They had expected to carefully comb Hermione's Daily Prophet the next morning to find the article Percy had mentioned in his letter. However, the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione gasped and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline.
MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM
DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR
"Umbridge – 'High Inquisitor'?" said Harry darkly, his half-eaten piece of toast slipping from his fingers. "What does that mean?"
All Hermione could do was read aloud:
In a surprise move last night, the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself unprecedented control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time," said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "He is now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of."
This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person.
"That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts," said Weasley last night. "Dumbledore couldn't find anyone, so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she's been an immediate success –"
"She's been a WHAT?" said Harry loudly.
"Wait, there's more," said Hermione grimly, her anxiety rising exponentially. The timeline to figuring out a plan was shrinking with every word she read.
"– an immediate success, totally revolutionising the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts."
It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.
"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts," said Weasley. "The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post, and we are delighted to say that she has accepted."
The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts.
"I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation," said Mr Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. "Many of us, with our children's best interests at heart, have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation."
Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror "Mad-Eye" Moody.
Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.
"I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence," said a Ministry insider last night.
Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.
"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office," said Madam Marchbanks. "This is a further disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore."
(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)
Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the other two. "So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this 'Educational Decree' and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!" Hermione was breathing fast, her eyes bright with anger. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous!"
"I know it is," said Harry.
But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.
"What?" said Harry and Hermione together, staring at him.
"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."
"Well, come on," said Hermione, jumping up. The mental image was humorous, to be sure, but the fascist takeover of Hogwarts was no laughing matter, especially if you were Muggle-born. She would have to stay vigilant at all times. "We'd better get going; if she's inspecting Binns's class, we don't want to be late."
However, Professor Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson, nor was she in Snape's dungeon when they arrived for double Potions.
"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL," said Snape with a smirk as he swept among them, passing back their homework. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination."
Snape reached the front of the class and turned to face them.
"The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a 'D.'"
He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, "Some people got a 'D'? Ha!"
The look on Harry's face gave Hermione a sinking feeling that he was the unfortunate student who got a 'D.' She tried to sneak a glance, but Harry moved his paper out of her view and into his bag.
Professor Snape gloated a bit more, lending even more credence that Harry received the 'D' and then introduced the lesson for the day: Strengthening Solution. Strengthening Solution was a potion that granted the drinker immense strength. It was brewed in at least two stages, requiring several days to mature in between, and two of the ingredients used to make it were salamander blood and powdered Griffin claw.
Hermione was relieved that her potion was a clear turquoise colour, indicating proper brewing. Harry's was an odd shade of periwinkle blue, but it was still better than he had done last week (and much better than poor Neville's pink potion).
"Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" said Hermione, climbing the steps out of the dungeon and making their way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. "And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it?"
When neither Ron nor Harry answered, she pressed on (even though their silence only strengthened her assumption, she was now desperate to know if she had assumed correctly). "I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?"
Harry made a non-committal noise in his throat.
"Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam. We've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on…"
They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.
"Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an 'O'-"
"Hermione," said Ron sharply. "If you want to know what grades we got, ask."
"I don't – I didn't mean – well, if you want to tell me-"
"I got a 'P,'" said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. "Happy?"
"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan sitting on their right. "Nothing wrong with a good healthy 'P.'"
"But," said Hermione, "doesn't 'P' stand for…"
"'Poor,' yeah," said Lee Jordan. "Still, better than 'D,' isn't it? 'Dreadful'?"
Whilst she had already looked all of this up, Hermione took the opportunity to talk to people who had taken the OWLs to explain it. Hearing it was also beneficial for the boys because she doubted they had looked into it. "So top grade's 'O' for 'Outstanding,'" she said. "And then there's 'A' –"
"No, 'E,'" George corrected her, "'E' for 'Exceeds Expectations.' And I've always thought Fred and I should've got 'E' in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams."
They all laughed except Hermione, who ploughed on. "So, after 'E' it's 'A' for 'Acceptable,' and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"
"Yep," said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth, and swallowing it whole.
"Then you get 'P' for 'Poor' –" Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration – "and 'D' for 'Dreadful.'"
