The rest of the weekend passed without much incident. Harry and Hermione showed the first years around to their classrooms the previous day, and spent some time teaching them how to cast Alohomora and Colloportus after Hermione transfigured several locks for them to practice on. She left him to do most of the teaching again, and it had the additional side effect of warming the first years up to him. He also found himself thinking more about her defense group in the back of his mind. Harry was becoming open to the idea, but was still torn over his ability to teach other students his age how to defend themselves.

The pair also cornered the twins and got them to agree to leave all students below fifth year alone in their product testing, and to tell any volunteers beforehand what the products did. Fred and George thought he had been taking the mickey out of them when he pulled them aside to talk, but they thankfully relented when he let them know he and Hermione were being serious about it. The pair were just relieved they wouldn't have to resort to more drastic measures.

Harry also brought out his firebolt for the first time in months, and helped train Ron at the Keeper hoops with the twins, while Hermione made good on her word and brought the first years out to show them what flying was like. Ron's keeping ability was decent, though he had confidence problems Harry hoped practice and a couple games would eventually sort out.

He honestly could have said it was a good end to the weekend, if not for that night where he felt a small twinge in his scar and saw another vision of the Department of Mysteries in his sleep. As if he needed any more reminders of the dangers brewing outside the castle walls. So when Harry woke up in the middle of the night, his heart racing as though he was just running a marathon, he tried to close his mind for the first time against Voldemort.

Since he hadn't gotten an intense vision since Dumbledore told him about his Occlumency lessons, nor quite knew how to start blocking his mind until the night before with McGonagall, he simply tried to meditate after receiving flashes of the dark corridor. Last night though, he focused on clearing his mind until the mild pain in his scar went away, and was somewhat successful. As he was focused on his mental state, Harry found Voldemort's dim, foreign presence lurking at the back of his mind, waiting to come forward. But frustratingly, he couldn't push it away, or make the twinge in his scar abate. He could only try to ignore it, until it faded on its own.

It left him with an uneasy feeling in his stomach that Voldemort was just there, as if he was in the shadows, watching him. Just like so many other witches and wizards in the past who tried to hide from him to no avail. So before the sun came up, he brought out the book and his own notes to work on Occlumency. Outside of Dumbledore's promise to tell him why his parents were killed, why Voldemort went after him, Harry desperately wanted to be free of Voldemort's presence.

That was how Hermione found him in a secluded corner in the common room, long before anyone else woke up. He had been pouring over the section about closing his mind to Legilimency intrusions as McGonagall instructed him, when he felt her hand gently rest on his shoulder.

"Good morning Harry, is everything alright?" Harry startled a little. He was so engrossed in his study that he didn't hear her walk up to him, and he met her warm brown eyes that were brimming with concern.

"Yeah," he darted his eyes to make sure no one was around. "I saw the corridor again." Hermione dropped in the seat next to him.

"How does it feel?" she asked, holding a hand to his forehead like she was checking his temperature. He cracked a smile, and gently pulled it down.

"It's fine now, it just stung earlier," he lazily gestured to his book. "I was just studying how to defend myself from intrusions."

"Do you want me to help?"

Harry smiled, "I'd appreciate that," he said, handing her some notes he was writing, and the two of them promptly got to work. He told her about his perception of Voldemort in his head, and she was deeply worried, but he assured her that he didn't feel anything coming through at the moment.

Hermione did become more assertive to help him master Occlumency, and between her penchant for learning, and his determination to drive Voldemort out of his head, he felt confident they would figure it out together. Before anyone could come down, they went through a simple meditation exercise together. And he focused on the worn chair he was sitting on, the low crackling of the fireplace, Hermione softly breathing beside him, and the faint scent of hickory smoke that wafted through the common room. It was a helpful thing in Occlumency to have a strong grasp on his surroundings so he knew when he was in a trance or actually awake, it also helped pull himself back to reality as he recently figured out with McGonagall. Skilled legilimens could fake it, for a time, so it was important for him to recognize it in case Voldemort ever tried to trap him in a vision.

The two of them stopped their studying when they heard students starting to come down from the dormitories. Hermione went to collect the girls up in their dormitory, while he went to wake up Ron and get the boys. When everyone was ready, there were still barely a dozen students aside from them in the common room.

