AN: There's a bit of gender-bending among the minor characters in this chapter, but ultimately it won't affect the story; it's only to make up for the now imbalance in numbers within the fifth-year Gryffindors. Just thought I'd give ya'll a heads up. Oh, and a bit of quoting from the book in the last scene.
Also, I now have a Yahoo group for my stories, so go there to find what I consider the 'official' list of students in Harry's year, as well as other things like made up HP spells I've either found or made up myself; Hi_News. I don't think I'll do much with it but it's there. /shrug
The Start-of-Term Feast ended up being a far more annoying thing than usual. It started off well enough with the Sorting going as usual beyond the ominous warning the Sorting Hat gave during its song. The food was on point as was the norm, good enough to incite envy from Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost. Everything had been business as usual until the moment an amphibian disguised as a bottle of Pepto-Bismol hopped its way into the middle of the headmaster's announcements and demanded to be allowed to talk, poorly trying to convince everyone that it was actually a person.
Delores Umbridge was as odious as she had been back at Marie's hearing, before Marie had the displeasure of knowing her name. Her voice was like an overripe banana, all festering sugar, and from the way she forced her face into expressions, she was only passingly familiar on how to be a human being. She gave a long-winded diatribe that not so subtly poked at the current running of the school. It essentially summed up as this: Dumbledore sucks 'cause he does what he wants; the ministry was going Spanish Inquisition on Hogwarts because it was no longer politically correct to agree with Dumbledore in any shape or form; advancements in teaching techniques? Fuck those advancements.
Marie watched in grudging amazement as the squat little frog-humper successfully made everyone in the school hate her, even the ones that were technically on her side. Sycophants with agendas they may be, those blood-purist children didn't take to being talked to like they had half a brain any better than anyone else.
After they had been dismissed, it was an annoyed Marie that made her way up to Gryffindor Tower. The side glances and muttering didn't help. Not only had a government toady infiltrated her favourite place on earth, there was pointing and whispering yet again. She wondered how they'd take it if she took a swing at one of them in retaliation. Probably piss their stupid pants and call her homicidal again.
There was an irritating moment in which Marie got into a disagreement with the Fat Lady about letting Marie in. So she didn't know the password yet, so what? She had been attending Hogwarts for four years already, it wasn't like the Fat Lady didn't know who she was! Thankfully, Neville had shown up with the password before Marie could follow in the footsteps of Sirius and slash the stupid portrait up.
"Thanks, Neville," Marie signed, climbing through the portrait hole, stumbling a bit when her foot caught. Honestly, did the doorway have to be a few feet off the ground? She had been tripping over the edge since first year.
Neville caught her by her forearm and smiled, scratching the back of his head. "No problem. It's finally something I'll have no problem remembering."
"And of course it ends up being something I can't even pronounce," Marie griped teasingly. "What was it again? Mimble, nimbus, Estonia?"
"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," the boy corrected, smiling wryly at her facetiousness. "It's a rare plant that originated in Assyria. It's one of the plants my great-uncle got me for my birthday."
"Whoa, talk about lucky."
It was then that the First-years were brought in, Hermione leading the lot of them through the hole, Ron giving a few of them a leg up when they needed it. ("Ha! I'm not the only one," Marie muttered, eying the blushing few with satisfaction.) They were a titchy crowd, all smaller than Marie remembered being, but also not that much smaller than she currently was. Some of them were actually unusually tall. She eyed a five foot six inch first-year with displeasure; the dratted boy was taller than her!
Hermione gave a small speech on rules and navigating the school that boiled down to "If you're not sure if you should be doing something, don't do it," and "Feel free to ask anyone for directions, anyone at all! You know, just not the poltergeist, or the Slytherins, or the Slytherin or Ravenclaw ghosts 'cause they don't talk, or that portrait of the knight that can't get on his horse, or Mr. Filch 'cause he's a meanie, or. . . But other than that, anyone!" It wasn't very confidence inspiring and Hermione seemed to realize that half way through her list of people not to depend on; she flushed and grimaced awkwardly but tried to make up for it by saying the prefects were always there to help them.
