Dolerous Umbrigde has taken her position of "High Inquisitor" to a new level, one that surprisingly none of us had imagined. Reevaluating every single professor in the school so harshly that she could toss them at any second. And while she was tightening the rules here, Remus and Sirius were owling me left and right to get any and all information about what was going on. Except what I was leaving out about Harry's rash behaviours.

"Miss Cultven would you mind paying attention," McGonagall says angrily. She was trying to teach us OWL spells while dealing with Umbridge staying in the corner scribbling everything she could down.

"Sorry Professor," I apologise quickly as Lavender hands me a rat. Beside me Draco places his hand on my shoulder.

"You okay love?" He asks. I look at Umbridge then him.

"Just nervous," I admit, "something is up with that women."

"Everything will be fine," he assures me, "they won't let anything happen to us." How could he be so sure about that? They haven't been able to stop anything before.

"That will do," McGonagall Sara 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," Professor Umbridge says, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignores her.

"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 the gist of the spell. Today we shall be—"

"Hem hem," Umbridge says,

"Yes?" Professor McGonagall asks turning around with a expression so pissed that it sent shivers down the spines of students all around.

"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec—"

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," Professor McGonagall says turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. "As I was saying, today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell—"

"Hem, hem."

"I wonder," Professor McGonagall says, "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." This finally shut Umbridge up. She looks down to her notes as McGonagll resumes her teacher. "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..." I look to the small mouse and place it on the table. Taking my wand out and attempting the spell multiple times. Until at the fourth or fifth time the mouse finally transform.

"Oh thank Salazar," I sigh in relief as McGonagall nods at Draco and I. (Draco having got it on his second try much to my dismay.) Soon she was letting us pack up. Which was a huge relief and then we were free to live for the next class. Which thankfully was Magical Creatures. A gift of a class. As Draco and I pull away from his friends to walk alone I could tell we both were slight curious of Umbridges take over, but also in the school. "She's mad right? Like we should be preforming magic.... but I also see her magically theory point."

"I know," Draco sighs, "I understand starting from the basics but we are 5th years and should be done with the basics by now."

"Exactly! Like her plan would totally work for like 1st and 2nd years but we are to old to just sit and read for a hour," I rant as I tighten my grip on the blondes hand. "Maybe I'm just mad. Whatever. Are we studying for owls tonight?"

"I was thinking you and I sneak off to the pitch tonight," he offers.

"I wouldn't want to distract you from studying," I tease as he places his hand around my waist.

    "Well I'll make an exception- just for you Cultven," Draco says. As we make our way to Hagrids hut I couldn't help but feel a certain level of sadness. I miss Hagrid, he is our friend, and not knowing where he is worrying.

"You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" I hear. I look over to see the rude toad like woman with Grubbly Plank.

"Quite correct," says Professor Grubbly-Plank.  "I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid." Draco starts to whisper to Goyle leaving me in an awkward middle ground as I look to Hermione, Ron, and Harry.

"Hmm,"  Umbridge day dropping her voice, though I could hear her. "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?" Draco looks up eagerly.

"'Fraid I can't," Professor Grubbly-Plank says breezily. "Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks teaching work, accepted—that's as much as I know. Well... shall I get started then?"

  "Yes, please do," Umbridge says scribbling upon her clipboard. Her approach with this class was completely different. Interviewing students and asking around about everything.  "Overall," She says turning back to Grubbly-plank, "how do you, as a temporary men ever 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," says Professor Grubbly-Plank heartily. "No, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed." Umbridge starts to scribble her notes and nods.

"And what are you planning to cover with this class this year—assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return," Umbridge says.

 "Oh, I'll take them through the creatures that most often come up in O.W.L.,"  Professor Grubbly-Plank says, "Not much left to do—they've studied unicorns and nifflers, I thought we'd cover porlocks and kneazles, make sure they can recognize crups and knarls, you know..."

"Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," Umbridge says making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?" Draco raises his hand gesturing her to us.

"That was me," he says. "I was slashed by a hippogriff."

"A hippogriff?" asks Professor Umbridge, now scribbling frantically.

"Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do," Harry says angrily.

