As the sun began to dip slightly in the sky, casting longer shadows across the grounds, the soft, golden light hinted that the afternoon was progressing, likely around two o'clock. The warmth of the day lingered in the air, but there was a subtle shift as the sun began its slow descent, signaling the approach of the late afternoon. The trio knew it was time to head back inside. They didn't want to be late for their last lesson of the day—especially since it was Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"We should probably get going," Hermione said, reluctantly pushing herself up from the cool grass. She brushed off a few stray blades that had clung to her robes.
"Yeah, can't miss our first Defense class," Harry agreed, standing up and stretching. "I'm curious to see what Lupin's like as a teacher."
"Let's hope he's better than some of the others we've had," Ron added, grinning as he stood and stretched as well. "I mean, no one could be worse than Umbridge."
At that, they all laughed, the memory of Dolores Umbridge's dreadful tenure as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor still fresh in their minds. Her pink-clad, sadistic presence had left a lasting impression on all of them, and it felt good to laugh about it now, knowing she was gone for good.
As they gathered their things, Luna stood up as well, a contented smile on her face. "I have Defense Against the Dark Arts next too," she said, her tone as light as ever. "It'll be interesting to see what Professor Lupin is like. I've heard he's quite knowledgeable."
The four of them began the walk back to the castle, the path ahead dappled with sunlight filtering through the trees. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, and the distant sound of the Black Lake's water lapping against the shore provided a soothing backdrop. The castle loomed ahead, its ancient stone walls bathed in the warm afternoon light, the windows reflecting the golden hue of the sun.
As they walked, their conversation flowed easily, tinged with curiosity about their new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "Do you think he'll be tough?" Ron asked, glancing at Hermione. "I mean, we've heard all sorts of things, but you never know."
"I'm not sure," Hermione replied, thoughtful as always. "But I hope he's good. We need someone who can actually teach us useful skills, especially this year."
"Anything's better than Umbridge," Harry said with a grin. "As long as he doesn't make us write lines with our own blood, I think we'll be alright."
Luna, walking slightly ahead, turned to face them as she walked backward, her usual serene smile on her lips. "I think he'll be different. There's something about him that seems… calm. I bet he'll be one of the good ones."
"I hope you're right, Luna," Harry said, nodding in agreement. "It'd be nice to have a Defense professor we can actually learn from."
They reached the entrance to the castle and made their way inside, the cool air of the interior a welcome relief after the warmth of the sun. The corridors were quieter now, most students already in their classes or heading to their next one. The stone walls echoed with their footsteps as they climbed the staircase that led to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"I wonder what he'll teach us first," Ron mused aloud as they approached the door. "Maybe something hands-on? Dueling, maybe?"
"Whatever it is, I hope it's something practical," Hermione said, her excitement beginning to build as they neared the classroom. "We need to be prepared for anything."
They reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, its wooden door slightly ajar, revealing the dimly lit interior. They exchanged a final glance, a mix of anticipation and curiosity in their eyes, before stepping inside. The room was as they remembered it—high, vaulted ceilings, stone walls lined with shelves of dusty books, and large, arched windows that allowed beams of sunlight to stream in, casting intricate patterns on the floor. The room smelled faintly of parchment and old wood, a comforting scent that spoke of years of learning and knowledge passed down through generations.
But as they took in the space, they noticed that the room had been subtly transformed under Professor Lupin's care. Gone were the harsh, intimidating decorations of previous professors. Instead, the room had been made to feel welcoming, almost tranquil. The shelves, once overcrowded with dusty tomes and ominous artifacts, were now neatly organized, with the darker objects replaced by potted plants—herbs and small, magical flowers that added a touch of life and color to the space. Their soft, green leaves seemed to breathe fresh air into the room, their gentle fragrance mingling with the scent of old parchment.
