Note: Alas, I've finally finished editing this. I tried having it done in April, but school likes making my life miserable and busy. It's extra-long though, so I hope that counts for something. Thanks again to Lectori Salutem for editing! It really makes a difference in writing and makes the chapter sound so much better!

Your reviews make my day, seriously. A lot of you have good advice, ideas, and compliments to give. If I had enough time to respond to them all, I would. They really help motivate me and inspire me to write, so thank you bunches!

I had a lot of fun writing the end of this chapter. Ah, and so the chaos begins…

If it seems like I'm skipping around, it's probably because I feel no point in re-writing Order of the Phoenix in my own words, especially since you've all most likely read/seen it already. I try to only write what needs to be known. And even then that stuff tends to be slightly different from the book because we have new elements added into the mix. (Like, for instance, the box ghost).

Oops! Was that a spoiler? My bad…

Chapter 4: And So It Begins

Over the course of the next few hours, Harry found himself back in his favorite class—Transfiguration. What was better: it was his first class of the year without the Slytherins. Granted the other Hufflepuff students still gave him odd stares and whispered behind his back, it was certainly far more subtle and tolerable than the usual jibes he got from the Slytherin house.

However, despite feeling back at home, his mind kept wandering to other matters. The topics discussed earlier that morning in Ghost Hunting made Harry wonder a lot about the origins of ghosts and wizarding magic. He tried to disregard them, but somehow a stray thought would pop out of nowhere and lead to a whole mental tangent.

Maybe the reason wizards had never known about muggle ghosts was because they didn't care enough to notice. Wizards, particularly pureblood wizards, had a preconceived notion that muggles were beneath them. They never bothered to educate themselves on their technology or discoveries, preferring to stick to their own culture.

So perhaps muggle ghosts did exist. Perhaps what Danny had been talking about wasn't completely bonkers information.

Perhaps there were beings out there that were more powerful than wizards.

And it was that kind of thought which truly perturbed Harry. Wizards normally out-competed muggles in terms of power. Wizards had magic, muggles did not. Magic worked in mysterious and powerful ways, thus always putting muggles at a disadvantage.

But if there were creatures out there—creatures that could make technology work in a castle full of magic and had abilities beyond that of a wizard—then the odds were changed. Wizards no longer had the magical advantage.

Wizards were no longer on the top of the power chain.

"—ter! Mr. Potter! Are you all right?"

Harry blinked, and almost smacked himself when he realized he had spaced out again. Damn it—that had been the fourth time!

"Sorry Professor McGonagall, just a little tired is all," he apologized, ignoring the snickers going around the room. He could faintly make out Zacharias Smith murmuring about how Harry probably was getting tired of whining to the press and being the center of attention, causing a couple other Hufflepuffs to laugh softly.

"I suggest you get a better night's sleep next time you have classes early in the morning," McGonagall reprimanded, giving him a stern look before continuing on with the lesson.

He tried paying attention for another five minutes until eventually giving up. There was too much on his mind—too many questions and inquiries and conflicts. Later after classes, he would have to pay Dumbledore a visit in an attempt to solve his grievances. Specifically, grievances regarding everyone's harsh treatment towards him, as well as the multiple questions he still had about both the events over the summer and the odd new professor.

Not to mention his resentment over how out of the loop he was before coming to the Order. It was nigh time Harry gave the headmaster a piece of his mind after being ignored for a solid four months. Oh, that was definitely the first on his list of top priorities.

At some point the lesson had concluded, for when Harry was finally brought out of his musings he noticed that half the class was already gone. Hermione and Ron, bless them, were waiting patiently by the door.

He was about to join his friends when McGonagall called, "Mr. Potter? A word, please?"

Aw crud.

He resisted the urge to sigh and slam his head against the table. As much as he admired McGonagall, he wasn't in the mood for a lecture. Grudgingly, he dragged his body out of his chair, and walked lazily in the direction of his Head of House.

Luckily, though, as he approached her, the usual strict frown on her face was absent.

