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discombobulate
[ dis-kuhm-bob-yuh-leyt ]
verb (used with object)
to confuse or disconcert; upset; frustrate.
OWL Level Defense Against the Dark Arts had been a struggle for Hermione, which frustrated her beyond all comparison, but NEWT Level DADA was stressing her out beyond comprehension. Along with her Head duties and her community project of cleaning out and organizing the Come and Go Room, her classes have definitely ramped up in difficulty. She thought she had overdone it when she had successfully navigated through third year with a time turner, but even then she had gotten O's on all of her exams that year, even Muggle Studies. Her scathing review at the end of the year, when she had asked to see the following year's textbook and was told it was the same one for third year, despite them getting through the entirety of it, actually reduced Professor Burbage to tears. The teacher hadn't taken it well when faced with the blunt remarks from a Muggleborn that everything was over 80 years out of date. "Thanks to this class, I now understand why Magicals think all Muggles dress like it's still the 1800s. The quality of the class is horrible. And you're telling me there aren't even any field trips, not even for OWL or NEWT levels?! I learned this entire curriculum in my Muggle History courses in primary! Five years ago!"
Thankfully, Professor Burbage didn't hold her outburst against her, and instead spent the summer break living in the Muggle world with a Muggleborn friend from her student days. From there, every year the course has been updated, and improved, and with new textbooks that the professor had written herself, Hermione would have been excited to take it again had she not taken her OWLs and NEWTs for the class back in Fourth Year.
If only Defense Against the Dark Arts was as easy as third year Muggle Studies.
Her wand flashed before her as she snapped off spell chain after spell chain, but her casting speed just wasn't fast enough. She knew the spells perfectly, she could anticipate where her dueling opponent would be, but she wasn't fast enough to stun them, or powerful enough to overpower them. It frustrated her immensely. Theo Nott smirked at her before he made an unknown wand motion and then suddenly there was a force on her ankle, tugging her into the air. The back of her head smacked against the floor as she was lifted up, her wand slipping from her grasp, and she vaguely thanked her foresight for spelling her skirt impervious to gravity if she were to fall, or someone tried to flip the back of her skirt up.
Her thoughts were hazy as she hung in the air, and she vaguely remembered hearing someone exclaiming something before she was released from the spell. She remembered falling into someone's arms, smelling a familiar smell, but her perception was so discombobulated, she couldn't clearly tell what was going on.
"Potter, take…..Wing. She….Concussion," she heard through the roaring in her ears. Concussion? Why was there roaring in her ears, like wind rushing past her?
She felt like she was flying.
"Hermione, you'll be okay," she heard, as the arms carrying her tightened around her. "No sleeping now," he added when her eyes started to flutter shut. "We'll be at the Hospital Wing soon." She remembered herself nodding, and then nothing.