Marie ambled off to bed the same time the First-years did, not feeling up to any more hullabaloo for the day, slipping past Lucas Caruso who was all but sleep-walking up to the fifth-year boys' dorm. Most of the other girls were already getting ready for bed when she entered the dorm. Lavender and Parvati were talking with each other on Parvati's bed. They did so quietly, very unusual for them, though their heavy-lidded eyes spoke for them. Fay Dunbar was brushing out her hair at her vanity, and Kellah Matthews was coming out of the bathroom, toweling her head. Nods were exchanged in greeting but really everyone was too tired to do much talking.
Marie brushed her teeth and washed her face before pulling on a pair of shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt. She pulled her curtains around her bed and bespelled it so that no sound could be leave the enclosed area. She had thrown her satchel on her bed earlier when she had dug through her trunk for sleeping clothes. Now that she was within the comfort of her bed with nothing to distract her, she pulled out a textbook to reread for class and the Seeing-Eye as well.
The camera thing appeared to be an oddly designed rubber ball the size of a baseball before Marie stroked it with her thumb. It jolt a little bit and began to uncurl itself. Like a Snitch, its wings had been tucked flat into its sides, but unlike a Snitch, the wings resembles those of a bat, and it also had a tail much like that of the Muggle depiction of the Devil. The device shuddered and rocked, an invisible seam splitting the middle of it, fluttering close and open again a few times much like someone blinking awake. It flapped its wings and appeared to shake itself awake.
The Seeing-Eye took in the sight of Marie sitting there and hovered at attention at eye-level. Marie lifted a hand for it to land on and it settled into her palm, half tucking its wings back.
"You good to go?" Marie asked it.
It blinked twice and made a twittering sound in confirmation.
"Alright." Marie put on a cheery if sleepy expression on her face. "What's up, Boneheads? It's your girl, Malice the. . ." Marie trailed off, taking a moment to remember how many girls had come before her. She brightened. "The sixth! God, I always forget which one I am. Can you believe how many of us there's been? It gets super confusing as well since a lot of you guys call me 'the true fifth'; nice to know you lot like me more than my predecessor. Ha! Am I impressing you yet? I know big words like predecessor.
"Anyways! Malice VI here, shooting the first official video of this vlog series in bed at boarding school. Hope you're all having a kickass day. I heard you guys liked the preview thing we put up a few days ago; hopefully the rest of these vids will have just as fun.
"Probably with less dancing when no one's looking though. It could go either way, really.
"Sorry if I sound a bit loopy and ramble-ly, guys," said Marie, laying on her back and holding the Seeing-Eye above her head. "I just arrived at school this evening after a fuck-long train ride, and there's this new teacher that could put an insomniac to sleep. She's worse than the History teacher and his class is the unofficial school-sanctioned nap-time. Her boring arse speech numbed my brain; pissed me off as well. I can tell you right now that we will not be getting on; she's this disgusting stuck-up bitch. Point is, we just got sent to bed a few minutes ago and I'd be dead to the world right now if it wasn't for the fact that I promised my uploader that I'd film some tonight.
"You should know straight out that these vids probably won't have a regular schedule." Marie shrugged. "I'm going to have to film them between classes, homework, practices, and hanging with my friends. And then I'll have to mail it to Sally-Anne, my uploader, for editing and stuff since my school enforces a strict no internet policy. No internet or phones, actually, so unfortunately, no, I can not give away my phone number; try to tape your hearts back together, fanboys." She stuck her tongue out playfully. "I will do my best to get something ready for editing as soon as possible though, but you have to consider Sally-Anne's free time as well. Hopefully we'll end up with some cool stuff for you to watch and that'll make up for the shitty delays.
"I guess I'm supposed to tell you how I've been lately, right? Well, to be honest, it's been kinda lousy for a while. I'm not going to bore your freaking ears off with a pity-party, but I can tell you that being mugged, a hearing, a near-expulsion, and having people look at me like I'm criminally insane is only part of it. Also, some of those things have something to do with each other, and some were just fucked up luck working against me. Oh, yeah, I'm a real-deal delinquent. Am I hardcore yet?
"Besides the crappy stuff, I've spent the last few weeks of summer at my godfather's house with some of my school-friends. The place was a total dump since he hasn't lived in it until just recently. It's been abandoned for over a decade, and let me tell you, there was dirt on the dirt, and I think all the bacteria there evolved into a new species of life-form. I swear to God, it had evolved out of its Stone-Age and was creating its own form of government when we got in there and got rid of it before it could take over the human race. There were dust-bunnies the size of cats and dogs! Thankfully, we had a lot of help cleaning up, managed to make the place somewhat livable lickety-split.
