.

So far... The reborn Hermione launched the secret Cathesis League to fight corruption. Now at Hogwarts, the young girl formed CREST from the trusted members of the old D.A. She vanished a demon which then began hurling back other vanished objects from non-being. While trying to locate the demon with a two-way mirror, Neville was also vanished but Hermione and friends save him and banish the demon (and bring back some vanished Galleons!). Now read on...

.

Chapter 49

A New Life


.

Back To Reality

"Hermione!" cried Harry. "We're back! We're back to reality!"

"Harry Potter!" The commanding tone was Professor Dumbledore's. "What are you and your friends doing here in the castle at this time, may I ask?"

"Uuh..." "Erm..." "Uumm..." The four fidgeted for a few moments then Harry cried, "The gremlin, sir!" He pulled out the sketch which he'd snatched out of the air when Hermione had thrown it away. "We didn't think Professor McGonagall completely believed us so we thought we'd uumm..."

"Give it one last search ourselves!" said Hermione from the shadows where she'd repaired her robes then staggered to her feet with Harry's help, and surprisingly not as weak as she'd feared.

"With what success?"

A ruckus – a to-ing and fro-ing far off in the building – distracted Hermione for a moment.

Harry said, "We think we might have destroyed it! We uuh... we all tried our vanishing spells, you see. We'd been practising..." He held out his hand.

Dumbledore took the page copied from the diary and after smoothing it out, studied the drawing carefully through his half-moon spectacles. "Remarkable! A skillful rendering by...?"

Harry began, "Nev–"

"–Never in Hogwarts, sir," Hermione cut in quickly. We mmm... owled a friend at er... another school."

The castle trembled slightly to the noise of several doors being slammed and angry voices. Dumbledore turned his head towards the top of the stairs. "It would seem that Hogwarts is jealous – and with good reason," he added, tapping the picture. "She has an astonishing talent."

"She, sir?" said Hermione.

"Well, it would appear to be by the hand of a girl, wouldn't you say?" He folded over the paper. "Would this... other school be...?"

"Beauxbatons, Professor," said Hermione, warily.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Now that is really interesting... By chance their Headmistress was in touch with me recently."

"The school, sir?"

"Mmm... yes, Beauxbatons... It's wonderful how they've advanced don't you think?"

"Beauxbatons?" Hermione repeated with a frown. The Headmaster had seemed bemused, distant, and she was no longer sure of the true implication of his words.

"May I keep this? As a souvenir?" said Dumbledore. "I'd like a few mementos to remember things by."

Harry and Hermione shared a puzzled look.

"Come, you cannot remain here. You may use the Floo in Professor McGonagall's office." He walked slowly off along the corridor, giving the stairwell a wide berth.

"Thank you sir," said Harry, "but isn't your office much nearer if we–?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Alas, my replacement has caused some difficulty with access."

"Your replacement!" spluttered Harry. "But–!"

"It has been said that these days I am less... rigorous than perhaps I ought to be."

"You're leaving Hogwarts?" cried Hermione.

"It would seem so. The Ministry–"

"Oh, no!" said Hermione.

"Regrettably, yes." He eyed her carefully. "There may be a few changes around here when the new term begins." Dumbledore paused as they reached a bend in the corridor. "I should warn you that your self-help group might be uumm... compromised."

"Who snitched!" Ron snapped in disgust.

"Snitched? Ah... that would be... Professor Quirrell who uuh... inadvertently snitched." A thin smile crossed his lips briefly. "However, I do have some good news – for Harry, at least. Cadence will be home this evening."

"Cadence, sir?" frowned Harry. "I don't–"

"Your new sister, Harry. She and your mother are doing fine. Sirius is somewhat flustered though." He chuckled softly.

"I have a sister..." murmured Harry, half to himself as he absorbed the reality of the long-awaited event. "Hermione, I've got a sister!"

"Perhaps hush our wanderings while we pass this side turn," murmured Dumbledore, "Even whispers can carry far along these corridors. He patted the wall affectionately. "Coins chinking in pockets... things like that."

Ron and Harry stared at each other and clutched at their robes to dampen the sound.

"Sir...?" said Hermione. "Are you... on the run?"

