"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed and Hermione jumped as though a gunshot went off and hurried out of the room. Johnny seized Quorra, stuffed her unceremoniously into her cage, and set off downstairs after Hermione, dragging his trunk.

Mrs. Black's portrait was howling with rage but nobody was bothering to close the curtains over her; all the noise in the hall was bound to rouse her again, anyway. Johnny appeared a moment later, bumping into Harry's back.

"Harry, you're to come with me, Johnny and Tonks," shouted Mrs. Weasley over the repeated screeches of 'MUDBLOODS! SCUM! CREATURES OF DIRT!' "Leave your trunk and your owl, and Johnny leave your cat and trunk, Alastor's going to deal with the luggage.... Oh, for heavens sake, Sirius, Dumbledore said no!"

A bearlike black dog had appeared at Harry and Johnny's side as he was clambering over the various trunks cluttering the hall to get to Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh honestly..." said Mrs. Weasley despairingly, "well, on your own head be it!"

She wrenched open the front door and stepped out into the weak September sunlight. Harry, Johnny and the dog followed her. The door slammed behind them and Mrs. Black's screeches were cut off instantly.

"Where's Dora?" Johnny asked, looking round as they went down the stone steps of number twelve, which vanished the moment they reached the pavement.

"She's waiting for us just up here," said Mrs. Weasley stiffly, averting her eyes from the lolloping black dog beside Harry and Johnny.

An old woman greeted them on the corner. She had tightly curled grey hair and wore a purple hat shaped like a pork pie.

"Wotcher, boys," she said, winking.

"Stranger danger," Johnny smirked, causing the old woman to punch him in the arm. "Seriously? I bruise like a peach!"

"Better hurry up, hadn't we, Molly?" Tonks said, checking her watch.

"I know, I know," moaned Mrs. Weasley, lengthening her stride, "but Mad-Eye wanted to wait for Sturgis.... If only Arthur could have got us cars from the Ministry again ... but Fudge won't let him borrow so much as an empty ink bottle these days... How Muggles can stand travelling without magic..."

But the great black dog gave a joyful bark and gambolled around them, snapping at pigeons and chasing its own tail. The two boys couldn't help laughing. Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips in an almost Aunt Petunia-ish way.

It took them twenty minutes to reach King's Cross on foot and nothing more eventful happened during that time than Sirius scaring a couple of cats for the boy's entertainment. Once inside the station they lingered casually beside the barrier between platforms nine and ten until the coast was clear, then each of them leaned against it in turn and fell easily through on to platform nine and three-quarters, where the Hogwarts Express stood belching sooty steam over a platform packed with departing students and their families. Johnny inhaled the familiar smell and felt his spirits soar.... He was really going back...

"Feels good seeing it, doesn't it?" Harry asked Johnny, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

"It'll feel even better when I'm in the Great Hall with my mates," Johnny sighed. "I never felt at home with the Scaletta's, Hogwarts was the first place I truly called home."

Harry smiled at patted Johnny's back.

"I hope the others make it in time," said Mrs. Weasley anxiously, staring behind her at the wrought-iron arch spanning the platform, through which new arrivals would come.

"Nice dog, Harry!" Called a tall boy with dreadlocks.

"Thanks, Lee," said Harry, grinning, as Sirius wagged his tail frantically.

"Oh good," said Mrs. Weasley, sounding relieved, "here's Alastor with the luggage, look..."

A porter's cap pulled low over his mismatched eyes, Moody came limping through the archway pushing a trolley loaded with their trunks.

"All okay," he muttered to Mrs. Weasley, Johnny and Tonks, "don't think we were followed..."

Seconds later, Mr. Weasley emerged on to the platform with Ron and Hermione. They had almost unloaded Moody's luggage trolley when Nick Sawyer, Fred, George, and Ginny turned up with Benjamin and Winona Sawyer.

"You good, mate?" Johnny asked, fist bumping Nick.

"All good on this end," Nick smiled, patting Johnny's shoulder. "We'll catch up later, alright? Amber is calling me."

"Use protection!" Johnny yelled jokingly as Nick walked towards his girlfriend. Nick turned and flipped him off with a grin.

"No trouble?" growled Moody.

"Nothing," said Winona.

"I'll still be reporting Sturgis to Dumbledore," said Moody, "that's the second time he's not turned up in a week. Getting as unreliable as Mundungus."

"Well, look after yourselves," said Benjamin, shaking hands all round.

"Yeah, keep your head down and your eyes peeled," said Moody, patting Johnny's shoulder. "And don't forget, all of you--careful what you put in writing. If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all."

"Constant vigilance," Johnny said with a grin. Moody let out a bark of laughter and clapped Johnny on the shoulder once more.

"Right you are, son!" Moody said proudly.

"It's been great meeting all of you," said Tonks, hugging Hermione and Ginny. She then turned to Johnny, her expression no longer happy, but rather sad.

"I'm gonna miss you," 'Tonks's lip trembled, her hair turning from bright pink to brown.

