There were a lot of funny things about Fifth Year, as far as Harry was concerned.
The first one was the Prefect thing, which seemed like an awful lot of bother but which wasn't going too badly – it was just odd to have to think about it all the time. People came to him with questions, and he answered the best way he could, but he also had to keep an eye (or a nose) out for when people seemed worried in a way that maybe didn't quite mean they felt they needed to talk to someone just yet.
And then there were the times when someone was breaking the rules, though fortunately so far the only thing Harry had had to do was to gently remind someone not to run in the corridors.
But the other odd thing about it was that the change from summer-holiday to fully-school was quite… slow, because the Sorting Feast had been on a Friday. In turn that meant that it was the weekend for the first two proper days of term, and they didn't have any homework for the first two days of term.
Harry did get a chance to show the first-years around the castle, though. Which helped.
Eventually, the school year proper started, and it started with History of Magic. That meant Giant Wars, this year, and that in turn meant a slightly sad introduction to the subject with the situations that led up to the war.
Professor Binns had always been a bit dry – most of Harry's friends counted themselves lucky to remain awake through a lesson – but as he took notes Harry began to realize that there was a real tragic side to the Giant Wars, perhaps more so than most of the other wars they heard about.
Looking at the reasons given by the history books, it seemed as though the real cause of the conflict had been the Statute of Secrecy. Giants were Beings, not Beasts, which meant that they were supposed to take care of keeping themselves secret (and probably that because they were human-shaped there was less prejudice attached to them) but at the same time it meant that if they didn't take care of keeping themselves secret then they could all get in trouble for it.
It seemed clear enough that there had been some real problems with keeping British Giants secret as the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries went on, but names that Harry vaguely remembered from doing the Industrial Revolution in history class (like the valleys in South Wales) suggested to him that maybe the problem had been more Muggles around in the places it happened that the giants lived.
Even with the way the history book had been written – mostly from the Wizard perspective, as Muggles hadn't known anything about it and Giants presumably would have needed bigger books – Harry could see why the Giants wouldn't have been very happy about having to change how they'd lived for centuries. And the wars had more or less just… happened because nobody could sort out a way for them not to.
Despite that, Harry had to wonder if the word 'war' was correct. He thought you needed more people involved than there had been in the Giant Wars described.
It was sort of sad, and Harry wondered what Hagrid thought about it. Even though it had been ages before he was born, maybe he thought something about it?
Asking would be impolite, though, so Harry thought it was likely he'd never know. Unless Hagrid just said it one day – which, admittedly, was the sort of thing Hagrid would do.
On reflection, it was one of the reasons Harry liked him.
Potions was next, and unlike Professor Binns Professor Snape didn't go straight into the lesson.
"Doubtless for some of you this is not your first lesson of the year," he began, instead. "Whatever your other teacher this morning may have said, though, I want to make one thing very clear."
His gaze swept the desk, focusing on each student in turn.
"At the end of this year, you will be sitting your Ordinary Wizarding Levels," he said, presumably just in case nobody had heard about them yet. "During this examination, you will be expected to prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. In particular, I expect you all to scrape an Acceptable in your OWL… or I will be very displeased."
Harry certainly hoped he could do that. His marks in Potions were usually Exceeds Expectations, which was a bit odd if you thought about it because it meant that he expected to exceed expectations.
"Naturally, while this will be sufficient to grudgingly earn you an OWL, it will not be enough to continue studying Potions with me," Professor Snape continued. "I take only the very best students into my NEWT Potions class; it comes as something of a relief to only have to teach those capable of following basic instructions, which is something of a rarity among my classes. Any among you who do not achieve an O on your OWL will have to console yourselves with other pursuits."
That seemed to make sense to Harry. It was a bit odd at first that Professor Snape would only take the very best students, but then again Potions was a tricky subject and it was sort of like needing someone to get an A to take an A level.
Which might have been where the name of A level came from? Harry wasn't sure, on account of not actually having been to a secondary school that wasn't Hogwarts.
"Mr. Potter," Professor Snape said, abruptly. "If I had a potion involving nettles, daisy roots, shrivelfig, rat spleen, wormwood, sliced caterpillars, cowbane and leech juice, and I was about to add doxy eggs, why might I think again?"
Harry thought about it for about ten seconds, then realized why those ingredients sounded familiar.
"Is it because most of those ingredients are found in the Shrinking Solution, sir?" Harry asked. "And because doxy eggs are living things, they might be shrunk and not react correctly?"
"That's certainly one reason," Professor Snape drawled. "Mr. Malfoy?"
"Doxies eat caterpillars, so if you add the eggs it would neutralize the caterpillars," Draco answered. "And since the caterpillars are a stabilizing element, the potion would become unstable."
"Another good reason," the teacher agreed. "Miss Granger, I can see your hand is up and I have no doubt you know all the answers, I am attempting to ensure that people think rather than wait for you to rescue them… Mr. Longbottom?"
"What potion are you trying to make, sir?" Neville asked.
"That, Mr. Longbottom, is a perfectly good question," Professor Snape said. "Let us say for the sake of this discussion that I am attempting to make a growth potion, by inverting the elements of the Shrinking Solution..."
"I'm kind of looking forward to Sixth Year, now," Ron said, cutting up a sausage into little circles.
