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

Detention: Round Two

Monday morning, Charlie went down to the Great Hall with Hermione, ready to eat breakfast and start the week off on a good note. She knew dealing with Umbridge would be difficult, but she also knew she needed to be careful of what she said and did around the woman.

Sitting down at the Ravenclaw table, she scooped some eggs onto her plate just as the swarm of owls arrived to deliver mail. The spoon was just near her lips when Hermione let out a horrified gasp beside her. Flicking her gaze over, Charlie noticed that her friend had the Daily Prophet laid out in her lap, the front page beholding a large picture of a sweet-smiling Dolores Umbridge.

"Dolores Umbridge appointed first ever High Inquisitor to assist with Ministry's educational reform," Charlie read the headline aloud. "Well. Fantastic."

Together, the two girls read through the article.

Last night, the Ministry of Magic passed legislation that will allow itself an unprecedented amount of control at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

'Due to the Minister's concern for the goings-on at Hogwarts, this will help soothe the worries of anxious parents who feel that the school is going in a different direction than they want it to go,' said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley.

This is not the first law the Minister has passed to effect improvements at the school. On the thirtieth of August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed to ensure that the Ministry will select an appropriate candidate for a teaching position if the current Headmaster or headmistress cannot appoint one.

"Ooh, that's not fair," grumbled Charlie in annoyance.

'That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be teaching at Hogwarts,' said Weasley. 'Of course, she's been a success, totally revolutionizing the Defense Against the Dark Arts class and providing the Minister with instant feedback on how things are progressing on Hogwarts.'

"Lies!" snapped Charlie. "She has not been a success. She's been the opposite of a success. This is all a ploy to spy on my butt."

The most recent law passed has been Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

'This is the beginning of the Ministry's new mission to correct the falling standards of Hogwarts. 'The Inquisitor will be able to evaluate her fellow educators and Professor Umbridge has graciously accepted the post and will perform her new duties along with her regular teaching position.'

The parents of the students of Hogwarts have reacted positively to this change.

'It's certainly relieving to know that Dumbledore will be under fair and objective observation," said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, forty-one, speaking to us from his Wiltshire mansion. 'I and other parents are glad to know the Ministry is keeping an eye on our children.'

"No, no, it's not objective," said Charlie in annoyance. "This is the farthest thing from objective. And of course they got Lucius Malfoy for a comment."

Many parents have been concerned by Dumbledore's eccentric decisions over the years. Some of these decisions include hiring controversial staff members, such as the werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and the ex-Auror, appropriately dubbed Mad-Eye Moody. It is the common consensus that Albus Dumbledore is no longer up to managing the prestigious wizarding school.

Charlie read on, relieved to see that there were at least a few remarks against Umbridge and the Minister's attempt to discredit Dumbledore. When the two finished the article, Hermione folded up the newspaper and climbed off the bench. She went over to the Gryffindor table, handing Ron her copy. The ginger took it with a baffled expression, but once he saw the front page he frowned deeply.

Hermione returned. "At least we know how we got stuck with Umbridge," she muttered bitterly.

"This sucks," groaned Charlie, ignoring her eggs and resting her head in her hands. "I'm a goner."

"Everything will be fine," soothed Hermione. "We can't do much about this, so we have to deal with it as best we can."

After breakfast, the two girls met up with their male friends. Ron had given Harry the newspaper once he finished with it, and both boys were as frustrated as they were. "I can't believe Umbridge has the ability to inspect the teachers," said Harry as they made their way for their first class of the day. "And what are they on about, bringing up Uncle Remus' condition in the paper? It's not relevant! He's not a danger to anyone."

"We know," soothed Hermione. "But it's all part of their horrible ploy to discredit anyone associated with Professor Dumbledore."

Ron smirked. "I can't wait until she inspects McGonagall."

"She might be inspecting Professor Binns," said Hermione with a frown. "So we ought to get moving. You two should pick up the pace too, in case she's going to sit in on Muggle Studies first."

The four split off into pairs and the females reached History of Magic. But there was no Umbridge sitting in the corner, so Charlie let out a sigh of relief and took her seat.

The lesson was as boring as every other lesson they ever had in that class, and then they trudged off to the dungeons for double Potions. Snape handed back their essays and Charlie flinched at the inky black D scrawled in the upper corner of her moonstone essay. What was worse, Snape had written 'see me after class' at the bottom of her essay.

"This will be fun," she muttered.

"You sure that's not meant for me?" asked Harry, staring at his own essay grade, which was an E.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Very funny."