"'On the run'? Bless me, yes, I suppose I am. 'On the run'... well, I never. Thought I'd take one last look around the place before I'm... ejected."

He halted abruptly at the top of the far stair. "Here we are. Please descend and use Professor McGonagall's floo – the Professor is away in Hogsmeade for the duration."

"And you, sir?" said Hermione, turning back as she followed her friends down. But there'd been a golden flash and Dumbledore was gone. She could hear Ron muttering on the steps below:

"Think he sounded a bit... distracted?"

Harry nodded, though his mind was elsewhere too. "Neville, you coming over to see my new sister?"

"Another day, Harry. I need some time... alone."

"Hermione?"

"Yes, thank you, I'll come."

Ron said, "Here's your bag, Hermione. I've been thinking about what you said – can you really invest all my share for me, except for a bit, I mean." He patted his pockets.

"Mine too," said Harry.

"Neville?" said Hermione.

"Yeah, whatever you think best."

.

Waste Not, Want Not

"If you please, Master Harry!" cried Kreacher as the threesome came tumbling out of the fireplace, one after the other. Harry was already racing to get out the kitchen door.

"Sorry, Kreacher." He paused while the elf removed ashes from his robes and off the floor. "Are they here yet?"

"Within the hour."

"We've time to sort out the uuh... you-know-what!" cried Ron. "Where, Harry?"

"My room. Come on."

They scurried upstairs and soon Hermione was summoning the Galleons out of her bag onto the carpet accompanied by a lovely metallic whooshing sound. They'd retrieved barely a tenth of the total heap yet it was formidable – for a few moments only. Very quickly every trace of Leprechaun gold faded away and the pile sagged to a fraction of its size, and Ron's spirits with it.

"It's still quite a lot, Ron," said Harry. "How much do you think, Hermione?"

She shrugged. "Well over fifty – maybe close to sixty. That's nearly thirty thousand for you, Ron, and perhaps ten for each of us three including Neville."

She conjured some sturdy moneybags and they watched the streams of gold flowing into them. "So, if you're all agreeable, I know just where to invest this and give us all a nice annuity."

"Where?" said Ron and Harry together.

"My friends, we're going into the Magical-Muggle waste disposal business."

.

Love's Aura

While the boys were yet pondering their new status as secret investors, a commotion was heard from downstairs.

"They're early!" yelled Harry, dashing for the door. "MUM! DAD!"

He stood for a moment at the top of the stair. The hall lights below were still dim as afternoon was only now yielding to evening, but he thought he saw a strange glow from the figures below.

Sirius's voice boomed out with a great deal of eagerness and pride. "Harry! All of you. Come down."

And down they came.

"May we formally introduce to you all... Cadence Hermione Black."

Hestia smiled at Hermione's gasp. "And we want you to be her godmother too, Hermione."

The three youngsters eyes widened at their first sight of the tiny baby fast asleep in her mother's arms.

With the back of his hand, Ron wiped a sniffle from his nose. Hermione glanced at him curiously.

"She's beautiful lit up like that," whispered Harry.

"You can still see it?" said Sirius, softly.

"You see a light, Harry?" said Hestia.

"What is it, Mum?"

"What do you see?"

"Sort of very pale golden orange pink and then a lovely blue fading to black."

Hestia led them through into the main living room where Sirius helped her to her favourite chair. "Cadence was born with an aura but it gradually waned from our sight after the birth. Your young eyes must be sharp if you can still see it."

"It is very faint," admitted Harry.

"The magic you kept pouring into me last summer..." Hestia was looking at Hermione. "What was it?"

Hermione flushed and shook her head. "Just that healing spell I told you about. Repeated over and over whenever I could."

"And...?"

"Magic's all about intent and emotions."

"And...?" persisted Hestia.

"Love. It was love with which I powered the enchantment."

Hestia reached out. Hermione took her hand.

.

Ron's Heart

Hermione only planned on stopping at Grimmauld Place for one night but she stayed for two.

"You'll be here longer though, Ron?" Harry said with a hopeful tone, as he played his last Exploding Snap card onto the bedroom carpet.