The large, arched windows were free of the heavy, oppressive drapes that had once hung there, now allowing the sunlight to pour in unfiltered. The light cast a warm, golden glow across the room, highlighting the polished wood of the desks and the stone floor beneath. The sunlight seemed to dance across the floor, creating a play of light and shadow that added a serene quality to the room, making it feel almost like a sanctuary.
On the walls, where once there had been only shelves of books, there were now several framed illustrations of magical creatures—hippogriffs, phoenixes, and even a few more obscure beings like mooncalves and bowtruckles. The illustrations were done in soft, muted colors, their lines delicate and detailed, giving the room an artistic, almost calming atmosphere. Above the blackboard, a large, intricate tapestry depicted the phases of the moon, its deep blues and silvers adding to the room's peaceful ambiance.
The desks, which had once been arranged in rigid, military-style rows, were now set in a semi-circle facing the front of the room, fostering a more inclusive and conversational environment. Each desk had a small candle on it, unlit for now, but ready to cast a soft glow when needed. The candles, along with the plants and the gentle decorations, made the room feel almost cozy, as if inviting the students to learn and grow in a space that was both safe and inspiring.
Professor Lupin wasn't there yet, and the room was filled with a quiet anticipation. As they found their seats, the trio and Luna continued to chat quietly, their earlier laughter now replaced with the excitement of the unknown. Hermione chose to sit with Luna, feeling a sense of calm in the transformed space, while Harry and Ron took seats nearby.
"This is different," Hermione whispered to Luna, her eyes taking in the subtle changes. "It's… nice."
Luna nodded, her gaze drifting to the tapestry above the blackboard. "It feels peaceful, doesn't it? Like a place where you can think clearly."
Harry leaned over to Ron, his voice low. "I like it. It's not what I expected, but it feels… weird."
Ron nodded, glancing around the room. As they settled into their seats, they watched the other students shuffling to their desks, some still murmuring quietly to one another as they prepared for the lesson. The soft scraping of chairs against the stone floor and the rustle of parchment filled the room with a low, anticipatory hum. A few students were still milling around the back of the classroom when the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's office creaked open.
Out stepped Professor Lupin.
The room fell silent as every student turned their gaze toward the front. The students still standing hurried to their seats, their curiosity palpable.
Professor Lupin stood at the front of the class, his appearance immediately catching Hermione's attention. He was of average height and build, but there was something quietly commanding about his presence. His sandy brown hair was slightly tousled, with a few strands of gray at the temples that hinted at wisdom and experience beyond his years. His robes were simple and well-worn, the kind that spoke of practicality and a life spent in study rather than in luxury. Yet, despite their modesty, they suited him perfectly, adding to the air of unassuming competence that seemed to surround him.
His face, though lined with the faintest traces of weariness, held a certain quiet charm. His eyes were a soft, warm brown, filled with a depth and kindness that immediately set him apart from the stern and often distant teachers they were used to. There was an intelligence in his gaze, one that suggested he had seen much and learned even more. The slight curve of his lips, which hovered between a smile and a thoughtful expression, made him seem approachable, yet with a hint of mystery that made Hermione's heart quicken with curiosity.
There was something about him that intrigued her—he seemed like a teacher who was not only knowledgeable but also deeply understanding of the subject he was about to teach. The Defense Against the Dark Arts position was notoriously cursed, but Professor Lupin's calm demeanor and studious appearance gave her a glimmer of hope that this year, things might be different.
"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin began, his voice smooth and steady, carrying just enough to reach the back of the room without needing to be raised. "My name is Professor Remus Lupin, and I'll be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year."
He paused, allowing his words to settle, as the students exchanged curious glances. The simplicity of his introduction was in stark contrast to some of their previous professors, who had often introduced themselves with grandiose claims or intimidating speeches. Lupin's approach was different—modest, direct, and strangely comforting.
"I understand that this subject has had quite a… varied history at this school," Lupin continued, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as if acknowledging an unspoken joke. "But I hope that this year, we can focus on learning what you need to know to protect yourselves in the real world."