"And then 'T,'" George reminded him.
"'T?'" asked Hermione, looking appalled. "Even lower than a 'D?' What on earth does 'T' stand for?"
"'Troll,'" said George promptly.
Harry gave an awkwardly nervous laugh. Certainly, he hadn't received a 'T,' did he? No, Hermione thought. Snape would have mentioned a student receiving a 'T,' especially if it was Harry.
"You lot had an inspected lesson yet?" Fred asked them.
"No," said Hermione at once. "Have you?"
"Just now, before lunch," said George. "Charms."
"What was it like?" Harry and Hermione asked together.
Fred shrugged.
"Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner, making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like. He treated her like a guest; didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like. Alicia told her they were really good, that was it."
"I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down," said George. "He usually gets everyone through their exams all right."
"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Harry.
"Trelawney-"
"A 'T' if ever I saw one."
"– and Umbridge herself."
"Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today," said George. "Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices."
Hermione bid them all farewell after lunch and joined Neville on their way to Ancient Runes. Professor Umbridge was not there to observe, thank goodness, and the class went on without issue. They were reviewing the ancient numbers and their symbols, which Hermione planned on making both herself and Neville flashcards later that night if she had time.
Demiguise - The creature's invisibility abilities represented "0."
Unicorn - The creature's single horn represented "1".
Graphorn - The creature's dual horns represented "2".
Runespoor - The triple-headed creature represented "3".
Fwooper - The creature is comprised of four different colours in feathers, which represented "4".
Quintaped - The five legs of the creature represented "5".
Salamander - The maximum hours of the creature's ability to survive out of the fire and the number of legs most said creatures had represented "6".
Unknown - Due to the magically powerful number still being shrouded in mysteries, the unknown symbol represented "7."
Acromantula - The eight-eyed creature represented "8".
Hydra - The nine-headed creature represented "9".
They only had a single period, and the bell soon rang, signalling them to make their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione felt as though her feet were made of lead as she made her way to Umbridge's classroom. She couldn't, in good conscience, actively participate in a class designed to oppress them, but how could she resist without being tossed out? Who knew what sort of power Umbridge had?
Hermione didn't solve her conundrum before reaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Ron and Harry rushed over.
"Umbridge was in Divination," Harry said.
"The old bat kept trailing Trelawney around and asking all kinds of questions," Ron added.
"Like when she was hired and stuff like that."
"But then—get this—" Ron glanced at the door to make sure Umbridge wasn't coming yet. "She then demanded Trelawney give her a prediction on command."
Hermione's feelings about Trelawney were mixed, to say the least. She thought Trelawney was a complete fraud, of course, but still didn't want Umbridge to know that. She didn't want Umbridge to know anything about anything at Hogwarts.
But before Hermione could ask what happened next, Professor Umbridge glided into the room, her movements smooth and calculated, creating an eerie sense of control.
"Wands away," she instructed them with a smile, and those hopeful enough to take them out sadly returned them to their bags. "As we finished Chapter One last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence 'Chapter Two, Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."
Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. That is, everyone but Hermione. Just like Umbridge could maliciously "play dumb," so could Hermione. She'd participate, all right, but she wouldn't make it easy for the witch.
Professor Umbridge noticed her raised hand and seemed to have devised a strategy for such an eventuality. Instead of pretending she had not noticed Hermione, she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face. She bent down and whispered so that the rest of the class could not hear, "What is it this time, Miss Granger?"
Even though her heart was racing, Hermione kept her voice steady. "I've already read Chapter Two," she said.
"Well then, proceed to Chapter Three."
"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."
Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly… but Hermione focused on that blink and regarded it as the first small victory.
"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen."
"He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named," said Hermione promptly. The witch had no idea who she was dealing with. Thankfully, none of the other Hogwarts professors seemed to let Umbridge know Hermione was the smartest witch of her year and had a photographic memory. No one would beat her when it came to a battle of facts. This was her arena. "He says 'counter-jinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows, and Hermione knew she was impressed, against her will. Hermione needed to push further. She took a deep breath.