"What classes will we have today?" Elaine asked a few minutes later as they were making their way to the great hall.

"You'll find out when McGonagall hands out our schedules," said Harry. "Just make sure you leave early so you can make it to the classroom in time," the other first years nodded, and Hermione smiled at him encouragingly when they took his advice without any hesitation.

As they approached the entrance hall, there was a few streams of older Ravenclaws crossing, and Harry rolled his eyes when they clumped together as a group after they caught sight of him coming down the stairs.

The great hall was still mostly empty, but it was starting to fill up, and the chatter from the students was getting louder as they slowly stirred themselves from their drowsiness. The first years spread out around the table a bit more this morning, Elaine and Caroline sat together near the middle, while Euan and Johnathan sat further down, and Terrance took the seat across from them.

Harry noticed over the weekend that they were closer than he had been to the others in his first year aside from Hermione and Ron. He supposed it was due to him and Hermione helping them as a group instead of leaving them to their own devices like Percy and whoever his partner had done in their first year. He couldn't even remember who the girl's prefect was at the time, and only knew Percy because he was Ron's brother. He looked around at Seamus, who was sitting further down the table with Dean, and he wondered if things might've been different if they were friends. All throughout Hogwarts, he really only had Hermione and Ron, and to a lesser extent, the twins, and the rest of the Quidditch team. His mind wandered to Hermione's teaching group idea, and once again, he puzzled over how anyone would want him to teach when he barely knew any of them.

As the first years started to dig into the breakfast platters, Harry led Hermione and Ron to a spot closer to the end of the table. While he and Hermione agreed to be more involved, they didn't want to be overbearing. Meanwhile, the tables were starting to fill up quickly as more students were filing in to eat something before classes started.

Harry was scooping eggs onto his plate, and had passed the platter to Hermione so she could do the same, just as hundreds of owls started swooping down to deliver the morning post. Two of them, Hedwig and a brown Barn owl, landed in front of Hermione as she was still holding the platter, so Harry quickly dug out a couple sickles to pay for her morning paper. Hermione quickly thanked him, while Hedwig waited to stick out her leg until she set the platter down. She untied the letter from her parents eagerly, ignoring the Daily Prophet, while Hedwig hopped over to him.

"Hello girl," said Harry, stroking Hedwig's feathers. "Are you tired?" she barked softly, and he offered her a piece of bacon. Hedwig nipped his fingers affectionately, and clutched the bacon in her beak, before flying back to the owlery so she could eat and get some rest.

Hermione opened her letter with a small smile on her face, while Harry poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. He idly wished she could get letters from her parents faster, since it took several days for Hedwig to fly there and back. As he brought the goblet to his lips, he froze in place as a loose swirl of thoughts swept through his mind before sliding into place.

Sirius talked about how it took him and the Marauders several months to create the mirrors. If they told him how they did it, it shouldn't take that long, certainly. Hermione's birthday was just a few weeks away though. Once he got the materials, it should be ready as a delayed birthday present, or a Christmas present at the very latest. Harry quickly drank his pumpkin juice, and he had to stop himself from breaking into a wide grin. All summer, he had been wondering how to pay Hermione back for her company after being dumped at the Dursleys again, and for the incredibly thoughtful watch that still brought him back to the night under the trap door, and one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to him.

As Harry began thinking about when he could talk to Sirius, he barely noticed that McGonagall was handing out schedules until Hermione poked him on the shoulder.

"Oh, thank you professor," he said sheepishly, McGonagall simply nodded, and continued making her way down the table. Hermione set her letter down, and the three of them looked over their schedules.

Ron was the first to react. "Bloody hell, History of magic, double Potions, Divination, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and Umbridge all in one day, this is complete rubbish," he said in disgust. Harry looked at his own schedule in distaste and nodded in agreement. All of their worst classes, lined up one after the other, he could only stifle a groan that it was going to be a long day.

"I suppose we'll get to see just how Umbridge plans to teach us," said Hermione in thinly veiled disdain.

"Do you have another class instead of Divination?" he asked her.

"No, just the three, Ancient Runes is tomorrow," she said, before she returned to her letter, though with less enthusiasm than before.

While she was still reading, Harry opened her copy of the Daily Prophet, and was greeted with an image of Fudge and Lucius Malfoy standing together at the Ministry, it seemed to be his office given they were standing behind a large, stately looking desk.