"Yeah, till the start of Easter proper, then I'm going with Mum and Dad to see Ginny again." There was an air about him of...

"Making the best of a bad job," said Hermione, rather flatly. "What is it with you, Ron? Jealous that Harry's got a sister now?"

Ron glared. Harry looked startled. "Hermione! What a thing to say!"

"I am NOT jealous!" spluttered Ron. "It's just that..."

Harry cursed as the card he'd played failed to explode. "Ron, you've got a HUGE family!"

"Yeah, well... seemed like it."

"What do you mean?"

"Bill and Charlie are gone and we hardly see them."

"So?"

"Percy's... well, Percy is remote even when he's there and the twins... they have each other."

"What are you getting at? It's not like they've all disappeared!"

"Yeah, well, you don't know what it was like as kids. We were all together, all family. Everyone was always there – all around us. But the others were significantly older. Me and Ginny... we were closer in age. Look, it didn't matter then that she was a girl. We did everything together, played together."

Hermione smiled. "You old softy. I never would have believed it. Ron is missing his baby sister."

"Oh, shut it."

She stared at him, thinking hard. "You're not thinking of...?"

"Might have."

"My God, it's that money isn't it?"

Harry yelped, "What is? Wh–?"

"He's been thinking of moving to Beauxbatons, haven't you, Ron?"

Ron shook his head, confused. "The idea did enter my head."

Harry leapt up, his foot accidentally kicking playing cards in all directions – some snapping and cracking angrily at the interrupted play. "But we're your FRIENDS!"

"I only said I'd thought about it. There's no way I'm actually going to stay there."

Harry puffed out air, trying to grapple with what he'd heard.

Hermione summoned the cards back into their packet. "Ron, everything changes in time. Your family's expanding outwards and your relationships will too. You won't lose them; you'll adjust to the bigger picture. Family and friends aren't about competing to get; they're about giving. Give Percy a few minutes of your time. Write to Bill and Charlie now and again."

"I guess..."

.

Barty's Bombshell

Barty Crouch strode into Mike Worthing's study. "Is she here, yet?"

"Not yet," said Mike, glancing at his watch. It was almost the hour.

Barty nodded to the other couple at the table: Jop and Vera Gair, but Vera in particular. "Stories we're hearing about Hogwarts – I can't help wondering if–"

Hermione came through the wall, unnerving Mike. "Don't keep doing that!" His expression of alarm lapsed into a grin. "Good to see you, Rosie."

Vera stood up and held out her arms. "It's been months."

"Well, you know, schoolwork and so on." Hermione gave her a hug.

"And was that the demon – all that trouble reported about the school?" said Crouch.

"No worries. I dealt with it."

"You dealt with it... a demon." Crouch sank into a chair at the table and began running his hands through his hair.

"So, straight to business," said Hermione, checking her personal organiser, "Jop, can you confirm your team are supporting Arthur Weasley's Muggle Protection Act?"

"Indeed we are, Rosie. That's one of our top priorities this year."

"Good man. It should go through but keep an eye out for any smear campaigns against the Weasleys."

Hermione pulled out the moneybags and thumped them down heavily on the tabletop before pushing them towards Mike. There was no doubt in anyone's mind what they were.

"This is for...?" said Mike.

"How's the Magic-Muggle networking coming along?" said Hermione.

"Good. Very good. We've contacts at high levels. The main infrastructure we've named Techgic and it's protected by the magical section of British secret services. Everything goes through Techgic and no questions asked. Industry might be curious about how supplies were produced and at relatively low cost, but so long as they get what they want, they accept that the wherewithal is classified."

Crouch growled, "But surely in time they'll wonder wh–?"

"–Techgic is gradually being regarded as an organisation of extremely advanced scientists and technicians. Currently, it's applications we're still short of. Sub-manufacturing components is growing, but slowly." Mike weighed one of the moneybags in his hands.

Hermione said, "There's around sixty-thousand Galleons there. Not much of a startup for what I have in mind but the Muggles can add that times ten to begin research and development. Times hundred again when they realise the enormous potential."

"The 'thing' being?"