"The grades you received are the grades you would have gotten if this is the work you presented during your O.W.L.s," drawled Snape, eyes sweeping the classroom. "If you continue producing work of such abysmal quality, this is the result you will receive on your O.W.L. examination. I expect a better performance on this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I will hand out detentions to those who continue to score a D."

I've gone a long time without getting a detention with Snape, thought Charlie. Let's try to keep this streak going.

She worked extra carefully on her Strengthening Solution, relieved when her potion was the clear turquoise shade it was supposed to be. Hermione's was perfect, as usual, and Harry's was a slightly darker shade of blue, but it was still decent.

"Messed up somewhere," he muttered as he vialled his potion. "But at least it's not pink."

The bell rang, signalling the end of class, and Charlie stayed rooted in her seat as her peers got their stuff together and departed. "We'll wait for you outside," whispered Hermione, and the two took their leave.

When the door slammed shut behind them, Snape swept over to where the girl was sitting. Her essay was in front of her, fingers playing nervously with the edges of her parchment.

"You have scored nothing less than Exceeds Expectations since your first year," began Snape. "Now suddenly, in the year that counts the most, your grade takes a horrendous dive."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "Detention with Umbridge—"

"Professor Umbridge, Miss Potter. However you feel towards her is not an excuse for disrespect."

"Yes, Professor," said Charlie reluctantly, who did not think Umbridge deserved the title. "Detention ran late all last week and I didn't have much time to do…well, anything really. But I did my best with the time that I had."

"Then you should have found a way to manage your time better," said Snape firmly. "I meant what I said. If your grades do not improve, I will give you a detention. Perhaps that will be incentive enough for you to continue the solid study habits I know you possess."

Charlie flushed. "Yes, Professor. I'll do better on this week's essay, honest."

"I will expect it. Off with you, now."

The raven-haired girl quickly departed, bag over her shoulder. Her friends were waiting outside the dungeon doors and quickly fell into step beside her when she emerged. "Didn't take long, then," said Harry.

"No. It was a stern reprimand more than anything," replied Charlie.

They entered the Great Hall for lunch and Charlie took a detour to visit Ron at the Gryffindor table. She crouched beside him, pressing her hands against Ron's back to balance herself. "Hey."

"Hey," he greeted. "How was class?"

"Okay. But I got a D on my Potions essay."

Ron stared at her for a moment before slumping. "Well. I must have screwed up royally then."

"Harry got an E, so you probably did well too," said Charlie. "I just had my time eaten up."

"Nothing wrong with a D," said Fred, who sat across from them.

"Could have been a T," added George.

"That's true," agreed Charlie. "There's always a bright side somewhere."

"You guys have an inspected lesson yet?" asked Fred.

"No," said Ron.

"Nope," said Charlie. "How about you guys?"

George nodded. "She was in Charms. Just sat in the corner, taking notes. Plus, you know Flitwick. He treated her like a guest and didn't seem too bothered by her. She asked Alicia a few questions and she made sure to speak nothing but good things about good old Flitwick."

"So don't worry," added Fred, knowing Charlie would be concerned about Umbridge making negative marks against her Head of House. "Flitwick won't get marked down. He always gets everyone through their exams just fine."

"We've got Professor Trelawney and Umbridge this afternoon," said Charlie. "Maybe Umbridge will sit in during Divination."

George snorted. "Now that's one inspection I'd like to see."

Ron, Harry and Charlie arrived in the perfumed classroom a half hour later and claimed their usual table. They were just pulling out their dream diaries when they heard someone coming up the trapdoor. Glancing over her shoulder, Charlie held back a frown as Umbridge climbed into the classroom.

"Good afternoon," she greeted. "Professor Trelawney, I trust you received the notice giving the time and date of your inspection."

Trelawney nodded stiffly and without a word started handing out copies of The Dream Oracle. Umbridge grabbed an armchair and dragged it to the front of the room. She took a seat and pulled a clipboard from her flowery bag. Expectant eyes locked on her, Trelawney wrapped her shawls tightly around her, her nervousness obvious.

"We will be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," she said, her usual mystic voice shaking slightly. "Please get into pairs and interpret each other's latest nightly visions."

The trio crowded over their copy of the book, flipping to a random page, for they knew they would never be able to correctly interpret the other's dream anyway.

"They are not in pairs."

Blinking, the three glanced up and looked around the room. Everyone had stopped talking and were now staring at Umbridge. Umbridge was staring at the trio, and Charlie realized that they were the only group not divided into pairs.

