The room was filled with only the scratching of quills against parchment - punctured by smattering gasps of pain.

Hermione bit her bottom lip in an effort to contain her own wince as the words she was writing etched their way deeper into her skin; she would not give that old toad the satisfaction of seeing her in pain.

At the front of the class, Umbridge sipped her sickeningly sweet tea from a delicate cup, her smug gaze sweeping over the students with satisfaction. The Slytherins, exempt from her sadistic methods, lounged on their desks, revelling in the discomfort of their peers.

At the centre of them all was Malfoy, swinging back on his chair as he lapped up the attention. The Slytherin boy had been even more infuriating than usual recently, his head blown to twice its size thanks to Umbridge's favouritism.

Hermione scowled as she turned back to the lines she was writing: 'Theory shall always prevail over practice.'

They could actually be spending this time learning something valuable! Right now as they sit here -wasting time writing lines - You-Know-Who was out there, and getting stronger by the minute.

Hermione scowled at the thought. Thanks to Edgecombe, they could no longer practise defensive magic by themselves - and worst of all - Dumbledore was gone.

Hermione glanced around the classroom, eyes landing on the red haired girl who was staring at her desk in shame, having been rewarded for her double cross with normal coursework instead of the blood quill. Hermione noted that the heavy layers of makeup she was currently wearing didn't quite cover up the angry red spots across her face spelling 'SNEAK'. Smirking, Hermione turned back to her desk. Serves her right, she thought.

'Ahem."

Hermione jumped as she noted Umbridge standing directly beside her desk, a sugary sweet smile on her lips. "So silly of me, but I do believe you were instructed to write down the lines until the message sunk in? For somebody so thoroughly concerned with her grades, Miss Granger, I do believe you, of all people, should be focused on paying attention?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes but bit back her retort - there was no Dumbledore here to save them now. The witch could do whatever she wanted. She turned back to the parchment and continued to carve into her skin, hand shaking with pain and fury.

Umbridge gave a small giggle of contentment, "Good girl. You shall all very quickly learn how students should behave."

With effort, Hermione ignored her still, despite her hands balling into a fist as the stout woman turned away from her to go and torment another student.

Evil old witch. She was mid way through cursing Umbridge out in her mind with the most inventive curse words she could think of when she felt a familiar burning in her left pocket. She instinctively looked around to the other DA members to see if any one else had noticed - Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus - but none of them had reacted.

Cautiously, eyes and ears on high alert for Umbridge, she scooped the large golden Galleon out of her pocket. Pretending to adjust her skirt, she stole a glance at the engraved letters on the burning coin:'Cool it Granger - your hair is practically sizzling."

Puzzled, she squinted at the words. Who could see that she was about to lose her temper? And why had none of the other members of the DA reacted? Surely at least one of them still had their coin on their person.

Hermione shoved the coin back in her pocket - just in time for Umbridge to swoop around to her desk again. She surveyed Harry first, one desk away, then Ron, and finally, back to Hermione.

Seemingly unable to keep herself from making more jabs, she said "Aren't you three so dreadfully lucky that Professor Dumbledore is gone? Perhaps if he had focused more on discipline and less on his misguided notions of 'practical' applications of magic then Hogwarts wouldn't be in such a mess. To think, he had a group of ill-advised 16 year olds thinking they knew better than the whole ministry!" She giggled again, and the Slytherins joined in.

Hermione noticed Harry's jaw tighten at the mention of Dumbledore. Silently she willed him to keep quiet, however she could feel her own temper boiling.

Umbridge still gazed at them, self satisfaction seeming to swell within her, encouraged by the Slytherins approving giggles.

Seemingly unable to stop herself from jabbing further, her eyes swept to Marietta, who looked as though she wanted the ground to swallow her up. "You know, it really is lucky for everyone here that Ms Edgecomb, at least, had the sense to come forward about Dumbledore's little club. Without her brave interference helping us get rid of that bumbling man, goodness knows what state this school would be in soon!"

Finally, Hermione snapped, the scribbling of the quills silenced and a collective gasp filled the room as she chucked her wretched cursed quill to the floor and stood up, staring in the old toad's face.

"Dumbledore was a great Professor! He actually wanted us to learn something, not to sit here carving ourselves up while the ministry ignores the glaringly obvious signs that something is very wrong around them! And for what - so that Fudge doesn't look bad? Because he doesn't want to deal with reality? We should be learning how to protect ourselves, and instead we are wasting time being bullied by an old witch who doesn't care about anything other than her own power!"

Hermione's chest was heaving as she came to the end of her outburst. Beside her, Harry's eyes were gleaming with pride while Ron's mouth was agape in shock. Umbridge's expression had turned from sickly sweet to menacing. The smile was still plastered on her face, though now her lips were tight and her nostrils flared.

"Miss Granger," Her voice was sugary sweet, laced with venom, "Escort yourself from my classroom. Detention will be in order, let's make it every night this week." Turning back to the class, she commanded "Back to your lines, or the same will be in order for you. Such a pity, really, obviously even the most mundane witch can develop an over inflated sense of ego when they run in the wrong circles."

Still reeling, Hermione gathered her things and stormed out of class without sparing the Umbridge so much as a glance. Memories of marching out of Trewlawney's classroom two years prior sprung to her head - but this was so much worse. As she entered the Gryffindor girls dormitory at last and threw her school bag onto the floor, she finally slumped onto her bed and let out a sob.

Hermione grieved not only for her education, which until this year had been her number one priority, but also for the future of the Hogwarts students. For the muggle-borns who wouldn't be learning defensive magic and would therefore be vulnerable if attacked. For the first years who had been told tales of the wondrous Hogwarts only to be met with a prison-like castle where they could be bullied and abused as Umbridge saw fit. And for the Professors, who without Dumbledore were powerless to help in any shape or form.

Suddenly, there was another burning in her shirt pocket. With some annoyance that the coin had interrupted her wallowing, Hermione snatched it out and stared at the letters.

"Told you so."