. I didn't think too hard on the meaning behind Granger's silence though, as I could finally work on Problem Seventeen in peace.

"Ashe," said Hannah Abbott, as patiently as possible, "please concentrate. I don't want to have to put out any fires this time."

We were sitting in Charms class wands out and textbooks open. Flitwick had decided to start out the year by doing some revision, which meant we had already practiced the Summoning and Banishing charms and were now moving on to the fire-making spell. Last year, it'd taken me three weeks to learn how to perform the spell with moderate efficiency. That had been three weeks of Hannah ducking and dodging the spout of flames coming from my wand; she had become very good at putting out fires.

"Sorry," I muttered. I pointed at the unlit candle placed on desk between us and, with a flick of my wand, said, "Incendio."

The corner of the desk caught on fire.

"Finite Incantatem," said Hannah with a wave of her own wand.

The fire vanished, leaving only a black scorch mark on the desk's surface.

"Oops." I grinned sheepishly. "Have I ever told you that you're the best Charms partner ever?"

"Every year for the last three years," said Hannah with a smile. "But really," she added, lowering her voice, "you should ignore Umbridge."

"How can I ignore her?" I asked.

We both glanced at the front of the room where Umbridge, clad all in pink, sat behind Flitwick's desk, making notes on her little clipboard. I hadn't seen Umbridge evaluate a professor yet, though I'd certainly heard a lot about it. Apparently, Umbridge had been present for their Care of Magical Creatures lesson, and she'd been praising Grubbly-Plank while dropping sharp jabs at Hagrid. Pansy had been hopeful that Hagrid would be fired if he ever returned, while Morgana and Ashe admitted they preferred Grubbly-Plank as a teacher.

Flitwick, it seemed, had no problem with Umbridge, and he had welcomed her into the classroom as if she were a long-lost friend. He'd returned our graded homework assignments, talked to us about the theory of the fire-making charm, and then had us pair-off to practice the spell. He was orderly, informative, and practiced in his teaching methods; Umbridge had nothing to complain about. Except, maybe, my inability to set a candle on fire.

"I had her for Muggle Studies," said Hannah in a low voice. "She did much the same. Asked a few questions. Wondered if Muggle Studies was really an appropriate subject. Asked the professor a couple questions and then left."

"Did she really ask if Muggle Studies was an appropriate subject?" I asked, mortified.

Hannah nodded. "Professor Burbage gave her a long lecture on the importance of cultural awareness."

"Good," I said. As I turned back to the candle, I muttered, "Our Ministry representative is a wizarding elitist. Great."

"She used to be in Slytherin," said Hannah with a wry smile at me.

"I so glad its not my house," I said. "But really—of all the people the Ministry could have given us, they chose Umbridge."

"Don't talk too loudly," said Hannah.

I opened my mouth to start a long rant about how there should be laws limiting the Ministry of Magic's interference with the school's curriculum, and someone should inspect Umbridge as well, but just then I noticed that Umbridge's gaze was fixed on me, and I decided it was safer to keep my mouth shut.

Hannah waved her wand and said, "Incendio". Immediately, a small flame appeared at the top of the candlewick.

I glowered at her.

"Practice," said Hannah. "That's all it takes."

"That's what McGonagall said when I failed to vanish my mouse yesterday," I muttered.

"You still can't vanish your mouse?" asked Hannah. She tried to hide her shock when she noticed my murderous glare.

"It turned opaque," I said grimly. "Which isn't exactly vanished. But Morgana and I have been practicing every night, so I'll get there eventually."

Hannah glanced over her shoulder at the back of the classroom where Morgana and Evie were taking turns setting their candle on fire. Hannah turned pale and quickly looked away before Morgana caught her staring. For some reason, Morgana terrified Hannah.

"She's not that scary," I said. "Incendio."

A ball of fire formed over the candle instead of just one small flame.

"Finite Incantatem," said Hannah, waving away the flames with her wand. "She's a Black, I don't know how you're friends with her."

"She's fun." I tried to find the right words to describe Morgana.

"And Neville," said Hannah in a soft voice. The tops of her ears turned bright red.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't get what you see in Longbottom—he has a pet toad."

"Don't judge people by their pets."

"Haven't you heard the saying that people come to look like their pets?" I asked. "Just imagine what Longbottom's going to look like in five years' time."

Hannah bit her bottom lip and tried not to smile. "Really, Ashe?"

I jerked my head in Umbridge's direction and said, "I bet you anything our High Inquisitor used to have a toad for a pet."

Hannah glanced over at Umbridge's squat build, flabby face, and wide mouth. Covering her mouth with her hand, Hannah collapsed into a fit of giggles. "No!" she whispered between laughs. "Neville will never look like that."

Umbridge glanced over in Hannah's direction with a disapproving scowl.

I waved my wand, tried to picture Umbridge's broad face instead of the candlewick, and said, "Incendio."

The sleeve of Cho Chang's robe caught fire.

" Shite"

" Impressive" said Hannah " but you were aiming for the candle so how?"