A/N: Revised as of July 31, 2005
Chapter Seven: Tensions
"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast," Dumbledore said, "I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices.
"First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students—and a few of our older students ought to know by now too.
"Mr. Filch, our caretaker has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred and sixty-second time (Somebody has no life, smirked Michaela), to remind you all magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.
"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher."
The students clapped, but Michaela could tell that it was more out of politeness rather than enthusiasm.
"We also have a student who will be staying with us for awhile, Michaela Woodburn. I'm sure you'll do everything to make her feel at home. Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—" but Dumbledore was stopped by a clear "Hem, hem."
The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—Professor Umbridge?—was apparently about to make a speech.
Upon closer inspection, Michaela couldn't find any adjective to describe her that was flattering. This woman reminded her of a toad, actually, and her hideous pink cardigan did not make matters better.
"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome." She talked in the type of voice that one hears from middle schoolers squealing over gossip about boys. Moreover, it sounded as though she thought that all the students were about five years old and thus needed to be talked down to.
Professor Umbridge began to speak about Hogwarts and education in general. To Michaela's ears she sounded as though she kept contradicting herself. 'Encouraging progress' . . . but then not 'for the sake of it' . . . What? You should only move forward, Michaela thought. There's nothing wrong in trying new techniques for the sake of it—that's how discoveries are made. Of course they don't always work out, but you don't stop trying.
By this point, most of the students seemed to have lost attentiveness to Professor Umbridge. In fact, the noise level was rising again, little however Professor Umbridge noticed. At the end of her speech there was only a spatter of applause as most people were unaware that the speech had ended.
"Thank you very much Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," Dumbledore said. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held next week. The Gryffindor captain has informed me that they are in need of a new Keeper and Hufflepuff—"
"I said it was illuminating, not enjoyable," Hermione was saying, as Michaela turned her attention to the table.
"Did it? Sounded like a load of waffle to me," said Harry, surprised.
"There was some important stuff hidden in that waffle," Hermione said grimly.
"Was there?" Ron asked.
"How about 'progress for progress' sake must be discouraged'? How about 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"
"Yeah, I was a bit like, what?" Michaela said. "A lot of her speech was contradictory."
"Well, anyway, what does it mean?" Ron asked impatiently.
"I'll tell you what it means," Hermione said darkly. "It means that the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."
"Why would they—" but Michaela was cut off as all the students were all dismissed and were trying to get out of the Great Hall.
Jumping up, Hermione said, "Ron, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!"
"Oh yeah," Ron said, rather unenthused. "Hey—hey you lot! Midgets!"
"Ron!"
"Well, they are, they're titchy . . ."
"I know, but you can't call them midgets . . . first years! This way, please." Hermione turned to Michaela. "You can come with me and I'll show you where everything is."
She led the first years out of the hall and took them to a quieter area. "Alright, listen up please, first years," Hermione said bossily. "My name is Hermione Granger and this is Ron Weasley," she said. "We're the Gryffindor prefects this year and if you ever need help or need to report any misbehavior, you should come to us."
The first years looked at her like kittens seeing their mother.
"Right, so I think we should all introduce ourselves and maybe play the name game—"
"Hermione!" protested Ron. "We don't need to play the name game! I want to go to bed sometime this year!"
Hermione looked flustered. "Fine, fine, okay. This way please." She led them through the school to the Gryffindor Tower and Michaela started to recognize the path they were taking. Hermione kept up a running commentary along the way.
"Now Hogwarts is a big school with lots of surprises everywhere. I would highly recommend that you go with a buddy for the first few weeks . . ."
I guess Hermione will be my 'buddy' for at least a few weeks as well. They reached the portrait of the fat lady.
"Now as you may know, in order to get into the common room and your dormitories, you have to know the password. There are no exceptions, the fat lady won't let you in unless you know it, so be sure to ask before going out the portrait hole," Hermione explained. "For now, the password is 'Mimbulus Mimbletonia.'"
On cue, the portrait swung forward and the first years climbed through after Hermione. Inside the common room were only a few students; most of them had apparently gone to bed.