Hermione leaned forward slightly, her quill poised to take notes, though she found herself more interested in listening than in writing. Lupin's tone was sincere, his words resonating with the seriousness of the subject matter, yet delivered in a way that was neither daunting nor dismissive.
"As you're all aware, Defense Against the Dark Arts is not merely an academic subject," Lupin went on, his expression growing more serious. "It's a vital skill—one that you may need to call upon in unexpected situations. My goal this year is to ensure that each of you leaves this class not just with knowledge, but with the confidence and ability to defend yourselves."
Hermione couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for him. Unlike some of their previous professors, who had treated the subject as a mere academic exercise or a platform for their own egos, Professor Lupin seemed to genuinely care about their safety and their education. He wasn't just another professor filling a cursed position—he was someone who seemed truly qualified and deeply committed to teaching them what they needed to know.
"I will be expecting a lot from you," Lupin continued, his eyes scanning the room. "But I also understand that learning is a process. We'll take it one step at a time, and I'll be here to guide you through it."
As he spoke, Hermione found herself hanging on his every word. There was something almost magnetic about the way he communicated—clear, patient, and with an underlying sense of purpose that made her feel both reassured and eager to learn.
Lupin's calm confidence, his apparent depth of knowledge, and the subtle kindness in his demeanor all combined to make Hermione feel that, perhaps for the first time in a long while, they had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who might truly make a difference.
She glanced at Ron and Harry, both of whom seemed equally captivated, and then at Luna, who was watching Lupin with her usual dreamy expression but with an unmistakable glint of interest in her eyes.
As Professor Lupin continued, Hermione's initial intrigue deepened into genuine anticipation. His calm demeanor, his quiet confidence, and the clear passion for the subject made him seem like a breath of fresh air compared to the nightmare of Umbridge. Perhaps, at long last, they would actually be prepared when they left school this year. The thought filled Hermione with both excitement and a sense of responsibility. This was their final year, after all—what they learned now would shape their futures in the wizarding world.
But as much as she tried to focus on the lesson, Hermione found her mind wandering. Thoughts of graduation loomed larger with each passing minute, the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawing at the edges of her concentration. What job would she get? Would she be able to make a difference? The future felt like a vast, unknowable expanse, and for someone as meticulous and prepared as Hermione, that was terrifying.
She tried to push these thoughts away, but they kept creeping back, making it hard to fully engage with the lesson. Harry, sitting with Ron at the next table, noticed her distraction. He furrowed his brow in concern, watching as Hermione absentmindedly twirled her quill, her eyes unfocused. Harry leaned slightly in his seat, trying to catch her attention without disrupting the class.
"Hermione," he whispered, his voice just barely audible.
But Hermione, lost in her thoughts, didn't respond. She continued to stare at her parchment, her mind far away from the classroom.
"Hermione," Harry whispered again, a bit more urgently this time, hoping to bring her back to the present.
This time, Professor Lupin noticed. His warm brown eyes, which had been moving calmly from student to student as he taught, now settled on Harry. He paused in his lecture, a faint but unmistakable flicker of amusement crossing his face, though it was quickly replaced by a more serious expression.
"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger," Lupin said, his voice even but firm, drawing the attention of the entire class. "It's the first day, and I would hope that both of you, of all people, would know the importance of paying attention."
Harry flushed, realizing they'd been caught. "Sorry, Professor," he mumbled, sinking a bit lower in his seat.
Hermione snapped out of her thoughts, blinking in surprise. She looked up at Lupin, confused and a bit startled. "But… I wasn't talking, Professor," she objected quietly, her voice tinged with disbelief. "I was just—"
Lupin raised a hand to stop her, his expression softening slightly. "Perhaps not, Miss Granger, but you were clearly not focused on the lesson." His tone was gentle but left no room for argument. "And Mr. Potter was trying to speak to you. I'm afraid I'll have to take five points from Gryffindor—each."
Hermione's mouth opened in shock. She hadn't even noticed that Harry had been trying to get her attention, and now they were losing points because of it. She glanced over at Harry, who gave her a quick, apologetic look.
