I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.

Beginnings of a Rivalry

The following morning, Charlie and Hermione met up with Ron in front of the Fat Lady. The raven-haired girl sent out a mental message to her brother, telling him where to meet them. Harry soon arrived in his Hufflepuff robes; prefect badge gleaming.

"Handy, that is," said Ron about the twins' telepathic abilities. The four set off down a flight of stairs.

Harry snorted. "Yeah. But it also causes a rude awakening."

Charlie grinned. "Well, just consider me your personal alarm clock."

Dean and Seamus sped down the stairs past them, with the latter giving Ron a glare as they passed. Dean shrugged apologetically as he followed after his friend. Charlie glanced at Ron's reddening ears and asked, "What was that all about?"

"Seamus was having a go at you in the dorm last night," said Ron hotly. "His mother didn't want him to come back to Hogwarts this year. She thinks you and Dumbledore are bonkers. She reads the Prophet, too. So I told him off and threatened him with detention."

"You didn't have to do that," said Charlie, touched.

"I wanted to. No one has a go at my best friend."

"There are a few Hufflepuffs not on your side either," said Harry apologetically.

"There's a lot of that going around," muttered Charlie. "Last night was the most awkward night I've ever spent in my dorm. No one would look at me."

"They're being ridiculous," snapped Hermione. "Why would anyone think you would lie about such a thing?"

"The primary reasons are; I'm crazy, I'm looking for attention, I'm crazy, I'm in a plot with Dumbledore to overthrow the Minister, and have I mentioned everyone thinks I'm crazy?"

"Don't listen to anyone," said Ron. "We know you're telling you truth."

"And I really appreciate that." Charlie smiled. "So how did your first night as prefect go?"

"Pretty good. I just had to escort the midgets to Gryffindor Tower, show them where to go and that. Parvati was no help. She kept taking to Lavender when she was supposed to be guiding."

"Fred and George giving you any trouble?" asked Harry.

Ron snorted. "'Course they are, they're my brothers, it's what they do. Oh! They put up a new notice in the common room. They're offering Galleons for anyone who will help them test their products."

Hermione stared at him. "You are going to talk to them about that, aren't you?"

"Are you mad?" cried Ron. "Of course not."

"But you can't let them do that! It probably goes against more than a few school rules!"

Harry arched an eyebrow. "When has that ever stopped the twins before?"

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "They're not going to listen to me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly. Do you want me to talk to them for you?"

"No! I mean, can you do that?"

"Well, prefects have responsibilities first and foremost to their House. But we can speak with those outside of our House if the situation warrants it."

"Look, just leave them be for now," persuaded Ron. "It's my House, I'll deal with it if I have to. Besides, they're really excited. They won't harm anyone. Not intentionally, anyway."

Hermione huffed. "Fine. But if they get out of hand and you don't do anything, it'll fall on your shoulders."

"I'll take the risk. So, what do you guys think about the Sorting Hat's new song?"

"It gives me the willies," said Harry feelingly. "I don't like warnings. Something bad normally comes after them."

"Nearly Headless Nick told me that the Sorting Hat feels honour-bound to give the school a warning when it feels that the school is in great danger. It apparently always gives the same warning; stand together, stand strong."

"Fits in with what Professor Dumbledore said at last year's end-of-term speech," said Hermione. "Voldemort is known for spreading seeds of doubt, for turning one against the other, and that we need to band together and have strong bonds of friendship."

"Tell the Slytherins that one," said Ron dryly.

"We could at least try," said Hermione in annoyance.

They reached the Entrance Hall just as a group of Gryffindors were heading for the Great Hall. Upon spotting Charlie, they pressed closer together and picked up the pace. Charlie rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I don't think anyone is going to want to be friends with me these days."

They entered the Great Hall and everyone split off. Hermione and Charlie walked over to the Ravenclaw table and sat down. Charlie glanced beside her and grinned at Eliza Mourning, her Quidditch team captain. "Hi there, Captain. You're finally going to get a chance to show your skills as a leader."

Eliza sighed nervously. "I don't know. I was nervous enough last year, and the Triwizard Tournament took the place of the Quidditch Cup. But this is my last year, so it has to be a good impression."

"You're going to be great," assured Charlie.

"Thanks. Listen, we have practice Friday evening at six, after the Gryffindors. We need a new Keeper to replace Scarlet. I was hoping the whole team could be there."

"Sure," agreed Charlie. "I'll be there. You figure out how you're going to keep Tommy and Clancy in line?"