"You sad bastard," Johnny joked, wrapping his left arm around Tonks's shoulder and his right around her waist. Tonks grabbed ahold of Johnny's jumper, burying her head in his chest and let out a muffled wail. A warning whistle sounded; the students still on the platform started hurrying on to the train. "I got to go, Dora, I'll miss you too."

"Y-you write to me, okay?" Tonks said, jabbing a finger into Johnny's chest.

"Of course," Johnny said.

"I love you, little bro," Tonks said with a fond smile, pulling Johnny's head down so she could kiss his forehead.

"I love you too."

"See you!" Johnny called out of the open window as the train began to move, while Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny waved beside him. The figures of Tonks, Benjamin and Winona, Moody, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley shrank rapidly but the black dog was bounding alongside the window, wagging its tail; blurred people on the platform were laughing to see it chasing the train, then they rounded a bend, and Sirius was gone.

"He shouldn't have come with us," said Hermione in a worried voice.

"Oh, lighten up," said Ron, "he hasn't seen daylight for weeks, poor bloke."

"Well," said Fred, clapping his hands together, "can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. See you later," and he and George disappeared down the corridor to the right.

The train was gathering still more speed, so that the houses outside the window flashed past, and they swayed where they stood.

"Shall we go and find a compartment, then?" Harry asked.

Johnny, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks.

"Er," said Ron.

"We're--well--Ron, Johnny and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," Hermione said awkwardly.

Johnny wasn't looking at Harry; he seemed to have become intensely interested in the fingernails on his left hand.

"Oh," said Harry. "Right. Fine."

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," said Hermione quickly. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."

"Fine," said Harry again. "Well, I--I might see you later, then."

"Yeah, definitely," said Johnny, casting a shifty, anxious look at Harry. "It's a pain having to go down there, I'd rather--but we have to--I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy," he finished defiantly.

"I know you're not," said Harry and he grinned.

"Reckon he's jealous?" Johnny muttered after they changed into their robes, pinned their badges to their chests and set off for the Prefects carriage. Johnny's badges looked double as good because he had two. The Quidditch Captain and Prefect badges gave Johnny a new sense of pride and power.

"Who, Harry? Course he is," Ron said, fiddling with his badge. "It should've been him as Prefect, not me. Harry's the Quidditch star with decent grades."

Johnny, Hermione and Ron made it to the Prefects carriage, which was larger than the normal carriage. The Head Boy and Head Girl were already sat down along with Axel Leroy Smith and Padma Patil, the Ravenclaw Prefects, Emily Evans and Justin Flinch-Feltchy, the Hufflepuff Prefects.

"Of course Mia is late," Johnny joked, fist bumping Axel. "Good summer, A?"

"Pretty good, yeah," Axel smirked at Emily, who blushed a deep scarlet. Johnny raised an eyebrow at his friend who in return wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "How was yours, J?"

"Very good," Johnny said, linking his hand with Hermione. "Went to Paris for two weeks."

For ten minutes Johnny and Axel had a conversation about Paris, until Mia came rushing into the compartment, her robes a mess and her badge askew.

"What the bloody hell happened to you?" Johnny asked, moving up a seat so Mia could sit next to him. Mia was panting heavily and there was a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead.

"T-talking to P-Pansy," Mia breathed heavily. "L-lost track of time. Johnny, Pansy wants to talk to you about you-know-what after this, she's in the compartment right at the end."

Johnny nodded and listened intently to what the Hufflepuff Head Boy was saying. Basically the Prefects were in charge of dealing out punishments, either by deducting points or handing out detentions, they had to patrol the corridors at night and mixed who each Prefect was with. Johnny was paired with Hermione Monday, Wednesday, Friday. He was paired with Mia Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday.

"I'll see you soon," Johnny said to Hermione once the briefing was over. Johnny was going to see Pansy, who only wanted to speak to him. Johnny placed a soft and sweet kiss to Hermione's lips and said a passionate "I love you," before heading off in the direction Mia had pointed him in. Johnny looked into many compartments as he passed, and surely enough his best friend was in there all alone.

It was a very sad sight. Pansy looked pale and skinny, with dark bags under her eyes and her hair knotted and unkept. Pansy had brought her knees up to her chest and was resting her head on the wall.

"Pansy?" Johnny said softly when he stepped into the compartment, shutting the door behind him. His heart broke when he saw Pansy's once hazel eyes look at him. Her eyes were now a dull grey, lifeless even. Johnny sat down next to Pansy and watched as Pansy shuffled her way across to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head in Johnny's chest.

"I-I missed you," Pansy's voice rasped from lack of use.

"I missed you too," Johnny said softly, hugging her back. "I know what happened."

"I-I can't believe she tricked me!" Pansy sobbed, her fresh tears wetting Johnny's shirt. Johnny didn't mind though, he simply cradled Pansy's head with his left hand, his right hand drawing comforting circles into Pansy's back.

"She doesn't deserve you," Johnny said honestly when Pansy had calmed down a bit. "Listen to me, P."

"I-I am," Pansy hiccuped, gripping Johnny's shirt tightly.