"I—" Hermione began, but she stopped herself, realizing that objecting further would only make things worse. Instead, she nodded, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. "Yes, Professor. I'm sorry."
Lupin gave a small nod, his expression now more understanding. "Thank you. Let's continue with the lesson."
The rest of the class passed in a blur for Hermione. She tried to focus on Lupin's words, taking notes as diligently as she could, but the incident had left her feeling unsettled. She wasn't used to being scolded by a teacher, especially not when she felt it was undeserved. But there was something about the way Lupin handled it that made her feel less angry and more determined to prove herself.
When the lesson finally ended, Lupin wrapped up the day's topic with a few final remarks. "I hope today has given you a taste of what to expect this year," he said, his tone once again warm and encouraging. "We have much to cover, but I'm confident that, together, we can achieve a great deal."
As the students began to pack up their things, Hermione felt Harry's eyes on her. She glanced over, and he gave her a small, apologetic smile.
"Sorry about that," he said quietly, as they stood up to leave. "I didn't mean to get us into trouble. I just wanted you to pay attention—you seemed really out of it."
Hermione sighed, her frustration easing slightly as she saw the sincerity in Harry's expression. "It's alright, Harry." She managed a small smile.
That night at dinner, the Great Hall was filled with the usual clamor of students chatting and laughing as they enjoyed their evening meal. The Gryffindor table was no exception, bustling with conversation as friends caught up on the events of the day. The golden light from the enchanted ceiling above bathed the hall in a warm glow, making the long, wooden tables piled high with food look even more inviting.
As Hermione, Harry, and Ron settled into their seats, Ginny, already seated and halfway through her meal, looked up at them with wide eyes. "You lost points on the first day?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. "Hermione lost points? How did that happen?"
Hermione winced slightly at the reminder, reaching for a roll and tearing it apart more vigorously than necessary. "It wasn't exactly how it sounds," she mumbled, her cheeks tinged with a bit of color. "Harry was trying to get my attention, and Professor Lupin thought I wasn't paying attention."
Ginny shook her head, still in disbelief. "I just can't believe you of all people lost points, Hermione. You're usually the one saving them!"
"I know," Hermione sighed, feeling the weight of her mistake pressing down on her. "I feel bad about it, really. It's just… I was distracted."
"By what?" Harry asked, glancing at her with concern. "You seemed pretty out of it in class."
Hermione hesitated for a moment before admitting quietly, "I was worrying about what's going to happen after we leave Hogwarts. I mean, graduation is coming up so quickly, and I can't stop thinking about what's waiting for us out there. What kind of jobs we'll get, where we'll end up… it's all a bit overwhelming."
Her friends fell silent for a moment, the clatter of cutlery and the hum of conversation around them filling the gap. Then, Ginny reached across the table and gave Hermione's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hermione, you're going to be fine. You're the smartest witch in our year. Whatever you do, you'll be brilliant at it."
"Yeah," Harry chimed in, nodding firmly. "If anyone's got nothing to worry about, it's you. You're going to have your pick of jobs, and they'll all be lucky to have you."
Ron grinned, spearing a sausage with his fork. "And that's assuming I don't become an international Quidditch superstar first," he added, his tone light and teasing.
Hermione couldn't help but smile at that, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. "Thanks, Ron. But seriously, it's just… there's so much uncertainty. I've spent so much time preparing for this, and now that it's almost here, I'm not sure I'm ready."
"You're more ready than any of us," Ginny said with a confident nod. "And you know what? We're all in this together. Whatever happens, we'll figure it out."
Ron leaned back in his seat, a grin still on his face. "Yeah, and besides, you're the one who's been telling us all year to stay on top of things. You're going to be just fine, Hermione."
Harry leaned in, his voice softer but full of sincerity. "We'll be fine, Hermione. You've been helping us through everything for years. We've got your back, just like you've always had ours."