"Aurora," said Eliza firmly. "I don't have the ability to keep them in line. I'm too nice."

Hundreds of owls swooped in, delivering the post for the morning. Charlie watched with a wrinkled nose as Hermione received her copy of the Daily Prophet. "I don't think I want to know what that says."

"It's best for us to stay informed, so we know what we're up against," said Hermione reasonably.

The two heads disappeared behind the newspaper. To Charlie's relief, there was nothing about her or Dumbledore. "At least I get a break. Even if it's just for one day."

Flitwick came along, handing out the schedules. Charlie scanned hers quickly. "Wonderful. We have Umbridge for a double period."

"Maybe it won't be as bad as you think," said Hermione optimistically.

Their first class of the day was History of Magic, which they unfortunately had with the Slytherins. Hermione and Charlie sat in the front of the class, with Pansy and Draco in the back. She could practically feel their eyes burning into the back of her head, but she didn't dare turn around.

As she idly took down notes, trying not to fall asleep to the droning voice of Binns, her brother's voice intruded upon her concentration, causing her to fling her quill in shock. Hermione turned and arched an eyebrow.

Charlie hastily retrieved her quill, ignoring the odd stares aimed in her direction. "Harry," she said in a low tone.

Hermione frowned. "Now really, he can't just interrupt you while you're in class! I know you need to practice, but this isn't the place!"

The raven-haired girl gave a shrug before staring at her paper. 'You scared me so bad I threw my quill.'

'Sorry!' apologized Harry. 'I don't really know how to give you a warning. I think yoo-hoo would be too much.'

'And annoying,' agreed Charlie. 'You do know Hermione and I are in History of Magic right now?'

'Yeah, I know. Ron and I are in Muggle Studies.'

'I'm trying to learn, goof. I'm trying to get an education.'

'I just told Ron what you said. He said you're crazy and that you should take advantage of our Sibling Bond to pass boring class time. He also says hi.'

'Well, hi back. But I really need to pay attention. This is O.W.L. year, you know.'

'No kidding. Burbage is instilling fear in us. I'm scared.'

'And you're going to be sorry when I fail my History of Magic exam.'

'It's only your first class! You're not going to miss much.'

'I'll remember that when we're in Transfiguration and you are in Charms.'

'All right, all right. Point taken. I'll leave you be. But you have to admit, this is cool.'

Charlie could not help but grin. 'Yeah. This is really cool.'

A sharp poke at her elbow caused her to glance over. Hermione was giving her a frown. "I'm paying attention again," she whispered. "Harry just left me alone."

"New rule—no telepathy when we're in class," decided Hermione, going back to her notes.

Charlie snorted. Yeah. Because that's going to work.

…

"Double Potions," said Harry glumly as he and his two female friends shuffled towards the dungeons. "I'm not going to make it."

"You're going to be fine," said Charlie.

They filed into the dimly lit dungeon, going to their usual table. Charlie sat in the middle and set her cauldron up, her friends following her lead.

Snape came in soon after, and the sound of the dungeon door closing sent everyone into silence. He swept to the front of the room and faced them. "Next June, you will be sitting through a very important examination that will test what you have learned from this course. You will scrape through with an Acceptable or suffer my displeasure."

"Why does he have to be so dramatic?" whispered Harry.

"Shh," hissed back Charlie.

"I only take the best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class," continued Snape. "This means I won't be seeing some of you next year. Not that I'm displeased by the prospect. But until then, we have another year to go, and I expect you to concentrate and achieve the high grades I expect from my O.W.L. students."

He turned and gave his wand a flick, so that words appeared on the board. "We will be mixing a potion called the Draught of Peace. It is used to soothe agitation and treat anxiety. If you don't use the proper amount of each ingredient, you could send the drinker into a deep and sometimes irreversible sleep. The ingredients and method are on the board. Ingredients are in the store cupboard. You have an hour and a half. Begin."

"So much for an easy first day," moaned Harry, reluctantly starting on his potion.

The process was indeed extremely specific. One wrong move and the potion would be ruined. With shaking fingers, Harry stirred clockwise and then counter-clockwise, keeping track of how many times he was stirring in each direction. "I'm going to need this Draught of Peace after I've finished."

With ten minutes left to go, Snape called, "You should see a light silver vapour rising from your potion."

Harry held his hands up in victory as he watched shimmering silver mist rise from the surface of his potion. "Oh, thank Merlin!"

Charlie grinned. "You didn't get that E for nothing, you know."

