A/N: Darn you, band! give me my life back! Even in the chaos that is Summer Marching Band, I still dutifully dish out the chapters! Enjoy, my lovely readers!

Disclaimer: Purely fan-based. All credits of the characters (excluding Amaranta) go to J.K. Rowling.

Grumbling With Amaranta

December passed into January, and the students slowly returned to Hogwarts. Before most knew it, January had ended, and February was lurking around the corner. Harry wasn't sure what transpired over the Winter Break between Draco and Amaranta, but he wasn't bossing her around as much as before, and she didn't speak much with him. She continued her campaign against Umbridge, though it was more mellow than before. Umbridge seemed relieved of this aspect, but that didn't mean she wasn't as annoying as ever.

Amaranta's constant presence was welcomed mainly by Hermoine, although Harry and Ron didn't mind that much. It wasn't until Cho Chang called out to him in the hallway, that he wished she wasn't there, and somehow his wish was granted. Hermoine pulled Ron along to the library.

"Hi, Harry," Cho said with a nervous smile. "There's a Hogsmeade trip coming up. . ."

"Huh?" He shook away the leaping feeling in his stomach, trying to pay attention to what she was saying. "I haven't checked the notice board."

"Yeah, it's on Valentine's Day. . ."

"Right," Harry was wondering why that mattered. "Well, I suppose you want to-?"

"Only if you do," she replied instantly.

Harry stared silently. He was about to ask "I suppose you want to know when the next D.A. meeting is?" but her reply didn't make sense.

"I. . .er. . ." he said.

"Oh, it's okay if you don't," she hung her head, crestfallen. "Don't worry. I'll s-see you around."

She walked sullenly away, as Harry watched, his brain working frantically. Then it hit him.

"Cho! Hey, wait!"

He ran after her, catching her by the arm to turn her around. "Er. . .do you want to come with me to Hogsmeade on Valentine's Day?"

"Oh, yes!" Cho squealed, blushing brightly.

"Well then. . .okay. . ." He left to go pick up Ron and Hermoine at the library, thinking he saw a glimmer of Amaranta's red bangs around the corner, but waved it off as imagination.

News of the Death Eater's breakout from Azkaban was the topic of everyone's whispers, after the Daily Prophet arrived that next morning. Harry wanted to discuss some of these things with Proffesor McGonnagal, but not after Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six. Teachers were banned from talking about anything but their subjects with students.

This catastrophe that had happened right under Fudge's nose only intensified Umbridge's furious desire to have everything under her control. It was only a matter of time before someone got sacked. And with the ever approaching O.W.L.'s looming in the future, life was rigorous for the fifth years. Harry was afraid that Amaranta might fall into a coma with all that she was doing. She looked older, more tired than ever. Her red bangs were gone, by magic he supposed, her attacks on Umbridge were almost non-existent and Umbridge seemed to have found her weakness: homework.

"Sometimes I'd wish I could just explode with how much homework she gives me!" Amaranta sighed loudly. "Two 36 inch essays just for one class! I haven't slept in three days!"

"So that's why you're so crabby," Ron mused.

"Shut up, Freckle Face!" Amaranta snapped, but then it seemed she had come to her senses. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ron. I know I'm crabby. Draco says so too."

"I thought Draco was going to get someone else to do your homework," Harry said.

"Umbridge found out and gave us both two weeks detention," Amaranta let her head fall on the table in the Great Hall with a loud thump. "I swear, if I don't kill her, I'll kill myself."

They stopped their conversation as the morning owls swooped in to deliver everyone their mail. Hermoine tugged a letter from an unfamiliar brown owl.

"It's about time!" she fumed, wrenching open the letter and reading speedily. "Listen, Harry, this is really important. Could you meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"

"I dunno. . ." Harry said doubtfully. "Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her."

"Well, bring her along if you must," Hermoine said. "But will you come?"

"Yeah, sure, but. . .why?"

"I've got no time to explain now," Hermoine stood up suddenly clutching the letter. "I've got to go."

They watched her leave and Harry turned back to see a tense Amaranta. "Today's Valentine's Day?" she asked dryly.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Are you going to Hogsmeade?"

"Uh. . .yeah," she nodded skiddishly.

"But I thought you had homework," Ron scrutinized.

"I CAN GO ANYWHERE I DAMN WELL PLEASE, FRECKLE FACE!" She shouted at the top of her lungs, drawing a few curious, and slightly frightened, stares. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ron. I just need a break from school. That'll do me the trick. . ." She stood up and walked out of the hall, rubbing her temple.

"You don't suppose it's that time of month, do you?" Ron asked after he was sure she was gone.