"As you can see, there are an odd number of students in this class," said Trelawney. "So there must be a group of three."

"Are they always that group?" asked Umbridge.

"Yes."

"That doesn't seem terribly fair. There should be a different group of three every week, so that it's fair to the other students."

"Oh, we don't mind," piped up Lavender.

"Yeah," agreed Parvati Patil. "It doesn't make much of a difference. Besides, they're the best students in this class, so it's only fair that they get to stick together."

Their remaining classmates chimed in their agreement and Charlie felt an inner sense of triumph when Umbridge's smile tightened. "Very well, then. Continue."

Hiding their smirks, the three bent their heads low over their book. "I have a new respect for almost everyone in this room," said Ron. "You can guess the one person I don't respect."

"Guess we better pretend like we're working," muttered Harry. "Ron, you go first. Make up a dream or something."

As the ginger created an elaborate tale, Charlie glanced at Umbridge, who was now following Trelawney around the room as she spoke with her students about their dreams. When Trelawney finished speaking with Neville, who was a few tables away from Charlie, Umbridge asked, "Exactly how long have you been in this post?"

"Close to sixteen years," she answered, tone bordering on resentful.

Umbridge made a note on her clipboard. "That's quite a long time. It was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?"

"Yes."

Another note was made. "You are the great-great-granddaughter of the Seer Cassandra Trelawney?"

"I am," answered Trelawney chin lifting.

"Then I am correct in saying you are the second one in your family to possess the Second Sight?"

"These things skip generations," said Trelawney.

Umbridge's smile widened dangerously, and she made yet another note. "I see. Then it shouldn't be much trouble for you to predict something for me."

You horrible woman.

Charlie stared in sympathy at Trelawney, who had paled slightly. "I cannot make a prediction on command," she snapped, clinging tightly to her shawls for security. "The Inner Eye does not work that way."

The entire class was watching the pair now, eyes wide. Umbridge hummed slightly and made a note. "Well then, if that's the case…"

"Hold on," said Trelawney hastily, attempting an ethereal voice but failing. "Yes, I do see something…I see that you are in grave danger, about to experience a horrible, ugly demise."

Charlie bit her knuckle to keep from laughing out loud and Harry had to elbow Ron when the ginger snorted. Umbridge's smile did not waver, but there was a steely glint in her eyes. "Right," she said softly, making another note. "I suppose, if that's the best you can do…"

She strode away, back to her seat. Trelawney trembled in fury, and suddenly stalked over to the trio's table. "Well," she snapped briskly, "Let's see what your dream diary looks like."

Charlie handed it over. "Umbridge doesn't know anything about the Inner Eye," she said in a low voice. "She's too hopelessly mundane for that."

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "You're a great Seer and a great professor."

"What does she know, anyway?" added Ron. "Probably doesn't know the first thing about dream interpretation."

Their supporting words did the trick, and the tightness lifted from Trelawney's shoulders. "Yes…yes, of course," she breathed. "Only the selected few like us can understand how the Inner Eye works." She flipped through Charlie's dream diary and for the first time that class, a smile lifted her lips. "Very good, Miss Potter."

She handed back the diary and swept on, in better spirits. Ron grinned. "Perhaps we laid it on a bit thick."

"Maybe. But Umbridge was being nasty to her," said Harry with a frown. "Trelawney may be a fraud, but she's a much better professor than Umbridge will ever be. Plus, she's actually nice to us—sincerely nice."

Soon class finished and they filed down the silver ladder. Harry split off to go to his next class and Hermione met up with Charlie and Ron on their walk to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Charlie told the bushy-haired girl about Divination and Hermione nodded.

"I expected as much," she said as they entered the classroom with a group of other students. "I mean, Trelawney would be the most obvious person to send off." When Charlie shot her a look, she quickly added, "Not that I want it to happen."

The trio took their seats and once everyone was gathered, Umbridge stood with a pleasant smile. "Wands away, thank you. You will read Chapter Two today, starting on page nineteen. There's no need to talk. Begin."

There can't be enough chapters to last us the entire year, thought Charlie in disbelief, flipping to the table of contents page to check.

But before she could figure out exactly how many classes they had left and match it to the number of chapters remaining, she noticed that Hermione's hand was in the air. Umbridge, having figured out a different tactic with dealing with the girl, got up and walked over to their table. She whispered, "What is it, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read Chapter Two," she informed.

"Then continue on with Chapter Three."

"I've read the whole textbook."

