Chapter Two
Hermione was surprised by how much she enjoyed being back at Hogwarts. Guilty as she'd felt abandoning Harry so soon after Sirius's death, she had to admit that her parents had been right: A few months of lying on beaches, far away from dark wizards and potentially lethal curses, had been just the medicine she needed to recover from last spring's horrors.
Actually, Hermione had been rather trepidatious about returning to school. For one thing, though she was smart enough not to give them too many details about her brush with death, her parents had been decidedly less enthusiastic about this school year than any before it. A letter from Hogwarts Board of Governors to all Muggle parents explaining the situation with Voldemort had done little to ease their minds, but they had seemed resigned to leaving the decision about whether or not to go back solely in their daughter's hands. While Hermione appreciated their confidence and loved them for their concern, she had never seriously considered any other alternative than Hogwarts – it was her home, her life, her future, nothing could change that.
And while Voldemort's return to power had unnerved her, to say the least, it wasn't fear that gave her pause about starting her sixth year at Hogwarts. Rather, it was how divided the school would be between those who supported the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, like Draco Malfoy, and those, such as herself and Harry and Ron, who vehemently opposed Voldemort and everything he stood for. Could the school, such a volatile place anyway, withstand that sort of tension? Would students fight openly in the hallways? Would professors blatantly seek expulsion of students whose parents were known Death Eaters? How much danger would she, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the other members of the D.A. really be in, and how much protection could they afford one another?
That, and a nagging concern that Harry might be going 'round the bend over Sirius's death, and a silly fear that her new hairdo would be made fun of, kept her up nearly all night before climbing aboard the Hogwarts Express.
Aside from her awkward run-in with Malfoy on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters – if she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was actually flirting with her – things had been delightfully normal, however. Better than normal in many ways, really: Now that the O.W.L.s were behind them and career paths had been at least tentatively chosen, Hermione and her classmates were finally given much more latitude in designing their courses of study, all of which promised to be brutal. Hermione suspected she was the only student relishing that fact.
School brought other pleasant surprises as well. For one thing, her new look was received with an almost embarrassing approval; a seventh-year boy from Ravenclaw whose name she didn't even know had asked her to have coffee with him in Hogsmeade, and if Ron hadn't stepped forward and threatened to break his jaw, she might even have accepted. Romance seemed to be blooming all over the place, in fact – Ginny and Dean were inseparable, Neville struck up a totally unexpected courtship with Luna Lovegood, and, best of all, Hagrid slyly reported to them that Remus Lupin and Tonks had slipped off for a quiet weekend together, confirming the Order's suspicions that the two were an item.
Ron was his usual self, perhaps a bit more comfortable in his own skin this year. He was a prefect, of course, and Hermione secretly speculated that he had a good chance of becoming Head Boy (she, of course, fully expected to be made Head Girl, but since everybody else assumed she was a shoe-in, she didn't feel arrogant for expecting it). And Ron's position as Gryffindor's Keeper elevated his school status greatly. He looked different than she remembered, too: He had grown over the summer, towering over her now (Hermione despised that she never seemed to grow taller), and his Quidditch training had filled out his chest, arms and legs. All in all, Ron was shaping up to be quite handsome, so Hermione wasn't surprised when she spotted more than a few fourth- and fifth-year girls goggling at him in the common room.
Harry was hardly himself, but Hermione, who had called him religiously once a week during the summer holidays, was prepared for his somber mood. The first wave of Harry's intense grief had passed quickly, leaving behind a hollowness that had yet to be filled. He was hard-muscled from his own Quidditch practice, having spent a good portion of the holidays at the Burrow with Ron, yet much thinner than the year before; his dark hair still fell in an unruly (and quite charming, she admitted) shag around his handsome face, but his cheeks were somewhat sunken, and dark, sleepless circles ringed his bright green eyes. He was quieter, more withdrawn, always in the background, never angry or sad or particularly happy. He hovered like a shadow in their otherwise sunny lives, and Hermione knew she wasn't the only one desperate for some sort of break in that impenetrable façade, some sign of the Harry from before.