Lucius Malfoy responsible for pushing Dementors at Hogwarts

By Rita Skeeter

Good morning my dear readers. After revelations of Lucius Malfoy likely being responsible for the attacks surrounding the Chamber of Secrets, and his threats on the Hogwarts governors to keep it quiet, it seems Mr. Malfoy was not done interfering at Hogwarts. Indeed, it seems he had a key part to play in convincing the Minister to station Dementors at Hogwarts two years ago after the convict Sirius Black escaped. A move that was regarded as dangerous around a school full of children by parents in the community over stationing Auror guards in their place.

This fear wasn't unfounded, as there were two incidents that, thankfully, did not end tragically for the student population. The first occurred when Dementors boarded the Hogwarts express on the first of September, causing a large amount of distress among the students, while the second was just a couple months later when, after two months of being unable to feed on anyone's emotions, swarmed a Quidditch match where one of the seekers fell from their broom due to their influence. They only narrowly avoided serious injury or even death.

There wasn't another incident for the rest of the year, but it only would have taken only one stray Dementor before a student could have been kissed. Is this what the Minister deems acceptable? Time and time again, we see Fudge's negligence, and it keeps circling back to Lucius Malfoy. Are the two men working to undermine our Ministry, or does the wealthy patriarch simply have one of the most influential men in his pocket to do as he pleases?

Harry barely held back his satisfied grin as he continued reading, outlining the various donations Malfoy made to the Ministry and other wizarding institutions like St. Mungos that year. It pointed out a pattern of donations that were made after potential transgressions occurred, and asked if Lucius was bribing them into compliance. He didn't miss that Skeeter had left his name out of his Quidditch fall, but it likely would've been met with scorn if she left it in. He set the paper down and took a drink from his goblet, surreptitiously looking up at the staff table to see Umbridge's expression, and he wasn't disappointed. Her face was etched in barely masked fury, and she had deep red splotches on her cheeks.

Once Hermione finished her letter, she snatched up the Prophet to read it for herself, and he noticed her own small, vicious smile playing on her lips.

When she reached the end of the article, she passed it to Ron, who looked nearly gleeful by the end of it, and didn't waste any time to swivel his head around to look at Malfoy.

"Ha! Do you see his face? I don't think I've seen him so mad, this is priceless," he said cheerfully, Hermione had to shush him so he wouldn't bring attention to himself.

Harry chanced a glance over his shoulder, and sure enough, Malfoy was scowling at the table with a furious expression. "I guess his father isn't able to keep the Ministry off of him, not entirely" he said, turning back to Hermione and Ron, "it's only a matter of time before the Ministry actually presses charges against him, I wonder why they haven't already?"

"I expect Fudge is slowing them down," said Hermione. "As much as he can without bringing the DMLE on himself anyway. If Malfoy is brought to trial, Fudge could find himself in very hot water."

"But with all these stories being made public-"

"He won't be able to stop them for much longer," she finished with a satisfied gleam in her eye. But it was gone as quickly as he noticed it. "There's not much we can do but wait and see what the DMLE does though, and we need to get to class." Harry suppressed the urge to groan, he wasn't looking forward to History of Magic this early in the morning.

Once they all finished eating, the three of them set off to Binn's classroom. Out of all their classes, it was one of the worst. Binn's wheezy, droning voice was enough to put near anyone to sleep, except Hermione apparently, and he and Ron had only scraped passes in the subject thanks to her diligent note taking.

Harry valiantly tried to focus as Binn's began his lecture, he really did, but he only managed about fifteen minutes of note-taking before his focus started slipping away. And for the rest of the period, he zoned in and out, taking very sparse notes before he lost focus again. When Binn's finally, mercifully, ended the lesson, complete with an essay due on the Giant wars, Harry looked down to find a very disjointed series of events that weren't even strung together properly. To his side, Hermione managed a few pages of notes as usual, and was shooting Ron irritated looks, while Ron looked drowsy, and hadn't written a single note, instead, he had been doodling on his parchment.

As they were leaving the classroom, Hermione laid into Ron. "How would it be," she started cooly, "if I didn't lend you any of my notes this year?"

"We'd fail our OWLs," said Ron. "If you want that on your conscience-"

"You'd deserve it-" she snapped.