"You are?" Hermione asked, blinking. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"
"Ha ha," Ron deadpanned. "You only have to do the subjects you want to in sixth year, and that means being able to not do Potions."
"Professor Snape isn't that bad," Harry shrugged.
"He's bad enough," Ron countered.
He put the sausage between two slices of buttered bread, then set it on fire with bluebell flames. "Besides, I'm not sure I can get the marks to do Potions anyway. I bet Hermione's going to do everything again though."
"Even Hermione might find that a bit much," Dean said. "Percy found that a bit much."
"I have to admit I like the idea of being able to spend more time on Herbology," Neville told them a bit wistfully. "There are these Muggle things called Bonsai trees, I want to see if you can do that to Magical plants."
"A bonsai whomping willow would be fun," Dean chuckled. "You could play ping-pong with it."
"Excuse me?" Dennis Creevey asked, getting their attention. "Harry, um, Mr. Potter?"
Harry looked over. "Yes, Dennis?"
"We had Defence this morning," Dennis began. "And the teacher said that we wouldn't be casting any spells this year. Is that right?"
"I haven't had Defence myself, yet," Harry admitted. "But I've got it next, so I'll keep an eye on it."
"It just seems weird," Dennis said.
"You should ask Colin about his first year's Defence," Ron advised, extinguishing his sandwich and taking a bite.
That made him frown, and he promptly ignited it again.
"Not hot enough," he clarified.
Harry made sure to arrive at Defence in good time. It wasn't hard, by this point – he had a good sense of the layout of the castle, even before using one of the Maps – and Harry was slightly surprised to discover that Gryffindor was with Ravenclaw this year rather than Slytherin.
Professor Umbridge was already there, sitting at the teacher's desk, and once everyone had arrived she clapped her hands and smiled brightly.
"Good afternoon, class!" she said.
"Good afternoon," Harry replied, though he was one of the only ones. Most of the rest of the class just made a noise which was more or less normal for teenagers on the first Monday afternoon of the new school year, which was something like 'mnuuuurgh'.
"Now, now," Professor Umbridge chided. "Not like that. Let's try this again, shall we?"
She was still smiling. "I will say, 'Good afternoon, class', and I would like you to please reply, 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' Ready?"
"Does she think we're five?" Dean whispered incredulously.
"Good afternoon, class," Professor Umbridge said again, and this time everyone did (more or less) say 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge' in reply.
"There we go!" the Professor beamed. "You see? It's not so hard! Now, wands away, and quills out. We will be starting with some basic notes and concepts."
Harry got out some parchment and his quill, wondering where this was going, and then he noticed that Neville's hand was up.
"Mr. Longbottom, questions will come once I have finished with the basic notes and concepts," Professor Umbridge told them, then stood up and tapped the board with her wand to make words appear.
Those showed the names of their various teachers from First-Year onwards.
"Seven teachers in four years," Professor Umbridge summarized. "And I don't know that I'd call any of them any good."
Hermione's hand went up as well, and Professor Umbridge ignored them both. "It's quite clear to me that none of your previous teachers in this subject bothered to either teach the basics or build on them in a logical way. Quite apart from how one of your teachers was an actual dark creature," at that more hands went up, plus Harry's paw, so that most of the class was waiting to speak, "I don't see anything about the proper legal context for defensive magic, or any of the spells which have been proven to be safe for use in a crowd."
Another tap of her wand, and some bullet points about Course Aims appeared.
"Copy these down, please," the Professor requested, and Harry switched which paw he was holding up so he could write with his right while holding up his left.
The idea of the basics sounded at least sort of sensible, but Harry was quite sure that Tonks (or Professor Nym, as she probably was on the school records for 1993) or whoever it was who'd taken over Professor Quirrell's slot in 1992 had covered the basics. And then Professor Moody and Professor Lupin had touched on the same basic ideas, while Percy's brief tenure had to have covered whatever it was that they'd missed.
There was a bullet point about basic principles, one about situations for legal use, one about a context for practical use, and then a fourth one about the law being the same for everyone which was a bit strange.
When everyone had finished, Professor Umbridge considered before finally pointing at Neville. "Mr. Longbottom?"
"Professor, I was wondering whether we were going to do any practical magic in class," Neville said. "Are we?"
"Mr. Longbottom, any practical work must be built upon a firm theoretical basis," Professor Umbridge replied. "Doesn't that make sense? It's like learning to walk before you get on a broom."
She smiled brightly. "Since you have five years of theoretical basis to make up in one year, I don't think it's likely that you'll be reaching the point of casting spells in class."
She ignored the rest of the raised hands. "Has everybody got a copy of Wilbert Slinkhard's Defensive Magical Theory?"
There were a few mutters of agreement, and Professor Umbridge tutted.
"Since you seem to have such dreadful manners, let's try this another way," she decided. "Anyone who does not have a copy of Wilbert Slinkhard's Defensive Magical Theory, please raise your hand and I will be giving you detention for not bringing in the correct textbook."
All the hands went down, Harry's paw among them, though this time there was a rumble of dissent.
"Good!" the Professor said. "I should like you to turn to page five – there are twelve pages of preamble, so turn to page five, not page v – and read Chapter One, entitled Basics For Beginners. We will not be discussing it."