"I noticed you were a bit…inattentive today. Anything wrong, Mr. Potter?"

He shrugged tiredly, not knowing what to say. Professor McGonagall's deep-wrinkled blue eyes look sympathetically at him, her mouth deepening into a concerned frown. She stated, "While I am your professor and as such am responsible for enforcing proper behavior, I am also your Head of House. Please, feel free to come to me with any issues you may have."

Before he could chicken out on asking, Harry blurted, "What do you know about Professor Fenton?"

Her reaction was a little unanticipated. Harry had expected her to scoff at him and wave him off, but instead her eyes softened with something akin to understanding.

"As much as I wish I could help you in that area," she responded, voice neutral, "I'm afraid he's as much of an enigma to me as he is to you."

And with that, Professor McGonagall succinctly bid him farewell, her intense gaze leaving no room for further remarks. Though she hadn't given him much of an answer, her response comforted him a little in that he wasn't the only one befuddled by the new professor. If even Professor McGonagall was thrown off by him, perhaps Harry wasn't over-thinking the matter.

Upon reuniting with his two best friends, Harry ignored their interrogating about what McGonagall had discussed with him—waving them off and assuring them he was fine and not in trouble. Ron seemed ready to continue arguing, but a rather hard shove into his rib by Hermione made him quiet, to which Harry was extremely grateful.

"So, what's next on the schedule?" Harry asked, trying to divert the topic.

Hermione retrieved her time-table, a moment passing by before her eyebrows shot up and her mouth deepened into a worried frown.

"Defense against the Dark Arts," she answered stoically.

Hermione's strange behavior not going unnoticed, Ron wondered apprehensively, "Who's the professor?"

"Professor Umbridge."

Harry took a deep breath, mentally steadying himself as he eyed the medium oaken doors before him. After realizing what class he had and who was teaching it, there had been a nervous pit forming in his stomach. As if it wasn't bad enough that every year some misfortunate event coincidentally happened to the ever-changing DADA professor, this year's professor was one who worked for the Ministry. She had already gotten off on the wrong foot with Harry because of the trial, and for some reason he had a feeling their relationship wouldn't be on the best of terms in this class either.

His hand ghosted over the knob, almost touching it, but still not making the effort to actually open the door.

"Uh…Harry?"

He blinked, glancing quickly to Ron beside him. Oh, right. There were other people here too.

"If the door is that difficult to open, I'll do it for you…"

"I've got it," he grumbled moodily, finally twisting the knob and shoving the door open. The other side revealed a class half-filled with students, as well as a smiling Professor Umbridge standing in the front of the room. Despite that class technically hadn't started yet, not a single person was talking, which was atypical to the normal gossip before class.

Trying not to express his discomfort, Harry headed for the desk all the way in the back in an attempt to further the distance between him and Umbridge as much as possible. Ron took the second seat before Hermione could, to which she huffed irritably and sat next to Lavender Brown in front of them.

It was awkward, to say the least. Harry had never attended a classroom so quiet, especially with Pansy Parkinson around. He had at least expected her, or even some girls from his house, to make a remark about him upon his arrival. But as it seemed, even they were intimidated into silence.

There was a grandfather clock in the corner of the room, and the room was quiet enough that the ominous ticks could be heard. Students from all around were shuffling in their seats and lightly coughing—but with the silence of the room, they sounded like loud clamors. Harry kept looking around, trying to distract himself from his current state of boredom.

Eventually everyone—Slytherins and Gryffindors alike—piled in. Umbridge, once again in her all-pink outfit, coughed a little 'hem-hem' and gathered the attention of all the students.

"Welcome, my lovely little cherubs, to Defense Against the Dark Arts. As you already know from my introduction last night, there will be slight, ahem, improvements in the course curriculum. Fortunately, you now have a competent teacher, myself, giving the lessons. Which means, unlike in the past, you will be taught theoretical information on standard defense by both my effective methods and impeccable knowledge."