"Harry!" I hiss. Then turn to Umbridge with my normal tone, "it was a preventable accident. Instruction were disregarded. But it was no ones fault." I send a harsh look to Draco. It was his fault he didn't pay attention.

"Very well, and Mr. Potter another night's detention, I think," she says 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," Professor Grubbly-Plank says,  Umbridge sets off back across the lawn to the castle leaving Grubbly-Plank to once again teach.

*****

   I had once again waltzed into the Gryffindor common room before curfew waiting for Harry with Hermione and Ron. But as the hours ticked by I got more and more nervous. Pacing circles around the fire place. But when the door opened I quickly ran to the boy.

   "Are you okay?" I ask as I pull him into a hug. "I can't believe she's doing this to you." I take his hand to see the bloody mess and sigh. "You don't deserve this."

  "Here,"  Hermione says anxiously, handing a small bowl of yellow liquid to him, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help." Harry sits and places his bloody hand in the bowl. Relief covering his expression.

"Thanks," Harry says  gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," Ron says in a low voice.

"No," Harry flatly says.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew—"

"Yeah, she probably would," Harry says "And how long d'you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"

"She's an awful woman," Hermione says in a small voice. "Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," Ron says grimly.

"And I suggested flesh eating plants," I say with a twisted smirk.

"No... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defense from her at all," says Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that?" Ronsays yawning. "'S too late, isn't it? She got the job, she's here to stay, Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well," Hermione says tentatively. "You know, I was thinking today...I was thinking that—maybe the time's come when we should just—just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" Harry asks suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of murtlap tentacles.

"Well—learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves,"  Hermione says.

"Come off it," groans Ron. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important than homework!" Hermione says .

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework," Ron snickers.

"Don't be silly, of course there is!"  Hermione says,  "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting 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," Ron says in a defeated voice. "I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose—"

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books,"  Hermione says  "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"Like Lupin?" I suggest.

"If you're talking about Lupin..." Harry began.

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," Hermione says, "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. But there are two very qualified people we know."

"Who, then?" Harry says frowning at her.

"Yeah two people? I mean Sirius is too much of a risk and Tonks is a spy so who else would we know?" I ask.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione says with a sigh, "I'm talking about you two." She gestures towards Harry and I.

"About us what?" Harry asks.

"I'm talking about you guys teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"What?" I ask. We look to Ron who sat pondering finally settling on.

 "That's an idea."

"What's an idea?" Harry asks.

"You two," says Ron. "Teaching us to do it."

"But...But I'm not a teacher, I can't—" Harry says.

"Same here," I say.

"You two are the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione says.

"Me?" Harry says, "Y/n maybe, but I'm not, you've beaten me in every test—"

"Actually, I haven't," Hermione says 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. Look what you've done!"

"How d'you mean?"

"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron says to Hermione, smirking slightly. He turned to Harry. "Let's think," he says pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. "Uh... first year—you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who."

"But that was luck,"  Harry says, "that 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,"  Ron says, 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!" Harry snaps,  "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? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense 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! 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 memorizing 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 second 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," Ron says, looking aghast. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't—you've got the wrong end of the—"

"Harry," she says 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. Well... think about it Please? And you Y/n?"

"Why am I qualified for this?" I ask her.

"You and I are one point away from each other, top of the class, you spend your summers studying and training, and you're the one they let into the order on skill," Hermione explains, "you're one of the best witches in our time."

"Fine," I mumble, "I'll help as much as I can.

"Great," She smiles, "Well, I'm off to bed, Erm...'night."

"Night Hermione, um Harry can I have the cloak?" I ask. He nods and pulls it from his bag. Handing it over to me. "Thank you, good night guys." After making it back to my houses common room I noticed Draco sitting on the couch.  "Where you waiting for me?"

"No I was waiting for Goyle to return from trying to steal snacks- of course I was waiting for you," He says, "you're out past curfew. As a prefect? How irresponsible."

 "Sorry," I shrug, "I'll be on it with removing those house points."

"As long as you're okay, I'll let it slid," He says, "only if you come bunk with me tonight."

"Draco cuddles? Anytime."