Harry had already read Chapter One, so he took out his textbook and instead turned through to where his bookmark was. It was about two thirds of the way into the book, and there'd only been two spells so far – both of them terribly complex with at least seven wand movements and fourteen syllables, and that was after four pages of Arithmancy in each case which proved that the spells had been compressed down to the minimum required to reliably cast them.
He thought he was following what Mr. Slinkhard was trying to say, though. If he had it right, Slinkhard was trying to prove – mathematically – that using defensive spells should only be done in certain specific circumstances, and furthermore that most spells were too dangerous to justify using them in a fight. The only spells that should be cast were the ones in the book itself, which were admittedly very clever – so far there'd been a stunning spell which sort of worked out how hard you had to stun someone and then stunned them that hard and no more, so it was safe to use on children or more than one on the same person, and then there was a shield spell which didn't make the spells that hit it bounce off if they didn't get through. They'd always just ground out.
At the same time, there were things about the book which didn't make much sense, and Harry was flipping back to check what assumption 6C was when he noticed that Hermione already had her hand up.
For several minutes, not much seemed to happen. Harry had stopped reading – he'd already read chapter one, after all – and Hermione had her hand up, but everyone else was still going through the book and either making notes on pieces of scrap parchment or just slumped with one hand under their chin to support it.
Mostly the former category was the Ravenclaws and the latter category was the Gryffindors.
Harry did notice that Professor Umbridge's gaze kept flicking briefly to Hermione, then looking back down at her desk, so she definitely knew that Hermione wanted to say something – she just wasn't reacting.
Then Ron saw what Hermione was doing, and closed his book with an audible thump. That caught everyone's attention, and within a minute or so the whole class was looking either at Hermione or at Professor Umbridge instead of at what they were supposed to be reading.
Five minutes or so after that, Harry started to wish that he'd clicked a stopwatch. It didn't seem like this could continue for the whole lesson… did it?
Someone coughed, and Professor Umbridge looked up properly this time.
"You are supposed to be reading the textbook, dear," she said.
"I already have, Professor Umbridge," Hermione replied, still with her hand in the air.
Professor Umbridge chuckled, a sort of breathy fake noise. "Then move on to the next chapter, of course."
"I've read the whole book, Professor."
That seemed to leave Professor Umbridge surprised. Harry couldn't really blame her – there'd only been about four days for Hermione to do that, since the book list had come out so late.
"You have?" she asked. "What do you think of Slinkhard's fourth theorem?"
"The fourth theorem is a demonstration that, in an environment where there are more than two bystanders, the risk of collateral damage is increased if there are two people casting spells rather than just one person," Hermione said promptly. "The theorem is mathematically sound given the assumptions it makes, but the assumptions are not valid under most circumstances."
Professor Umbridge sniffed. "I hardly think that you know more about the appropriate situations for defensive spells than Mr. Slinkhard, Miss…?"
"Hermione Granger, Professor Umbridge," Hermione supplied. "And the problem with the fourth theorem is that nowhere in the entire book does Slinkhard consider the possibility of a hostile wizard who is willing to attack bystanders."
"And do you expect that situation to arise, Miss Granger?" Professor Umbridge inquired, sounding suddenly very interested. "Are you perhaps worried about any of your classmates?"
"No, Professor," Hermione answered. "But-"
"Not even the dragon sitting next to you?" Professor Umbridge went on. "Or the sphinx currently in fourth year in-"
"That's got nothing to do with it!" Terry erupted.
"What is your name?" Professor Umbridge asked, turning her attention to him.
"Terry Boot, Professor," the Ravenclaw boy replied.
"Do not speak out of turn, Mr. Boot," Professor Umbridge informed him. "I expect anyone who asks a question in my class to wait to speak until spoken to, and say their name clearly the first time they speak."
She turned back to Hermione. "Miss Granger? Are you perhaps worried about the werewolf who was teaching two years ago? Or the dangerous lunatic who taught for much of your previous year?"
Every time she said a word like 'dragon', or 'werewolf', or 'sphinx', Professor Umbridge's voice sounded really quite disgusted. It was sort of amazing, because it didn't seem like she was going out of her way to do it and her voice always had a kind of forced sweetness as if she were speaking to someone in primary school – those words just seemed to carry all sorts of contempt.
"Actually, my main concern is that the OWL exam in Defence Against the Dark Arts always involves a practical component," Hermione said. "And none of Slinkhard's spells have ever been on the exam."
"Well, I'm sure a bright girl like you will have no problems casting those spells in the exam," Professor Umbridge replied. "If you have finished the textbook, then I will require you to write out in your own words why Slinkhard's view is correct."
This time Harry put his paw up, and nobody went back to their reading, and after several more minutes Professor Umbridge gave him a severe look.
"I did say that everyone should read their textbooks, Mr. Potter."
"Harry Potter, Professor Umbridge," Harry introduced himself. "I haven't finished the textbook but I'm about thirty chapters in. Someone told me at lunch that you said the second years wouldn't be doing any practical spellcasting either. Are you going to be teaching practical spells in any of your classes?"
Professor Umbridge smiled, but it wasn't a proper smile – not one with any warmth to it. "I hardly think that discussing other classes is appropriate in class time, Mr. Potter."
"Not like we're doing anything else with it," Seamus grumbled.
"I wondered if you wanted help with the spellcasting exercises," Harry explained. "Hermione and I are both ahead in the book, and if the textbook got assigned as homework then half of the class could be about discussing it and the other half could be doing practical lessons. Since Hermione and I are ahead we could use the homework time to practice spells for demonstration in class."