"That was a bit of a bother, but it was pretty cool to hang out with Siri. He's like the cool uncle your dad tries not to talk about since he's all straight-lace while his little bro's all motorcycles and rock bands. Oh!" Marie perked up a bit and pulled herself back up into a sitting a position. She tossed the Seeing-Eye into the air and placed her pillow on her lap.
"Siri's actually got a motorcycle, if you can believe it. It's this sexy, old-school fatboy, all sweet curves and sleek lines. And it's just hanging out in his garage! He hasn't driven it in years! I crawled all over it when I saw it, of course; such a beautiful machine being wasted, all hidden away. Siri thought it was hilarious, but he started teaching me how to drive it.
"We spent like half a day in there before my friend's mom found us!" Marie grinned. "Siri's place is pretty big so we were all bunking there, Ron's parents and three of his siblings as well as Siri and me, my other friend, Hermione, and even some of Siri's friends that gad about. Ron's mum found us and she damn near burst a blood vessel when she saw us all covered in grease and motor oil. She reamed into us like a kid being caught in his first wank for 'getting a young lady all filthy,' but Siri shut her up proper, saying he was well in his rights to teach me to drive and how motor vehicles function.
"Can we say coolest person ever? We high-fived the hell out of each other after. And get this: He said I could have it when I get my license! Hell, yeah! Best godfather ever!
"Waaah, I'm all pumped up! I should've saved this for tomorrow morning; enthusiasm would be better for waking hours.
"I'm gonna have to call it quits now, guys, I'm going to do a bit of reading ahead so I'll be ready for class tomorrow. I'll try to get some more stuff recorded throughout the day but no promises, alright? Give this video a thumbs up if you liked it, check out the link to our Facebook fanpage in the description box, and leave me a message in the comment section down below if you want to say something disgusting and shameful that your mother would be ashamed of. See-ya." Marie made a peace sign and poked it to her cheek. "Malice, signing out."
Marie woke up in a remarkably good mood, well rested and relaxed. The clock showed that it was actually pretty early, not yet six, so she took the chance to float through her morning routine in contrast to her usual hustle. Her good mood extended into an up-for-anything state of mind that she indulged by abandoning her usual trousers — the ones she had been wearing since winter of first year when she had choose warmth over cuteness. One of the uniform skirts Sally-Anne had chucked at her when the other girl discovered Marie had trashed hers was worn over a pair of bloomer shorts that she had also been smacked in the face with. Deciding to go full out, a pair of height-enhancing yet attractive boots were also put on.
Marie preened a bit in the mirror. She didn't look half bad. Those boots made her legs look super long.
"Oooh, who are we impressing today?" a teasing voice asked from behind Marie. Parvati stood leaning against the bathroom door, dressed only in her towel.
Marie rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No one. I just felt like putting in some effort today."
"If only you did everyday! That skirt's way cute on you; you look so pretty!"
"In a perfect world maybe," said Marie, shrugging her shoulders. "We're still in Scotland, you know; I'd rather have my legs warm in pair of trousers than falling off from the cold."
Parvati waved a careless hand, sauntering over to the clothes she had laid out across her trunk the night before. "Beauty is pain. Why do you think I'm always awake so early? Besides, that's what heating charms are for."
They made casual conversation about clothes for a few moments, chatting about Parvati's skin-care system as well, before Marie decided that the early hour was the perfect opportunity to take a walk before breakfast.
"I'll see you at breakfast, alright?" Marie told Parvati after the Indian girl talked her into putting some clips into her hair. The life-sized butterflies Lavender lent her fluttered animated wings bejeweled with purple gemstones. "If Hermione or Ron asks, could you tell them I'll meet them there?"
"Sure thing," Parvati agreed.
Marie ambled down through the common room without a care. It was early enough that not even the most Ravenclaw-ish of Gryffindors were up and about yet. She all but skipped down the halls, a definite bounce in her steps. Falling into a flight of fancy, she began to hum, leading to her bopping and swaying as she went. "I gotta pocket, gotta pocket full of sunshine. . ."