Harry nearly gagged at the term 'cherubs', and didn't even bother holding in his snort at hearing 'impeccable knowledge'. If this was what the rest of the year was going to be like, perhaps the idea of Voldemort painfully killing him wasn't so bad…

Umbridge smoothly flicked her wand, conjuring up a little blackboard and piece of chalk. Casting a spell on the chalk piece, it floated and began writing on the board. It eventually wrote out the name of the course, her name, and the title of the assigned reading in store for them.

"For those who don't already know," Umbridge said, her sugar-sweet voice unable to hide the pompousness in it, "I am Dolores Umbridge, though you will of course refer to me as Professor Umbridge. Let's start the lesson in a positive way. Good afternoon class!"

Wow, Harry mused to himself at the descending silence, so this is what they mean when they say, 'So quiet you can hear a pin drop'.

Ironically enough, he could've sworn there was a light tap against the floor…

"I said," Umbridge started again, though there a dangerous edge to her suddenly loud voice, "Good. Afternoon. Class."

This time, everyone answered back, "Good afternoon Professor Umbridge."

She clapped at her results, smiling at all the grimaces on the students' faces. "Much better," she chirped, though it more closely resembled a gargling squirrel. "Turn to page 154 in your textbooks and begin the reading assignment. There will be no need for wands, so please put them away for the remainder of the class."

No wands? Harry thought, watching Umbridge's cheery façade. Seriously? But it was a little too early to be getting into trouble, so he did as he was told and picked up his dull textbook, turning to page 154. In front of him, however, he noticed Hermione's hand sticking straight up in the air.

And that was the first sign that this class was going to go horribly wrong.

The second sign was the pointed ignorance, if not subtle anger, of Professor Umbridge while the class stared at Hermione's stubborn act.

And then the third sign was the noticeable drop in temperature that seemed to reflect the coldness from both Hermione and Umbridge. Though, unbeknownst to the students, the temperature was related to another matter altogether…

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" Umbridge finally called, the barest trace of annoyance in her tone.

Hermione stated boldly, "Professor, there's nothing in this book about actually using our wands."

A few whispers erupted at the statement, but were hushed immediately by Umbridge clearing her throat.

"Deary, why ever would you need to? What kind of dark force out there could possibly aim at innocent little children such as yourselves? To need a wand would imply that the Ministry cannot perform its task of keeping its citizens safe and protected."

Whatever way this debate ended, Harry didn't see it ending peacefully. He was already getting furious himself, and he wasn't even involved in the argument.

"But what about dark wizards? What about—"

Harry had a feeling she was going to say 'Voldemort'; but, regardless of what was about to come out of her mouth, it was completely interrupted by the door slamming open.

Everyone turned around to find, tiredly huffing at the opening, a frantic, wide-eyed Danny Fenton. The resemblance to his entering at the Great Hall was uncanny, and even Umbridge had that similar red, infuriated face as she did on that night when he interrupted her grand speech.

"Did, uh, anyone happen to catch a glowing pudgy blue man floating by?" he asked hurriedly, eyes darting around the entire room as if a fatigued predator stalking prey.

Nearly everyone snickered at the odd question, and Umbridge merely sat there, her face growing redder and frown getting deeper by the second. After a moment of no answer, he asked again meekly, "I take that as a…no?"

"You would be correct in that assumption, Fenton."

The fact that she left out 'Professor' didn't go unnoticed, much less the scathing tone she took on when uttering his name. It was a blatant show of disrespect, yet Danny seemed to be completely unfazed. Unusually so—considering he was the one who had declared earlier that morning that he didn't tolerate disrespect from others.

Danny did, however, smirk a little. And Harry was starting to realize the pattern between Danny's mysterious smirks and the strange occurrences that happened afterwards.

"Oh. Terribly sorry to bother you then. Cheerio!" he waved, attempting (and failing) a British accent at the end. He closed the door gingerly and his casual, melodic whistling from the other side gradually faded away.