"Garbage disposal and recycling. It's going to be big, really big. Radioactive waste is a huge problem already, and ordinary waste landfills are getting full. And if there's one thing that magic can do really efficiently, it's separating, transfiguring, and vanishing. I envisage huge bland processor-containers – rubbish in, much-reduced, recyclable rubbish out, and nobody the wiser. In time, these will also have spin-offs in global defence. What better shields than such enchantments scaled up nationally? And Mike, when that time comes, caution your developers to focus only on providing passive defence, never weaponry. Have you rune experts on your staff?"

"Only a few. But they're the best."

"You'll need more. Maybe fifty within a year or so. I visualise that–"

"Fifty! How in Merlin's name am I suppose to get–"

"–Most of the work will be low level: maintaining rune efficiency and so on. Recruit as many as you can. There are some quite good seventh-year students leaving Hogwarts this summer. Push the Headmistress to impress upon them the importance of N.E.W.T.S to their prospects."

Crouch snorted. "Like she'd be any encouragement..." he muttered.

Hermione frowned. "Professor McGonagall has always supported serious students in every house, especially when considering career choices."

It was Crouch's turn to frown and his eyebrows twitched several times before he spoke. "McGonagall? Who's talking about her? I mean the new headmistress who's replacing Dumbledore – ah, perhaps it's not been announced yet."

"Who?" Hermione suddenly felt sick to her stomach. "Who, Barty?"

He grimaced before he spoke, as if that was the only way the name could be spat out between his gritted teeth. "Umbridge. It's Dolores Umbridge who is now Headmistress of Hogwarts."

.

Hatching An Easter Egg

Hermione brooded through Good Friday. She was still pensive on Easter Day. Umbridge must die. Slowly. The girl fantasised a dozen different deaths where Umbridge whimpered and begged for release but was mocked, scoffed at, poked with a sharp stick by a smirking schoolgirl topped by thick bushy hair. But how? Although the disposal of Umbridge had always been on 'the list', never had Hermione considered that the foul toad would be empowered over Harry again. It could not be allowed. Once in a lifetime was enough.

She glanced at her knuckles, visualising how Harry's had been permanently scarred by the woman's tortures. That. Was. Not. Going. To. Happen. Ever. Again! It was a mantra in Hermione's brain. A given. But how to do the necessary without warning dark forces there was a vigilante at large? Subtlety was needed. How to vanish a headmistress – not to mention the Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic himself – without anyone noticing. It seemed impossible.

Yet slowly she laid out her plan, and a sinister smile shaped itself on the face of Miss Hermione Granger.

.

The New Decrees

The return journey to Hogwarts was a weary one after the extended Easter break. Harry, supported by Hermione, visited every carriage as the Hogwarts Express steamed north, warning the Crestors not to antagonise the new Headmistress nor give her any excuse to dish out punishments, and that she would be dealt with in due course. Meanwhile, Crest meetings would take place as usual, and Hermione's potions class would continue, protected by the rules of the Founders themselves.

Despite trying to remain upbeat, as she and her friends sat down to dinner in the Great Hall, Hermione resigned herself to the expected monotony of Umbridge's opening address after the coming meal, and wondered not very convincingly to herself if she and her friends might instead take a few pies and potatoes, buns and butter-cakes, and sneak away while everyone else was eating – thus to avoid staying for the speech completely. It was not to be. Ron continued to stare gloomily at the still-empty dishes and plates, as did all the other hungry students. Whereas Dumbledore would have begun with the eating and ended with announcements, the new Head of Hogwarts made her priorities immediately clear.

"Hem, hem..."

With her wand, Umbridge tapped imperiously on the carved wooden arm of the Head's golden, almost throne-like chair – Dumbledore's chair. This was followed by a very strange sound, as if two little gloves were limply patting each other, and Hermione realised with a shock that Umbridge was clapping herself. A few first-years, uncertain what to do, instinctively took up the pathetic acclaim, and several Slytherins also applauded, then the timid ovation faded out as feebly as it had begun.

"Hem, hem..." She cleared her throat a second time, took a sip from a goblet, then began:

"Thank you so much, children," Umbridge simpered, "for that warm welcome. It is so lovely to be back at Hogwarts, and to see such happy little faces gazing up at me!"

