The rest of the Christmas holidays were rather quiet for the Potter-Black and Granger households. Hermione was finally able to come home at the end of the week, and the adults threw together a little party to celebrate – Lily invited the Weasleys, who'd been anxiously awaiting news of Hermione's status and were thrilled that she'd been released, and Hermione's mother made a cake for the occasion. Hermione had to stifle a giggle at the awed look on Mr. Weasley's face when he arrived – none of the Weasleys had ever been inside an entirely Muggle house before, and their patriarch looked like a child at Christmas as he examined such ordinary objects as the toaster and VCR.

"I thought your parents worked with teeth," Ginny commented as she helped herself to a slice of cake. "Doesn't this sort of…contradict that, somehow?" She lifted a forkful of cake to her lips, her eyelids closing in pleasure as the dessert dissolved on her tongue.

"Mum has a huge sweet tooth – it's her dirty little secret," Hermione replied with a smile. "She doesn't bake often, but when she does…"

"I need to commission her for my next birthday cake," Ginny decided. She then quickly looked around to make sure her own mother was out of earshot, and Hermione laughed.

"Your mum's in the kitchen swapping recipes with mine," she said. "I think you're safe."

"It's great to see you up and about, Herms," Ginny said then, smiling slightly at her friend. "You don't know how awful it was to see you like that, and I'm so glad you're ok." She set her plate aside and enveloped the older girl in a hug.

"I'm doing much better, Gin, really," Hermione reassured her. "Some of the potions I'm taking are absolutely awful, but it's much better than the alternative – I'm alive, so I really can't complain. And my scar is already looking so much better." She lifted the hem of her shirt to expose her stomach. The scar was no longer so thick and angry looking – in fact, the raised texture had almost disappeared completely, and the color was slowly fading. Healer Barkley had assured her that by the time her medicine regimen was done, the scar would be nothing more than a flat, thin white line, hardly noticeable at all. Magic really was amazing sometimes.

"And it goes how far?" Ginny asked, having not seen the scar while Hermione was at St. Mungo's.

"To here." Hermione traced the entire length of the scar over her sweater, something she'd been doing a lot lately, and Ginny whistled.

"You really were lucky," she said quietly. She then shook her head and said, "Enough of this – you're home, you're alright, and that's what counts. I say we get back to celebrating, yeah?"

After the party, Harry, Draco, and Hermione occupied themselves with gift exchanges and mountains of homework. As their professors were constantly reminding them, their O.W.L.s were even closer than ever, and their workloads just kept increasing as a result. As they were slogging their way through a particularly tedious essay for History of Magic one evening, Sirius stuck his head into the room and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Please," Harry replied, massaging his temples and getting ink all over them in the process. "If I have to think about goblin uprisings for much longer, I think I'll scream."

"Agreed," said Draco, tossing his quill unceremoniously onto his book without a second thought. Hermione had rather uncharacteristically already abandoned her essay and was doodling idly on a spare scrap of parchment, little swirls and flowers surrounding spur-of-the-moment thoughts.

"I know we already did our gift exchange, but these just arrived," Sirius said. He opened his hand, and in his palm sat three bronze Knuts.

"Harry told me about your charmed coins," he explained, more to Hermione than anyone else. "I liked the idea so much that I had them made for everyone in the Order – I used Knuts so you won't get them confused with your D.A. Galleons, and they're small enough that you can wear them on your necklaces without them getting too bulky." As the trio looked closer, they noticed a small hole drilled into each coin, a hole that would perfectly accommodate their necklaces.

"Thanks, Padfoot," Harry said as he accepted his coin. "Who has the master?"

"I do, for now," Sirius replied, handing Draco and Hermione their coins as well. The three teenagers immediately slipped the coins onto their necklaces. "We haven't had an Order meeting since I had them done, so obviously there hasn't been a chance to give it to anyone else."

"You say you 'had them done', Sirius," Hermione commented. "Did you not make them?"

"Nope – Lily did," Sirius said. "She always was far better at Charms than me – or any of us, for that matter."

"Did I just hear you admit that I'm better at you than something?" Lily sing-songed, entering the room with a gleeful expression on her face.

"Lil, I know I'm a decent liar, but there's a difference between lying and saying something that's just plain stupid," Sirius said, eliciting laughter from the trio. Lily smirked.

"Fair point."

On New Year's Day, everyone received rather sobering letters from Hogwarts. The Hogwarts Express had been so badly damaged during the Death Eater attack that there was no chance of it leaving Kings Cross station in time for the start of term, and as such, students would have to arrange alternate transportation back to the castle. Madam Rosmerta, the bartender at the Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade, had generously offered her Floo for specific windows of time should anyone wish to use it, specially authorized Portkeys were available, and the Knight Bus was offering special discounts to Hogwarts students as well.

"Even though it's sad, it's probably just as well that you can't take the train," Lily commented as she penned the letter requesting their Portkeys. "From what I understand, the Portkeys are set to depart over the course of several days, and the specifics of each one will only be available to those using it – it'll be a lot harder for the Death Eaters to attempt anything if they can't pinpoint when people will be arriving."

The rest of the Hogwarts letter was even more solemn than the news about the train, as it spoke of a memorial service planned for the students killed during the attack. While they'd had some time to stomach what had happened, it was still hard to take, and it was with heavy hearts that Harry, Draco, and Hermione packed up their trunks and prepared to return to school.

"We'll see you soon," Hermione's mother said as she embraced each of them in turn. As they were Muggles, the Grangers had to stay behind when the Portkeys departed.