"You're going to get past this. You're going to see that fabled rainbow after the storm," Johnny began softly, rocking the two of them back and forth. "I can't tell you that the journey isn't going to be painful, because it will be. It definitely won't be easy. There will be countless times when you'll wake up feeling the rays of the sun warming your skin and looking forward to what the day has to offer. But there will also be those days, more often than not, where you won't even have the energy to open your eyes because once you do, you'll have to go through yet another day with the pain in your heart. You'll feel like you have to pretend that everything is picture perfect."

"I can't tell you that moving on will be quick, either. It won't. Do take your time and if you need to grieve for months, then so be it. Don't pay attention to what other people are going to think. Moving on is different for everyone. You need as much time as you need to move on, considering the pain you've already been through. Don't try to numb that pain. Don't pretend it's not there. Accept it. Embrace it."

"I'm not saying you should constantly cry over the bitch, nor that you should spend the day brooding. It's just that it is easier accepting what you're going through than numbing the pain because once you feel it, hell - it's going to hurt a whole lot more. Just let me remind you, it wasn't your fault. It never was. Never blame yourself for the bitches mistakes. Everything she did is a choice. She made that decision - not because you were inadequate, hell no, but because she wanted a quick lay over a lifetime of happiness and unconditional love. That was her. That wasn't you."

"You gave her everything you could offer. You did everything you could to make it work. You were willing to fight for her. You were there when she wanted comfort, to be the rock she needed to support her. That's really noble of you but you have to keep moving forward. It's nice to look back at the past once in a while but don't get lost in that because that's what it is - the past. You can't change it."

"You might have lost someone, but you have gained so much more during this ordeal. Love is not supposed to end up like this. Love doesn't end up like this. Don't let her take your shine. Don't let her take your ability to love again because love is the best thing we do."

"J-Johnny," Pansy let out her first real smile in two month. Johnny could see the colour return to Pansy's skin and eyes. "Y-you're my best friend, Johnny, I don't know what I could do without you."

"Every girl needs a guy best friend to help her laugh when she thinks she'll never smile again," said Johnny, squeezing her shoulder. Not long later they were joined by Mia and Tomas Price, the four Slytherin best friends enjoying each other's company.

When they arrived in Hogsmeade, Johnny walked with Harry after being split from the Slytherin's. The two shuffled out of the compartment feeling the first sting of the night air on their faces as they joined the crowd in the corridor. Slowly, they moved towards the doors. Johnny could smell the pine trees that lined the path down to the lake. The two stepped down on to the platform and looked around, listening for the familiar call of 'firs' years over 'ere ... firs' years...'

But it didn't come. Instead, a quite different voice, a brisk female one, was calling out, "First years line up over here, please! All first years to me!"

A lantern came swinging towards them and by its light they saw the prominent chin and severe haircut of Professor Grubbly-Plank, the witch who had taken over Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures lessons for a while the previous year.

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry said out loud.

I don't know," said Ginny, who had just joined the two boys, "but we'd better get out of the way, we're blocking the door."

Harry and Johnny became separated from Ginny as they moved off along the platform and out through the station. Jostled by the crowd, Johnny squinted through the darkness for a glimpse of Hagrid; he had to be here.

He can't have left, Johnny told himself as he and Harry shuffled slowly through a narrow doorway on to the road outside with the rest of the crowd.

Johnny and Harry looked around for Ron or Hermione, wanting to know what they thought about the reappearance of Professor Grubbly-Plank, but neither of them was anywhere near them, so they allowed themselves to be shunted forward onto the dark rain-washed road outside Hogsmeade Station.

Here stood the hundred or so horseless stagecoaches that always took the students above first year up to the castle. Johnny glanced quickly at them, turned away to keep a lookout for Ron and Hermione, then did a double-take.

The coaches were no longer horseless. There were creatures standing between the carriage shafts. If he had had to give them a name, he supposed he would have called them horses, though there was something reptilian about them, too. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither--vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gathering gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister.

"Am I going mental?" Johnny asked Harry pointing towards the horses. Harry shook his head, his own curious look on his face.

"Where's Pig?" said Ron's voice, right behind them.

"That Luna girl was carrying him," said Harry, turning quickly, "Where d'you reckon-"

"--Hagrid is? I dunno," said Ron, sounding worried. "He'd better be okay...."

A short distance away, Draco, followed by a small gang of cronies including Crabbe, Goyle and Stephanie Cattleman, was pushing some timid-looking second-years out of the way so that he and his friends could get a coach to themselves. Seconds later, Hermione emerged panting from the crowd.

"Malfoy was being absolutely foul to a first-year back there. I swear I'm going to give him detention,... Where's Crookshanks and Quorra?" Hermione asked, before greeting Johnny with a soft kiss.

"Ginny's got them," said Harry. "There she is..."

Ginny had just emerged from the crowd, clutching a squirming Crookshanks and Quorra.

"Thanks," said Hermione and Johnny in unison, relieving Ginny of the cats.

"Come on, let's get a carriage together before they all fill up..." said Johnny.

"I haven't got Pig yet!" Ron said, but Hermione and Johnny was already heading off towards the nearest unoccupied coach. Not long later, Luna climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after Ron and Harry.

"Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?" asked Ginny. "What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?"

"I'll be quite glad if he has," said Luna, "he isn't a very good teacher, is he?"

"The audacity of this girl," Johnny muttered quietly, so only his friends heard him.

Johnny glanced at Hermione who stayed quiet. She cleared her throat and quickly said, "Erm ... yes ... he's very good."

"Well, we in Ravenclaw think he's a bit of a joke," said Luna, unfazed.

"You've got a rubbish sense of humour then," Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked into motion.

Luna didn't seem perturbed by Ron's rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television programme.

Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, both Harry and Johnny leaned forwards to try and see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them.

The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Johnny got out of the carriage first. He turned again to look for lit windows down by the Forest, but there was definitely no sign of life within Hagrid's cabin.

"Are you coming or what?" said Johnny beside Harry, who was staring into nothing.

"Oh ... yeah," said Harry quickly and they joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle.

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Johnny noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he and Harry passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

Johnny drifted over to the Slytherin table, and took the seat opposite Mia and on the left of Tom, Daphne Greengrass next to him.

"I know her!" Daphne told the Slytherin Quartet.

"Who?" said Tom, .

"She works alongside my Dad and Fudge!" Daphne told them.

"Nice cardigan," said Johnny, smirking. "It's not Wednesday, but I think the pink is a nice touch."

"She works for Fudge!" Pansy repeated, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here, then?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Hagrid's. That meant the first-years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizards hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The first-years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. Johnny recalled, fleetingly, how terrified he had felt when he had stood there, waiting for the unknown test that would determine to which house he belonged.

The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

In times of old when I was new
And Hogwarts barely started
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted:
United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning,
To make the world's best magic school
And pass along their learning.

'Together we will build and teach!'

The four good friends decided
And never did they dream that they
Might some day be divided,
For were there such friends anywhere
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?
How could such friendships fail?
Why, I was there and so can tell
The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those
Whose ancestry is purest.'

Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose
Intelligence is surest.'

Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those
With brave deeds to their name,'

Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,
And treat them just the same.'

These differences caused little strife
When first they came to light,
For each of the four founders had
A house in which they might
Take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin
Took only pure-blood wizards
Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind
Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest
Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,
And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders
Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony
For several happy years,
But then discord crept among us
Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,
Had once held up our school,
Now turned upon each other and,
Divided, sought to rule.
And for a while it seemed the school
Must meet an early end,
What with duelling and with fighting
And the clash of friend on friend
And at last there came morning
When old Slytherin departed
And though the fighting then died out
He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four
Were whittled down to three
Have the houses been united
As they once were meant to be.
And now the Sorting Hat is here
And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses
Because that is what I'm for,
But this year I'll go further,
Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfil my duty
And must quarter every year
Still I wonder whether Sorting
May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you ...

Let the Sorting now begin.

"Dragged on a bit this year, hasn't it?" said Tom, his eyebrows raised.

"Too right it has," said Johnny.

"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" said Mia, sounding slightly anxious.

"Yes, indeed," said The Bloody Baron knowledgeably, leaning across Theodore Nott towards Mia (Theo winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The Hat feels itself honour-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels-"

But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first-years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. The Bloody Baron placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the lour house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

The terrified-looking boy Johnny had noticed earlier stumbled forwards and put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The Hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted:

"Gryffindor!"

Johnny watched Hermione clap loudly with the rest of Gryffindor house as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.

Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Johnny could hear his stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, 'Zeller, Rose' was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.

Whatever his recent bitter feelings had been towards his Headmaster, Johnny was somehow soothed to see Dumbledore standing before them all.

"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands--welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate--for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.

"Excellent," said Johnny, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of steak and piled two on to his plate. When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster. Johnny was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. His four-poster bed was waiting somewhere below, wonderfully warm and soft ...

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students--and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too." (Harry, Ron and Johnny exchanged smirks from across the Hall.)

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Johnny, Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks for, across the Hall; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.

Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the-"

He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, "Hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

"The audacity of this bitch," Mia said quietly, causing Johnny, Pansy and Tom to laugh.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Johnny had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously didn't know how things were done at Hogwarts.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

"Nine words in and I don't like her," Johnny whispered in Tom's ear. Tom nodded, but he wasn't paying attention. Tom was staring at Selena Reywood, a very popular Gryffindor girl who was talking to Kieran, Nick, Amber and Kieran's girlfriend, Summer.

Umbridge's voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and, again, Johnny felt a powerful rush of dislike that he couldn't explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ('hem, hem') and continued.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

Johnny glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

"The bitch must need glasses," Johnny whispered to Mia, who stifled a giggle with her hand and high-fived Johnny.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

"Press X to doubt," Johnny mumbled.

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

"I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Daphne whispered to Johnny, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ('hem, hem'), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Johnny distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little 'hem, hem' and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation..."

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Johnny had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Johnny could see that Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.

"... because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Johnny noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. 'Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held on September 30th, with each House having their own designated time slot..."