"But I disagree," Hermione continued.
Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher, and her gaze became distinctly colder.
"You disagree?"
"Yes, I do," said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had attracted the attention of the rest of the class. Everyone needed to hear this and understand that they should not just sit idly by. "Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."
"Oh, you do, do you?" said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger." Damnit!
"But—" Hermione began.
"That is enough," said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house."
Hermione's heart sank. There was an outbreak of muttering.
"What for?" said Harry angrily.
"Don't you get involved!" Hermione whispered urgently to him.
"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Professor Umbridge smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them—with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects—would have passed a Ministry inspection—"
Hermione winced at Professor Quirrell's name. There'd be no stopping Harry's sarcasm now.
"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Harry loudly. "There was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."
This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Hermione had ever heard. Then—
"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr Potter," said Umbridge sleekly.
Hermione closed her eyes in defeat. Whatever progress she had made was gone, and Umbridge seemed emboldened by the new appointment… and emboldened enough to start doling out punishments for any opposition. The clock was ticking.
The following day, Angelina Johnson cornered Harry just as he arrived at the Gryffindor table for breakfast and shouted so loudly that Professor McGonagall came sweeping down upon them from the staff table.
"Miss Johnson, how dare you make such a racket in the Great Hall! Five points from Gryffindor!"
"But Professor – he's gone and landed himself in detention again –"
"What's this, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall sharply, rounding on Harry. "Detention? From whom?"
"From Professor Umbridge," muttered Harry, not meeting Professor McGonagall's beady, square-framed eyes.
"Are you telling me," she said, lowering her voice so that the group of curious Ravenclaws behind them could not hear, "that after the warning I gave you last Monday, you lost your temper in Professor Umbridge's class again?"
"Yes," Harry muttered, speaking to the floor. Hermione wondered how that conversation had gone.
"Potter, you must get a grip on yourself! You are heading for serious trouble! Another five points from Gryffindor!"
"But – what –? Professor, no!" Harry said, furious. "I'm already being punished by her. Why do you have to take points as well?"
"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "No, not another word of complaint, Potter! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team captaincy!"
Professor McGonagall strode back towards the staff table. Angelina gave Harry a look of deepest disgust and stalked away, upon which he flung himself onto the bench beside Ron, fuming.
"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair? How?"
"I know, mate," said Ron sympathetically, tipping bacon onto Harry's plate. "She's bang out of order."
Hermione, however, merely rustled the pages of her Daily Prophet and said nothing.
"You think McGonagall was right, do you?" said Harry angrily.
"I wish she hadn't taken points from you, but I think she's right to warn you not to lose your temper with Umbridge," said Hermione. Maybe Professor McGonagall would help Harry realise there was much more at stake than Quidditch.
Harry did not speak to Hermione all through Charms, which was perfectly fine with her. She could focus on her work and not worry about what Harry was doing or saying.
However, all that changed when they filed into the Transfiguration classroom and saw Professor Umbridge and her clipboard sitting in a corner. The mere sight of her drove the memory of breakfast right out of Hermione's head.
"Excellent," whispered Ron as they sat down in their usual seats. "Let's see Umbridge get what she deserves."
Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there. Hermione's heart swelled with pride at her favourite professor.
"That will do," she said, and silence fell immediately. "Mr Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework – Miss Brown, please take this box of mice – don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you – and hand one to each student –"
"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed Hermione her essay, and, to her relief, she saw an 'O' at the top.
"Right then, everyone, listen closely – Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again, I shall put you in detention – most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails, and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be –"
"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard.
"Yes?" said Professor McGonagall, turning around, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.
"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspect—"
"Obviously, I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Many of the students exchanged looks of glee. Hermione, frankly, wanted to take notes at this master class of sarcasm. "As I was saying, today, we shall be practising the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell—"
"Hem, hem."
"I wonder," said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking."
To Hermione's utter glee, Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously.
Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more. Hermione wanted to hug her.
"As I was saying, the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be Vanished. The snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So – you know the incantation; let me see what you can do."