"I barely took any notes myself," Harry interjected, showing her the single side of parchment he managed. He felt he had to try and defend Ron a little, it wasn't as though his past record in the class was anything spectacular.

"At least you're trying, I can help you fill in the blanks, but I don't want to be giving you all of the work," she said with a pointed glare at Ron. Harry didn't have an argument against that, and felt a twinge of guilt of the times he barely did the work in class because he knew Hermione would have her notes later.

Ron huffed dismissively. "We do try," he insisted. "We don't have your brains, or your concentration- you're just cleverer than we are. Is it nice to rub it in?"

"She has a point, Ron," said Harry quietly. "We can do more note taking in class than we usually do," Hermione beamed at him in appreciation, but Ron narrowed his eyes at him, and ignored the both of them on their way to the damp courtyard. Harry felt something sink in his gut. When the three of them were doing mundane, everyday things, going to class, getting ready to go to the Quidditch pitch, heading to the great hall for lunch, they seemed fine. But every time he sided with Hermione these days, he felt Ron becoming more distant, like there was an invisible wall being built up between them, brick by brick.

There was a fine mist drizzling that morning, and it was fairly chilly, so they wrapped their cloaks more tightly around themselves than usual as Hermione led them to a secluded corner under a dripping balcony. She tried to break the awkward silence that had fallen over them by wondering what Snape was going to set for them today, and they all agreed he would likely spring something difficult on them after their two month holiday. Harry was about to ask which potion she thought he would start with when Cho came around the corner.

"Hello Harry," she said. Harry noticed Hermione straightening herself out of the corner of his eye.

"Hey Cho," he said, giving her a small wave. He wondered why she was alone, and not with her band of giggling friends, but he was relieved they didn't have much of an audience this time. "Er, how are you?" he asked awkwardly. There was sadness in her eyes, and he felt a small lurch, knowing that she just wanted to talk about Cedric. He knew she was grieving like him, but his uncomfortableness grew anyway.

Cho hesitantly pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and he tilted his head in concern. "I'm doing fine, thanks," she said, giving him a small smile. "I was wondering if we could talk?" she asked, darting her eyes to Hermione and Ron. Harry noticed Hermione's expression shifted to an odd cross between looking sympathetic and irked.

"Well, I mean," he started. Cho looked hopeful though, and he warred inside his head for a moment before relenting. "Okay," he said. Hermione grabbed the sleeve of Ron's cloak and dragged him away out of earshot. "What was it?"

"I just- it's-" she started listlessly. "You were there, weren't you?" she trailed off quietly. Harry swallowed hard as a pit formed in his stomach.

"Yes," he said.

"I just- I need to know, did Cedric say anything before he died? Anything about me?" Harry felt his breath hitch. For a brief moment, he wanted to turn her away, to refuse to talk about anything related to the graveyard. And almost as soon as he had those thoughts, he tossed them away. He didn't want to talk about Cedric's last moments with her, he could barely bring himself to talk to the people close to him at times. But he remembered the days he spent with Mrs Figg, of her advice and comfort, of the weight she helped lift off his shoulders when he thought he was alone again, of letting him open up. It helped him then, maybe it could help him now.

"No," he started quietly, and Cho had to inch closer to hear. "He- we were confused. We thought it was part of the task at first, it just happened too quickly… by the time we realised something was wrong, it was too late. I'm sorry." she nodded to the ground, and he noticed tears going down her cheeks. Harry searched for something to say that would make her feel better, but came up short, so he settled on what little he did know.

"He helped me during the tournament, you know," he offered. She looked up questioningly. "After the Yule Ball, he gave me a clue so I could solve the egg. I didn't know him like you did, but I liked him, he was- he was nice, even if the rest of the Hufflepuffs weren't at the time. And I remember the match with those dementors, how he was still hounorable." Cho gave him a small, genuine smile.

"We only got together after the Ball," she said softly. "But I remember training with him on the pitch sometimes in my fourth year. He didn't care that we were competitors, but he helped me work on my strategy as a seeker. I think that's when I started to like him." A few months ago, he might've felt jealous at that, but now, he just felt the respect he had for Cedric grow.

Harry drew in a breath. "I want to give him a memorial, when everyone accepts Voldemort is back," he tried to ignore her wince, but she looked torn between looking interested, and giving in to a fresh wave of tears. "I don't want him to be forgotten," Cho nodded quickly in agreement.

