Chapter 4: Friends and Enemies

They were almost to the castle when Hermione finally realized what had been bothering her. Turning to Ron, she softly asked, "Did you see Hagrid down at the train?"

He looked puzzled, then shook his head.

Hermione thought for a moment. She knew that the massive teacher had been on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix. She assumed that it had something to do with giants, for Hagrid and Madam Maxime (the headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy in France) had traveled together, and they were both half-giants. While Hagrid was much larger and stronger than a human, he was no match for a full-blooded giant, she knew. The more she thought about it, the more worried she became. What if Hagrid had been injured or killed while on the operation?

As they entered the Great Hall, she quickly scanned the table at the front where the teachers sat. Hagrid was usually at the very end, although he always came late because of his duties of bringing the first years to the castle by sailing boats across the lake. Unfortunately, this time, the spot that would be reserved for him was not nearly as large as normal. Rather, it looked as though a normal person would be sitting in that chair. Still worried, Hermione turned to look at Professor Dumbledore.

She couldn't help but feel a small amount of shame as she remembered back to that night at Sirius' home. Apparently, Professor Dumbledore had forgiven her, though, or he wouldn't have chosen her as prefect.

She turned her attention back to the classmates around her. A little way off, she could see Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, whispering furtively and casting glances at her and Ron every once in a while. A few feet away, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were doing the same thing. Suppressing a groan, she decided to ignore them, realizing that they were talking about Harry. She turned her attention back to the head table, her eyes falling on one person in particular that she did not recognize.

Hermione studied this newcomer closely. She was squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Hermione could not help but think that her pallid face and prominent, pouchy eyes made her look like some sort of oversized toad.

Just a few seconds later, the doors opened, and Professor McGonagall strode purposefully into the room, followed by the small first years. As she watched them, Hermione could not help but wonder if she had looked as terrified as they when she first came to the school. A side door opened, and Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had filled in for Hagrid teaching Care of Magical Creatures for a short time last year, entered, and sat at the spot at the end of the table where the half-giant teacher usually sat.

The Sorting Hat began to sing, but Hermione didn't pay any attention.

She quickly scanned the teacher's table, as apprehension filled her. Hermione was not overly surprised to find that the headmaster had asked Professor Grubbly-Plank back until Hagrid returned from his mission with the Order. Unfortunately, there were no other new or unexpected faces at the staff table, except, of course, for the toad-like witch. And there was only one position that needed to be filled. Hermione stifled a small groan as she realized that she was looking at her new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

She wasn't sure exactly why she was so wary of this new professor. Granted, it could have something to do with her past teachers, she thought. Lupin had taught the Defense Against the Dark Arts class her third year, but besides him, they had never had a good teacher. One had been possessed by You-Know-Who, another had been his devoted servant, and the last had been a vain (although, Hermione had to admit, extremely attractive) fool who knew absolutely nothing about the subject he had been hired to teach. Statistically speaking, it did not look good.

After they finished eating, Dumbledore made a few announcements, then the new instructor, Professor Umbridge, gave a short speech, confirming everything Hermione had feared. Though Umbridge's words had seemed pleasant enough, Hermione knew better than to take them at face value. All the little hints about upholding tradition and correcting undesirable practices made it clear that she was not here to teach the students. She was here to subvert and undermine Dumbledore's authority. Hermione tried to keep her face neutral as she realized what this meant. The new professor was loyal to Fudge, and would be working to persuade the students not to believe Dumbledore and his reports of You-Know-Who's return. She was one of the people who had made Harry's life so unpleasant for these past few months.

Hermione was introspective enough to realize that she was probably blaming Umbridge more than was fair, simply as a way to assuage her own guilty conscience over what had happened with Harry. But that didn't change the fact that Umbridge was the enemy.

The next day, Hermione strode into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, deliberately taking slow, steady breaths to try to control her anger. It had not been an easy day. As much as she hated to admit it, there had been a few times where she had found herself thinking that maybe Harry had been right to leave it all.

The day had begun with a minor disagreement with Lavender Brown, a fellow Gryffindor in her year. She and Lavender had never seen eye to eye, but this was worse than normal. Lavender was convinced that Harry had been lying, and took his absence as proof of guilt. Naturally, the disagreement had gotten a little bit heated, until eventually the two girls had been shouting at each other at the top of their lungs, while Parvati Patil, the only other 5th year Gryffindor girl, had quickly fled to the common room.

Her first class, History of Magic, had not been too bad. As usual, she was the only one paying attention, although to be fair to the other students, only a teacher as boring as Binns could make the Giant Wars seem bland. After that had come potions. Despite being a member of the Order, Professor Snape, the potions master, had always been quick to insult and belittle Harry. Not surprisingly, he devoted a few minutes from his class to expressing his thanks that his classroom this year contained one less idiotic oaf. Though he hadn't named anyone specific, his particularly malicious smile as he looked at Hermione and Ron had left no doubt in anyone's mind who he was referring to. Though Hermione had forced herself to grit her teeth and ignore his snide comments, she had been so angry that she had nearly made several critical errors in her attempts to brew a Draught of Peace. Her final product, though not perfect, was certainly the best in the class, but of course, Snape remained unimpressed.