Hermione was now showing the first years to their rooms. ". . . right over there and don't forget that breakfast is at eight o'clock sharp!"
As the first years headed up to their respective rooms, Hermione turned to Ron. "Well, I think that went well for the most part, but you could've helped me out a little bit—"
"Hermione! You didn't let me get in a word edge-wise; you kept talking and wouldn't stop—"
"Hey, let's all go to bed, huh?" said Michaela, breaking up the impending fight. "We're all tired, I expect."
Ron and Hermione still looked a bit peeved at each other, but agreed to go to bed.
"Good night, Ron," called Michaela as she and Hermione went up to their rooms. When they got there, she saw four other girls settling in.
"Hi everybody, this is Michaela Woodburn, she'll be staying with us in our room for awhile."
They looked at her curiously, but said polite "hello"'s as Hermione introduced them to Michaela.
"Are you an American?" asked one of the girls after Michaela said her "hello"'s back.
"Yeah, I'm from California."
"Oh, wow that's brilliant!" Parvati said.
"Are you on an exchange trip from your school?" said Lavender.
"Not exactly. I'm staying here because I'm Uncle Albus' niece."
"But why are you—"
Hermione cut in. "I think we should get to bed, it's been a long day."
"No, it's okay, Hermione," Michaela said. "The truth is that my parents were killed in a car accident." Somehow the lie made her real situation seem less dangerous; it was as though by fooling the world that her parents were dead gave her confidence that her parents weren't—or would be—dead.
"Oh, I'm so sorry . . ." Lavender trailed off.
The others chorused their sympathies as well and Michaela said, "Well, I do miss them terribly, but life goes on." Did that sound a bit too uncaring as though she wasn't mourn her parents properly? Quickly, she added, "It was awhile ago, anyway."
Parvati changed the subject. "So will you be taking classes with us and all?"
Michaela and Hermione looked at each other. "Erm . . . not exactly. You see, I'm a Squib." The other girls looked startled but quickly regained their composure.
"What are you going to do then, if you can't do magic?" Parvati asked.
"Well, I'm going to be doing my normal schoolwork like I do at my old Muggle school." Seeing their puzzled looks, she added, "Well, I really have nowhere else to go because Uncle Albus is my only living relative besides Uncle Aberforth and Uncle Aberforth is, well, not totally "there" all the time, if you know what I mean. And it's only for a year, anyway."
Satisfied with that explanation, the girls returned to their unpacking and Michaela joined them.
"Did you hear about the Wizengamot, Parvati?" Lavender was saying. "They sacked Dumbledore because they said he wasn't up to the job anymore, no offense to you, Michaela, but I really think that it's because of Dumbledore's insistence that You-Know-Who is back, which is utter nonsense, if you ask me."
"What?" asked Michaela. "You don't believe that? I thought it was common knowledge that Ol' Voldie's back."
All of the girls gasped at Michaela's light reference to Voldemort. "What, didn't you guys know?" She turned to Hermione. "I thought that Dumbledore told the school about his re-birth after the Triwizard tournament."
"That doesn't mean it's true!" Lavender said. "All Dumbledore had was Harry's word, which, in my opinion, isn't worth much—"
"Excuse me?" Hermione said, hands on hips, starting to look angry.
"I know you guys are good friends, Hermione, but you can't pretend that he's not always out for attention—"
"No he's not! He's—"
"Look at the Triwizard tournament!" shouted Lavender. "He put his name in when he wasn't supposed to and somehow got Diggory killed—" she stopped as she realized that she had crossed the line.
Hermione's face was splotched with patches of red and her hands were clenched shut, shaking slightly. In a gritted voice, she said, "Shut your big fat mouth. Not another word."
Lavender opened her mouth to protest but Hermione said, "I can give you detention if you don't. I'm a prefect." With that, Hermione strode over to her bed and closed the curtains forcibly.
The other girls looked shocked at Hermione's behavior but Lavender just looked plain mad. But she too decided not to further discuss the subject and went to bed.
Michaela didn't quite feel that this wasn't the best time to ask where the bathroom was so she could brush her teeth and so she instead quietly went to bed herself along with the other girls after uttering a "Good-night" to everyone.
No one answered her