Hagrid said be patient, as Mrs. Weasley had cautioned all summer. Personally, Hermione was hoping that being back at school would bring Harry around. She only hoped the war Voldemort was sure to make on the wizard world – one she was surprised he hadn't yet begun – wouldn't reach them at Hogwarts this year. They needed at least one term without death and mayhem.
So while Hogwarts was noticeably different from previous years, especially in the level of disdain between Slytherin and the other houses, it was also a pleasant place to be.
They received their schedules as usual on their first morning back. Groans went up all around as the sixth-years realized the enormity of their last two years at Hogwarts. Hermione, preparing for a career with the Ministry (probably working in the legal system to protect the rights of magical creatures, like house elves and werewolves), shared four classes with Ron and Harry, each of whom were preparing to be Aurors: Advanced Transfiguration, Advanced Care of Magical Creatures, Sixth-Year History of Magic, and Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. Whereas Ron and Harry had Potions, Charms and Divination to round out their schedules, though, Hermione had History of Law in Magic, Advanced Arithmancy, and Standard Healing, the last a requirement for any working at the Ministry.
Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, was the subject on everybody's lips. At the welcome feast, Professor Dumbledore had made no mention of a new instructor, and no new faces had appeared at the teachers' table. Rumors spread like wildfire that the Ministry was sending in a team of Aurors to train up students against Death Eaters; Seamus passed on a report from a third-year Hufflepuff whose father supposedly sat on the Wizengamot that no one would take Defense Against the Dark Arts until the Ministry sorted out possible supporters of You-Know-Who; Neville deemed it plausible that Luna's father was right and King Arthur would be returning from Avalon to prepare them for the greatest battle of their time.
Like most students, Hermione thought it much more possible – and much more distressing – that Snape had finally gotten his wish and would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts in addition to Potions.
Harry alone calmly dismissed this idea in the common room the night before classes. Looking haggard in the dim light, he told Ron and Hermione, "Dumbledore will never let Snape teach students about the Dark Arts. That's one privilege he's lost forever."
Ron arched an eyebrow, skeptical. "I don't know, mate. Dumbledore trusts Snape with a lot to still harbor suspicions about him."
"And you have to admit," Hermione chimed in, "nothing good has happened to professors in that position for a long time. Maybe Dumbledore couldn't find anybody else to teach it and he had to appoint Snape."
Harry shrugged. He seemed thoroughly nonplussed by the idea of taking another course with his most-hated professor. "Guess we'll see in the morning," was his final comment before heading off to bed, where, Ron reported quietly to her the next morning, Harry did nothing but toss and turn in the grip of apparent nightmares.
Hermione had little time to worry about Harry that morning as she sat through a grueling yet fascinating lecture in her History of Law class and then jumped back in with both feet to the equally-mesmerizing world of Arithmancy. Ron and Harry's morning had included Potions, and Ron suspected Snape was unusually gleeful in his terrorizing of the students, confirming in his mind that Snape had finally secured his coveted position as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Harry said little, other than to comment that Draco Malfoy appeared to be in almost every one of their classes. Hermione, who had also been startled to find Malfoy in her Standard Healing class, found that odd. She didn't give much thought to Malfoy, yet she had assumed he would follow in his father's footsteps of taking simple classes and sliding into a cushy, well-paying job at the Ministry. Surely he wasn't studying to be an Auror – but then why was he in the same classes as Harry and Ron? They weren't divided by houses anymore now, but by electives. It simply didn't add up.
She had little time to spare on Malfoy, though, as they finished lunch and hurried to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Glancing around, Hermione saw many familiar faces – lots of Slytherins and Gryffindors – including Malfoy, who was slumped in a corner without his usual goons at his sides, and her friend Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. Ron and Harry sat in front of where she settled in next to Susan, who was eager to hear about her vacation in France.
At precisely one o'clock, the door to the classroom opened and twenty surprised heads turned, having expected the mystery professor to emerge from the office at the front of the room. Instead, Dumbledore breezed in casually, clad as royally as ever in deep-purple robes adorned with silver crescent moons, his white hair and beard flowing from beneath a pointed purple hat.