"Can I help with that?" she asked in a strained voice.

"I think he'd like that, I wanted to ask his parents too, what to do. He deserves more than what the Ministry gave him." she nodded again, even more fervently than before.

"I can contact them for you when you're ready," said Cho. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. "Thank you Harry, I needed that. I'll see you around." Harry nodded, and she turned to leave the courtyard.

He let out a long breath while he watched her walk away. And he dimly registered that he didn't have a problem talking to her, beyond the shared grief they held for Cedric. He didn't find it difficult to string two words together, or feel his face grow warm when she looked at him. It just felt like he was talking to Cho, a fellow seeker on a rival team, and not Cho, the girl he had a crush on for over a year.

Before he could really dwell on it however, Hermione and Ron were by his side again. It sounded like they were sniping at each other about studying on their OWLs. He felt like he should interject when the bell sounded across the courtyard, and he nudged them so they could leave for Snape's dungeon. As they made their way through the halls, Harry put himself between them to cut off whatever argument they were having. Ron's ears were quickly turning red, and Hermione was fuming a little. He only caught the tail end of their argument, but from what he gathered, Ron was still trying to convince her that they needed her notes more than ever this year, and she was trying to get him to write his own more often. He quietly agreed with her, and wondered how to get Ron to agree as well, feeling the invisible wall grow a little. Things had been strained between them during the last few weeks since he took her side on house elves and studying at Grimmauld Place. He hoped that Ron would've gotten over it by now, but Harry rather thought that it was becoming more likely that he would stop speaking to them like last year after his name came out of the Goblet. Harry didn't want that to happen again, but he didn't know how to stop it if Ron was already set on doing as he always had.

The three of them had fallen silent as they joined the queue of students in front of the classroom door. The Slytherins made no effort to hide their sneers and looks of disdain, while the Gryffindors masked it a bit better. Some, like Dean, just avoided looking him in the eye. But before anyone could start anything, the door swung open with a low creak. Harry led Hermione and Ron to a table near the back, where they sat on either side of him, and seemed determined to ignore each other.

"Settle down," said Snape cooly from the door, as he swiftly closed it shut. The low din of noise from the other students fell silent quickly, until all that was left was the creak of the door shutting, and Snape walking to the front of the classroom.

As Snape swept to the front of the classroom, he began a spiel about the coming OWLs, and Harry brought his focus up, even as Snape looked at him in the eye, with a thinly veiled implication that he would fail out of the class before he could start NEWTs. He felt a burst of indignation rise up in him, he had worked much harder over the summer, and was determined to prove that it wasn't a wasted effort. If nothing else, he wanted to stick it to Snape that he can pass the subject, with or without his pleasant company.

When Snape told them they would be brewing an OWL standard potion, the Draught of Peace, he warned them of the consequences if they brewed it incorrectly, and noticed Hermione straighten from the corner of his eye. He minutely straightened as well, this was the first class of the year he could try to prove himself. History of Magic didn't really count, he'd always been dreadful. But here, he felt he could manage something better than an A.

When Snape started the timer, he, Hermione, and Ron set out to get their ingredients. Malfoy nearly made him drop his hellebore syrup, but Snape made no move to reprimand him. Harry tried to ignore the both of them, and got to work on his potion. He read each line of the potion carefully before starting a step, which was made difficult by the haze that was rising in the air. More than once, he asked Hermione if he was doing it correctly because he couldn't see clearly enough. Nevertheless, by the time class was nearly over, he felt he made a good effort. Light grey, almost silver vapor rose from his cauldron. Hermione's looked perfect, with a silver mist shimmering over hers, but Ron seemed to have missed several steps completely, as dark smoke issued from the depths of his, and it was giving off a faint stench. Ron had tried to copy what he did, but it seemed splitting his attention did him more harm than good. As Snape walked past everyone's stations, he made his usual snide comments. When he reached Hermione's though, he said nothing, which meant he could find nothing to criticize. But when he reached Harry's, his sneer returned. "This is your Draught of Peace, Potter?" he said silkily. Malfoy looked on, gleefully, which he felt was rich considering the light 'mist' that was supposed to be rising from his cauldron was thick and dark blue.

"Yes," said Harry flatly.