Snape strode by then and he glanced down at their cauldrons, all of which were emitting a thin silver vapour. He gave a curt nod of approval. "Reassuring to see not all of you are complete imbeciles," he said lowly before continuing his prowl.

Harry glanced around the classroom to see cauldrons spewing thick clouds of smoke or colourful sparks. "Well…the sparks are kind of pretty."

"Those of you who have managed not to foul up the potion completely, fill up a flagon, label it with your name and put it on my desk. Your homework is to write twelve inches on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making. Due on Thursday."

Charlie, Hermione and Harry bottled a portion of their potion, wrote down their names and left it on Snape's desk. They quickly cleaned up and left the dungeon. "Welcome to O.W.L. year," groaned Harry.

"Well, Divination can't be that tough," reasoned Charlie. "I mean, it's Divination."

"You could be spending your time doing something more productive," said Hermione pointedly.

"Hey, I got this far," responded Charlie.

They ate a quick lunch and Charlie led her two male friends to the North Tower. On the way they passed the portrait of Sir Cadogan. "Halt!" he bellowed in his muffled voice, waving his sword wildly. "Stand and fight!"

"Sorry, Sir Cadogan, but we've got class to go to. Besides, I wouldn't stand a chance against you," said Charlie as they passed.

This satisfied the knight and Ron shook his head. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"Manage to say the right thing. Hardly anyone can get him to shut up. You fire off one compliment and he doesn't say another word. You and Peeves are buddies. Snape likes you."

"Hey, there are a fair bit of people in this castle who don't like me."

"And they're prats," said Ron instantly.

Charlie laughed. "No, they're not. Well…maybe Pansy and her crowd. But I wouldn't call her a prat directly. Well, not on purpose."

"You're much too nice," decided Ron.

They reached the North Tower and climbed up the ladder, going through the trapdoor. The room was heavily perfume-scented and a low fire was blazing. The three took their usual seats on cushions in front of a low table.

"Welcome," said Trelawney in her dreamy voice when all the students had gathered. "It's wonderful to see you all again. I, of course, knew you'd all be returning. You will find in front of you The Dream Oracle by Indigo Imago. Dream interpretation is very important in divining the future and will be featured heavily in your O.W.L. examination. But do not worry about passing or failing. In Divination, the grade does not matter. What matters is if you have the Seeing Eye."

"I guess we're not going to have study hard for this one, then," whispered Ron, exchanging a small high-five with Harry.

"Please read the introduction. When you are finished, divide into pairs and interpret each other's most recent dreams. Go on."

"Read to us," implored Harry.

With a roll of her eyes, Charlie complied, reading the introduction aloud. When she finished, she closed the book and faced her friends. "Who wants to go first?"

"I dreamed I was playing Quidditch," said Ron, supporting his head with his hands. "What's it mean?"

"You're probably about to get eaten by a giant marshmallow," said Harry.

Charlie tried to find something in The Dream Oracle to help her, but soon found she didn't know entirely how to navigate or piece the information together. "No idea."

Soon the class ended, with Trelawney assigning them to keep a dream journal for a month. "This is ridiculous," grumbled Ron as he and his friends descended down the ladder. "Do you know how much homework I've gotten?"

"A foot on the use of Muggle batteries and how they work, twelve inches on the uses of moonstone for Potions—"

"—and a foot on giant wars for History of Magic," finished Charlie, causing both Ron and Harry to groan.

"Giant wars," muttered Ron as they headed for their next class. "I can never remember anyone's name."

"Have fun in DADA," said Harry as he veered off. "Hope Umbridge isn't going to be too bad."

The two entered the classroom, where they found everyone to be quiet. Umbridge was sitting at the teacher's desk, wearing a fluffy pink cardigan and a big black velvet bow in her hair. They found Hermione sitting in the middle of the front row, two seats left open on either side of her. Charlie and Ron quickly took their seats.

"Good afternoon students," greeted Umbridge when the last student took her seat.

A few mumbled in reply.

Shaking her head, Umbridge clucked her tongue. "That won't do at all! I want you to say, 'Good afternoon Professor Umbridge' in return. Now, let's try again. Good afternoon students!"

"Good afternoon Professor Umbridge," everyone chorused in reply.

"Much better," said Umbridge in satisfaction. "Wands away and quills out."

"This is going to be torture," muttered Ron.

Charlie nodded in agreement as she removed her quill, parchment and ink from her bag. She slipped her wand away and sat up.