Umbridge blinked, but quickly recovered. "Then would you mind telling me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen?"

Hermione didn't miss a beat. "Counter-jinxes, he says, are improperly named. People call them counter-jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."

Umbridge's eyebrow lifted slightly, and Charlie knew that she was impressed.

"But I happen to disagree."

Hermione's voice was rather carrying, and she had once more attracted the attention of the class. Umbridge's eyebrow rose higher, and her gaze grew a bit colder. "You do?"

"Yes. Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, but I think they can be very useful when they are used defensively."

"Well, I'm afraid that Mr. Slinkhard's opinion is what matters in this classroom," said Umbridge, no longer whispering and straightening up.

Hermione frowned. "But I—"

"That is enough," said Umbridge coldly, her kind front now gone. "Five points from Ravenclaw."

"For what?" asked Ron incredulously.

"For making pointless interruptions in my classroom," returned Umbridge. "I am here to teach you, using a Ministry-approved method. This does not include dealing with opinions of students who know little of what they are being taught. Your previous teachers in this subject may have given you such liberties, but they would not have even passed Ministry inspection, with perhaps the exception of Professor Quirrell, who at least stuck with age-appropriate subject matter."

Charlie stared at her in disbelief. "At least Professor Lupin and Professor Lockhart weren't possessed or working for Voldemort."

Oh, great work, Potter.

A heavy silence fell upon the classroom. Umbridge stared at her for a long moment before saying, "Another week of detention should do some good, Miss Potter."

Of course. Flitwick is going to kill me.

…

The cuts on the back of her hand didn't even get a chance to heal completely when she returned to a new string of detentions. With every letter the cut deepened, and was bleeding by the following morning. She wearily got dressed into her robes, ignoring the stinging in her hand, and trudged down to the Great Hall for breakfast, where she knew news of her detention had circulated amongst the student population.

She entered the Great Hall and dropped down on the bench beside Hermione. She had barely finished the first bite of her muffin when someone smacked her soundly across the head.

"Ow! Geez Louise!" she hissed, gingerly prodding the back of her head and looking over her shoulder. "Geez, Tommy, what's your problem?"

"I heard you got yourself in another detention," he snapped. "Since Eliza won't yell at you, I thought I'd take it upon myself."

"Look, I'm sorry. It just happened—"

"Nickerson! How dare you strike another student?!"

Tommy flinched when Flitwick came up to two of them, a severe frown on his face. "It wasn't hard enough to hurt her," he tried.

"Violence is not tolerated in any shape or form! I don't know what this display is about, but ten points from Ravenclaw!"

"But Professor, Charlie landed herself in detention again!" protested Tommy.

Charlie sent Tommy a glare, but promptly shrunk back when Flitwick whirled on her. "From who?" he demanded.

"Professor Umbridge," she admitted reluctantly.

"So after the deliberate warning I gave you last Monday, you went and had another outburst in her classroom?"

"Um…yes."

"Miss Potter, you need to control yourself," the Charms professor hissed lowly. "You are going to land yourself in serious trouble! Another ten points from Ravenclaw."

"But Professor, I already have a week of detention!" protested Charlie. "Why do I have to have points taken away?"

"It seems that detentions with her are not doing anything for you, so I will find another method to get you to behave," said Flitwick shortly. "Nickerson, another outburst like that from you and you will find yourself in detention as well."

"Yes, Professor," he muttered.

Flitwick headed back for the High Table and Tommy stormed off. Charlie shoved her muffin aside and rubbed her forehead. "I would probably get more sympathy if he knew I was getting my hand cut open every night," she muttered.

Hermione, who now knew about Umbridge's detention method, gave a nod of agreement, focussed on the recent copy of the Daily Prophet. "Though it would be beneficial if you didn't blurt things about You-Know-Who out like you do."

"I can't help it."

"Perhaps you can try to help it."

Charlie stayed silent throughout their next class, which was Charms. She knew her Head of House was frustrated with her, and she did feel a bit guilty. He cared greatly about his students, and it no doubt wasn't easy to see one of his Eagles flinging themselves into Umbridge's line of fire.

Their next class was Transfiguration, and when they entered the room, they found Umbridge sitting in the corner with her clipboard. "This is going to be great," whispered Ron as the three of them took their usual seats.

McGonagall strode into the classroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She ignored Umbridge completely, making her way to the front of the room and facing the class. "Mr. Finnigan, please hand back the homework. Miss Potter, please take this box of mice and give one to each student."