"Wanna be my Co-Captain?" Johnny asked Mia, nit listening to rest of Dumbledore's speech. Johnny brandished a green and silver Co-Captain badge from his pocket and held it under Mia's shocked gaze

"Yes!" Mia squealed excitedly yet quietly.

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Johnny jumped up, ready to escort the first years to the Slytherin Common Room.

"Mia, come on, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go," said Johnny.

"Oh yeah," said Mia, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey--hey, you lot! Midgets!"

"Mia!" Johnny laughed.

"Well, they are, they're titchy..."

"I know, but you can't call them midgets!--First-years!" Johnny called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"

"Nice to see Slytherin has one competent Prefect," Pansy joked, causing Mia to flick her forehead playfully.

A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed seem very small; Johnny was sure he hadn't appeared that young when he had arrived here.

"See you later," Tom said to Johnny and Mia and he made his way out of the Great Hall with Pansy.

"Alright?" Johnny greeted Hermione, Harry and Ron the next morning after saying goodbye to Mia, Pansy and Tom. Johnny wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist and kissed her, causing Hermione to giggle. Harry grunted and walked on ahead.

The four of them followed the Ravenclaws into the Great Hall, all looking instinctively at the staff table as they entered. Professor Grubbly-Plank was chatting to Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, and Hagrid was once again conspicuous only by his absence. The enchanted ceiling above them echoed Harry's mood; it was a miserable rain-cloud grey.

"Dumbledore didn't even mention how long that Grubbly-Plank woman's staying," Johnny said, as they made their way across to the Gryffindor table.

"Maybe..." said Hermione thoughtfully.

"What?" said Johnny, Harry and Ron together.

"Well ... maybe he didn't want to draw attention to Hagrid not being here."

"What d'you mean, draw attention to it?" said Johnny, half-laughing. "How could we not notice? It's not like he's a Half-Giant is it?"

Before Hermione could answer, a tall black girl with long braided hair had marched up to Harry.

"Hi, Angelina."

"Hi" she said briskly, "good summer?" And without waiting for an answer, "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain."

"Well, well, well," Johnny caught her attention, flashing his own Captains badge at her. "Would you look at that, the Co-Captains become the Captains."

Angelina grinned, a competitive and fiery look in her eye.

"And the only reason why you won was because your Seeker cheated," Angelina said, smirking in triumph.

"Winning is winning, Angie," Johnny said. "Your Seeker was distracted enough for my Seeker to catch the Snitch."

"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in," Angelina said, ignoring Johnny and turning back to face Harry.

"OK," said Harry.

Angelina smiled at him and departed.

"If you think I'm stealing Polyjuice from Snape to spy on you, you're goddamn right," Johnny said with a mischievous grin. Hermione slapped Johnny's arm playfully and spoke.

"I'd forgotten Wood had left," said Hermione vaguely as she sat down beside Johnny and pulled a plate of toast towards her. "I suppose that will make quite a difference to the team?"

"I s'pose," said Harry, taking the bench opposite. "He was a good Keeper..."

"Still, it won't hurt to have some new blood, will it?" said Ron.

"Suppose not, I heard Kieran is trying out for Keeper and apparently he's brilliant," Harry said. When Ron went to replay, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside.

"What are you still getting that for?" said Harry irritably as Hermione placed a Knut in the leather pouch on the owl's leg and it took off again. "I'm not bothering ... load of rubbish."

"It's best to know what the enemy is saying," said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, not emerging until Johnny, Harry and Ron had finished eating.

"Nothing," she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. "Nothing about Harry, Johnny or Dumbledore or anything."

Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out timetables. Snape made his detour from the Slytherin table to hand Johnny his.

"Look at today!" groaned Ron. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts ... Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted..."

"Do mine ears deceive me?" said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing on to the bench beside Harry. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"

"Look what we've got today," said Ron grumpily, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen."

"Fair point, little bro," said Fred, scanning the column. "You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like."

"Why's it cheap?" said Ron suspiciously.

"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet," said George, helping himself to a kipper.

"Cheers," said Ron moodily, pocketing his timetable, "but I think I'll take the lessons."

"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes," said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, "you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard."

"Says who?" said George, looking astonished.

"Says me," said Hermione. "And Ron."

"Leave me out of it," said Ron hastily.

Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.

"You can advertise on the Slytherin noticeboard," Johnny said with a grin, high-fiving the twins.

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione," said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."

"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?" asked Hermione.

"Fifth year's OWL year," said George.

"So?"

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw," said Fred with satisfaction.

"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs," said George happily. "Tears and tantrums... Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint..."

"Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?" said Fred remmiscently.

"That's 'cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas," said George.

"Oh yeah," said Fred, grinning. "I'd forgotten ... hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?"

"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth," said George. "If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow."

"Yeah ... you got, what was it, three OWLs each?" said Johnny sarcastically.

"Yep," said Fred unconcernedly. "But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."

"We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year," said George brightly, "now that we've got- now that we've got our OWLs," George said hastily. "I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat."

"We're not going to waste our last year here, though," said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. "We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand."

"But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?" Hermione asked sceptically. "You're going to need all the ingredients and materials--and premises too, I suppose..."

"Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione. C'mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology," said Fred, slapping George's shoulder.

Harry emerged from under the table to see Fred and George walking away.

"What did that mean?" said Hermione, looking from Johnny to Harry to Ron. '"Ask us no questions..." Does that mean they've already got some gold to start a joke shop?"

"You know, I've been wondering about that," said Ron, his brow furrowed. "They bought me a new set of dress robes this summer and I couldn't understand where they got the Galleons..."

"D'you reckon it's true this year's going to be really tough? Because of the exams?"

"Oh, yeah," said Johnny, playing with his food. "Bound to be, isn't it? OWLs are really important, affect the jobs you can apply for and everything. We get career advice, too, later this year, Mrs. Weasley told me. So you can choose what NEWTs you want to do next year."

"D'you know what you want to do after Hogwarts?" Harry asked the other three, as they left the Great Hall shortly afterwards and set off towards their History of Magic classroom.

"I'd love to be a Professor here," Johnny said with a small smile.

"Not really," said Ron slowly. "Except... well..."

He looked slightly sheepish.

"What?" Harry urged him.

"Well, it'd be cool to be an Auror," said Ron in an off-hand voice.

"Yeah, it would," said Harry fervently.

"But they're, like, the elite," said Ron. "You've got to be really good, like Mad-Eye and Evelyn. What about you, Hermione?"

No one bar Hermione seem to notice Johnny wince at the mention of his mother's name. The death of Evelyn was still a sensitive subject for Johnny ten months on. Why he may not cry in public at the mention of Evelyn, there was a unmissable pain in his heart.

"I don't know," Hermione said, linking her hand with Johnny. "I think I'd like to do something really worthwhile, like Johnny."

"An Auror's worthwhile!" said Harry.

"Yes, it is, but it's not the only worthwhile thing," said Hermione thoughtfully, "I mean, if I could take SPEW further..."

Harry and Ron carefully avoided looking at each other. Johnny however gave Hermione a wide supportive smile and a peck on the cheek.

History of Magic was by common consent the most boring subject ever devised by wizardkind. Professor Binns, their ghost teacher, had a wheezy, droning voice that was almost guaranteed to cause severe drowsiness within ten minutes, five in warm weather. He never varied the form of their lessons, but lectured them without pausing while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ron had so far managed to scrape passes in this subject only by copying Hermione and Johnny's notes before exams; they alone seemed able to resist the soporific power of Binns's voice.

"How would it be," Hermione asked Harry and Ron coldly, as they left the classroom for break (Binns drifting away through the blackboard), "if Johnny and I refused to lend you our notes this year?"

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

"There's a lot worse on my conscience than you failing, Weasley..." Johnny muttered.

A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the people standing in huddles around the edges of the yard looked blurred at the edges. Johnny, Harry, Ron and Hermione chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of their robes against the chilly September air and talking about what Snape was likely to set them in the first lesson of the year. They had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards them.

"Hello, Harry!"

It was Cho. Cho was almost always surrounded by a gang of giggling girls; Johnny remembered the agony Harry went through of trying to get her by herself to ask her to the Yule Ball.

"Hi," said Harry, feeling his face grow hot.

"Ten galleons they get together at Christmas?" Johnny whispered in Hermione's ear. His girlfriend smirked at him.

"You're on," Hermione whispered back. "I say next summer."

"You got that stuff off, then?" Cho asked Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry, trying to grin as though the memory of their last meeting was funny as opposed to mortifying. "So, did you... er... have a good summer?"

Johnny wished Harry hadn't have said that. News spread that over the summer Cedric and Cho had a particularly nasty fight and ended things.

"Is that a Tornados badge?" Ron demanded suddenly, pointing to the front of Cho's robes, where a sky-blue badge emblazoned with a double gold "T" was pinned. "You don't support them, do you?"

"Yeah, I do," said Cho.

"Ron, fuck, no," Johnny whispered harshly, tugging on his friends arm.

"Have you always supported them, or just since they started winning the league?" said Ron, in what Johnny considered an unnecessarily accusatory tone of voice.

"I've supported them since I was six," said Cho coolly. "Anyway ... see you, Harry."

She walked away. Johnny waited until Cho was halfway across the courtyard before stocking Ron in the nose. Ron moaned in pain as he held his now broken nose, blood seeping through his fingers.

"You daft fucking idiot!" Johnny exclaimed.

"You are so tactless!" Hermione continued on.

"What? I only asked her if-"

"Couldn't you tell she wanted to talk to Harry on her own?" Johnny sighed, pinching his nose.

"So? She could've done, I wasn't stopping-"

"Why on earth were you attacking her about her Quidditch team?" Hermione exclaimed, her and Johnny on the same level of frustration.

"Attacking? I wasn't attacking her, I was only-"

"Who cares if she supports the Tornados?"

"Oh, come on, half the people you see wearing those badges only bought them last season-"

"But what does it matter?" Johnny asked, grabbing Ron by the collar of his robes and lifting him to his feet. Johnny fixed Ron's nose. "Do something stupid, I'll break your nose again!"