"This is an amateurish effort at best," he said, looking at his cauldron distastefully. "Does nothing penetrate your skull, Potter? You stirred the ingredients for too long, if you expect to make an effective potion, I'd hope you would know how to do that at least." Harry said nothing, and Snape scoffed. When he brought his focus to Ron's cauldron, he somehow managed to make his expression look even more repugnant than usual.

"Weasley, does this look like vapor to you? Is it silvery at all?" he asked.

The tips of Ron's ears turned red, but he didn't say anything either, he just scowled at the table. "If you knew to read the instructions, Weasley, you would know there aren't enough porcupine quills, and like I warned at the beginning of class, you were heavy-handed with the valerian root. Are you trying to kill the drinker of this potion?" he asked rhetorically. "This is a pitiful mess, I hesitate to call it a potion at all." The Slytherins made no effort to hide their laughter, and Ron's ears turned a deep red. Harry glared at Snape, but he ignored him, and moved on to the next station without another word. When class ended, and the three of them brought their filled flagons to the desk (Ron had to scrape his out), they were some of the first to leave, only just catching Snape's assignment for the use of Moonstones.

"I don't know why Snape felt he had to criticise your potion Harry," said Hermione consolingly. "Yours was one of the best potions in the class. And yours was at least closer than some of the Slytherins, Ron. He didn't even say much about Goyle's, but when he tried to put it in the flagon, it set his robes on fire." Harry let out an exhale.

"Since when does he not take the chance to criticise me? I could probably brew just as good as you, and he'd still find something wrong with it."

"I thought Snape might've gotten better this year, you know," she said, looking around quickly to make sure they weren't being overheard, and speaking in a quieter tone, "since he joined the Order?"

"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ron. His ears were still pink from irritation. "Why does he even work with the Order? What does Dumbledore see in him? Where's the evidence he ever stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore knows," said Hermione, in an exasperated tone she used whenever they questioned Snape's loyalty. "Even if he doesn't share the information with you."

"I still want to know what Snape did to get Dumbledore to trust him," said Harry as they entered the great hall. "I know it was during the war, so it must've been something important." Ron nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, did he sell out any Death Eater's like Karkaroff did?"

"No, I don't think Voldemort would've welcomed Snape back if he betrayed anyone," said Harry. "It had to have been some sort of information that helped the Order fight back. Dumbledore did say he was a spy during the first war," he reminded them, swinging his bag on the bench and grabbing the flask of pumpkin juice.

Hermione tried to steer the conversation away from Snape as they started eating, while the great hall quickly filled with more students coming in from classes on the other side of the castle. Harry spotted the first years running in, not long after the three of them sat down, talking excitedly about their first lesson. The twins were farther down the table, being their usual boisterous selves, and passing around trick pastries for the other Gryffindors.

When they had finished eating, Hermione split off from them to go to the library before Defense, while he and Ron made their way to the North Tower for Divination. Trelawney's classroom was still as sickly sweet as it had always been, and he went to the furthest chintz armchairs in the room. Lavender and Parvati were already there, eagerly waiting for the lesson to start, but he didn't share their enthusiasm.

Once the students were settled in and starting to talk amongst themselves, Trelawney emerged from her chair, and started the lesson, having them work on dream journals with their partners. He and Ron opened their books, and as he tried to focus on the dull text, he idly wondered what he could be doing instead. He was itching to practice defense properly, since he hadn't gotten the chance since they left for Hogwarts. But instead, he was stuck in a classroom having to explain the meaning behind his dreams. And given his latest vision of the Department of Mysteries last night, he felt he could hazard a good guess without having to crack open The Dream Oracle.

After an hour that felt entirely too long, filled with him and Ron eavesdropping on Neville's long winded nightmare about a giant pair of scissors wearing his grandmother's hat, and struggling trying to make up plausible dreams - Harry because he couldn't remember any that didn't revolve around Voldemort in some way, and Ron because he either couldn't remember any or didn't want to share - they were finally free to leave the stuffy classroom, albeit with another assignment to keep a dream journal.

"D'you realise how much homework we have to do, and on the first day?" said Ron irritably as they descended the stairs on the North Tower on their way to Defense. "An essay on Moonstones from Snape, Giant wars from Binns, and now we need to keep a month of dream diary's. I swear, that Umbridge woman better not give us anything."