That was how Professor Sprout found her, chacha-ing her way onto the grounds, eyes closed and hair flying.
"Good morning, Ms. Potter," The plump woman greeted, an amused smile on her face.
Marie jolted. She twirled in the direction of the voice and smile sheepishly at the sight of the Herbology teacher.
"Good morning, Professor," said Marie, brushing back the hair that had fallen into her face. "Lovely day, isn't it?"
"It is," the professor agreed. "What's got you so cheerful today?"
"Oh, nothing really. I had a beautiful sleep, woke up with enough time to pamper myself a bit and relax. It's nice to be back as well."
"One of those mornings I see," Professor Sprout nodded in understanding. "I'll leave you to it then."
"Yes, bye— Oh!" Marie stopped short as she was turning to continue on her way, catching the professor's attention with her exclamation. "Just a moment, please. I was wondering if it would be alright if I use this at school?"
Marie dug out the Seeing-Eye from the pocket she had sewn into her skirt. She prodded it awake before looking at Professor Sprout imploringly.
Sprout looked curious, taking in the flying eyeball fluttering around Marie's head. "I might agree if I knew what it was. What is it?"
"This is a Seeing- Eye. Do you know what a video camera is?"
"I'm unfamiliar with what a 'video' is," said Sprout.
"Well, it's rather like a regular camera, but. . . erm. . . It's like this: Muggles got bored with their photographs not being able to move, so they invented the video, sort of like one of our paintings. Um, except they don't interact with people outside the video. It's sort of like making a recorded play or message that you can send to other people."
"I see. . ." Sprout's eyes had yet to remove themselves from the flying thing. "It's like Mr. Creevey's camera then?"
"Oh, no, this isn't a— Well, I suppose it is, actually. Um, what I mean to say is that a Seeing-Eye is the equivalent of a video camera. Sally-Anne gave it to me so I could send her videos, so I wanted to know it's alright for me to use it."
"Sally-Anne?" Sprout looked surprised. "Sally-Anne Perks?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The professor was intrigued. "I wondered what happened to her! I didn't know that you two were friends."
"Yes, her mum decided Sally-Anne'd be better off learning by owl-correspondence while going to Muggle school. They moved near where I live last summer and we've been getting on rather well."
"That's certainly a relief, we had been concerned something unpleasant happened. And where did she get such a thing?"
"Oh, Sally-Anne loves owl-order catalogs; she gets them from everywhere. She ordered this," Marie held out her hand for the Seeing-Eye to land on. It drifted over and settled into her palm, "from her favorite merchandiser in America."
"I see. . ." Sprout thought for a moment before smiling at Marie. "I have no problem with it, though I do wonder why you're asking me instead of Professor McGonagall."
"Oh, it's just that you're the first professor I've seen this morning, and I figured permission from a Head of House, even if not my own, was as good as any. I'm not sure if I'd be alright with asking Professor McGonagall either way, she always seems so busy; I wouldn't want to bother her over something so little."
"Well, I can't think of any reason why you shouldn't, so feel free to use it. Mind that you don't disrupt classes with it of course, but other than that, I see no problem."
Marie thanked the professor profusely. Then a thought struck her. She dug into her pocket again, this time pulling out a scrap piece of parchment. "Would you mind writing down that you've given me permission? I try to make it a habit to lie as little as possible but I've still got people that wouldn't believe me if I told them that water was wet."
"Good morning, boys," Marie chirped, plopping down next to Ron. "You're rather early today."
The Great Hall was only a third filled so far, summer schedules still clinging to those that tended to sleep in. It was unusual for the boys in her year to come earlier than the second hour of breakfast. It was doubly unusual for Ron to be so alert already instead of blinking blearily about as was his wont.
"Mornin'," Ron muttered through a wad of toast in his mouth.
Dean and Seamus were seated on the other side of the table, looking up and nodding at her in greeting, though Seamus was rather subdued.
Marie leaned onto the table and frowned in concern. "Why the long face? Is everything alright?"
Dean smiled wryly. "Everything's fine enough. It's just Seamus had a bit of a rough time of it during the holiday."
She picked up a wedge of oranges and began to eat. "What happened?"
Seamus didn't answer immediately, picking at his bacon for a bit. Finally, without looking at her, he said, "Me mam didn't want me to come back."