Arithmancy had been next. She had long ago learned to adapt the mathematical skills she had learned in the muggle school she had attended before coming to Hogwarts, using those talents and her natural attention to detail to excel at the number-based magic system. Unfortunately, Arithmancy also contained a large number of Ravenclaws, who had apparently decided as a house that they did not believe what Dumbledore and Harry had been saying about You-Know-Who's return. Though she normally got along well with the eagles (the Sorting Hat had even considered putting her in their house), by the end of class she was grateful that this subject did not require a wand. The temptation to hex some of them might just have been too much for her to handle.

And now she was in class with the new teacher, who, judging by her conduct and tone of voice, thought they were a bunch of children. Hermione knew there was really nothing she could do, so she forced herself to remain calm as the professor took every opportunity to belittle her missing friend.

By the end of class, it was clear that the teacher was not worthy of the title, having absolutely no intention of instilling any knowledge at all in her pupil's minds. Rather, she was there to brainwash them into following the ministry.

Fortunately, Ron had followed her advice (reinforced with pointed glares) not to do anything to provoke the loathsome woman. Hermione knew the foul creature would be grateful for any opportunity to punish them, so she was determined that they would give her no such chance.

Weeks passed, and nothing changed. Or rather, nothing changed for the better. Hermione was still at the top of her class, but that no longer brought her the satisfaction that it once had. Her duties as prefect were becoming more and more exhausting, and she frequently felt that of all the Gryffindor prefects, she was the only one who actually cared about fulfilling her assignments. Ron certainly wasn't being much use there, especially with regards to his brothers, who had begun paying the younger students to test their prank supplies, seemingly unconcerned about the potential consequences of experimenting without appropriate oversight.

Hermione didn't understand how two surprisingly intelligent (though she would never admit that out loud) students could possibly be so stupid! Didn't they realize that all it would take is one student with an unknown medical condition causing complications with their prank products, or even just one dosage being off by a little bit, and they would be responsible for killing a student? But, of course, they somehow saw themselves as the injured party when she stepped in and forced them to stop. It was enough to make her scream.

Ron was the new keeper on the Quidditch team, and Ginny had, surprisingly, taken the seeker spot. Still, Hermione just felt hollow at the thought of attending a game without having Harry to watch.

Umbridge had gotten herself appointed "Hogwarts Head Inquisitor" and was now using every opportunity to tear down the Headmaster's supporters. Hagrid, it seemed, was her first target, something which filled Hermione with fury, but she knew that there was really nothing that she could do about it.

In short, after just one month here, Hermione was about ready to scream.

On October 10th, as usual, Hermione woke early. She showered and dressed quickly, finishing just as the other girls were waking. She walked pointedly past Lavender, with neither girl acknowledging the other (as had become their custom) and down the stairs. She paused in the common room to double check that she had all of her school supplies, then exited the tower and began to make her way down to the great hall for breakfast.

She ate quickly, though she had no real need to do so. Rather, it was that she had no desire to spend any more time in public than absolutely necessary. While things had settled down for the most part, there were still plenty of students whispering about Harry. She wondered if this is how he had felt during all the times when he had been shunned for things that weren't really his fault. Ron was too busy with Quidditch to spend much time with Hermione, and, to be honest, they really didn't have anything in common with their messy-haired friend missing.

Just as she finished eating, Hermione noticed a plain, brown owl making its way toward her. She knew what this was, of course. She loathed the idea of continuing to support the Daily Prophet given their campaign of defamation against her friend, but Hermione knew that it was wise to keep an eye on what the enemy was saying, so she faithfully read the newspaper each day when it arrived, looking closely for any clues of Harry's whereabouts, or evidence of Voldemort's return. This time, however, she didn't have to look so thoroughly to find an article that hit close to home. She stared at the horrible headline, wishing it were just a joke, but knowing deep down that it was real.

SIRIUS BLACK KILLED TRYING TO EVADE MINISTRY AURORS

She read in horror, her stomach sick at the account of the "triumph for the ministry". Sirius must have gotten careless (or desperate) while looking for Harry, and had been spotted. The Prophet portrayed it as a victory for justice, with the heroic Aurors swooping in to eliminate the last real threat to a society that was now experiencing a glorious era of peace and prosperity. Hermione couldn't help but snort bitterly at that line. They would see what sort of an era they were really living in once Voldemort came out of the shadows, as he surely would sooner or later.

Hermione had often wondered what Harry was up to these days. She imagined him somehow sneaking through places like Diagon Alley, waiting for people to realize that he had been right, and that they needed him once more. In her mind's eye, she could see him eavesdropping on conversations and reading papers, waiting for some sign that the people of magical Britain had come to learn the truth. And as she thought of that, her heart dropped. She could only pray that Harry didn't learn about his godfather's fate in such a horribly callous manner.

And what if he did? Hermione's blood chilled at the thought. Sirius had been dedicated to Harry. He had broken out of Azkaban to protect his godson. He'd lived on rats up in the caves above Hogsmeade in order to be closer to Harry during the terrible tournament last year. And now he was gone.

What would Harry think? How would he respond? One less tie to the magical world. One less reason to fight for it. She couldn't imagine how Harry would feel knowing that the people were celebrating the death of someone who meant so much to him.

Harry and Hermione had tried to convince the Minister of Sirius' innocence at the end of third year, but because of Snape's lies, they had failed. She was glad that she didn't have Potions class today. She was sure the odious man would be celebrating the death of his nemesis.

Nine days later, Hermione once more read a headline that filled her with dread. This time, however, she was not the only one that felt this way.

DIAGON ALLEY IN FLAMES

DARK MARK SEEN