"That's the bell," said Harry dully, because Ron, Johnny and Hermione were bickering too loudly to hear it. The three didn't stop arguing all the way down to Snapes dungeon. Johnny had split off from his Gryffindor friends and placed himself between Mia and Tom, Pansy sitting on Mia's left.

"Alright, dickhead?" Mia asked Johnny as he pulled his potions stuff out of his bag.

"Fuck off," Johnny grinned, flicking Mia's forehead, the two then engaging in a flicking war until Snape opened the door.

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an "Acceptable" in your OWL, or suffer my... displeasure. However, take Mr. Grindelwald as a role model. That boy is so good at Potions, I have full confidence that I could retire and have him as replacement Potions Master."

Johnny shared a wide eyed look with all his friends.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students."

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." On the right of the room, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. "The ingredients and method-" Snape flicked his wand "--are on the blackboard--(they appeared there) '--you will find everything you need-" he flicked his wand again "--in the store cupboard-- (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) "--you have an hour and a half... start."

Just as Johnny, Harry, Ron and Hermione had predicted, Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in anti-clockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

"Look at Mr. Grindelwald's! A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Johnny, who was sweating profusely, looked around the dungeon. Harry's cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prodding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they seemed to be going out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapour, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant he could find nothing to criticise. At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, and looked down at it with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

Draco and his gang of Slytherin's looked up eagerly. Their favourite thing was to watch Snape taunt Harry. However, Johnny, Pansy, Mia, Tom and Daphne Greengrass rolled their eyes, continuing on with their work.

"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely.

"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"

Draco laughed.

"Yes, I can," said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Harry squinted at the blackboard.

'"Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counter-clockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes then add two drops of syrup of hellebore."'

Johnny could see Harry's face pale. He clearly had forgot to do the third line.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," said Harry very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesce."

The contents of Harry's potion vanished.

"Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."

"That was really unfair," said Johnny consolingly when he joined them at lunch, sitting down next to Harry and helping himself to shepherd's pie. "Your potion wasn't nearly as bad as Goyle's; when he put it in his flagon the whole thing shattered and set his robes on fire."

"Yeah, well," said Harry, glowering at his plate, "since when has Snape ever been fair to me?"

"D'you realise how much homework we've got already? Binns set us a foot-and-a-half-long essay on giant wars, Snape wants a foot on the use of moonstones, and now we've got a month's dream diary from Trelawney! Fred and George weren't wrong about OWL year, were they? That Umbridge woman had better not give us any..." Ron complained when he, Harry and Johnny left Divination after lunch.

When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teachers desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Johnny looked around. Hermione was sat with Padma Patil, Harry and Ron were sat together, so was Tom and Selena Reywood, Pansy and Mia, Nick and Amber, Kieran and his girlfriend Summer, Axel and Emily.

"Long time no see," Johnny said, taking an empty chair beside Blaise.

"Alright?" The boy asked, not looking at Johnny.

"No, you abandoned Pansy-" Johnny whispered, but was cut off.

"Well, good afternoon!" Umbridge said, when finally the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled 'good afternoon' in reply.

"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her, all except Johnny who stared at her blankly.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order 'wands away' had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Johnny shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled a quill, ink and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Defence Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year."

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

Course Aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

"This class is making me reconsider my life choices," Johnny whispered very quietly to Blaise so Umbridge wouldn't hear. Blaise cracked a small grin, bending his head low so Umbridge wouldn't see it.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, "Yes, Professor Umbridge", or "No, Professor Umbridge". So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"What about you, Mr. Grindelwald?" Professor Umbridge asked, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice.

Johnny didn't say anything. Instead, he lifted his copy of the book and waved it a little.

"Good," said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read "Chapter One, Basics for Beginners". There will be no need to talk."

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes. Johnny turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.

Johnny felt his concentration sliding away from him; he had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Several silent minutes passed. Next to him, Blaise was absent-mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Johnny looked right and received a surprise to shake him out of his torpor. Hermione hadn't even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.

Johnny couldn't remember his girlfriend ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. He looked at her enquiringly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she wasn't about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.

After several more minutes had passed, however, Johnny wasn't the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye rather than struggle on with 'Basics for Beginners'. When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

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

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

"And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.

"Ah yes, the Half-Breed Queen, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness. Johnny growled lowly, his eyes flashing a dangerous red when the words 'Half-Breed' left Umbridge's mouth.

"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed loudly.

"Pretty fucking obvious if you ask me," Johnny whispered sarcastically.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.--?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Johnny and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Johnny for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but-"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the "whole point" of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-"

"What use is that?" said Harry loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a-"

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge.

Harry thrust his fist in the air. Again, Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people had their hands up, too.

"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."

"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"Yes," said Johnny, speaking up for the first time.

"What?" Asked Umbridge.

"Well, I mean Harry and I are running four for four."

"Mr. Gri-"

"Quirrel tried to choke me out," Johnny interrupted her. "And Lockhart tried to wipe our memories."

Johnny motioned between himself. Ron and Harry.

