"Alright, shut up you lot. I'm here now so it's time to grow up and learn something important," Professor Black commanded as her heels clicked up the aisle between their desks to the front of the class.

Obediently, Hermione, Neville, and all other students halted their conversations and turned their attention to the figure dressed all in black standing before them.

"I trust your summers were bearable," she said, her black eyes sweeping the room. Not waiting for responses, the professor continued. "As you can see, there are less of us than expected this year. This does not mean I will be taking it easy on you. On the contrary, I will expect you all to perform to your very best during these… circumstances." Her hard, penetrating gaze dared any student to voice any complaint. Six years had taught them all, however, that whining in Professor Black's class earned you a one way trip to a special detention with the professor herself; she had no patience for those who were not up to pleasing her high academic standards.

"Also," she continued, "in light of recent events, the curriculum has been slightly altered for the benefit of us all. This term, I will be teaching you more advanced forms of protection and ulterior means of defense. I have no doubt you all have heard of the new Dueling course that has been made mandatory? I tell you now; you will want to pay attention to my lessons in order to survive that class with everything well intact. Who can tell me the most useful spells while in a duel?"

Hermione shot her hand in the air, hardly aware that she had already formulated an answer. A few other hands scattered around the room also lifted into the air.

"Finnigan." Black nodded to the Gryffindor sitting at the back of the class.

"Stupefy, the stunning spell is pretty useful in a fight," the Irishman answered.

"Correct. Very simple, but, indeed, useful. But say I wanted to simply disarm my opponent, not hurt him. Which dueling spell would I use then?" Black asked as she paced back and forth in front of the class; her arms folded and her poster straight. Hermione could tell that the professor took this topic seriously. Were they truly in danger in Hogwarts? Did she believe that they would eventually need the knowledge of these spells in order to protect themselves inside school grounds? With three Death Eaters on the loose, Hermione obviously believed they were better safe than sorry. She now understood that many professors felt the same.

More hands lifted high above students' heads.

"Parkinson."

"Experillamus."

"Correct again. There is one more spell that can save your life in a fight. It does not protect against the Killing Curse but will block most curses, hexes, jinxes, and spells directed at you. What is it?"

Purposely looking over Hermione's head for a third time, the professor pointed her wand at Lavender to answer. With a huff, Hermione crossed her arms and slouched lower in her seat. First day back and she's not letting me answer anything. In her petty pouting, Hermione missed the slight lift of the corner of Black's mouth at her childish response to being overlooked.

"It's Protego, Professor; the Shield Charm," Lavender said gloatingly, enjoying Hermione's obvious annoyance at not being chosen to answer a single question.

"Excellent. Now, that's the basics covered. I assume most of you, if not all, can perform these spells in combat, but I want to see it. Everyone partner up and practice those three spells. After a few minutes, I will test each of your Shield Charms with a weak Stupefy. If it holds, you pass. If not, you'll land on your arse and will have to try again until you get it. Move!"

The students rose and found their partners. Standing a few feet across from Neville, Hermione shot a weak Stupefy towards his shield. Each time it held, the young witch increased the power of her spell, until she accidentally sent her friend flying backwards into Seamus.

"Sorry! Are you hurt?"

"Never you mind. But I want to try Experillamus now."

"Have you been practicing?" she asked as they resumed their positions, wands out and ready.

"Lots." With a swish of his wand and the muttered incantation, Hermione's wand flew from her fingers directly into Neville's waiting palm.

"Brilliant!" she praised him.

"Alright, that's enough. Everyone line up. It's my turn." The professor said with a wicked grin in place.

As instructed, the students all lined up around the room and each of them performed their best Shield Charm for their professor. The exercise went by quickly; everyone withstanding the professor's obviously incredibly weak Stunning Spell.

"Well, I don't often say this, but I'm impressed," she admitted once she had cast her last spell. "Every one of you withstood my spell. Granted, had I performed it properly, you all would be in the Hospital Wing, but nevertheless, I am proud. There will be an essay to write on the efficiency of combat spells and the accuracy with which they must be cast and whatever else I decide I want you to write about due next week. Yes, Granger, I will be more precise about the content as well as my expectations next class. Dismissed." Returning to her desk, Professor Black sat and watched as the students packed their belongings and exited her class, her eyes lingering on Granger's back as the girl exited with Longbottom. It still confused her that she was here and the two other idiots weren't. In truth, it almost worried her. Soon, someone would try to get information out of her as to where the boys were. The young witch would have to watch her back, and Black promised herself she would give the girl as many tools as she could to help the poor Muggle-born survive her final year.

"I can't believe it! You realise this is the first time we're actually being taught combat spells? Wicked isn't it?" Neville gushed as he and Hermione exited the classroom and made their way down to Potions.

"I'm glad you're excited, but Neville, she's only teaching them because she thinks we could be in actual danger. I mean, why shouldn't she? With three Death Eaters wandering the halls and Dementors at every exit…" Hermione said in a hushed voice, eyes on the lookout for anyone that may not approve of her words.

"I suppose you're right," Neville reluctantly agreed. "But you've got to admit, it almost feels like we're back in Dumbledore's Army again, doesn't it?"

Smiling at her friend's excitement, Hermione agreed. To herself, she wondered just how often they will need to use these spells through the halls of Hogwarts.