Harry shrugged, guessing it was all just stress, and proceeded to the entrance hall, where he met up with Cho. Her long black hair looked even silkier than ever today, and her almond eyes even more piercing. He suddenly became aware of how stupid he looked, with his arms swinging limpily at his sides.

Today was light and breezy, and Harry found it easier to walk in silence outside, then stand awkwardly in queue inside. He looked over to the stadium and saw Ron and Ginny swooping around on their broomsticks and he felt a slight pang.

"You really miss it, don't you?" Cho broke the silence.

"Yeah, I do," he said.

"Remember the first time we played against each other in the third year?"

The topic of Quidditch carried them all the way to Hogsmeade. It wasn't until a couple of Slytherin girls gigged at them, that they finally walked in a flushed silence. Harry looked around. Amaranta had said she would come, but he hadn't seen her. Maybe she was jus around. . .

"So. . .what do you want to do?" he asked her nervously.

"Just look around the shops, I suppose," Cho answered and they traveled to Dervish and Banges. It started to rain as they passed Scrivenshaft's, so Cho suggested they head to Madam Puddifoot's, a small coffee shop Harry had never noticed before. The entire place was decorated with frills and bows all pink, red, and white. Harry was reminded sickeningly of Umbridge's office.

"Cute, isn't it?" Cho said brightly as she pulled him along to a round circular table.

"Err. . .yeah," he lied.

Golden cherubs flew around and occasionally sprinkled the shop's occupants with pink confetti. Haary looked around and saw that they were sitting next to the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, Roger Davies, and a pretty blonde girl. They were holding hands and smiling into each other's eyes. Harry noticed that the whole shop was full of couples, all holding hands. Maybe Cho wanted to hold hands.

"What can I get you, m'dears?" Madam Puddifoot, a plump woman with black hair sleeked into a taut bun.

"Two coffees, please," Cho said.

By the time they had acquired their coffees, Roger Davies had already started kissing the pretty blonde girl. Harry wished so much that they wouldn't do that. It felt like they were setting a standard with which Cho would soon want fulfilled. His face grew hot and he turned to stare out the window.

All embarrassment fell away when he saw Amaranta, drenched in the heavy rain and looking more tired than ever. She was shouting angrily at someone, whom Harry soon realized was Draco Malfoy. He cut off her screaming by shouting something himself, that seemed to shock her. She suddenly whipped out her wand and pointed it threateningly at him. Malfoy looked a bit taken aback, but continued to sneer in his usually annoying way. Another liquid that Harry was almost positive wasn't rain trickled down Amaranta's cheeks. She shouted something, chucked her wand at him, and stormed off. Malfoy watched her walk off, smacked himself in the head, and then picked up her wand and walked after her.

"They've been fighting a lot recently," Cho said, as Harry noticed she, too, was looking out the window. "I figured it was stress, from how busy all the fifth years have been lately, but it seems that Draco Malfoy did something that she's not too fond of. I wonder what they were arguing about this time. They always seemed like good friends."

He noticed that she had now turned her gaze to him. "It seems that Draco Malfoy his head over heels for her. I think he's serious."

She watched him intently, but Harry showed no reaction. He turned back, and stirred his coffee idly. Roger Davies seemed glued by the lips to his girlfriend, and Cho soon turned her attention back to them. A strange silence fell over them, and Harry cast around wildly for something to say.

"Er. . .d'you want to come with me to the Three Broomsticks around lunchtime? I'm meeting Hermoine Granger there."

He instantly regretted ever saying that. Cho raised her eyebrows, her eyes glaring ominously. "You're meeting her? Today?"

"Yeah, well, she asked me to, so I thought I would. D'you want to come with me? She said it wouldn't matter if you did."

"Oh, well, that was nice of her!" Cho shouted angrily. "And who else are you going to meet up after that? That Amaranta girl? You going to comfort her after fighting with Draco Malfoy? I can't believe you'd actually think about that freak on a date with me!" She was standing now, tears in her eyes.

Harry stood up too. "Hey, she isn't a freak! You'd hate it if Malfoy was dogging your steps too! And who ever said I was thinking about her?"

"Oh come on! You were gaping at her through the window! How many other girls are you going to meet today?"

"Listen, it's not like that-"

"Why don't you just go on and leave! I'm sure Hermoine Granger is waiting for you!" She walked to the door in wet fury. "See you around, Harry." And she was out the door.

Harry grumbled, slapped a galleon on the table and ran out the door to find her, but the rain was pelting him so heavily he couldn't see her anymore. "Women," he muttered angrily and headed down the sloshy street to the Three Broomsticks.

Harry was sitting in the Great Hall with Hermoine, Ron, Fred, and Luna when owls began to swoop all around him. He opened them all, and soon realized they were all replies to his interview with Rita Skeeter in The Quibbler.