"Mr.-"

"Fair enough to Professor Lupin, he forgot to take his potion that night, but he totally went werewolf on me," Johnny went on, pulling down the collar to show the fading bite mark on his neck.

"Mr. Gri-"

"And then Moody turned out to be an escaped Death Eater in disguise," Johnny said, taking a deep breath. "So yeah, I figure there's a 100% chance you'll attack Harry or myself in June, 50/50 you'll try and kill us, with a 25% chance it'll be with an Unforgivable Curse."

"Ten points from Slytherin! I promise you, Mr. Grindelwald, I will not attack children like yourselves. As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umbridge dismissively, though she was rather Red in the face.

"Without ever practising them beforehand?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough-"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.

Professor Umbridge looked up.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world,"she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh, yeah?" said Harry. His temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just beneath the surface all day, was reaching boiling point.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" enquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Hmm, let's think..." said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice. "Maybe... Lord bloody Voldemort?"

Johnny let out a, "ooooo, the sass." Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, didn't flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead-"

"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily, "but yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

"It is NOT a lie!'" said Harry. "Johnny and I saw him, Johnny fought him!"

Johnny stayed silent, the pain of the graveyard making his head ache painfully.

"Detention, Mr Potter!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie.The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, "Basics for Beginners"."

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated.

"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice.

"So, according to you, Johnathan Grindelwald was kidnapped and dropped dead of his own accord," Harry asked, his voice shaking, pointing at Johnny, who was incredibly pale and his eyes were forced shut, as painful memories of seeing his father torturing him flashed through his mind.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Ron and Hermione, had ever heard Harry or Johnny talk about what had happened on the night of the Third Task. They stared avidly from Harry, to Johnny, to Professor Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at him without a trace of a fake smile on her face.

"Mr. Grindelwald was a hostage used for the Third Task," Umbridge said coldly, causing Johnny's eyes to snap open. Is that what the Ministry was feeding people? Lies that Johnny had been taken as bait for one of the Champions?

"It was kidnap and murder by a known Death Eater," said Harry, sticking up for his sickly looking friend. "Voldemort is back and you know it."

Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment, J0hmmy thought she was going to scream at Harry. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."

Harry kicked his chair aside, strode around Ron and up to the teacher's desk.

Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear," said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him. "And take Mr. Grindelwald with you, the poor boy lols like he needs some fresh air."

Johnny stood up weakly, shouldering his bag. He sent a fake reassuring smile towards Hermione and his friends and followed Harry out of the room.

"I-I'm sorry for not sticking up for you," Johnny said quietly, sweating dripping down his head.

"It's fine," Harry reassured his cousin.

"Why, it's Potty Wee Potter and ol' Grindy!" cackled Peeves, allowing two inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashed and spattered the walls with ink; Harry and Johnny jumped backwards out of the way with a snarl.

"Get out of it, Peeves," Harry sneered.

"Oooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky," said Peeves, pursuing Harry and Johnny along the corridor, leering as he zoomed along above them. "What is it this time, my fine friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in-" Peeves blew a gigantic raspberry "-- tongues?"

"I said, leave us ALONE!" Harry shouted, the two of them running down the nearest flight of stairs, but Peeves merely slid down the banister on his back beside them.

"Oh, most think he's barking, the potty wee lad,
But some are more kindly and think he's just sad,
But Peevesy knows better and says that he's mad-"

"SHUT UP!"

A door to their left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed.

"What on earth are you boys shouting about?" she snapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. "Why aren't you in class?"

"We've been sent to see you," said Johnny stiffly.

"Sent? What do you mean, sent?"

Harry held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower.

"Come in here, boys."

The two boys followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind the,.

"Well?" said Professor McGonagall, rounding on Harry. "Is this true?"

"Is what true?" Harry asked, rather more aggressively than he had intended. "Professor?" he added, in an attempt to sound more polite.

"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"You called her a liar?"

"Yes."

"You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?"

"Yes."

Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching Harry closely. Then she said, "Have a biscuit, Potter, you two, Grindelwald."

"Have--what?" Johnny asked.

"Have a biscuit," she repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. "And sit down."

Professor McGonagall set down Professor Umbridge's note and looked very seriously at Harry.

"Potter, you need to be careful."

Harry swallowed his mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her.

"Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than house points and a detention."

"What do you--?"

"Potter, use your common sense," snapped Professor McGonagall, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. "You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting."

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.

"It says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow," Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again. "And Grindelwald is here because he looked very sickly and could use fresh air."

"Every evening this week!" Harry repeated, horrified. "But, Professor, couldn't you--?"

"No, I couldn't," said Professor McGonagall flatly.

"But-"

"She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge."

"But I was telling the truth!" said Harry, outraged. "Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is-"

"For heaven's sake, Potter!" said Professor McGonagall, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when he had used Voldemort's name). "Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your head down and your temper under control!"

She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and Harry stood up, too.

"Didn't either of you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast?"

Johnny shook his head.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah ... she said ... progress will be prohibited or ... well, it meant that ... that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall eyed them closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk and held open the door for them.

"Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate," she said, pointing him out of her office.