Hermione felt a wave of warmth and gratitude wash over her. Despite her worries, she knew she wasn't alone. Her friends' confidence in her gave her a renewed sense of determination. "Alright," she said, nodding as she took a deep breath. "You're right. We'll get through this—together."
The conversation shifted to lighter topics as they continued their meal, with Ron joking about the different Quidditch teams he could play for and Ginny teasing him about having to practice more if he wanted to stand a chance. The warmth of their friendship and the laughter they shared helped to ease Hermione's worries, if only for a little while.
As the evening drew to a close, the warm, resonant voice of Professor Dumbledore filled the Great Hall, carrying effortlessly over the soft murmur of students finishing their meals. "And so, another day comes to an end," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as they swept over the assembled students. "I encourage you all to rest well tonight, for tomorrow brings new opportunities for learning and growth. Remember, the future is always uncertain, but with determination and a good heart, we can face whatever challenges lie ahead. You are dismissed."
With a final, gentle nod, Dumbledore sat down, and the hall began to stir as students stood, the clatter of benches and the rustle of robes filling the air. The golden light from the enchanted ceiling above reflected off the polished wooden tables, now mostly cleared of food, save for a few lingering desserts. The hall, which moments before had been alive with conversation and laughter, began to settle into a contented hum as students gathered their belongings and prepared to head back to their common rooms.
Hermione, feeling the weight of the day beginning to lift, stood with Harry, Ron, and Ginny, taking a moment to soak in the familiar atmosphere of Hogwarts. The scent of pumpkin juice and freshly baked bread still lingered in the air, mingling with the comforting aroma of old parchment and the faint, earthy scent that seemed to permeate the ancient stone walls. The Great Hall had always been a place of warmth and belonging, a refuge from the outside world, and tonight, Hermione felt that comfort more keenly than ever.
As she glanced up at the staff table, her eyes caught on Professor Lupin. He was engaged in quiet conversation with Professor McGonagall, his expression calm and thoughtful. When he looked up, his warm brown eyes met Hermione's. There was a kindness in his gaze that made her feel seen and understood, as if he somehow knew the worries that had been clouding her mind. She offered him a kind smile, feeling a connection to this new professor that she hadn't expected so soon. Lupin returned her smile with a gentle nod, his expression reassuring, as if silently telling her that everything would be alright.
Feeling a bit more at peace, Hermione turned to join her friends as they began making their way out of the Great Hall. Harry, noticing the slight change in her demeanor, gave her an encouraging smile before turning his attention to Ron.
"Think you'll let us have a first tryout when you're a big Quidditch star, Ron?" Harry teased as they walked through the wide, arched doorway and into the corridor.
Ron puffed out his chest in mock pride. "Absolutely," he replied with a grin. "But only if you promise to work on your Keeper skills, Potter. Can't have you embarrassing me in front of the scouts."
"Fair enough," Harry laughed. "And Hermione, you can be our agent, making sure we get the best deals."
Hermione chuckled, the heaviness in her heart lifting a little as they walked alongside them through the stone corridors, the cool air of the castle brushing against their faces. "As long as you both promise to study for your N.E.W.T.s in between practices," she retorted, raising an eyebrow.
Ginny, walking beside them, shook her head with a smile. "Don't worry, Hermione. We'll make sure Ron remembers which way to hold a quill."
Ron pretended to be offended, but the grin on his face betrayed him. "With friends like you, who needs enemies?"
Hermione smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. "You're all impossible."
"But you love us," Harry said, nudging her playfully as they ascended the staircase leading to Gryffindor Tower.
"Yes, I suppose I do," Hermione admitted, her smile widening. "Even if you drive me mad sometimes."
Their laughter echoed through the corridors as they climbed the staircase toward the Gryffindor common room. The warmth of their friendship surrounded her like a comforting blanket, and Hermione's worries began to fade into the background. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she knew they would face them together.