"Seriously?" asked Marie incredulously. "Why?"
There was a bit of uneasy shifting before Seamus finally looked up at her, a wary expression on his face. "Well. . ." His tone was delicate. "I suppose. . . because of you."
Marie's glass of juice stopped short on its way to her mouth. She put it down carefully. "Excuse me? What have I done that would make your mother want to keep you from school?"
"Well," said Seamus, looking away again., "She. . . er. . . well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore too. . ."
Marie's eyes narrowed in irritation. "Are you telling me your mother believes that steaming pile of dung the Daily Prophet has been shovelling? The same newspaper that regularly misspells the name of the people they're reporting on, and tried to convince the public that people died at the World Cup?"
"Well, when you put it like that. . ." Seamus shrugged awkwardly. "And how do you know one died?"
"Seamus, we were almost on top of them when those lunatics started setting things on fire and going at those Muggles. There was a bunch of running and screaming but they didn't actually do any physical harm. On top of that, Ron's dad came back afterward and told us directly that the Aurors hadn't found anyone more than a bit scuffed from the stampede. I wouldn't put faith in a paper that lies to me through rumour-mongering and insinuations."
"They also tried to say that Marie and Krum were dating, and that the bloke was cheating on her with Hermione," Ron added.
"Exactly," Marie nodded. "Anyone with eyes would know that Krum and I barely exchanged two words, and that Hermione would rather set fire to her textbooks than be the other woman. The Prophet gets its kicks from working people up about nonsense when they have nothing better to do, and flinging out stupid theories when they're being paid off."
"Tell that to me mam," Seamus muttered though he did appear perked up. "Look. . . what did happen that night when. . . you know, when. . . with Diggory and all?"
Marie's frown became more pronounced. She looked over to the Hufflepuff table. Cedric was sat down with only a handful of his usual cohorts around him, the rest sitting apart, regarding him cautiously from the corners of their eyes when he wasn't looking. The blond boy wasn't as perky as he usually was but was putting on a good face because of his position as Head Boy.
"It was horrible," said Marie distractedly. She glanced back at the Irish boy, a serious look on her face. "We got portkey'd to a graveyard. Thought it might have been another part of the Task, you know? I honest to God thought Cedric had died; the Curse must have missed him by millimeters. He was laying there, as good as dead, and I couldn't do a damn thing 'cause one of them got the jump on me and tied to a headstone."
"Whoa," Dean breathed. "How did you—?"
"She shouldn't have to explain herself," Neville spoke up suddenly, a fierce look on his face. The other boys were taken aback at the normally low-key boy's sudden intensity. "Dangerous things have been happening to her since first year, shes ended up in the Hospital Wing at the end of the year since we got here. Hasn't she had everyone looking at her like she was a dangerous loony too many times to count? And hasn't it always come out that Marie was in the right the whole time? If Marie says something's going down, I'll take her word for it. She's never given any reason to doubt her."
Marie couldn't help but coo. "Oh, Neville, you're just the sweetest!" She climbed over Ron and pulled Neville into a hug.
"Steady on!" Ron squawked, holding his muffin in the air, shifting his legs farther apart to accommodate Marie's knees that pressed down dangerously near his junk. "Soddin' hell, woman, I still need that!"
Marie wriggled about teasingly. "Shut up, Ron, we're having a moment here."
"Can't it wait until my unborn children aren't in danger of being wiped out?"
"Nope."
"Th-the point is," Neville stammered, unsure with what to do with an armful of Marie. He had calmed down but was still resolute. "We've known Marie for longer than enough to know that she would never say that such a thing happened without her being completely honest about it."
Seamus' conflicted expression finally melted away when he realized the truth of Neville's words. "I guess you're right. It's just hard to wrap your head around, you know? Ma's always sworn by the Prophet so I never really thought about doubting it. But you and Diggory are a good sort, and Dumbledore. . . well, Dumbledore really is a loony, but there's no fooling him, is there?"
Marie pulled her legs farther over Ron's lap so that she was now squeezed between him and Neville instead of crouched on top of him. She wiggled very deliberately, shoving the red-headed boy sideways so she could sit more comfortably directly in front of Seamus and Dean instead of off to the side where she had been before. Ron obliged her scooting with a huff.