"This one thinks you're mad," said Ron, tossing it aside. "Oh, hey, this one believes you!"

"This one says they believe me too," Harry said as he read through the letter.

"What's going on here?" came a girlish voice from behind that instinctively gave Harry shivers.

He turned around to see Proffesor Umbridge standing behind Fred and Luna. Many of the students behind her were watching attentively, one being Amaranta.

"Why have you got all these letters, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"Is it a crime to get mail now?" Fred spoke loudly.

"Be careful, Mr. Weasley, or I shall have to give you detention," Umbridge smiled menacingly at him. "Mr. Potter?"

"People have written to me, because I gave an interview," he said boldly. "About what happened last June."

"An interview?" Umbridge seemed disgruntled. "What do you mean?"

"You know, a reporter asks questions and I answer them," Harry said slowly, gesturing his hands a bit. He saw Amaranta smirk behind her at the Slytherin table. "Here," he threw her a copy of The Quibbler, feeling elated.

Umbridge caught the magazine and stared down at the cover. Her pale, from make-up, face turned a dangerous shade of violet. "When did you do this?" her voice was more high-pitched than usual.

"Last Hogsmeade weekend," Harry said.

"There will be no more Hogsmeade visits for you, Mr. Potter!" she rasped at him, hoping that no students heard, but all were watching intently now, trying to hear. "How dare you. . .I have told you again and again not to tell lies! The message, apparently, has still not sunk in. Fifty points from Gryffindor and another week's worth of detention!"

She stormed off, crushing The Quibbler in her stubby fingers, students watching her all the way.

Not so surprisingly, Harry found another Decree stating that all copies of The Quibbler were banned from school, posted not just on the notice boards in the Houses, but all overthe school. Hermoine smiled every time she saw one.

"What are you so giddy about?" he asked her.

"Don't you see, Harry?" Hermoine said happily. "If there was one thing Umbridge could've done to ensure that everyone read your interview it was banning it!"

And she was quite right. Harry found copies of The Quibbler in people's handbags, in text books, and people were reciting it by word to each other. Umbridge stalked the school, asking everyone to turn out their bags at random, but the students were one step ahead of her. They enchanted torn out pages of his interview to look like blank pieces of parchment whenever someone besides themselves tried to read it. Hermoine reported seeing girls talking about it in the bathrooms.

"It's so much better to oppose Umbridge in secret than out in the open," Amaranta giggled to him, after she flashed him a copy of The Quibbler in the hall. "You don't get detentions! I think I'll make a poster of this and hang it in the dungeons."

"I doubt the Slytherin House would appreciate that," Harry said worriedly, but smiled nonetheless. He was glad her mood had improved.

Harry was in the middle of Occlumency lessons with Snape when he heard a shrill woman's scream. He and Snape ran out to the entrance hall. Students were flooding out of the Great Hall to see what the commotion was. The students had formed a ring , with Proffesor McGonagall standing exactly opposite to Harry. Proffesor Trelawney stood in the middle of the entrance hall, an empty sherry bottle in one hand, a wand in the other. Her hair seemed frizzier than usual, and her eyes even wider. She looked like a complete wreck. Two massive trunks lay behind her. She was gazing, petrified, at a pleased looking Umbridge.

"NO!" Trelawney shrieked. "This c-cannot b-be happening! I refuse to accept it!"

"You didn't realize this was coming?" came Umbridge's overly sweet voice. "Incapable though you are of predicting tomorrow's weather, you could not foresee that your pitiful performance during inspections would lead to your being sacked?"

"You c-can't!" cried Proffesor Trelawney, tears falling down her cheeks and filling her sherry bottle. "You c-can't sack me! S-Sixteen years, I've t-taught here! H-Hogwarts is m-my home!"

"It was your home," Umbridge almost laughed, she was enjoying Trelawney's sobbing so much. "Now please remove yourself from this establishment. You're embarrassing all of us."

Proffesor Umbridge gloated greatly, watching Proffesor Trelawney shriek and moan pitifully on her trunks, clutching her tear-filled sherry bottle, as if it would save her. Harry saw Lavender and Parvati crying uncontrollably to his left. Then footsteps echoed through the tear filled hall. Proffesor McGonagall had walked over to Proffesor Trelawney, and handed her a handkerchief, a sympathetic arm around her shoulder.

"There, there, Sibyll. . .It's ok. . .Calm down. . .Blow your nose. It's not so bad. . .You're not leaving Hogwarts. . ."

"Oh, really, Proffesor McGonagall?" Umbridge dared her. "And your authority for that statement is. . .?"

"That would be mine," a deep voice rang throughout the hall.