Umbridge 'humph'-ed indignantly, before returning to the previous conversation with Hermione. "That being said, Ms. Granger, I suggest you stop asking pointless questions and return to doing the assignment!"

Harry saw her mouth open as if to continue the argument, and he discreetly kicked her desk to get her attention. Once she glanced back at him, he shook his head forlornly. This wasn't a battle worth fighting, and Danny's appearance had only soured her mood even further. If she kept going at it, she would only enrage Umbridge even further—getting in trouble for no good reason.

Hermione bit her lip but otherwise said nothing, opening her book like an obedient student and reading most likely something she had already read weeks ago when she had purchased the books. It took Harry a moment to realize that, for once in his life, he just stopped Hermione from doing something incredibly stupid.

Talk about role reversal, he thought, slightly proud that he did something right yet slightly disturbed that he was acting like Hermione. Honestly, had he not been preoccupied and absent-minded the entire day, he probably would have ended up fueling the fight and joining in…

For quite a while, the students all sat there, tiredly reading their book in boredom. The only sound made was the swish of the pages as they were turned, along with the drowsy sighing of the students all around. Though dreary, the atmosphere was at least peaceful, and it saved everyone from having to hear Umbridge's aggravating voice.

Basically, the class was uneventful.

Uneventful, that is, until a box began floating above Umbridge's head. And despite Neville's pointing hand and shout of warning, it was too late.

Danny Fenton sat in the Great Hall with an uncommon amount of enthusiasm that evening, practically glowing as he gobbled down turkey and mashed potatoes. Some of the other professors (Flitwick, McGonagoll, Snape, Grubblyplank, Hooch, and Sprout) at the opposite end of the table had, at first, assumed it to be because of the food. But upon closer inspection, even as he finished his meal, there was a sort of cheekiness to his expression. A cheekiness that the professors were far too used to seeing on Fred and George Weasley.

And it was that resemblance that made them concerned. Because anyone that was comparable to the Weasley twins was someone to be observed very carefully.

Not to mention the fact that Umbridge's late afternoon fifth-year class still hadn't gotten out yet. It should have ended an hour ago, which would've given the students and professor plenty of time to make it to the feast. Yet, neither had showed up; and if there was anything that could be deduced from Umbridge, it was that she was a very punctual woman—one who wouldn't come late to dinner in favor of holding back a class.

Whether Danny's jolly mood and Umbridge's tardiness were a coincidence or not, no one knew. So, after a couple of group whisperings on the opposite end of the table, Professor Flitwick was chosen to bravely walk over towards where Danny was sitting, and get to the bottom of the mystery.

"Hello, m'boy!" he greeted cheerfully, albeit nervously. "I see you're in a very good mood at the moment."

Danny responded with a bright grin. "Yep! Sure am!"

Professor Flitwick coughed a little awkwardly, before inquiring, "Any particular reason for the sudden burst of joy?"

Danny shrugged, reclining back in his seat, "No, not really." Though, as he said it, there was the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the ends of his lips.

"Just a good day?" Professor Flitwick questioned curiously.

"You could say that."

They stood there in silence, Danny leaning lazily back with an easy grin and Professor Flitwick standing uncomfortably with an anxious grimace. The goblin-human hybrid waited for some sort of explanation but—as he and the rest of Hogwarts would come to find out—Danny rather enjoyed being mysterious and fooling around with the wizards. So instead of an explanation, Danny simply stood up from the table, gave a friendly wave to the Charms professor, and casually strolled towards the exit of the Hall.

"Oh, and before I go," he paused in favor of looking over his shoulder at Professor Flitwick. "If she doesn't show up in ten minutes, I'd send some help. If you need me, I'll be in the Astronomy tower."

Without any sort of explanation, Danny left Professor Flitwick standing there, a dumbfounded expression on his face.

When he sat back down on his side of the table, with the professors asking about his encounter and Snape glaring him down for an answer, he shrugged he shoulders and said, "I have no idea."