"Speaking of fooling," she said. "Please tell me I was having a waking nightmare last night when that human toad waddled up."
Dean guffawed. "If it was a waking nightmare, I was having the same one!"
They chattered pleasantly in this vein while more of their House trickled in, bemoaning the new atrocity that DADA would no doubt be. Angelina popped in to tell Marie that a tryout would be held for the newly opened Keeper position and that she was expected to show up to support the team. The conversation then drifted into Quidditch in which Ron fretted about trying for Keeper and Dean questioned the merit of him trying out for Chaser on the reserve team.
Hermione finally showed up, looking cross. She had not yet opened her mouth to explain her frustration when with a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Hedwig was nowhere to be seen, but Marie wasn't bothered; the only person she was currently exchanging owls with was Sirius, and she doubted he would have anything new to tell her after only twenty-four hours apart. Hermione, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak.
"Are you still getting that?" asked Marie, tossing a grape into her mouth. "We'd get a likelier explanation of what's happening in the world by asking Trelawney for a crystal ball reading."
"It's best to know what the enemy are saying," said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, an apple in hand, not emerging until everyone else had finished eating. "Nothing," she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. "Nothing about you, or Dumbledore, or anything."
Marie rested her chin on a fist. "Shame, I was wondering what wacky nonsense I've gotten myself into since yesterday." Hermione only 'hn'ed in response. "Who's spat in your soup then? I haven't seen you this cross since that garden gnome used a sheet of your homework as toilet paper."
Hermione's face wrinkled in disgust as the boys chortled. "Thank you for reminding me." She sighed. "It's Lavender. She got snippy with me. Fay asked me how you've been doing since that mess at the end of the year, and Lavender made it plain that she didn't believe it. She was down-right rude about it too."
Marie scrunched her nose and shrugged. "She can think what she wants. The truth doesn't change just because you don't want to accept it."
Hermione was still frowning but nodded all the same.
Professor McGonagall was then walking down the length of the table, handing out schedules as she went. Her eyes scanned over Marie when she reached the younger girl but she said nothing.
"Look at today!" groaned Ron. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts. . . Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted. . ."
"Do mine ears deceive me?" said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing onto the bench beside Marie, shoving Ron over once again. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"
"Look what we've got today," said Ron grumpily, shoving his schedule under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen!"
"Skiving Snackboxes?" Marie echoed. "What's that?"
"Not anything you should be interested in, Marie," Hermione put in, determination now on her face. She looked at the twins sternly. "You shouldn't encourage the younger students to skip lessons or test your questionable products on them."
"Here now!" George protested. "You don't have to make it sound so insidious. There was a demand so we're supplying a response; we're not clubbing anyone over the head and dragging them off."
"We're definitely not forcing anyone to test our stuff either," Fred added. "We've a screening process ready, you know. There's no guarantee they'll be accepted as testers; they have to physically well enough and not allergic to any of our ingredients."
Hermione was resolute. "You're presenting them with a temptation that won't do them any favours!"
George snorted. "And I suppose if mum left a pie on the window to cool, and Ron came 'round to eat it when he wasn't supposed to, it would be her fault for baking a pie?"
"Oi!" Ron protested. "Leave me out of this!"
"They're your brothers, Ron! Tell them they can't do this!"
Ron looked like he'd rather ask Moaning Myrtle on a date. "Come off it, not even Charlie could get these two to do what he told them, and he was Head Boy at the time."
"So you're not even going to tell them it's wrong?"
"What's the point? You might as well tell Snape he's unfair; exactly zero fucks will be given."
"Don't swear!" Hermione scolded. "We're supposed to set a good example!"
Marie watched in resignation as the two descended into argument again. Sighing, shot the twins a pointed look. Quietly, as to know catch Hermione or Ron's attention, she said, "Would I be right in assuming my investment is being put to good use?"
The twins winked at her conspiratorially.
"No better use for it," said Fred.
George nodded. "We're looking at a good flow of gold pouring in if we can get our stuff out among the students soon enough."
"They get to know our products well enough while we're still here, they'll get so used to buying from us—"
"— that we'll have an already steady customer base by the time we officially open shop."
Marie nodded approvingly. "Sounds like you know what you're doing." She glanced at the arguing pair once more. "I don't suppose I'll have to tell you two that my name should never be brought up. I don't want to know what would happen if Hermione, or your mother, or even Ron knew I gave you the gold."
