Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue. I don't even own the disclaimer. I copied it from someone. I can't even remember who.

A/N: Thanks Miss Piratess for being my ONLY reviewer :'(
Well, life goes on, hopefully more people will read my story this time. I'm sorry I couldn't put this chapter up in time, because I went to Singapore on Friday and I was thinking when I wrote the first chapter that I wouldn't be able to go. Yeah. I just got back today (I had a great time). But the third chapter is going to take MUCH longer. Here's my chapter

The next morning at breakfast, Hermione was prattling on, her way of dealing with the major change. 'I mean, can you imagine, Dumbledore! He didn't die at the hands of Grindelwald, even Voldemort couldn't defeat him, and now he's been taken, by disease, no less, something that even kills muggles! When you think that even Dumbledore can die, Dumbledore who could produce the Elixir of Life, Dumbledore who saved the lives of so many, you realize how precious life actually is, don't you?'

'Shut up, Hermione. We don't want to hear about it.'

Harry had been in a surly mood since the last night. More than being upset about Dumbledore's death, he was worried that there was no one there to protect him. He half expected to be looking into Voldemort's snake-like eyes every time he turned a corner, but Voldemort was never there. Ron, too, was behaving differently, choosing to simply be quiet and stare down at his feet . He and Ginny, as future members sworn into the Order, had been invited to the funeral, as had Harry, Hermione, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, and the twins.

As they started their breakfast of scrambled eggs and pumpkin juice, someone rose at the staff table. He was in Dumbledore's seat, but he was certainly not Dumbledore. His eyes were not blue and friendly, but gray and forbidding, and he lacked Dumbledore's characteristic silver beard. He did, however, have glossy platinum-blond hair, characteristic of a certain Slytherin. 'Malfoy.' whispered Harry. But as the man began his speech, he was not sneering, but smiling a broad smile. His usually cold eyes were twinkling with delight at the sight of the young faces looking up at him, some in awe, some in surprise, and the Gryffindors', in disgust. 'Good Morning to you all. Today is a sad day, the first day after the demise of our revered Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. We shall miss his presence here in the halls where we pass the secrets of our existence on to our children.'

'Yeah, right.' said Harry. 'Here I quote Malfoy : "Father's always said that Dumbledore's the worst thing that ever happened to this school."'

'We do, however, have to accept that such tragic things often happen in life and move on, and that is why I am here. I represent the Board of Governors of Hogwarts school, and I am here to facilitate the transition into a new era of education with your new Headmaster or Headmistress. But before we get on with that, I do owe some of you a sincere apology. For many more years than I can remember, I have been showcasing my hatred of all witches and wizards of non-magical origin. I do, however, believe that magical and non-magical people can live in harmony, and that we are all truly equal. I assure you that whatever I may have done in the past to cause anyone to believe the contrary, was done under the influence of the Imperius Curse of a powerful wizard. ' He paused as the school digested his words.

'D'you buy it?' asked Ron.

'Never.' replied Hermione under her breath. 'I'd bet he's trying to get into our good books for when he becomes headmaster.'

'Headmaster?' asked Harry incredulously. 'You must be joking. He'd be worse than Umbridge!'

'No, I'm not joking. Malfoy is hungry for more power and influence, even though he's already got more than his fair share. Just you watch him.'

'Now, on to more important matters, meaning the appointment of a new Headmaster or Headmistress for our school. After much discussion, The Board has narrowed the field down to two candidates, namely, Professor Minerva McGonagall-' Professor McGonagall rose '-and yours truly.'

'Blimey, you could give the centaurs a run for their money!'