He shrugged his wings. "Though I did wonder if our OWLs have been changed so we don't have to do the practical work this year, but you didn't say anything about it to Hermione so I suppose not. If the book is meant to be one of a set of contrasting view points on Defence, on the other paw, then we're going to need to get through the book faster so we can get to the second viewpoint before the end of the year."
Professor Umbridge didn't say anything for about twenty seconds after Harry finished, and the rest of the class waited with bated breath.
"What a funny idea!" she said eventually, and tittered. "Mr. Potter, get back to reading your textbook, and I want no further interruptions for this class or any other."
"I'm sorry, what?" Sirius asked, that evening.
Harry shrugged his wings, wondered if Sirius and Remus could see that on their end of the mirror, then went on. "She said that-"
"No, I'm still held up on the bit about Professor Umbridge," Sirius interrupted. "Isn't she the one who tried to get your wand taken away?"
He sighed, which didn't make the sound go funny like it would have done for a microphone. "Can you believe this, Remus? Why did Dumbledore hire her?"
"I don't think he had much choice," Remus replied, still sitting down – unlike Sirius, who had lunged forwards at Harry's announcement. "Remember what Nymphadora said about her fifth year teacher? They've been going downhill for a long time now."
"Tom Riddle has a lot to answer for," Sirius groaned.
"You were good," Harry said. "Moody was good. Most of the replacement teachers were good."
"Moody explicitly said he was doing less than one year," Remus countered. "The replacement teachers were replacements, and even then I've heard that none of them want to do it twice in case that makes them into the regular teacher and the jinx gets them. And I – well, I got attacked by Fenrir Greyback."
He smiled. "So, what does Professor Umbridge actually teach? Is it all about dark creatures?"
"Not so far," Harry replied. "It's all been out of a textbook by someone called Wilbert Slinkhard."
"Slinkhard..." Remus repeated, frowning. "It rings a faint bell, but I'm not sure where from. Maybe someone else recognizes it."
He drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "Well, Harry, I think the best thing for you to do is to read a different book as well. There's a series called Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts, it might be in the library."
Harry wrote the title down, then checked who the author was and wrote that down as well.
"Thanks, Remus," he smiled.
"Enough about that," Sirius decided. "How's it been being responsible, Harry? Have you started being boring yet?"
"I don't think so," Harry replied, then checked the time – it was about half an hour before curfew. "But I do have my patrol tonight, that might be when it happens."
"I still think this counts as misusing the Map," Sirius grumbled.
"Padfoot, what do you think I did with it?" Remus said. "It's how I caught Adrian sneaking out in sixth year."
"...blimey," Sirius said, sitting back into his chair. "You think you know a wolf."
Harry's first patrol that night was sort of interesting, because what it meant was going around at night and looking for a name walking around on the Marauders' Map which wasn't the name of one of the other Prefects.
There were a few, mostly lost first-years who needed to be directed to the right common room, plus Anne Smith – in fox-form – who needed to be reminded that curfew applied to everyone. (She pointed out that that meant curfew applied to Harry as well, and he assured her that he would be giving himself a stern talking-to as soon as his rounds were done.)
Rather to Harry's surprise, one of the first-years in Hufflepuff was one Mary McCormack, who Harry had met years before on the island of Skye when she'd recognized him as a dragon. She seemed very embarrassed about the whole thing, and Harry decided that it would be easier on her to have Hannah Abbott handle getting her back to the right common room.
Harry also encountered four pets, eleven ghosts (including the Bloody Baron, who surprised him by beckoning him into a painting-free corner and thanking him) and one quite young and lost owl whoo Harry directed to the Owlery.
It was almost relaxing.
Tuesday saw Charms in the morning, then Runes.
Charms was more or less the sort of thing Harry had expected, but in Runes they were told that they had to officially write out their project proposal.
Harry already knew he was going to be making a sword for Neville, so that didn't take as long as they had in the lesson, but Ron was having a bit more trouble so he went over to help his friend.
"I'm suddenly not sure this is going to work," Ron admitted, looking at his diagram.
"What's the problem?" Harry asked. "Is it making the tank recreate the fuel?"
"No, that's fine," Ron replied. "It's magical materials that you can't duplicate without Helga Hufflepuff's Cup or the Hopping Pot or whatever. I just had this sudden realization."
He pointed at the parchment, then out the window. "If I launch this, then the Muggles are going to notice, right? It's not a very big rocket, but I want it to go to space, and their, um, Radar is going to see it because it's got metal in it. And the flames and steam trail are going to be easy to see too."
That was a problem, and Harry frowned as he thought about it.
"Could you make it invisible somehow?" he asked. "Remus mentioned a spell called disillusionment, which makes something hard to see."
"Not sure that works on Radar," Ron sighed gloomily. "Dad's got an invisibility booster on our car, which does make it vanish from Radar we think, but it only lasts about twenty minutes at a time and then it runs out of windscreen washer fluid."
Harry was confused for a moment, then decided maybe it was something to do with being 'see through'.
Then he snapped his claws together with a click. "What about if you ask Beauxbatons? That giant flying carriage of theirs must have got away with flying over a lot of Britain and France, so they must have a way to not appear on Radar."
"Oh, that's a great idea!" Ron said, brightening.