Professor Umbridge did not follow Professor McGonagall around the class as she had with Professor Trelawny, as the boys described; perhaps she realised Professor McGonagall would not permit it. She did, however, take many more notes while sitting in her corner, and when Professor McGonagall finally told them all to pack away, she rose with a grim expression on her face.
"Well, it's a start," said Ron, holding up a long wriggling mouse-tail and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around.
As they filed out of the classroom, Ron nudged Hermione. He and Harry were watching Professor Umbridge approach Professor McGonagall's desk. Naturally, the three of them deliberately fell back to eavesdrop.
"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Professor Umbridge asked.
"Thirty-nine years this December," said Professor McGonagall brusquely, snapping her bag shut.
Professor Umbridge made a note.
"Very well," she said. "You will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."
"I can hardly wait," said Professor McGonagall in a coldly indifferent voice, and she strode off towards the door. "Hurry up, you three," she added, sweeping Harry, Ron, and Hermione before her.
It was all Hermione could do not to hug her favourite teacher. Professor McGonagall gave her hope that there was more to the resistance than just herself.
Walking down the lawns towards the Forest for Care of Magical Creatures after lunch, they found Professor Umbridge and her clipboard waiting beside Professor Grubbly-Plank. The students gathered around the trestle table, where the lesson on Bowtruckles was set to continue. Hermione watched nervously as Umbridge approached Professor Grubbly-Plank.
"You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" Umbridge asked, her voice dripping with insincerity.
"Quite correct," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, hands clasped behind her back, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid."
Hermione exchanged a worried glance with Ron and Harry.
"Hmm," said Professor Umbridge, lowering her voice, though Hermione could still hear her clearly. "I wonder – the Headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter – can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"
Hermione held her breath, her heart pounding.
"'Fraid I can't," said Professor Grubbly-Plank breezily. "Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, asking if I'd like a couple of weeks' teaching work. I accepted. That's as much as I know. Well... shall I get started then?"
"Yes, please do," said Professor Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard.
Umbridge took a different approach in this class, wandering among the students and questioning them about magical creatures. Most students answered well, much to Hermione's relief. She hoped this would help take some of the heat off Hagrid.
"Overall," said Professor Umbridge, returning to Professor Grubbly-Plank's side after a lengthy interrogation of Dean Thomas, "how do you, as a temporary member of staff – an objective outsider, I suppose you might say – how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?"
"Oh, yes, Dumbledore's excellent," said Professor Grubbly-Plank heartily. "Yes, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed."
Looking politely incredulous, Umbridge made a tiny note on her clipboard and continued, "And what are you planning to cover with this class this year – assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?"
"Oh, I'll take them through the creatures that most often come up in OWLs," said Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Not much left to do – they've studied unicorns and Nifflers. I thought we'd cover Porlocks and Kneazles, make sure they can recognise Crups and Knarls, you know..."
"Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," said Professor Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. She then turned to Goyle, one of Malfoy's hulking friends. "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"
Goyle gave a stupid grin while Malfoy hastened to answer the question.
"That was me," he said. "I was slashed by a Hippogriff."
"A Hippogriff?" said Professor Umbridge, now scribbling frantically.
"Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do," said Harry angrily.
Both Hermione and Ron groaned inwardly. Professor Umbridge turned her head slowly in Harry's direction.
"Another night's detention, I think," she said softly. "Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank. I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."
"Jolly good," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Professor Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle.
As Umbridge's figure retreated, Hermione vowed to research a spell that would keep Harry silent until the end of the school year.
Harry left for his detention, and Ron went to Quidditch practice, leaving Hermione alone to do her homework after dinner. She settled into her favourite chair and got to work. The common room was bustling, but Hermione had learned to tune out the noise when she needed to concentrate.
A few minutes later, Neville plopped down next to her. "Hey 'Mione, you alright?" he asked.
"Yeah, Neville, how are you?"
"I'm okay. I was wondering if you could help me with this Runes homework. Do you have a few minutes?"
A few minutes turned into almost two hours, but Hermione didn't mind. Neville was one of her sweetest friends, and she'd do anything for him. Like Herbology, Neville had a natural affinity towards Ancient Runes, but even Hermione found some of the translations challenging. Helping Neville also benefited her; she made a mental note to work with him more often.