"No worries, mate," Fred assured, clapping her on the shoulder. "Your secret's safe with us."
Marie's good mood had taken a beating by the time they arrived at Defense.
History had been the usual snore-fest though sleep had alluded her under Hermione's disapproving gaze. She and Ron had used a corner of the parchment she was using to take notes to play hangman instead, and Hermione's sensibilities couldn't have been more offended if they had kicked a House-Elf. There had been threats of with-held notes, but they came to nothing after Ron had pandered to the curly-haired girl's pride of her intelligence appropriately. Ron might be considered thick, but he know what button's to push.
There had been an awkward encounter with Cedric's on-again-off-again girlfriend, Cho, who used to be friendly with Marie until she thought Marie was trying to take Cedric away from her. They hadn't talked since before the Yule Ball last year, and it was apparent to Marie that Cho was only talking to her again to show Cedric that she believed them. Thankfully, Ron scared her off with an aggressive interrogation about the Quidditch team she supported. Hermione called him tactless but Marie had wanted to hug him.
Potions was the catastrophe it always was when Marie's year were in attendance. Neville almost destroyed his cauldron; Seamus had a mishap with fire; Malfoy and his ilk were actively distracting; Marie did well enough considering her circumstance but of course was degraded; same old, same old. The only difference this time around was the promise that this would be the last year she would be forced to deal with Snape's disgusting prejudice. Actually, she was thinking of calling it a bad job altogether and just refuse to attend his classes. She could hire a tutor that actually did his bloody job of teaching and maybe then she actually learn something.
Hermione confessed herself disappointed in his continued bad attitude, expecting him to to better now that he was part of the Order.
"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ron sagely.
Marie was inclined to agree.
It was a fed up Marie that stalked down the corridor to the DADA classroom, Ron and Hermione trailing after her. When they entered, they found that Umbridge woman already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Marie was put into the mind of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad. Poor woman; she had a face not even a mother could love.
The lesson was proven to be a let-down from the moment Umbridge told them to put their wands away. Everyone knew that meant nothing fun. Marie dug out a quill and some parchment as the professor tapped on the blackboard. 'Defense Against the Dark Arks; a return to basic principles' appeared on the board.
"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.
"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."
The more she talked, the more Marie wanted to punch her in the teeth. Theory-centered? Ministry-approved? If she wanted her life with no practical experience and structured by the government, she'd check herself into Hotel Azkaban.
She had them write down a whole lot of nothing, winding bureaucratese that basically told them nothing beyond the fact that she knew how to drone on without any point. The chapter she had them read was as useless as everything else she had been pouring on them. This Wilbert Slinkhard chump knew as much about using defense as a duck did about using a toaster-oven.
The only interesting thing that happened was Hermione pointedly not reading the chapter. In contrast to her usual book-gobbling, Hermione instead stared at Umbridge with all the intensity of a vampire locking in on its next meal. She kept it up long enough that half the class took notice and abandoned their reading in favor of watching her.
Umbridge had been ignoring her the whole time, but could no longer do so when it was blatantly obvious that Hermione had something to say.
"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.
"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.
"Well, we're reading just now," said Umbridge, showing her small, pointed teeth. The fuck? What kind of person had pointed teeth? "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."
"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione.
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. "And your name is —?"
"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.
"Well, Ms. Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness. It was the same tone Marie had heard suspicious men in white trucks use when trying to coerce children into taking candy. A sign of someone that meant children harm if there ever was.
"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."
There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard. As Hermione said, there was nothing about practicals.
"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Ms. Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"
"We're not going to use magic?" Ron interjected loudly.
"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. —?"
"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.
Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him.
Oh, hell no, bitch, you did not just do that. Umbridge had placed herself even higher on Marie's shit-list with that dismissal. Not even Snape disregarded them in such a way.
Hermione's hand was in the air.
"Yes, Ms. Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"
"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Ms. Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.
"No, but —"
"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —"
Marie's hand pointedly raised in the air, cutting the woman off. Umbridge had stepped closer to Hermione to speak and she had come within smacking distance when Marie's hand shot up.
"Ms. Potter?" Umbridge asked blandly after a moment's pause. "You have a question as well?"