"You might want to make sure you charm the rocket to be Unbreakable, though," Harry added, thinking about some of the science fiction books he'd read. "You don't want to bump into any space debris and explode."
"Exploding would be bad," his friend said. "I don't like the sound of exploding. If I did I'd play Quodpot."
Luna brought Tiobald over at lunch, and the selkie boy told Harry – through sign language mediated by his friend – that the third-year Ravenclaws had had Defence that morning, and Professor Umbridge had taken thirty points off Tiobald for not answering when she'd called on him to answer questions.
She'd also apparently told him to 'stop that stupid hand waving'. Which Harry assumed (and checked) actually meant sign language.
Harry didn't like Professor Umbridge.
Just after lunch it was Care of Magical Creatures. Professor Kettleburn was still soldiering on, cheerful as ever, but to Harry's surprise today Hagrid was helping – and, it turned out, the lesson was their first look at a unicorn.
It was a beautiful creature, with a flawless silver coat and golden hooves, and Professor Kettleburn told them that the oldest unicorns were pure white instead of silver while the foals were golden. They were flawless and pure in another way as well, Harry could somehow feel it – he couldn't say why, but it just seemed somehow obvious.
"The youngest foals are golden all over," Professor Kettleburn said, as Hagrid gently fed the filly a carrot. "That lasts for… Mr. Thomas?"
"Two years?" Dean asked.
"Quite correct," the Professor agreed. "This particular unicorn is between two and four years old, because..?"
Lavender Brown said that it was because she didn't have a horn yet, and added that it wasn't until they were seven years old that a unicorn's coat turned pure dazzling white.
There were other things they covered or revised in the lesson, mostly about how unicorns were tremendously fast and very little would hunt them, and how they were so pure that anyone who harmed a unicorn willingly was effectively cursed.
"How do you get unicorn horn for potions, then, Professor?" Draco asked.
"An excellent question!" Professor Kettleburn said brightly. "Like unicorn tail hair for wands, the unicorn horn found in potions is willingly shed; unlike unicorn tail hair, it is shed rarely. It is expensive precisely because it is so hard to acquire."
Harry was thinking about that for the rest of the lesson, and about dragon heartstrings, and what that would mean for making wands if more dragons were smart like Nora, Gary, Sally and Ollie were. Charlie had already told him they only took the bits from dragons who'd already died, but would they have to ask dragons if they were okay with their bits being used after they were dead?
It was sort of an icky topic, really, but it was one that Harry knew had to be thought about some time. Just ideally not during, say, Herbology (which was his final lesson of the day) where they had to focus more on the dangerously poisonous aconite.
Harry did sort of wonder how June and Matthew would get on with aconite, which was also known as wolfsbane. As descendants of a werewolf, would they be okay or get even more poisoned than most people would?
Hopefully they'd be careful next year. Or whenever it showed up in Potions for them.
Wednesday morning was mostly notable for the first Arithmancy lesson of the year, and it seemed that their focus for the first few weeks was going to be on the properties of what were called chaotic systems.
Harry found this particular topic neat because it was how you could start off with almost exactly the same situation and end up with things coming out very differently depending on small differences in the setup.
Professor Vector demonstrated with a special set of four pendulums (or pendulas?), each of which were made of two long metal rods with a joint in the middle. She tapped each middle joint and the end of each second rod with her wand, sparking them off so they glowed, then raised all four up magically so they were held out horizontally and let them go.
At first they swung in just about the same way, but within seconds each set of double-jointed rods was swinging in a completely different way.
"As you can see, the behaviour is divergent," Professor Vector explained. "From now on, when we modify and model spell formulas we will be looking for divergent behaviour. This usually indicates a very hard spell to cast, while a spell formula where slight differences do not matter is usually an easy spell to cast."
Hermione's hand was already up, and Professor Vector called on her. "Yes, Granger?"
"Is this the main reason why some spells can go catastrophically wrong?" she asked. "In First Year Professor Flitwick told us that mispronouncing a spell could end up with a buffalo on your chest."
"It's one reason, but there are several," Professor Vector told her. "We'll be looking later in the term at bistable systems, which can also explain it – but some spell mishaps are simply unexplainable."
Harry was feeling quite positive after that lesson, and even through History of Magic (which fortunately wasn't as depressing as it had been earlier in the week), but at lunch another problem came sidling up to say hello.
The problem in this case arrived in the person of Tanisis, who said that the fourth year Ravenclaws had had their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson that morning and she'd been barred from using her typewriter in class or for homework.
She said that Professor Umbridge had smiled brightly at her, and then told her that all students were to be treated equally and nobody was to get special treatment. Special treatment in this case apparently included being allowed to use a typewriter, and Harry quickly took a drink of apple juice to make sure he wouldn't start growling.
Tanisis went on to mention that Professor Umbridge had asked her for a riddle halfway through the class, that she (Tanisis, that was) had replied with one about a man who rode into town on Friday, stayed three days and left on Thursday morning.
"And then she looked straight at me in a kind of eager way, and said that the answer was that the man had got lost," Tanisis related. "I said it was wrong, the answer was that he had a horse called Friday, and she looked… not even disappointed, worse than that. Like for a moment she hated me."
"Bloody hell," Dean said.
Harry glanced down at his robes. "I think I'm supposed to say language at this point."