Just as Neville left, Ron plopped down next to Hermione. "How was practice?" she asked.
"Rubbish," Ron said. "I don't want to talk about it."
Hermione stayed silent as Ron leaned back, his eyes closed in frustration. She could feel the tension radiating off him.
"Malfoy laughs like his dad," Ron said suddenly.
"What?"
"Malfoy. He was at practice tonight again. I heard him laugh, and it was just like his dad's in the cemetery."
Hermione froze. Ron hadn't talked about the cemetery since that night when she tried to kiss him.
"And it was like I was right back there. You know. In the cemetery. I saw Cedric and Harry and - I nearly fell off my broom." Ron sat up straight and looked into Hermione's eyes. "Do you still have your nightmares?"
Hermione nodded. "Not every night, but yeah. I still do."
"You can wake me up, you know."
"It's okay. That's when I get my knitting done," Hermione said, trying to keep her voice light.
"And it's bloody insane that You Know Who is back, and that bloody toad woman would rather torture some kid and keep him from Quidditch than teach us actual defence against the dark arts like You Know Who and Malfoy and the whole lot of 'em."
"So, I wanted to run something by you," Hermione said without thinking.
"Yeah?"
"What would you think about creating some sort of… club?"
"Hermione, I am not joining another spew thing that you've-"
"No," Hermione said quickly. "Not that, though that's still important. I'm talking about another club where we can, you know, learn how to protect ourselves. And do something about that horrible woman."
"Prison?" Ron joked, then got serious again. "I'm listening…"
"I don't know how it would work exactly, but if we got enough people, we could all work together and learn how to protect ourselves and fight back. I mean, let's face it. Umbridge and the Ministry are trying to take over and keep us from learning any sort of defence. You said it yourself - if there were any year to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts, it'd be this one. This is our way of getting back at that Umbridge woman and stopping her from having any power over us from now on."
"We could have regular meetings," Ron said, getting excited. "Like a proper order, like the Order of the Phoenix Jr."
"I think we need to have Harry run it," Hermione said.
Ron paused and thought about it for a few moments. "He's not going to want that."
"I know, but he'd be the only one who could," Hermione sighed. "I can handle all the theory and research, but let's face it. Harry is much better than I am in the practical spell work."
Ron grinned. "Did you just admit Harry was better than you at something?"
Hermione blushed and smiled. "Unfortunately, yes."
"Bloody hell, you must really hate this Umbridge woman. I'm in."
"But we're going to have to be careful," Hermione continued. "Especially with how we present it to Harry. With how he's been acting lately-"
"Like some crazy, out-of-control bludger?"
Hermione understood the sports reference, but Ron's tone made her agree. "Right. We have to act like we didn't already discuss it without him."
"Right, because if he thought we were talking about him, he'd go mental."
"Exactly."
"Well, I'll just act like I have no idea what you're talking about," Ron said. "Which won't be that hard for me, eh?"
"Ron, you-"
"I'm kidding," Ron laughed. "No, I'll just act like there's no hope and no chance and then his hero complex will kick in. I love Harry. I do. He's my best mate. But damned if he doesn't like to save the day."
All Hermione could do was nod in agreement.
They decided to wait for Harry to return from detention, though Hermione started worrying as the hours ticked by. Finally, at close to midnight, Harry crawled through the portrait hole. Hermione rushed over to him, holding a small bowl of yellow liquid.
"Here," she said anxiously, pushing the bowl towards him. "Soak your hand in that; it's a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles. It should help."
Harry placed his bleeding hand into the bowl, and relief crossed his face. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, then leapt into his lap and settled down.
"Thanks," he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.
"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron in a low voice. Hermione nodded her head vigorously.
"No," said Harry flatly.
"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew-"
"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry. "And how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"
Ron opened his mouth to retort, but nothing came out. After a moment, he closed it again, defeated.
"She's an awful woman. Awful," said Hermione in a small voice. She looked over at Ron and cleared her throat. "You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... we've got to do something about her."