"I was wondering what kind of fights you've been in that you didn't need to practice for, and with your opponent not meaning you any harm."
"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion. "Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"
"I do, actually," Marie replied, returning the false smile just as condescendingly. "Defense is the class I've been attacked in the most; it would make sense that it would happen again."
"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, smile stretching her wide mouth. "But you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh. "Extremely dangerous half-breeds."
"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean Thomas angrily. "He was the best we ever —"
"You're name is—?"
"Dean Thomas."
"Raise your hand, Mr. Thomas. As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —"
"No, we haven't," Hermione said "We just —"
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"
Hermione put up her hand; Umbridge turned away from her.
"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —"
"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean Thomas hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads —"
"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" trilled Professor Umbridge. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which,
after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.
"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"
"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umbridge dismissively.
"Without ever practicing them before?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"
"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough —"
Marie had heard enough. "Professor, you could read everything there was to know about how an instrument works and you would still be completely useless at it since your body isn't trained in the way it's supposed to move yet! How can you expect magic to be any different? What good is theory without practice in the real world?"
Professor Umbridge looked up. "This is school, Ms. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.
"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"
"There is nothing waiting out there, Ms. Potter."
"Are you kidding me?" said Marie. Her patience had reached its limit and the question came out in a way that questioned the woman's mental capabilities in a way that couldn't be denied.
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.
"Hmm, let's think. . ." Marie wondered in a mock thoughtful voice. "Murderers, kidnappers, rapists, and muggers maybe? What about those psychos that kidnapped Cedric and me? What about things like grindlylows and acromantulas? Those can be found not far from the school. What about those 'extremely dangerous half-breeds' you mentioned earlier?"
"What about You-Know-Who?"
The class froze at the quiet addition to Marie's verbal smack-down. They turned to see who had dared to mention the elephant in the room. There, sitting at the back like she always did, Fay Dunbar was glaring at her desk with a heat that was most unlike her. She was the most unassuming of the Gryffindor fifth-years, even more so than Neville; she never volunteered anything during classes. That she said anything at all told her year-mates exactly how strongly she felt about the topic.
"And your name is?" Umbridge asked tightly.
"Fay Dunbar," Fay replied as softly as ever. She looked up and set her stern stare on the professor.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Ms. Dunbar."
The class degenerated even further than it already had when Umbridge launched into a propaganda speech, denying anything to do with Voldemort. There was more shouting, but this time, the students didn't bother even trying to pretend that they respected the woman enough to raise their hands.
By the end of it, several more points were lost and Marie somehow got pinned with a detention, though truth be told, she actually was among the few that stayed the calmest. It probably had something to do with the fact that she had said, "Why shouldn't we learn how to cast the spells? What are you afraid of, that we'll overthrow the government or something?" The sharply fanatic look in Umbridge's eyes was very telling.
Umbridge became wholly fed up with them and ended class early. Most all of them were in a fierce temper and they scattered to cool off before their next classes. Marie purposefully kept her stride as even and unbothered as she could; she wasn't about to let that bottom-feeder parasite get the better of her.
"There's some good news and bad news," Marie said, catching the attention of her fuming friends. "The bad news is the Minister and his cronies are conspiring against us, going out of their way to make sure we learn as little as possible about defending ourselves out of some mad scheme to suppress the underground student militia they believe we're organizing. Not only is that hurting our chances of surviving the shit no doubt headed our way, but it also stomps all over our chances of doing well on our DADA O.W.L.s; theory is all well and good, but they don't do anything for us for the practical portion of the test. Our lives and grades are being endangered."
Hermione looked like she was ready to pull her hair out. "And what's the good news?"The question came out almost a snarl.
Marie looked at the other girl slyly from the corner of her eye. A smirk touched her lips. "I just saved 15 percent on my car insurance by switching to Geico." Then she was off, streaking down the halls.
Hermione's brain short-circuited for a second. The vein in her forehead throbbed. "GOD DAMMIT, MA-RIE!" She took off after her friend.
AN: I had a vastly different plan for this chapter originally. There were choreography and music and everything. It was basically the Hogwarts version of High School Musical. Be thankful I haven't figured out how to work musical numbers into dialogue.
P.S. If you didn't get that last joke, you clearly never watched American TV.