Hermione glanced around. None of the faces she could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

"I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again, but when she continued, some of the breathy girlishness had vanished from her voice. There was now a sharp edge to her tone and the words had a dull, learned-by-heart sound to them.

"First, we must apologise for the lax discipline of my predecessor under which you have all suffered for so long and that ended in such terrible, terrible tragedy. You will be pleased to hear that I have now remedied the problem and none of you are in danger any longer."

She released a little throaty squeak then paused and looked up with a silly smile on her lips, as though challenging Hogwarts to cast down the tiniest stone. Nothing happened. Umbridge made an open palm gesture which suggested she believed they all shared a mutual understanding.

"Over fifty new decrees will protect each and every one of you while also developing your character and promoting your welfare."

There was a murmur amongst the students but Umbridge ploughed on, "The most significant of these are as follows:"

Another sip of water.

"All meetings of three or more students must first be approved by myself or those I appoint. This especially includes so-called self-help cheat groups who wish to gain advantage over other students. The punishment for any infringements will be expulsion."

A louder murmur passed like a wave around the hall but subsided as students craned to hear more.

"All cheat books are banned for the same reasons and with the same punishment. Only authorised textbooks are allowed at Hogwarts."

There were gasps amongst the mutterings now. Hermione's gaze shot to Professor Snape. She'd taken no notice of him up to that moment but saw now that his face was a rigid stony mask of sneering contempt – and he was looking directly back at Hermione. There could be no doubt in her mind that it was he whom Umbridge had consulted when compiling her new decrees. This lifetime's Snape did not yet know Umbridge very well.

"All students will attend mandatory classes given by Hogwarts-appointed staff. Any infringers will be expelled."

A gleam lit up Snape's eyes that no statue could ever emulate.

Hermione was smiling and shaking her head at her friends and across to some of the Crestors who were looking their way, trying to catch Harry's or her attention. Not even Umbridge could overturn the Rules of the Founders, and especially not the appeal procedure.

She became aware that Ron was nudging her with his elbow, and she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "Don't worry, she can't do this."

Another nudge, and something brushed her hand as it lay on the table. It was the multi-diary, and it was open at the latest page. There, in Luna's contrary style, though formed into a kind of headline was:

DAILY PROPHET SILENCED!
THE HOGWARTS BOARD OF
GOVERNORS SUSPENDED!

Umbridge moved on. "Owl messages and other communications are banned. All messages in and out of Hogwarts will be submitted to my office for consideration..."

For several seconds, Hermione, distracted by Umbridge's ongoing drone, could not take in the significance of what she was reading. Then her face paled. There could be no appeal to the Board if its activities were completely frozen.

Harry was mouthing something at her. "Why'd they keep it secret? Why not announce about the Board if she wants to stop us?"

And Hermione knew as clearly and as immediately as Harry had asked the question. "She doesn't want to stop us, Harry, she wants to trap and expel us."

Ron and Harry exchanged glances. Neville was observing but perhaps had not yet fully understood. Hermione wondered if she comprehended it all herself. Why had Fudge acted this way? In her former life, the Minister had been afraid that Harry's claim of Voldemort's return after the Triwizard Tournament was some kind of power play by Dumbledore, but with the dark wizard truly dead that could never occur in this lifetime. Perhaps the fear of Dumbledore had always been there, and the recent incidents at Hogwarts had given Fudge the opportunity he needed to sideline the headmaster once and for all.

Harry was saying to Ron, "We need to warn everyone – but quickly." He took out his charmed Galleon. "Hermione?"

After a second or two of frowning, Hermione whispered, "Yes, stop everything for the time being," and he acted instantly. On his Galleon, he tapped out a brief message with his wand: change plan: no meets. no potions lessons. no books. do nothing for now.

Within moments there was a flurry of consternation and a flash of faces towards Harry from amongst a few students that even Umbridge could not fail to notice – yet the Headmistress could see no other cause than the impact of her own words. She smirked. "The complete list of decrees will be posted throughout the castle."

Umbridge sat down to digest the success of her talk, seemingly having forgotten no one had yet eaten, or perhaps not realising it was her duty to deliver a meal as well as a speech.