"Your teaching in this subject has been rather disruptive and fragmented, hasn't it?" said Umbridge, facing the class. "So many teachers come and gone…some that didn't meet the Ministry-approved curriculum. You are all terribly below what is expected of O.W.L. students. But I am here to remedy that. This year's course is Ministry-approved and you will learn defensive magic through theory. Copy the following down, please."

She tapped the board with her wand. Charlie stared at the course aims that were listed and reluctantly wrote them down.

When everyone had copied down the three course aims, Umbridge asked, "Has everyone gotten a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There were some grumbles of confirmation. "Let's try this again," said Umbridge. "When I ask a question, I expect a reply of 'Yes, Professor Umbridge' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.'"

Lady, we're not in kindergarten. We don't have to do this every single time, thought Charlie in annoyance.

"Has everyone gotten a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge?" came the collective response.

"Please turn to page five and read the first chapter. There will be no reason for you to talk. Begin."

She sat down at her desk and everyone turned to the designated page, starting their reading. Charlie wearily began to read, but when the words started to blur together, she looked up to take a break. Her eyebrow arched upon spotting Hermione staring resolutely at Umbridge, hand raised in the air and her book closed.

Charlie glanced at Ron, but he shrugged. The two stared at their friend, who kept her hand in the air. Umbridge refused to look in their direction, but after several minutes everyone stopped reading to stare at Hermione, who was not giving up.

Left with no other choice, Umbridge acknowledged the girl. "Do you have a question about the chapter?"

"No, not about the chapter," answered Hermione, lowering her arm.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Umbridge with a smile, flashing pointed teeth. "You can see me after class if you have other queries."

"I have a question about your course aims. There's nothing in there about using defensive spells."

Umbridge laughed. "Why ever would you need to know that? You're not going to get attacked in my class."

Ron stared in bewilderment. "No magic?"

"Hand up if you're going to speak, Mr.—"

Ron thrust his arm up impatiently. "Weasley," he informed.

Hermione and Charlie raised their hands as well. Umbridge studied them, her smile tight. "You have something else to ask, Miss—?"

"Granger," supplied Hermione. "Yes, I do. Isn't the point of Defense Against the Darks Arts to learn how to use magic?"

"Well, you're not a Ministry-trained education official. This course has been devised by wise, old wizards and witches. You don't get to decide the point of the course. It's already been set for you. We will be learning about defensive spells in a risk-free way."

Charlie kept her hand high. "But where's the use in just learning without practicing? It won't do much good if we're attacked," she countered, her run-in with Dementors fresh in her mind.

"She's right," said Dean. "It won't be risk free if we're attacked."

Umbridge smiled a sickly-sweet smile. "And you are?"

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas, as I said before, do you expect to be attacked in this classroom? No, of course not. But I don't blame you for your ignorance. You have been educated by some very inadequate wizards, and especially dangerous half-breeds."

Charlie's eyes narrowed. Dean did not take her comment well, either, for he scowled. "Professor Lupin was the best DADA teacher we've ever had!" he defended.

Umbridge ignored him. "You have all been exposed to complicated spells that are inappropriate for your age group, and potentially lethal as well. Why, my predecessor performed the three illegal curses in front of you!"

Dean shot his hand in the air. "He was a madman, wasn't he? But we still learned loads from him."

Well, can't argue with that one, thought Charlie bitterly of the now-soulless Bartemius Crouch Jr.

Parvati shot her hand in the air. Umbridge stared at her. "And you are?"

"Parvati Patil. Aren't we going to need to know the practical side of the defensive spells for the exam?"

"So long as you know the theory, you will be fine."

Charlie firmly raised her hand. "Theory is good and all, but how is it going to help us in the real world?"

"This is a school, Miss Potter. Not the real world," said Umbridge softly.

Frustrated, Charlie shook her head. "School doesn't last forever. We're going to get out there. What are we supposed to do to defend ourselves against what's waiting for us?"

"There is nothing waiting for you out there."

Body stiffening, Charlie stared. Umbridge's face was neutral, but her gaze was challenging. She was telling the class that they had nothing to worry about, when in fact they needed to do the opposite.

She was not going to let this go.

"I disagree," said Charlie firmly. "Lord Voldemort is out there."

At the sound of his name, the class gasped and paled.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw," said Umbridge. "I see some things need to be cleared up. You have all been told that a Dark Wizard has risen from the dead—"

"He was never dead," corrected Charlie. "He's immortal. He just found a way to get his body back."

"Miss Potter, you have already lost ten points. Do not make this worse," said Umbridge, looking like she was struggling to keep the smile on her face. "Like I was saying, you've all been told a Dark Wizard has returned. This is nothing more than a lie."