Harry nodded in agreement, but he wasn't going to hold out any hope as they made their way to Defense. When they entered the classroom, Hermione was already there, having taken a seat in the middle of the room, with her copy of Defensive Magical Theory sitting on the desk unopened. Professor Umbridge was also seated at her desk, wearing a fluffy pink cardigan and wearing a black velvet bow perched atop her hair. He wondered if she knew she looked like a toad about to snatch at a fly, or if she cared. The rest of the class was silently waiting for her to start, as no one knew what kind of teacher she would be like.

He took the seat next to Hermione, while Ron took the one on the end, and they waited for the rest of the class to arrive and sit down. When Lavender and Parvati came in last (probably from staying back to talk to Trelawney), Umbridge walked around her desk to address the class.

"Good afternoon class," she said in her sickly sweet voice. A few people mumbled 'good afternoon, professor' in return, and she tutted.

"Now, now, that won't do. When I say good afternoon, I expect to hear 'Good afternoon Professor Umbridge!' One more time, please, good afternoon class!" she said in a patronizing voice that sounded like she was talking to a bunch of primary schoolchildren.

"Good afternoon class," everyone chorused.

"Much better," she said sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult. Wands away and quills out, please and thank you."

Most of the class didn't bother hiding their groans. 'Wands away' almost never meant an interesting lesson. More often than not, it involved a lecture on the theory of some spell or magical property, and was usually tedious.

Once everyone had pulled their quills out, Professor Umbridge began writing the course aims on the black board, and going over what they would be learning over OWL year. Harry listened carefully, and like they expected, noticed she wasn't saying anything about spell practicals, not even on magical dummies. Just the theory of spells. When she concluded her monologue, she set the class to read the first chapter of the book, 'Basics for beginners,' and to take notes on the theories for an upcoming quiz.

As Harry was slowly working his way through the pages, he found his focus shifting elsewhere. The author seemed to be very narrow minded about defense compared to what he learned from Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and his other books. There was hardly any mention of what to do against an opponent beyond standing there and creating shield charms. While he learned it was better to focus your energy on dodging so you could retaliate with your own spells, something he wholeheartedly agreed with, considering how easily Voldemort was able to curse him - and no shield charm would've saved him then. He skipped over to later chapters to see if they mentioned this, but they seemed to stick to the same basic strategy. Use general offensive spells, shield charms to defend, and no mention of creative spell casting like transfiguration or conjuration. It felt like the book was teaching them how to act in a duelling ring at best, not a real fight.

Rather than doing as Umbridge instructed, he began taking notes of what he'd change in the book instead, when he noticed Hermione hadn't opened hers at all, rather, she was staring straight at Umbridge with her hand in the air. Harry set his quill down (he didn't bother trying to use his fountain pen in this class), and looked at her quizzically. She shook her head minutely, and seemed to be trying to stare down Umbridge. Eventually, others in the class had given up trying to read themselves, and also began staring at Hermione. When more than half the class had their attention on her rather than the book, Umbridge gave a fake little start, and smiled with a sickly sweet air.

"Did you have a question about the chapter, dear?" she asked pleasantly, as if she hadn't been trying to ignore her for the past ten minutes.

"Not about the chapter no," said Hermione politely. Harry's lips twitched.

"Well, we're reading just now, so if you have any queries, you can share them at the end of class," she said, showing her teeth.

"I've got a query about your course aims, Professor."

Umbridge's plastered smile widened, and she raised her eyebrows.

"And your name is-"

"Hermione, Hermione Granger."

"Well Miss Granger, I feel the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

"Well I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "Why is there nothing about using defensive spells?" Harry had to stop himself from choking out a laugh. Hermione knew perfectly well why, but he supposed she was trying to get her to get their classmates to question the same. If enough people complained, maybe the Ministry would be forced to allow some real instruction.

There was a silence as the rest of the class turned their attention to the board to read off the aims again, and he noticed many of them started frowning.

"Using defensive spells?" said Umbridge with a tinkling laugh. "Why, I can't imagine you would be put in any situation where you would need to use defensive spells. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class, are you?"

Ron joined in as well. "You mean, we won't be using any spells?" he said loudly. The rest of the class broke out in muttering. Harry's irritation was rising, and several times, he was about to speak up himself, but Hermione grasped his hand in hers, squeezing every time Umbridge spoke as if reminding him to keep his temper.