McGonagall looked at Flitwick and they exchanged a nod of some unspoken agreement. The small man, being less conspicuous, waved a hand, and the plates filled up with food. It was a grim feast.

.

Passive Non-Defence

Within twenty-four hours, the four youngsters had managed to separately inform Crest members of the details of the situation. Tutomees were gathered up and stored in Hermione's bag which was obscured by a substantial Notice-me-not charm.

Justin, in particular, was seething, but could see Hermione's reasoning that 'laying low' was the right course of action for the time being. Padma needed reassuring that she was even allowed to chat with her twin sister and was relieved to be reminded that talking was fine so long as there was no one else with them to form a group of three or more. All were looking to Harry to restore their way of life as soon as possible.

History was not quite the hell that Ron had anticipated. He was far enough ahead and so thoroughly grounded in the subject by the Witch Hazel illustration that even without the Tutomee he cruised Binns' first lesson after the Easter break. The Defence class was not so comfortable:

Professor Quirrell sat at his desk near-expressionless, though his demeanour seemed rather forced and the knuckles on the tightly-clasped hands on the desk before him were white. Several stacks of books pressed for space against his forearms. Beside the teacher stood the Headmistress.

"Come in, children, come in," she simpered. "We have good news for you today, do we not, Professor?"

Quirrell reluctantly inclined his head and opened his mouth but Umbridge continued, "The Ministry shall never intrude into your normal routine other than to apply... minor adjustments to match the changing circumstances. This is my faithful promise."

She paused for effect but was met with blank puzzlement.

"As I am sure you have all noticed in recent years, our strong Ministry has caused the gradual diminution of dark influences to such a point that we can safely say they hold no sway in current magical society at all. AT ALL," she repeated. "Indeed, Professor Quirrell here assures me that having spent an entire year researching this very subject, he found not one trace of any large, organised, criminal activity, isn't that so, Professor?"

"Yes, but–"

"And so," she swept on, taking a stride or two towards the blackboard, "we must all adjust with the times. Professor Quirrell will be teaching you the gentle art of non-aggression – if you would, Professor...?"

Quirrell rose to his feet, hovered the book stacks, and began to walk down the aisles between the desks, handing out one slender volume to each student. Hermione noticed he also gave each child a slow look as he passed but she could not interpret his expression. Was the stare a denial? A reassurance? Or a warning?

She accepted her copy but was none the wiser, other than perhaps Quirrell's special attention was meant as a point of personal contact – a distancing himself from the Headmistress. That pondering faded rapidly as she stared at the book cover:

Embossed in the dark blue leather was a young witch in a bright silver frock, skipping through a meadow and scattering daisies around herself in a very carefree manner. She waved at Hermione, pointed at herself then upwards at the book title and author:

Behavioural Hygiene
By Flossom Lark

The book fell open as Hermione's grip went limp, and her eyes flicked towards a few random sentences at the start of the first chapter:

Backtrack. Holdback. Pullback. Aggression is the cause of aggression. Do NOT be a cause!

Dumbfounded, Hermione tried to compose her thoughts in a rational manner. Umbridge seemed to have excelled even her former self in the earlier timeline. Why? Was it a result of the Black Arc's low profile? It looked indeed as if Fudge was taking every advantage of the lull in dark activity coupled with Dumbledore's apparent weakness in order to strengthen his own position.

A screech of chalk startled everyone and drew their attention to the blackboard on which were appearing the words:

Attack? Alack! A lack is the best form of defence!

The class was in shock. Those who knew nothing of Umbridge were wondering if a huge joke was unfolding while those who did know of her reputation felt their hearts sinking down into their boots. Hermione heard Harry stirring beside her but she'd primed all the Crestors to take no action no matter what.

But it was a non-member who spoke. "That makes no sense at all..." said Fay, hesitantly, but so clearly in the silence that everyone knew what she had said.

For a few moments one might have heard a pin drop, then Umbridge's rigid grimace softened into a weak smile. "Quite correct, Miss...?"

"Dunbar, Professor. I mean how–?"

"–Yes, Miss Dunbar, in an evil, violent society such as that endured by Muggles, these words would be very foolish, would they not? But in an advanced community governed by loving Magic, all things are possible. Might we have a volunteer so that I can demonstrate?"