"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly.
"No... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is and how we're not going to learn any Defence from her at all," said Hermione.
"Well, what can we do about that?" said Ron, yawning overzealously. "'S too late, isn't it? She's got the job; she's here to stay. Fudge'll make sure of that."
"Well," said Hermione tentatively, shooting a slightly nervous look at Harry before plunging on, "I was thinking that – maybe the time's come when we should just – just do it ourselves."
"Do what ourselves?" said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.
"Well – learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.
"Come off it," groaned Ron with much more conviction than the yawn. Maybe he should look into acting. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realise Harry and I are behind on homework again, and it's only the second week?"
"But this is much more important than homework!" said Hermione.
Harry and Ron goggled at her.
"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!" said Ron, and Hermione couldn't tell if he was legitimately surprised or not.
"Don't be silly; of course there is," said Hermione. "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting for us out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year –"
"We can't do much by ourselves," said Ron in a defeated voice. "I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practise them, I suppose-"
"No, I agree. We've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books," said Hermione. "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."
"If you're talking about Lupin..." Harry began.
"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's too busy with the Order and, anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends, and that's not nearly often enough."
"Who, then?" said Harry, frowning at her.
Hermione heaved a deep sigh. "Isn't it obvious?" she said, glancing at Ron. "I'm talking about you, Harry."
There was a moment's silence. A light night breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron, and the fire guttered.
"About me what?" said Harry.
"I'm talking about you teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts."
Harry stared at her. Then he turned to Ron, and Hermione could tell he did not expect to see the thoughtful look on Ron's face.
"That's an idea."
"What's an idea?" said Harry.
"You," said Ron. "Teaching us to do it."
"But..." Harry started to grin, probably thinking they were joking. "But I'm not a teacher, I can't –"
"Harry, you're the best in the year at Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.
"Me?" said Harry, now grinning more broadly than ever. "No, I'm not, you've beaten me in every test –"
"Actually, I haven't," said Hermione coolly. "You beat me in our third year – the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Think what you've done!"
"How d'you mean?"
"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron said to Hermione, smirking slightly. He turned to Harry. "Let's think," he said, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. "Uh... first year – you saved the Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who."
"But that was luck," said Harry. "It wasn't skill –"
"Second year," Ron interrupted, "you killed the Basilisk and destroyed Riddle."
"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up, I –"
"Third year," said Ron, louder still, "you fought off about a hundred Dementors at once –"
"You know that was a fluke; if the Time-Turner hadn't –"
"Last year," Ron said, almost shouting now, "you fought off You-Know-Who again –"
"Listen to me!" said Harry, almost angrily, because Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck – I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help. Don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do. I was there, wasn't I?" he said heatedly. "I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defence Against the Dark Arts. I got through it all because – because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right – but I just blundered through it all. I didn't have a clue what I was doing – STOP LAUGHING!"
The bowl of Murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. Harry leapt to his feet. Hermione instinctively moved towards Ron. Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa.
"You don't know what it's like! You – neither of you – you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorising a bunch of spells and throwing them at him like you're in class or something? The whole time you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own – your own brain or guts or whatever – like you can think straight when you know you're about a nanosecond from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die – they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that – and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up – you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me –"
"We weren't saying anything like that, mate," said Ron, looking aghast. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't – you've got the wrong end of the –"
He looked helplessly at Hermione. She tried to get her wits about her.
"Harry," she said timidly, "don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... we need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort."
It was the first time she had ever said Voldemort's name. She saw Ron flinch out of the corner of her eye, but she focused on the odd calm that crossed over Harry's face.
"Well... think about it," said Hermione quietly. "Please?"
Hermione stood up. There wasn't much more that she or Ron could say or do. "Well, I'm off to bed," she said in a voice that was as natural as she could make it. "Erm... night."
Ron had got to his feet, too. "Coming?" he said awkwardly to Harry.
"Yeah," said Harry. "In... in a minute. I'll just clear this up." He indicated the smashed bowl on the floor. Ron nodded, and he and Hermione took their respective staircases to their rooms.