Umbridge tried to regain control of her class, and deflected questions from the other students, instead dismissing them because they didn't raise their hands. Other people started speaking up too, Dean, Parvati, and eventually, Hermione had her hand up again. Harry noticed Umbridge was shooting him glances every so often, her face twisting into an ugly expression every time she did.

"Surely you don't expect us to perform well on our OWLs if the first time we've cast those spells are during the examinations," Hermione challenged.

"Well, if you've studied the theory hard enough-"

"How is theory going to be useful out there?" Ron asked loudly.

"This is a school Mr. Weasley, not the real world."

"So we shouldn't be prepared to face what's out there?" Hermione asked calmly.

"And what do you expect to face out there, Miss Granger?"

She didn't miss a beat. "Death Eaters, one taught us last year easily enough, and put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire. And what about the riot at the World Cup? There were plenty of students caught in the middle of that," she shot back. Harry's irritation and rising temper gave way to amusement. Umbridge was probably expecting a mention of Voldemort, but Hermione wouldn't budge.

Umbridge's gaze lingered on him again, as if expecting him to speak up, and a shock of understanding ran through him. She wasn't just there to keep an eye on him, she wanted him to say something. And for the first time in the lesson, he suddenly found it much easier to keep quiet. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction, he would watch her flounder as she tried to get a rise out of him.

"That was a freak occurrence. The Ministry had that well in hand," she said, and Harry noticed a hint of a snarl in her overly girlish voice.

"But-"

"Twenty-five points from Gryffindor and Detention at five o'clock, Miss Granger," said Umbridge, her voice rising to drown out Hermione's, the entire class gasped. "The Ministry of Magic ensures that you are all safe from Dark Wizards, and there is no need to worry. If anyone is spreading rumors of these Dark Wizards," Harry noticed her gaze shift to his again, "please come to me. I'm your friend, I'm here to help."

The rest of the class stared at her, stunned. Hermione's jaw was set, and he could see the fury in her normally warm eyes. After a few moments, the class had fallen silent once again, and turned their attention back to their books.

Once the bell signaling the end of class rang, Hermione threw her things in her bag, and was one of the first to leave. Harry wasn't far behind her, and his own frustration was barely concealed, he told Ron he would catch up later, and he headed back to Gryffindor tower on his own.

Harry quickly caught up to Hermione, but she hardly acknowledged him, and led the both of them to an abandoned classroom. She threw her bag on one of the desks, and whirled around.

"I want a duel, Harry," she said forcefully. She was gripping her wand tightly, and was holding herself stiffly in frustration. He dropped his own bag next to hers, and brought his wand out wordlessly. They stared at each other for a moment, measuring each other up, when she raised her wand. "Stupefy!"

Harry easily dodged the jet of red light, and flicked his wand towards her legs. "Incarcerous," a swirl of ropes erupted from the end of his wand, and he flicked his wand again, aiming for her torso. "Impedimenta," her own movements were rather quick as she leapt around the ropes that threatened to bind her, and deflected his impedimenta into a nearby wall.

They stood on either side of the classroom, waiting for the other to make the first move. Hermione's eyes were narrowed, and they were already breathing heavily. Not from exhaustion, but trying to run off their frustrations. He saw her shift her foot, and he prepared to dodge out of the way of any spell she used, with a knockback jinx on his lips, when she shot a jet of water at the floor, and quickly turned it to ice with a Glacius. Harry narrowly avoided slipping on it, and cast several stunners at her, trying to buy some time to melt the ice.

'Nice trick," he said with a grin, as his Incendio turned the ice into puddles. He didn't let up though, and tried casting the knockback jinx again, this time, it missed her hair by inches, and she whipped her wand up to try and disarm him.

Harry ducked under the jet, and aimed a stinging hex at her. Hermione wasn't quite fast enough this time, and it caught her by the elbow, catching her off guard, and letting him cast Impedimenta to end the duel. He waited for her to unfreeze, and they soon resumed.

Around and around they went. Every time they managed to stun or disarm the other, they would start again, dueling for the better part of an hour until they were panting heavily from exhaustion, sweat glistening their foreheads. By the time they packed up to leave for dinner, Harry had made up his mind. He was going to set up a Defense class with Hermione.