A hand shot up so rapidly from amongst the group of Slytherins on the left that Hermione felt sure the request had been anticipated, even orchestrated.

"Yes, come forward, Mr...?"

"Nott, Professor, Theodore Nott." The tall, stringy boy walked confidently to the front of the class.

"We'll make this quite simple, though you will need some imagination," simpered the Headmistress. "I shall play a common thief, that rare opportunist who sadly might occasionally be tempted by the apparently weak. Your part, Mr Nott, will be as an innocent passerby always ready to emphasise your vulnerability by falling over in a tremble. Now, can anyone guess what might happen? Hint: it might not be your first thought."

A great deal of wide-eyed blinking swept like a fever across the astonished faces of the class. But Nott, showing no surprise whatsoever, sauntered to the side of the class then walked back whistling towards Umbridge. She raised her wand and her face adopted what, perhaps, she assumed was a really fierce expression. Ron sniggered but managed to keep it very soft.

As Umbridge lunged, Nott flung himself backwards, feigning surprise. He hit the ground so gently that Hermione was certain he'd cast a cushioning charm with his mostly-obscured right wand hand.

The Headmistress threw up her arms in mock distress and ran away a few steps in apparent confusion.

"Yes, as you all surmised, the villain, astonished by this unexpected turn of events, and seeing himself now the centre of attention in a street full of shoppers, had no recourse but to obey his cowardly instinct to flee."

Sally-Anne Perks, who had removed her reading glasses to observe the action, waved them towards Nott as he clambered to his feet. "But would the robber not simply steal his gold and then run away?"

"He has no gold. Or perhaps a little, well-concealed. He gave the thief no incentive so the villain lost all motivation. What purpose could there be in attacking a penniless waif lying upon the ground? None at all."

Sally-Anne persisted. "But I heard coins clinking as Nott fell..."

"No. No, you didn't."

"This is ridiculous!" said Fay, rising to her friend's defence by slamming down the book she still held. The mouth of the girl on the cover formed a big round 'O' before she covered it with one dainty hand then scampered off to collect more flowers.

Umbridge cried, "Students will raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class. That will be ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Dunbar."

"But surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Dunbar?" asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.

"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 programme of study. You will be learning about defence in a passive, risk-free way–"

"What use is that!"

"Detention, Miss Dunbar! Clearly you need extra instruction on how to be docile enough to remain safe." Her anger quickly changed to a simper. "This is beneficial actually, dear. We all know that the Ministry does have every child's welfare close to its heart. You will find your manner much improved with extra guidance. Remember, everyone, I am your friend."

Hermione bristled. Fay was the girl who'd been frightened by a mouse in their dorm? Well, she was a Gryffindor after all, and since no one else had spoken up, any stout-hearted lion might be expected to step in to fill the vacuum. She studied the girl's face: pinched but resolute. I promise you this, Fay, no one will face Umbridge's blood quill while I'm here! Not this time! Not ever!

"Now wands away and line up everyone so we can practice your falls over and over until they are thoroughly natural, realistic, and... instinctive." Umbridge's voice faltered slightly as she turned her head away to correct an overheard conversation. "No, cushions will not not be required – they would make your fall look unnatural, wouldn't they?"

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—oOo—

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Author's Notes

BrightSkywalker raised some interesting questions in reviews to Chapter 2 and 3. First, that the main villain of this story will be the prejudices of the magical world. Yes, but that's only part of it. Muggles have prejudices as well. Her task will be to unite them – or at least, enable them to partially interact such that they can help one another to harmonise and avoid global catastrophe. There will still be other individual villains as well. Second, Harry's personality is still courageous and noble but he's generally a happier individual. It will take him longer to mature – even at eleven he sounds younger than in the books and is guided by Hermione – but his leadership qualities are slowly emerging. Third, many things will remain the same: characters, political systems, Hogwarts, etc., so Hermione's knowledge of the future will still be very useful. :)

With this fic well in hand and progressing virtually weekly, I've completed another short fic. It's a time twist story with Lily Luna Potter called 'Lily's Grandmother'. :)

Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)

– Hippothestrowl

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