Charlie glared openly. "Right. Because I just hallucinated the entire ordeal. That Cruciatus Curse he hit me with was just a figment of my imagination," she said with dripping sarcasm.

"Detention!" cried Umbridge, a note of triumph in her voice. "I repeat, the story is a lie! The Ministry of Magic assures you there is no Dark Wizard out there. Angelina Johnson died of her own mistake. If someone is spreading lies about his return, I would like to hear about it. I am your friend. I am here to help. Continue with your reading."

She sat down behind her desk. Charlie stood up. The tables trembled for a split second before Hermione reached out and squeezed Charlie's wrist, the pain enough to pierce through her anger. The tables settled and no one noticed—everyone was staring wide-eyed at the raven-haired girl. The warmth in her eyes was gone. They glinted with hard steel, and there was fierce scowl on her lips.

None of them could remember a time when they had seen Charlotte Potter angry.

"Angelina did not die of her own mistake," said Charlie in a dangerously soft voice. "She was killed by Voldemort."

Everyone inhaled sharply, eyes trained on the Girl-Who-Lived. No one besides Ron, Hermione and Harry heard the full story of what happened in the graveyard, and what happened to Angelina. The Gryffindors were now staring at Charlie attentively.

"What happened to her was a tragic accident," said Umbridge coldly.

"No," said Charlie hotly. "No, you don't get to play that card. I'm not going to allow it. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't her mistake. Angelina died at the hands of Voldemort. It was murder. And I am not going to let you tarnish her memory."

"Come here."

Shoving her chair aside, Charlie stormed over to Umbridge's desk. The woman removed some pink parchment from her purse and started writing on it. When she finished, she tapped it with her wand so that rolled up tightly.

"Take this to Professor Flitwick," said Umbridge sweetly.

Snatching it, Charlie turned on her heel, grabbed her bag and book, and charged out of the classroom. She walked down the corridors, taking deep breaths to keep her anger under control and prevent her magic from unleashing. She ran into Peeves as she rounded the corner. "Hi," she said shortly, continuing on her way.

Bewildered, Peeves floated beside her. An angry Charlie was a very uncommon sight. "What's got wee Potty's britches all tied up in a knot?"

"Umbridge," snapped Charlie, kicking at the tiled floor. "She and I, we're not going to get along."

"Goody-goody Potter is in trouble?"

"Yeah. On my first day. With her." She lost her grip on her emotions and a portrait flew off the wall. The witch in the frame let out a startled shriek and Charlie's eyes widened. "Sorry! I'm so sorry!"

She picked up the portrait and was able to reach the nail. She hung it back up, brushed off the frame, apologized some more and hurried down the corridor. Peeves stared down at her. "Wee Potter has a temper."

Charlie turned red with embarrassment. "I don't mean to. I just can't control it when it happens." But she was calmer now, as she usually was after a magical outburst. "I really better get going to Professor Flitwick's office. See you later, Peeves."

She strode to Flitwick's office, where she hesitated outside the door. With a slight wince she rapped on the door and it opened, granting her access. She shuffled in and the Charms professor glanced up. "Miss Potter?" he asked in surprise.

"I've been sent here," she said, dropping down into the chair across from his desk. She handed him the note. He opened it and read through it, his brow creasing deeper with each sentence.

"You shouted at Professor Umbridge?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes," muttered Charlie.

"You called her a liar?"

"In so many words, I suppose I did."

"And you told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?"

"I did."

Flitwick lowered the note and rubbed his forehead. "Miss Potter, you need to be careful."

His voice was filled with anxiety and concern and even a little bit of fear. "Professor—" began Charlie.

"She can do more than just take away points and issue detentions," continued Flitwick, his voice growing sharper. "Girl, you know who sent her and why she's here. You know who she's reporting to." He glanced down at his note. "She's given you detention every evening this week. Your first one is tomorrow at five. The remaining ones will take place after dinner."

Charlie flinched, but did not argue. "I figured as much."

"You need to be careful around Dolores Umbridge."

"But I was telling the truth! Professor, I'm not going to let her spew lies! It isn't fair to the students, and it isn't fair to Angelina!"

"Right now, it's not about lies or truth," said Flitwick firmly. "It's about keeping control and remembering to mind your professor, which Dolores is. You will go through your week of detentions and after that, there will be no more incidents. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," muttered Charlie, not quite seeing how that would be possible.

"Good girl." He reached into his drawer and pulled out a small tin. "Now, help yourself to a cupcake."