"You're lucky I didn't say what I first thought," Dean muttered. "Sphinxes are known for attacking people who fail riddles, right? Sounds like she got off really lucky."
"I don't do that," Tanisis said earnestly. "I do feel a bit upset, but I wouldn't attack someone over it."
"The question is, does she know that?" Dean asked. "Maybe she didn't do Care of Magical Creatures."
Harry tried thinking about this a different way, lining up all the information so far, and his ears went flat.
"I think she does," he said.
He wasn't sure about the conclusion he'd reached – it did still feel like one of those times in a book where you got told information and then it turned out it was meant to mislead you – but if he was right then he didn't dislike Professor Umbridge.
He might discover what it was like to actually hate someone.
After lunch, but before Transfiguration – so technically still during lunch – Harry went to Professor McGonagall's office, having quickly checked the Map to see whether she was there or in the Transfiguration classroom. He was planning on knocking on the door to speak to her, but as it happened she came out right as he arrived at the door.
"Mr. Potter," she greeted him. "I do hope the Weasley Twins aren't breaking the rules already."
"They probably are, but I haven't noticed them yet," Harry replied, thinking about it. "But Tanisis Sanura in Ravenclaw has told me that Professor Umbridge didn't let her use a typewriter in class this morning."
He paused, wondering about mentioning the other thing, then decided he should. "And she said that Professor Umbridge asked her for a riddle, then got it so wrong it sounded deliberate."
Professor McGonagall's mouth thinned as she thought about that.
"Thank you for letting me know promptly, Mr. Potter," she said. "I will let the Headmaster know promptly."
She started walking towards Transfiguration, and Harry hurried to catch up.
He was going in the same direction anyway, so it wasn't much of a problem.
"And watch yourself with Professor Umbridge, Harry," she added. "That woman is here for a reason. You – and all of our other unusually shaped students – must be very careful."
Harry could agree with that, and told Professor McGonagall that he'd mention it to everyone in the Unusually Shaped Club – plus anyone who didn't attend, as well.
Then they reached Transfiguration, and the next couple of hours were taken up with Vanishing Spells. The spell got harder the more complicated the thing you were going to try and Vanish, and though Professor McGonagall started them on snails Dean asked whether maybe they should try and Vanish a glass of water instead.
That turned out to actually be easier, and everyone except Lavender Brown had managed it by the end of their class, though only about half had managed to move on from that to make the snail Vanish as well.
It seemed quite convenient to Harry, though he did wonder whether you could use Conjuration to get something you'd Vanished back.
Astronomy was that night, which presumably meant none of the new Prefects from Fifth Year were on patrol on Wednesdays, and they were mostly focused on the Solar System this year – specifically Jupiter.
Ron mentioned how there was a Muggle space probe on the way to Jupiter and it was going to arrive later this year, which meant a five minute discussion about how it had been launched while Harry was about nine and didn't it take a long time for things to get around in space, and another ten minutes about how it had managed to get through the Asteroid Belt. (Very easily, because – unlike Saturn's Rings – the Asteroid Belt wasn't very dense.)
They stayed up until some time after midnight, taking notes on how the big Galilean Moons moved in sequence and how different they all were, then went back down to their dorms for the night.
The next day at lunch Conal told him that he'd been told to sit down during Defence Against the Dark Arts, and when he'd protested he'd had five points taken off for wanting special treatment. Then everyone else in Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had stood up as well, and done the whole lesson like that, which made Harry smile before assuring Conal that he'd pass that on as well.
"She's really out for a fight of some sort, isn't she?" Neville asked, shaking his head as Conal left. "It sounds like Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail got on okay, though."
"It wasn't easy," Flopsy said. "Mopsy kept biting our ears to remind us to stay quiet."
"Your ear, you mean, I was too busy writing notes," Cottontail countered. "Mouth writing is really hard after two years with a typewriter."
An idea tickled the back of Harry's mind, but then it was gone and he couldn't remember it.
"Professor McGonagall said that the most important thing was not to react too much to her," Harry contributed. "I don't think that means you ignore it, but you don't let it make you angry."
"Bit much to ask of Gryffindors," Neville snorted. "We'll do our best, Harry."
Then there was a cannon blast from the teachers' table.
"Attention, please," Professor Dumbledore said, flicking his wand a couple of times with his nail before putting it away. "I wish to announce a change in Hogwarts school policy."
He smiled. "Doubtless many of you in the younger years will have seen that some of your classmates are using typewriters to take notes or produce homework, and will have wondered what this fine clacky device that writes for you is. I am delighted to announce, as you have probably guessed, that it is called a typewriter."
Retrieving his wand again and drawing one in mid-air, Dumbledore continued. "You play it much as you would a piano, except of course that it has letters that go past G and it produces the sort of notes that go on parchment. I am delighted to announce that any student who would like to use one in class or for homework may get hold of one from myself or Professor Burbage, and the only delay experienced will be in acquiring sufficient typewriters and then bespelling them to not make such a loud clacky noise. All students may use them to write with both in class and out, though homework must of course be signed regardless."
With that, he sat down, then stood up again a moment later.
"Oh, yes," he resumed. "And may I very much recommend today's sausage rolls. I find them delightfully moreish."
A rustle of talk spread as Dumbledore sat down for the second time, and Harry decided to try one of the sausage rolls to see if it was any good.