Seamus retrieved the stack of parchment and Charlie took the box. As the two started circulating around the class, Umbridge coughed.

But McGonagall did not acknowledge her. Lips curling slightly, Charlie set a mouse in front of Lavender Brown, who whimpered slightly.

"It's not going to hurt you," said Charlie in amusement. She then added, "Thank you, by the way. For yesterday."

Lavender smiled. "Oh, no problem. I think Umbridge is horrible, and it's not fair how she's against you."

Charlie finished handing out the mice and gave the box back to McGonagall. She returned to her seat and glanced at her essay grade, relieved to see that she had achieved an E.

"Most of you have managed to Vanish your snails. For those of you who still had a snail with some shell remaining, you still got the gist of it."

"Professor McGonagall."

McGonagall glanced at the woman, mouth creasing in firm line. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering if you got my notice of time and—"

"Of course I received it," interrupted McGonagall. "If I hadn't, I would have asked why you are here." She turned her back on the woman. "Now, today we will be practicing the more difficult Vanishment of mice. The Vanishing Spell—"

"Excuse me, Professor."

"How do you expect to gain an idea of my teaching methods if you keep interrupting?" snapped McGonagall furiously. "I usually do not allow people to talk when I am talking."

Umbridge did not say anything, but she looked rather affronted by McGonagall's curt, dismissive behaviour. Charlie hid a smile behind her hand and Ron snickered beside her.

"As I was saying, the complexity of the animal determines how difficult it will be to Vanish it. The mouse, which is a mammal, will be a greater challenge than the snail. It will take a great deal of concentration, so don't let your mind wander. You know the incantation. Begin."

Charlie took a few glances towards Umbridge during the class, and the woman seemed to be writing long notes on the Transfiguration professor. While she was happy to see Umbridge get the attitude she deserved from a fellow professor, she also did not want McGonagall to get in trouble.

"Eyes on your mouse, please, Miss Potter," said McGonagall as she passed by the trio's table and Charlie quickly snapped her gaze back on the animal she was supposed to be Vanishing.

Class ended and everyone returned their mouse to the box that was being passed around. As everyone started to file out, Umbridge stood up and walked over to McGonagall, a grim expression on her face.

Ron took his female friends by the shoulders, slowing their pace so that they could eavesdrop.

"How long have you been teaching here?" asked Umbridge.

"It will be thirty-nine years this December," said McGonagall curtly, closing her bag.

Umbridge made a note of that. "You will have your results of your inspection in ten days' time."

"I will wait with bated breath," said McGonagall dryly. She strode for the door, ushering the lingering students out ahead of her. "Come along, you three."

Charlie glanced up with a soft smile, and she could have sworn it was returned.

The three met up with Harry and started the walk across the grounds to their Care of Magical Creatures class. Ron told Harry about Umbridge's inspection of McGonagall's class and the bespectacled boy grinned. "I wish I could have been there to see that."

"Well, you're going to get to see this one," muttered Hermione, gesturing ahead of them. Umbridge stood near the table loaded with Bowtruckles, Grubbly-Plank beside her.

"You do not usually teach this class, right?" asked Umbridge.

Grubbly-Plank nodded. "I am a substitute teacher, currently standing in for Professor Hagrid."

"I don't suppose you know the reason for Professor Hagrid's extended league of absence?" questioned Umbridge innocently.

"Not a thing," returned Grubbly-Plank easily. "Received an owl from Dumbledore, asking if I would like a few weeks' work and I accepted. That's all there was to it. Now, shall we get started?"

The class continued their study of the Bowtruckles and Umbridge made her rounds, interrogating students about the magical creatures they've learned about. Charlie was relieved to hear those who were questioned give positive answers. She knew that Hagrid was in the most danger, due to his half-giant blood. But Umbridge could not use that as the reason to give Hagrid a bad report, so she would pounce on the first thing that would implicate him.

Umbridge returned to Grubbly-Plank after a moment. "So, as a temporary member of the staff, an objective outsider, we might say, how do you find Hogwarts?"

"Dumbledore's excellent. Everyone here is wonderful to work with, and I think Hogwarts is running great. I'm always happy to teach here."

I like you even more, Professor, thought Charlie.

Umbridge made a small note on her clipboard, an incredulous look on her face. "Assuming that Professor Hagrid does not return, what do you have planned for this class?"

"I'll take them through the creatures they'll see on their O.W.L.," she replied. "They've already learned about unicorns and Nifflers, so I'll show them Kneazles and Porlocks, and of that sort."