Seated once again next to Neville, both Gryffindors waited for their new Muggle Studies class to begin. Unlike most classes, this one was comprised of students from three of four of the houses. To her knowledge, most of those present were Muggle-born, Half-blood, or what the purists would call blood traitors. Behind her, Seamus sat with Justin from Hufflepuff.

"Good morning, class," said a voice from somewhere behind them. The voice instantly made Hermione bristle, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on high alert. Alecto Carrow walked with slow steps to the front of her classroom, wand held casually in her hands. "This is your new Muggle Studies class. You may think of it as a sort of history class if you must, for I will be teaching you how the first Mudbloods stole magic from its rightful proprietors and how the Wizarding World was forever muddied by their filth."

Hermione stared at the witch. Seriously?

"To begin, I will need a volunteer." Cold blue eyes focused intensely on the light brown ones staring back at her unflinchingly. "How about you?" The witch's wand flicked, and Hermione felt her body go numb, as though her brain had lost connection with her limbs. Suddenly, she was stepping up to the front of the class, much like a zombie from classic Muggle horror films. Once standing at the front of the room, the fog lifted from her mind, but she remained unable to control her limbs. Had she not been imprisoned by the professor's curse, she expected she would have been frozen by nerves.

"Now, can someone tell me what she is?" the Death Eater asked in her pretentious tone. Silence ensued as the students' response. Hermione was as confused by the question as the rest. "Well?" she probed impatiently.

"A girl?" a Hufflepuff from the back of the class answered hesitantly.

"Wrong." Carrow raised her wand again and the student cried out. Dropping from his seat, the boy writhed in agony on the floor as the spell tortured him with invisible fire and needles. Hermione felt bile rise in her throat as she watched the boy. Her eyes momentarily switched over to Neville. Her friend sat rigidly, hands balled into fists and his eyes shut tight. His body shook nearly as much as the Hufflepuff boy's. And then it stopped, and the boy was left gasping and sweating on the floor. "Back in your seat, filth," the woman hissed.

The boy immediately lifted himself into his seat, his face pale and eyes full of tears.

"I will ask again: what is she?"

"A Muggle-born," a Ravenclaw girl answered in a small, frightened voice.

"No. There is no such thing as a Muggle-born. There is only Mudblood. This girl is a Mudblood. Everyone, say it. 'You are a Mudblood'."

Hermione did not want to believe her ears. Is this woman trying to make us turn on each other? What is she doing? She tried to fight the Imperius Curse that kept her standing so rigid it hurt her spine. You can beat it, Harry did, you can do it.

There were a few whispers throughout the class; many students still too shocked by the recent use of the Cruciatus Curse to be able to speak.

"Louder!"

"Mudblood," a few more voices joined the originals.

"Again, again, and again! Scream it! Make her hear it! Tell her what she is!" The professor's voice rose in twisted excitement.

"Mudblood. Mudblood! MUDBLOOD!" the students screamed. Several of them had tears streaming down their cheeks as they screamed the slur at her; others wore masks of pure panic. It continued until Neville was the only one not yelling out the atrocious word.

"YOU!" Breaking her focus from Hermione, the witch turned to Neville and Hermione fell to the ground. Finally able to move, she passed a hand over her face to find that it is wet with her own tears. Shaking and screaming, she pushed herself up onto her knees and watched helplessly as the horrible professor tortured her good friend with the same curse that ruined his life sixteen years ago.


Neville stayed quiet the rest of the day. Her friend had finally conceded and used the derogatory name, ending his torture. Hermione wished he could forgive himself, for she felt absolutely no ill-feelings towards him – quite the opposite! Hermione admired her friend's intentions and strength, but she knew there were very few people who could withstand the torture of the curse and not give in.

Seated at the table for dinner, Hermione had just finished describing their first class with Professor Alecto Carrow to Ginny. Her friend – who was normally so composed and full of fire – was now close to tears in front of her.

"Hermione…" she whispered softly, wiping at her brown eyes, "that's so horrible! You have to tell someone; tell McGonagall!"

"I don't think there's anything she could do," Hermione responded, her voice still hoarse from her screams of before.

"But –"

"Ginny! I told you because I want you to be prepared. Because of your family, you'll have to take it, too. It's just a word. Like Harry says, we can't fear a name. It just gives them more power." She pushed her food around her plate with her fork. She was not at all hungry, her stomach still nauseous from all the tortured screams of her classmates. "Besides, we have other things to work on now."

"Seriously? What could be more important?" Ginny asked incredulously, her voice rising.

"Keeping our heads down!" Hermione hissed back. "They've all got it out for us because we were the closest to Harry! I don't think it was coincidence that she chose me to be the example during class. They will want to break us so we can't cause any trouble for them."

Acknowledging her words, Ginny's head lowered and she glumly nodded. "I s'pose you're right… but we still can't let them walk all over us, 'Mione! We have to do what we can."

"I agree with Ginny. We were all a part of Dumbledore's Army – we were preparing ourselves for what was coming and now the war is here! We can't stand by while Harry's out there fighting," Neville insisted, his voice strong and sure. "Hermione, I know you know what Harry's up to and I know you can't tell me, but if there's anything we can do, you have to let us know and we'll do it; no matter the cost."

Staring into the eyes of her friend, Hermione suddenly longed for the simple days of her Hogwarts years – if there were any. But he was right. They all had to fight the fight in any way they could.