max artemis potter: Dumbledore

Glass of Water: Thank you!

darklilyofthevalley: It's true, he is rather judgmental when it comes to Slytherins, but to be fair, he has had plenty of bad experiences with them.

ChickWithThePurpleGuitar: Yes, there will be, although this mainly a Hogwarts-based story.

Cookie05: Yeah, maybe.

miller123456789: Yes, Luna does seem to be the number one request in this story. She will definitely make an appearance.

The rest of potions class proved to be rather uneventful. Snape gave a speech about what they would be learning this year, and then he sent Euan Abercrombie to the hallway because he was blowing his nose too loudly.

As the class walked out, Vaisey looked at their schedule. "We have Defense Against the Dark Arts next with the second-years," he announced.

"Isn't that the class taught by that weird toad-lady?" Harper asked.

"Yep. I bet she's a total push-over!" Vaisey grinned slyly, rubbing his hands together. "This is going to be fun."

As it turned out, Harper and Vaisey could not have been more wrong about Umbridge. "Good morning, class," she said, in a sickly-sweet tone.

The class muttered back "Good morning, Professor," half-heartedly.

Umbridge smiled. "I am Professor Umbridge, your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Annabeth didn't like the way the teacher spoke to them. Umbridge talked very slowly, emphasising every single syllable, as if the were a bunch of complete idiots. "In this class," she continued, "we will be learning the basics of defense for beginners. And I'm sure you will all be pleased to know that we will be following a safe, Ministry-approved course, so that nobody gets hurt."

"Don't worry," Vaisey whispered to her, "my brother says that no Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher ever lasts more than three terms. She'll be long gone by the end of the year."

Annabeth sighed in relief. Her mother had told her to try to keep a low profile and not anger anybody too much, but if this teacher kept on speaking to them as if they were five-year-olds, Annabeth did not think she would be able to keep it up much long.

"Gah!" she looked up and Umbridge was peering right down at them.

"Dear," she said to Vaisey, "is there something you would like to share with the whole class?"

Aleron said through gritted teeth, "No, ma'am."

The professor nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Good. Now, if there will be no further interruptions," she looked at Annabeth and Aleron. "Let us begin. The Ministry feels that it will be important to obtain a theoretical knowledge of defense in order to get you through your studies, which after all is what school is all about." She scanned the group of students, as if daring them to disagree.

Finally, a second-year Gryffindor girl raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss . . . "

"MacDonald, ma'am. Natalie MacDonald," the girl said, she spoke with a slight Scottish accent.

"Ah, yes. Miss MacDonald, do you wish to share something with the class?"

The girl rolled her eyes slightly, as if to say, well, duh, but she nodded politely at the professor. She hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "With all due respect to you and the Ministry, isn't school supposed to be about preparation for our adult life? And how are we supposed to be able to defend ourselves with only a 'theoretical knowledge' of how to do so?"

Umbridge's lips tightened, but she forced a smile. "I can't imagine when you would need to defend yourselves. After all, who would want to hurt little children like yourselves?"

Annabeth could think of a bunch of things on the spot.

"Blimey," Aleron whispered, "I wish I knew a couple of good curses so I could use them on her," Annabeth could tell by the look in his eyes that he meant it, too.

Annabeth turned to see if Umbridge had heard him, but she was at the moment walking over to a table where two second-year Gryffindor boys sat next to each other. They appeared to be in the middle of a very intense game of hangman. "And what are you names gentlemen?" she asked, in the same false sweet voice.

"Nigel Westpurt and Dennis Creevey," one of the boys said.

"Well, Mr. Westpurt and Mr. Creevey, would you two young men mind passing out the text books to the class?"

"Can't you just use magic to . . ."

"Excellent!" she handed the boys each a pile of books that were almost as tall as they were!

Reluctantly, Nigel and Dennis passed out the books.

When Aleron received his book, he flipped though the pages. He made a face. "What's wrong?" Annabeth asked him quietly.

"There's nothing in here about defensive spells - - or even spells at all!"

Annabeth opened her book to a random page and stared at the content. Right away she knew there was a problem. The words were all written in fancy, cursive letters, and they were small and squished together. Annabeth struggled to read just one sentence. She raised her hand.

Umbridge came over to her. "Is there a problem?"

"Um . . . you see, I have Dyslexia and this book is really hard for me to read. Is there any chance that I could get it in a larger sized print?" she asked hopefully.

Umbridge blinked, confused. "What do you mean the book is hard to read?" she demanded.

Annabeth blushed slightly. She didn't know why she was embarrassed. It was nothing to be ashamed of. "You see, I have Dyslexia, and words sometimes get mixed up in my head. I mean, I can read, but it takes a bit longer than most people."

Umbridge frowned. This was not good. The girl couldn't read! Now how was she supposed to have order in her classroom? "Well, dear, what do you expect me to do?"

Fifteen-year-old Seamus Finnigan sat in Professor McGonagall's class.

"Class is over," McGonagall informed them.

The Irish boy sighed in relief. He thought that he was going to die of boredom! But just as he was about to exit the room, McGongall stopped him. "Mr. Finnigan?" she said, "a word, please."

Seamus's stomach tightened. Professor McGonagall was one of the strictest teachers in the school, if she wanted talk, it was unlikely to be done over tea.

What had he done this time? Seamus desperately searched his mind. True, he may not have been one of the brightest students, but he certainly wasn't stupid (although he did have a rather bad habit of accidently lighting things on fire.)

"Remember when we spoke about maybe having an extra credit program for you?"

Uh oh, here it comes . . .

"Well, there's a first-year girl by the name of Annabeth Chase. She's very bright, but is having some trouble in her studies. Would you be willing to tutor this girl?"

Seamus blinked. Tutor? That was it? What was the catch? He had thought that McGongall would make him write an essay on some stupid Goblin War, or memorize all of the Ministers of Magic in alphabetical order. But a tutoring job? That he could do.

He looked back at the professor in disbelief, but the expression on her face told him otherwise. "I would be happy to, Professor," he said. "When do I start?"

"Tomorrow night at six o'clock in the library."

Seamus nodded, after all, he had nothing better to do. "Thank you very much, Professor McGonagall. Um . . . can I have a note for my next class?"

"Of course. What do you have?"

He smiled a bit sheepishly. "Potions."

"Ah, yes. A note would be a good idea." She took out a piece of parchment and wrote him a pass.

"Thanks," he began to head out.

"Oh, and Seamus?"

"Yes?"

"The girl had Dyslexia."

Yes, Seamus Finnigan. I bet none of you were expecting that. There is actually a very specific reason why I chose him as opposed to, say, Hermione. Can any of you guess? Guess correctly, and you win an imaginary cookie!