A hush fell over the students. Hermione braced herself for the worst: Maybe the ridiculous rumors about the Ministry denying this class to all students hadn't been so ridiculous after all, and Dumbledore was here to break the news. She had never seen the Headmaster enter a classroom before and couldn't imagine any hopeful scenario that would bring him here now.
Taking a calm stance in front of them, Dumbledore adjusted his square spectacles on the tip of his abnormally-long nose and offered his trademark serene smile. "Welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts," he rumbled at them, in the liltingly-pitched voice that had always reminded Hermione pleasantly of ocean waves at high tide. "As you all no doubt know, I am Professor Dumbledore. I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year."
A cheer erupted from nearly everyone in the room, with a notable silence from the green-robed Slytherins. Harry twisted around to smile at Hermione, and her heart jumped – it was the first full smile she'd seen on his face since the night Sirius died.
Dumbledore raised a hand for quiet. "As the Ministry of Magic confirmed last spring," he went on, while the students reluctantly left off their celebration, "the wizard who calls himself Lord Voldemort has returned to power."
The silence became more oppressive as a sudden fearful expectation gripped the room. Voldemort had been the elephant in the parlor since they arrived at the train station, but no one had expected a professor to address the issue this openly in class.
"This is a dangerous time for all of us – a dangerous and dark time. We have already suffered loss, terrible loss, at the hands of this wizard and his followers, and I fear that even more loss lies ahead of us."
Hermione's eyes flew to the back of Harry's head. He was sitting rigidly, not looking to the left or right. Ron glanced helplessly back at her, and she shook her head mutely. They couldn't very well interrupt the Headmaster and ask him to be more sensitive to Harry's grief, could they?
"Given the cloud that hangs over us this year, then," Dumbledore continued, his eyes drinking them all in at once, "I have decided, upon request from the Minister of Magic, to take over this course myself. You have been privileged to sit under some very fine Defense Against the Dark Arts professors over the years, and certainly highly-qualified applicants petitioned to be your professor this year. However, I feel that it is time to prepare you for what is to come, for what you may soon be facing no matter how diligently your parents and other adults try to protect you, and frankly, I trust no one but myself to do that."
In the shocked silence that followed, Hermione had to give Dumbledore credit for his brutal honesty. It was quite refreshing to have the cold, hard truth laid out for them as it should have been for adults. She appreciated the respect Dumbledore had just shown them and wasn't surprised when a ripple of applause started.
She was surprised, however, that it started with Harry.
Dumbledore grinned and motioned for silence again. He got right down to business then, explaining that they would not use a formal textbook but could expect to spend a good deal of time in the library researching. Hermione's quill moved as fast as her fingers could to keep up with Dumbledore's first lecture – a captivating description of the most common magical weapons employed by dark wizards. It promised to be an enthralling course, and to just about everyone's delight, Dumbledore assured them that would be practicing the protective and defensive spells they read about. By the end of the hour, Hermione was more excited about Defense Against the Dark Arts than she had been since Professor Lupin introduced the bogart.
As they gathered their books, Dumbledore made one last announcement for the day. "There is only so much I can teach you in the classroom, so I expect, especially for students at your level, that you will do a fair amount of study and practice on your own. In the spirit of that, I have assigned you each a partner to practice our weekly lessons with. At the end of the term, you and your partner will take the practical exam together, and you will be graded on how well you work as a team as well as on your individual abilities."
Hermione suppressed an inward groan. She loathed group projects; inevitably, charitable professors assigned her to the least-talented student in the class – she realized that was arrogant, but true nevertheless – in the hopes that she could be a tutor to them. She reluctantly trudged to the front of the room to see who she would be assisting this semester; Dumbledore had recorded the names on a long scroll of parchment tacked to the far wall.
It took a few minutes for the throng to clear. When she could finally see the scroll, Hermione quickly spotted Ron and Harry's names – Ron was partnered with Susan and Harry with Padma Patil. For a moment, she thought her name might have been left off, but when she saw it at the very bottom, her heart practically stopped.
This has to be a mistake. Dumbledore wouldn't… Well, he just wouldn't do that to me!
Yet there it was, plainly evidencec in black and white, and Hermione didn't know whether to feel furious, betrayed, or flattered.
Dumbledore had paired her with Draco Malfoy.