As they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and gave the password, Hermione felt a sense of calm settle over her. The future might be uncertain, but with her friends by her side, it felt just a little less daunting. Together, they stepped through the portrait hole and into the cozy, familiar warmth of the Gryffindor common room, ready to take on whatever tomorrow might bring.
After returning to the Gryffindor common room, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny spent the evening catching up with their fellow Gryffindors. The room was alive with the warmth of flickering firelight, casting a cozy glow over the well-worn chairs and couches scattered around. Seamus and Dean were sitting by the fireplace, deep in a heated debate about which Quidditch team would take the Cup that year, their voices rising and falling with excitement. Neville was nearby, carefully tending to a potted Mimbulus Mimbletonia, which he had brought back to school after the summer; its odd, pulsating leaves seemed to sway contentedly under his care.
Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were perched on one of the couches, flipping through the latest issue of Witch Weekly, occasionally giggling and showing each other the articles or pictures of the latest fashion trends. Beside them, the Creevey brothers were eagerly discussing the day's events, with Colin excitedly recounting his first day back at school to a slightly less enthusiastic Dennis.
The familiar buzz of the common room, filled with laughter, conversation, and the occasional crackle of the fire, created an atmosphere of comfort and belonging. It was a scene that Hermione had grown to cherish over the years, a place where she could let her guard down and simply enjoy the company of her friends.
Hermione found herself nestled in one of the large, overstuffed armchairs near the fire, chatting with Parvati and Lavender about the upcoming classes. The warmth of the fire, combined with the soft murmur of voices, made the common room feel like a sanctuary from the worries and pressures of the outside world.
But after an hour or so, as the night grew later and the fire began to burn lower, Hermione started to feel the weariness of the day settling in. She stifled a yawn and smiled at her friends. "I think I'm going to call it a night," she said, standing and stretching slightly. "It's been a long day."
"Goodnight, Hermione," Harry said, looking up from his conversation with Neville. "Sleep well."
"See you in the morning," Ron added, giving her a wave.
Ginny smiled warmly. "Night, Hermione."
Seamus, overhearing, gave a lazy wave from his spot by the fire. "Night, Hermione. Don't let the bedbugs bite!"
Hermione bid goodnight to the others and made her way up the spiral staircase to the girls' dormitory. The room was quiet, the soft rustling of the curtains around the beds the only sound. She moved to her bed, but before getting in, she found herself drawn to the large window next to it.
She sat on the windowsill, the cool stone beneath her a welcome contrast to the warmth of the common room. The night outside was beautiful, the grounds of Hogwarts bathed in the soft light of the moon, casting long shadows across the lawns and the Forbidden Forest beyond. The sky was clear, dotted with countless stars that twinkled against the deep velvet darkness.
Hermione let her gaze wander over the familiar landscape, feeling a sense of peace as she took in the serene beauty of the night. The castle grounds, usually bustling with life during the day, now seemed almost otherworldly in their stillness, as if the very air was holding its breath.
As she continued to watch, something caught her eye—a figure moving along the outskirts of the grounds, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The figure was indistinct in the darkness, little more than a shadow slipping through the night. Hermione squinted, trying to make out who it might be, but the distance and the darkness made it impossible to tell. The figure moved with purpose, but whether they were real or just a figment of her imagination, Hermione couldn't be sure.
She watched for a few moments longer, her mind racing with possibilities, but the figure soon disappeared from view, blending into the shadows of the trees. A part of her wanted to investigate further, but the day's events had left her too tired to act on her curiosity. Instead, she decided it was probably nothing—just her imagination playing tricks on her after a long day.
With a small sigh, Hermione slipped off the windowsill and moved back to her bed. She pulled the heavy curtains around her, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort, and settled under the soft, thick blankets. The mystery of the figure on the grounds still lingered in her mind, but as her head sank into the pillow, the exhaustion of the day quickly began to overtake her.
The sounds of the night outside, the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the distant hoot of an owl lulled her into a peaceful sleep, her thoughts drifting away from the unknown figure and toward the comforting embrace of dreams.