The large oak doors had swung open and Dumbledore strode boldly down the marble staircase and towards Proffesor Trelawney.

"Yours, Proffesor Dumbledore?" Umbridge laughed. "You don't seem to understand your position! I have here" -she showed him a piece of parchment- "an Order of Dismissal signed by the Minister of Magic himself! The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to sack any teacher she sees fit, or, that is to say, isn't working up to the Ministry's approval. I have dismissed her."

To Harry's surprise, Dumbledore continued to smile kindly at Umbridge. "You are quite right, Proffesor Umbridge. You have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. That power still resides with the headmaster, and I have no wish to send Proffesor Trelawney away." Then he turned to Proffesor McGonagall. "Might I ask you to escort Sibyll back upstairs, Proffesor McGonagall?"

"Of course," McGonagall nodded. "Come now, Sibyll. Up with you."

Proffesor Sprout went to Proffesor Trelawney's other arm, and Proffesor Flitwick enchanted her trunks to follow. Umbridge stared up, horrified, at Dumbledore. "And what," she rasped, "are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?"

"Oh, that won't be a problem," Dumbldore smiled calmly. "You see, I've already found a new Divination teacher, and he will prefer the ground floor."

"You've found-!" Umbridged shrieked. "Might I remind you that under Educational Decree Number Twenty-two-"

"-the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if-and only if-the headmaster is unable to find one," Dumbledore finished for her. "I have found a teacher this time, I'm afraid. Would you like for me to introduce you?"

He turned to face the open oak doors, and Harry heard hooves on hard stone. Shocked murmurs rippled through the crowd like an explosion. A centaur with white-blonde hair, dashing blue eyes, and the palomino body of a horse stared down at everyone.

"This is Firenze," said a happy Dumbledore to a completely thunderstruck Umbridge. "I think you'll find him suitable."

Harry was sure that if it had not been for the D.A. meetings, life at Hogwarts would drive him suicidal. (He never thought he'd actually admit such a thing about the school he loved so much.) Harry figured Umbridge must be part dementor.

The D.A. members had progressed tremendously, especially Neville. No one worked harder than him, with the exception of Hermoine, of course. They had just begun to work on Patronus's and everyone was shooting silver wisps out of their wands. Of course, producing a Patronus in a brightly lit room was different from producing it in front of dementor.

"Don't be such a killjoy, Harry," Cho said brightly, watching her swan-shaped Patronus waltz about the Room of Requirement. "They're pretty."

"They're not supposed to be pretty," Harry frowned. "They're supposed to protect you. We need a boggart or something. I learned when the boggart was pretending to be a dementor. . ."

"That would be terrible!" Lavender exclaimed, trying desperately to form the puffs of silver coming out of her wand into some solid form. "I still. . .can't. . .get this. . .to. . .work!"

"You've got to think of something happy," Harry reminded them all.

"I'm trying," Neville sighed, his face contorted with concentration.

Amaranta was having the most trouble of all of them. She couldn't even produce silvery wisps from her wand. She stood nearly the entire time holding her wand out in front of her, staring meekly at a wall. Harry walked over to her, segregated from the rest of the group.

"You need to think happy thoughts, Amaranta," he told her again.

"I know, I know that, but. . ." Amaranta averted her eyes to the ground, depressed. "Everytime I think of something that makes me happy, I realize that it will only be destroyed soon."

"Well, how about a happy memory?" Harry suggested. "If it already happened in the past, it can be destroyed."

"Hmmm. . ." Amaranta looked at her wand. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, she waved her wand fluidly, and said, "Expecto Patronum!"

A long silvery wisp lashed out from her wand and danced around the room, wrapping around itself, until it began to form a shape. Harry began to make out wings, and soon a silvery butterfly was gliding around the room and all the students.

"Good job!" He exclaimed, happily, before he noticed that tears were traveling down her cheeks, although there were no other signs of emotion. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She shook her head, but Harry could still hear her say, "I want to escape this net I'm in."

Before he could inquire further, however, the door opened, and Harry saw none other than Dobby come in. He noted the frightened look in his face.

"What's wrong, Dobby?" he asked the elf, holding him by the arm in case he attempted to hurt himself in his presence.

"Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter, sir. . .she. . .she. . ." The house-elf shrunk in fear.

Harry knew that only one "she" could cause so much fear in Dobby. "Umbridge?" he guessed.

Dobby nodded, then attempted to smash his head into the nearest wall, but Harry held him at bay. "What about her? She hasn't found out has she? About us?"

He saw the answer in the elf's terrified face. "Is she coming?" he whispered to him.

"Yes, Harry Potter, Yes!" Dobby howled.

Harry turned to the terrified faces of the D.A. "What are you waiting for?!" He shouted at them. "RUN!"