"Well, that's a relief," Cottontail sighed. "At least now we can stick to typing in all our classes."
It looked to Harry like most of his unusually-shaped friends were quite relieved by the announcement. Professor Umbridge, however, looked like she'd discovered her pumpkin juice had gone off.
Could you make pumpkin wine by doing that? Harry wasn't sure, but he imagined that if it was possible wizards had probably already done it – they just hadn't given any to Hogwarts students, because they weren't old enough.
The Oddly-Shaped-Society meetings took a bit of time to organize, partly because – like all the other clubs and societies – it couldn't start until after the first full week, so that new students and students with a different schedule could work out if they actually had free time available.
Harry was still fairly busy despite that, and he was hardly the only one – quite apart from Hermione's efforts to follow in Percy's footsteps and get twelve OWLs plus be a Prefect, which pretty much required a Time Turner, Dean had his Art Club (where he said he might be the oldest person there next term, as there were no sixth years) while Ron was getting ready for Quidditch.
Neville was actually the least busy person in their little friend group, though even that was merely relative because he was still taking part in all their homework sessions and working on using a sword as well.
Sometimes Harry wondered if maybe he should have done Divination as well, because he'd probably have more free time at this point. That got him a bit confused though as he started thinking about what his schedule would have been like with a time turner since third year (and whether he'd have bumped into himself) and he was about to decide that it would be better to ask Hermione and Neville if they wanted to get the Arithmancy homework sorted out when a girl called Christine from First-Year approached him.
It turned out that even the first-years had had trouble in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Gryffindor had been paired with Slytherin this time, and the class had smelled of garlic in a way that had been obvious even to Christine – let alone, presumably, to Melody, who'd sat as far back in the classroom as there were desks.
Christine went on to say that while Isaac's typewriter had passed without comment Professor Umbridge had called on him for a question halfway through class and then cut him off for not answering when everyone could see he was halfway through writing the answer on a small portable chalkboard.
"Then Professor Umbridge told Melody off for talking," Christine added. "I didn't hear her talking, though! And she made Melody move to a different desk, one of the ones by the window where the sun was coming in."
She looked like she was swallowing a lot of things she wanted to say, then it came out in a rush. "I was sort of scared of Melody at first, and I thought she'd get angry, but she just put on her one of those big hats we had to get and sat in the sunlight without caring about it."
Christine looked over at where Melody was sitting, in the corner of the room, and Harry followed her gaze before looking away again in case it would be rude.
He had to admit it was quite a Gryffindor thing for a vampire to do, to sit in the sun – even protected by a nice big pointy hat – and not mention it to anyone in authority. (Harry supposed he counted as authority at the moment.)
Of course, that meant it was also a slightly foolhardy thing to do, but that was Gryffindor as well.
Whatever the implications, Harry decided the best thing to do was send another letter to Dumbledore. He made sure to say that it wasn't hugely urgent, because Melody wouldn't have another Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson until next Friday, but he was sure that Dumbledore would know what to do.
On Monday there was a sort of electrically charged feeling in the air, like there was about to be a thunderstorm.
Harry actually went and checked, flying up past the Astronomy Tower and well into the sky to check if there was a thunderstorm coming, but it seemed to only be a metaphorical one. He had the feeling he knew what it was going to be, and as the morning rolled past it seemed like everyone else was anticipating it as well.
Defence Against the Dark Arts started with everyone filing in and taking their seats, which was normal enough. Harry also made sure to stand up and say 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge' when she said 'Good afternoon, class' (on the grounds that there was no reason to be impolite) and while Professor Umbridge made them do it again because the first time hadn't been up to her standards she then told them all to sit down.
"All right, class, can you guess what we're doing today?" she asked.
Nobody said anything, and she tutted. "Oh, dear, we'll have to work on basic maths, it seems… today we're doing chapter two of your textbooks, entitled Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation, which starts on page seventeen. We will not be discussing it."
Harry wanted to point out that something like half the class was doing Arithmancy, but didn't. He opened the book to the point he'd got to last time, repressed a sigh (because, having got hold of one of the books that Remus had recommended, the contrast between that and Defensive Magical Theory just made their actual textbook seem less interesting) and started reading.
Then, about fifteen minutes into the lesson, an owl flew in through the door.
Harry had never seen an owl quite like it. Some owls were eager and excitable, like Ginny's Pigwidgeon, while others were serene (like Hedwig) or vaguely superior (like Draco's big Screech owl). But this was the first owl Harry had seen that was furtive, and it sort of sidled into the room before dropping below the level of the desks and darting between them with sudden bursts of speed.
"Pay attention to your textbooks," Professor Umbridge told them, a little sharply.
To Harry's surprise, the owl deposited the letter it was carrying on his desk. It was a thick white parchment envelope, much thicker than he would have expected from a normal envelope, and he reached for it before Professor Umbridge coughed with an odd hem hem sound.
"Mr. Potter, is that related to the class?" she asked.
"I don't think so, Professor," Harry replied.
He was about to explain he was going to put it in his bag, but Professor Umbridge spoke over him. "Then leave it alone until the end of class. Can you do that?"
Harry certainly could, and he went back to his textbook. The section he was in at the moment was about the way in which casting spells irresponsibly inside a building could cause damage to the walls and make it collapse, with calculations showing the impact of various spell impacts, and it was hard enough to follow that it took him a while to notice a sort of smoky smell.