"At least you seem to know what you're doing," muttered Umbridge. She turned to Goyle and asked a question that caused Charlie's heart to sink. "I hear there's been injuries in this class."

"That was him," replied Goyle, pointing at Ron, who paled slightly.

"Really, now?"

"It was nothing," he said quickly. "Just a scratch, nothing serious."

"He was slashed by a Hippogriff," added Pansy. "So was Draco."

"It was a scratch!" snapped Ron. "It was nothing!"

Draco glowered at him while Umbridge made a furious note on her clipboard.

"But it wasn't Hagrid's fault!" spoke up Charlie. "He told us specifically not to insult the Hippogriff, and Pansy ignored him. She was supposed to take the hit but Ron pushed her aside. If she had bothered to listen to his instructions, it wouldn't have happened in the first place."

Umbridge stared back coldly. "I think we'll add on another night of detention, Miss Potter." She turned to Grubbly-Plank. "You'll receive the results of your inspection within ten days."

The woman took her leave and Ron shot his friend an exasperated glance. "I could have handled it!"

"I didn't want you to get that detention," muttered Charlie.

"It wouldn't have been a big deal," said Ron, though his face was uncertain. As much as he wanted to help his friend, he also didn't want words engraved into his skin.

…

When Charlie returned to her common room after her detention, it was midnight. The bleeding was getting worse, so she wrapped a scarf around her injured appendage to help stem the flow. She found Hermione waiting for her, seated in one of the cushy armchairs.

"Here," she said, pointing to a small glass bowl sitting on arm of the chair beside hers. "It's strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles. It should help with the pain."

Charlie took a seat, removed the soiled scarf and stuck her hand into the yellow liquid. She smiled in relief and met her friend's anxious stare. "Thanks. It feels a lot better now."

Snowy jumped into her lap with a soft purr and Crookshanks was already nestled in Hermione's arms. Charlie scratched her cat's head and settled back in the cushions of the chair with a soft sigh.

"Ron thinks you should tell someone about what she's doing."

"No. If I tell Professor Flitwick, he'll do something about it. Umbridge is High Inquisitor now. She might get Mr. Fudge to pass a new decree saying she can fire anyone who complains about her."

"She is an awful woman," agreed Hermione. "We need to do something about her."

"I'm open to ideas."

"Oh, that's good. See, the three of us were thinking. You know how we're learning nothing in DADA? Well, we thought it's about time we started learning ourselves."

"I'm not against it, but I don't think my string of detentions is going to stop anytime soon. I think I started a war, or maybe she started it. Either way, I'm not backing down. Which means more detentions and less time to do homework."

"We don't expect you to back down," assured Hermione. "Yes, it will be extra work, but we think it'll be worth it in the long run. You're right. We have to be prepared for what's out there, waiting for us."

"Yeah, but books can only do so much," pointed out Charlie. "We could learn some new jinxes from the library books, and practice them, but that's not a lot."

"We've definitely gone beyond books," agreed Hermione. "What we need is a good DADA teacher."

There was something about the way she said it that caused Charlie to look over at her friend suspiciously. Hermione was watching her with an innocent, almost expectant gaze. Suddenly, it clicked as to what her friend was getting at.

"You can't mean me."

"I do! You're the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts! And think about what you've done!"

"What?"

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "The Philosopher's Stone, the Basilisk, fighting off dozens of Dementors at one time and facing off against Voldemort himself!"

Charlie was baffled. "The only reason I made it to the Philosopher's Stone was because of you guys. As for Quirrell, I didn't do anything. My mother's sacrifice is the reason he burned when he touched me. The Basilisk was a stroke of pure luck, and I'd have been a goner if it wasn't for Ron, Fawkes and the Sorting Hat. Same with Voldemort. Our wands have the same core, so they wouldn't really work against each other. As for the Dementors, fine, I'll give you that one."

"Will you at least think about it?" pressed Hermione.

Charlie sighed. "Fine. Yes. I'll think about it. But I don't make any promises."

Hermione nodded. "I think I'm going to head to bed. Are you coming?"

"I'll be there in a bit," she replied, not wanting to remove her hand from the sweet relief that was Murtlap quite yet.

Hermione departed with Crookshanks. Charlie did intend to head up to bed in a few minutes, but exhaustion soon claimed her and she fell asleep in the armchair. Her sleep was not peaceful, for she was plagued by dreams of long corridors and locked doors.

When she awoke the following morning, it was with her scar prickling madly and an odd, uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.