"Harry, Draco, make sure this one keeps up with her medicine," Hermione's father added. "She needs to keep taking it until her supply's all gone."

"Yes, Daddy," Hermione said, rolling her eyes playfully. "You know I won't forget."

"Just making sure my girl is safe," he replied, pulling her in for a hug. "Love you, pumpkin."

"Love you too, Dad. I'll see you soon."

The memorial service took place during dinner the first night of term. Everyone was quiet as Dumbledore read the names of those they'd lost, and a sobering chill ran through the Great Hall as they slowly realized the implications of those names. The dead weren't solely Gryffindors, or relatives of Order members, but rather an even mix from all four houses and all backgrounds. The four dead Slytherins were an exceptional shock to three-quarters of the room's occupants, as those names completely contradicted many students' beliefs that all Slytherins were on the side of the Dark. Harry mourned all of them equally, though he did spare a small smile when he saw Sarah, the little Ravenclaw girl he'd helped, healed and healthy where she sat with her friends.

Classes resumed the following morning, and the usual academic routine helped a lot in terms of healing. However, there was one class that still set everyone on edge no matter what, and it was during this particular class that Harry finally snapped.

"Please open your books to the next chapter and begin reading," Umbridge said in her sickly-sweet voice. "There will be no need to talk." As usual, the class stifled their groans as they pulled out their copies of Magical Theory and braced themselves for another period of torturous monotony. Parvati Patil, however, seemed to have other ideas, as she'd abandoned her book and was staring at Umbridge with her hand in the air. Umbridge pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows pointedly at Parvati as if to tell her to get to work, but the Indian witch ignored her and kept her hand up. Finally, Umbridge sighed.

"What is it, Miss Patil?"

"Excuse me, Professor, but I was wondering if you might consider letting us practice some spells now, given what happened over the holidays."

All the other Gryffindors turned in their seats to stare at Parvati, who was still looking at Umbridge with a determined expression on her pretty face. Her question certainly wasn't unfounded – Padma, Parvati's twin, had been hurt during the attack and had been lucky not to have lost the use of her right arm to a nasty curse.

"Miss Patil, I believe I made it quite clear in September that there would be no need for wand work in my class," Umbridge said. "Why you think that might have changed-"

"But Professor, there was a Death Eater attack just a few weeks ago!" Parvati protested, rising to her feet. "How can you say we don't need to know how to defend ourselves?"

"Sit down, Miss Patil," Umbridge said firmly. "Yes, there was a tragic accident-"

"A tragic accident?" Harry interrupted, jumping to his feet as well. "You cannot possibly be calling this an accident!" It was bad enough that she'd said something similar about Cedric's death, but now this? He'd absolutely had it with this woman!

"Harry!" Hermione hissed. "Sit down, she's not worth it…"

"You're right, Maya, she's not," Harry replied coldly, "but that doesn't mean I have to let her get away with it either." He turned his gaze back to Umbridge. "Nearly a hundred people were hurt that day. My best friend nearly died. Twenty-two people did die, including thirteen of your own students, and you dare say it was an accident? When in the hell is the Ministry going to wake up and acknowledge that something's wrong?" Harry was using every ounce of restraint he possessed not to hex Umbridge into next year – as it was, he was dangerously close to shouting by the end of his tirade.

"Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, her voice deathly calm. "I do believe I warned you once about saying such nasty things in my class. I will see you for detention every evening for the next two weeks. Anyone who wishes to protest will join him without question."

The Gryffindors were silent for a long moment as they gaped at their professor. Finally, Harry said, "Fine. I'm leaving." Without another word, he picked up his bag, which he hadn't even opened, and strode towards the classroom door.

"My office, tonight at eight o'clock, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said darkly. Harry's only response was a cold glare before he slammed the door shut behind him.

The next two weeks were some of the most miserable of Harry's Hogwarts career. Thanks to his detentions, he missed almost every Quidditch practice, and Angelina benched him for the game against Hufflepuff as a result. Hermione played brilliantly, but the victory was hardly a consolation. On top of that, Professor McGonagall had pulled him aside and given him a stern lecture about his behavior, and his mother and Sirius had reprimanded him as well, no doubt having heard about it from his Head of House. The detentions themselves were the worst – the first time around, Harry had only had one night of detention, but this time, he was at the blood quill's mercy for much longer, and the message didn't fade so easily after so many repetitions. By the time his two weeks were up, 'I must not tell lies' shone white on the back of his hand, as clearly visible as any other scar would be.

The Tuesday night after his detentions ended, Harry stood in the Room of Requirement, eager to start the first D.A. meeting of the new term. He planned to start the evening with a review, and then he was hoping that Draco might be able to start them on the Patronus Charm. It was ridiculously difficult magic, but Harry viewed it as a challenge rather than an impossibility.

"Alright, everyone," he said once the last members had arrived and taken their seats. "I thought we'd do a quick review first, make sure everyone's on the same page, and then-"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted, her voice deceptively calm. "What is on the back of your hand?"

A/N: Apologies for the wait on this one - as I said in my last note, I was out of the country for a week (England was AMAZING, BTW - & NOTHING can describe the feeling of seeing Hogwarts in person!), & then I had some trouble with this chapter. Fillers are necessary, but really hard to write. Hopefully you like it anyway - as you can see, we're building up to some interesting stuff.

Thank you to all of you for following/favoriting/reviewing/reading!

JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)