Then the envelope exploded.
Bits of parchment went everywhere, some of them trailing smoke, and the rest of the smoke from inside the envelope formed a sort of plume that got in Harry's face and prompted him to flap a wing to clear it away.
He was still trying to work out what had happened when an extremely loud voice started to speak.
"Slinkhard?" it demanded, sounding rough and gravelly and very much like an amplified version of Professor Moody. "They're teaching you out of Slinkhard?"
Half of the class had jumped to their feet, and the other half were still seated, but everyone – Professor Umbridge included – was starting at the cloud of red fragments hovering over Harry's desk.
"Why on earth are they using Slinkhard?" Moody demanded. "Slinkhard was writing fifty years ago and his writing is so poxy dry he could use it to stun a Nundu!"
The Howler – it had to be a Howler – went on and on, getting progressively ruder and more foul-mouthed, and Harry hadn't even heard some of the words Moody was using.
"He was writing his logorrhaeaic screed for Aurors!" the elderly wizard explained to them, at great length. "For Aurors! His whole overcomplicated work is supposed to be read by dull-brained Hit Wizards and incompetent Aurors to tell them why they were causing too much collateral damage! Only a complete cardiganed moron with a cat obsession and no experience with children, no past Auror work and who hadn't read the thingwould think it was a suitable classwork book for fifth years, let alone first years!"
Incongruously, Harry did think that that would explain a lot about the book he'd been reading.
"But there's a reason nobody listened to the idiot!" Moody went on, after elaborating on what kind of person would have assigned the textbook to first years. "The half-wit cockalorum had never been in a proper spell fight in his life, he left out all kinds of common situations to try and prove he was right, and his supposedly better spells are completely impractical to cast in a duel let alone a real fight!"
There was a long pause, just long enough that some of the class took their hands from over their ears, then Moody's amplified voice snorted. "But you're not going to get me to take the job. Whatever fuzz-brained pillock took it and assigned that book deserves whatever fate that jinx has in store for them."
Then, mercifully, the Howler finally collapsed.
After a long, stunned pause, someone started to giggle nervously.
That rippled out, setting off the rest of the class, and Harry did his best not to laugh but it was too hard to stop it from bubbling up and making him snigger as well.
"Hem hem," Professor Umbridge coughed. "If we are all quite finished?"
She kept going without waiting for anyone to react. "Now, you're all going to be big boys and girls and go back to reading your textbook, aren't you? And Mr. Potter, I do not tolerate disruption in my lessons. See me after class."
"It wasn't his fault!" Ron protested.
"Mr. Weasley, did I ask you to speak?" Professor Umbridge asked.
"Well, now you did," Ron replied. "And that was a Howler, Harry didn't-"
"We will be discussing that after class," Professor Umbridge insisted. "Now concentrate on your textbook and don't speak out of turn again."
Harry didn't think anyone really concentrated on the book for the rest of the class.
He knew he wasn't, his ears still ringing with the echoes of Moody's extremely loud course material review, and occasionally he heard someone mutter one of the insults Moody had slung around to someone else and prompt a pair of giggles. Which he supposed meant that almost everyone was sort of speaking out of turn.
Eventually the end of the lesson came, and Harry stayed behind as requested.
Professor Umbridge waited until the rest of the class had left, then smiled at Harry.
It didn't seem like a nice smile, to Harry. There was a kind of happiness in it, but he sort of knew it wasn't directed at him.
"Mr. Potter, you are a Prefect," she began. "That means that you know how important it is for people to behave in a class. Don't you think that's right?"
"I think so, Professor Umbridge," Harry replied. "I don't think I know everything yet though."
Professor Umbridge tittered. "Well, that is why wizards go to school."
She leaned closer. "Now, my class today didn't go well at all, did it? And do you know why that was?"
"I think it was the Howler, Professor Umbridge," Harry answered.
"That's correct!" Professor Umbridge told him, sounding like she was very pleased that a small boy (or possibly dog) had unexpectedly done the right thing instead of the wrong thing. "And since the Howler was sent to you, and since I can't punish that terribly rude Alastor Moody, I'm going to have to give you detention tonight instead."
Harry felt sort of like he'd turned over two pages at once. "Sorry, Professor Umbridge?"
"We did agree that behaving in class is correct?" Professor Umbridge said. "And so someone has to get punished for disrupting class, or everyone is going to think they can just do whatever they want!"
That was one of the things where Harry wasn't sure it made sense, but he supposed a detention wasn't that big a punishment. And maybe it would be good to get an idea what a detention was like before he ended up having to supervise one in his position as a Prefect.
What did you do in detentions anyway?
Perhaps it would just be a punishment so that it looked like he was having consequences.
"Good," Professor Umbridge said, after a few seconds – Harry hadn't replied, but that didn't seem to matter. "Be at my office at 8pm sharp, and I will not tolerate lateness."
"Tonight, you mean, Professor?" Harry checked, frowning slightly as he tried to remember the patrol schedule.
He'd had last Monday, and he had next Monday, but he didn't have this week.
"Is it an inconvenient time, Mr. Potter?" Professor Umbridge checked, smiling.
"I don't think so, Professor," Harry replied.
He wasn't entirely sure about why she seemed ambivalent about that answer.
AN:
Writing Umbridge is an interesting experience.