───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Blair didn't bother going to the Great Hall and went to the Black Lake instead. She wasn't really in the mood since she woke up to the nightmares and dreams of locked doors and corridors. She was lucky to not have wakened up Hermione or any of her other roommates. She looked over at the Black Lake and mindlessly threw stones at the waters. She jumped when someone suddenly sat beside her. It was Draco.

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?" Blair asked with surprise.

Draco simply handed her something wrapped in tissue. Blair opened it and saw toast. She smiled slightly at the Slytherin. "Thanks." Draco simply nodded. It was silent between them as Blair ate her toast and kept on throwing stones at the water.

"You said I can come to you if I need to talk, right?" Draco suddenly said.

Blair's eyes widened before she nodded. "Yeah." Her eyes hardened again. "I don't really like how you still keep on insulting us." Draco looked down. She sighed and patted him on the shoulder. "But I know how it feels. To feel alone. You feel like you can't talk to anyone —"

"And when you want to talk to someone, you withdraw and feel as if there's something blocking you from saying it." Draco finished softly. The atmosphere turned comfortable as they looked over at the lake. Draco suddenly stood up. "Thank you, Wood. For everything, but you have to be careful."

Blair was confused. "Why?"

"You'll see." And Draco Malfoy left Blair, confused with a piece of toast in hand.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Blair did find out why. It turned out Umbridge had become Hogwarts' first ever High Inquisitor due to Hogwarts being "unsafe" and Dumbledore making "eccentric decisions." Blair rolled her eyes at that. The only eccentric teacher he had hired was Umbridge herself. Each and every one of them were outraged.

That day, they anticipated Umbridge's inspections, but she was not in History of Magic nor was she in double Potions. Blair was surprised when she got an E on her essay, expecting a A or D. She glared at Snape when he started saying that there were some people who got D's while looking straight at Harry, but she didn't even get to start her detentions with him yet so she keep her mouth shut.

Blair was pleased when her Strengthening Solution was as clear turquoise as Hermione's, and she was even more pleased when Harry's potion was better than it was last week. She delivered her flask to Snape's desk with a sense of relief.

"Wood, come here, and we'll arrange your detentions." Snape suddenly said as they were about to go.

Blair let out a sigh and waved to Harry, Ron and Hermione before going to Snape's desk. "Yes?"

Snape glared at her. "Careful, Wood. You wouldn't want to make it a week, would you?"

Blair took a deep breath before smiling forcibly. "No, Professor. I'm sorry."

Snape nodded once before speaking in his cold tone. "Well, we'll have your detentions, starting next week. You'll do the usual, scrubbing the cauldrons. And what would I get again if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"A Draught of Living Death."

Snape nodded curtly. "You will be making a Draught of Living Death on your third day. That's it, Wood. Now, go."

Blair immediately picked up her bag, muttered her thanks and walked to the Great Hall. Blair sat down beside Hermione and waved at Fred, George and Lee who were also sitting there.

"So, when's your detention?" Harry asked.

"Next week." Blair said, piling some potatoes on her plate. "Angelina's going to kill me." The Quidditch players looked at her with sympathy before continuing with the conversation. They were talking about O.W.L. grades.

"So top grade's O for 'Outstanding,' " Hermione was saying, "and then there's A —"

"No, E," George corrected her, "E for 'Exceeds Expectations.' And I've always thought Fred and I should've got E in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams."

They all laughed except Hermione, who plowed on, "So after E, it's A for 'Acceptable,' and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"

"Yep," said Fred. "Then you get P for 'Poor'" — Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration — "and D for 'Dreadful.'"

"And then T," George reminded him.

"T?" asked Hermione, looking appalled. "Even lower than a D? What on earth does that stand for?"

"'Troll,'" said George promptly.

Blair let out a laugh but shut up when Hermione looked at her disapprovingly. She winked at Hermione. "Don't worry, Granger. I promise to work hard for our future and our children." They all laughed but Hermione who just blushed and smacked Blair on the shoulder. Blair caught sight of Cedric and waved to him, earning a wave back from the Head Boy whose eyes flickered to Harry for a moment. The interaction made Hermione's eyebrows furrow, she didn't know Blair and Cedric were friends. Could it be...

"You and Diggory are friends, right, Blair?" George asked which made Hermione relieved that she did not have to ask the question. 

"Yeah, we became friends sometime last week." Blair smiled widely, but upon seeing their teasing looks and Hermione's unamused one and Harry's bothered one, she became confused. "What?"

"Just friends?" Fred asked teasingly, making the others laugh but there were two who were still bothered and one who still didn't have a clue about what was going on.

"Ced's just a friend." Blair answered slowly, trying to figure out what was going on. She could see them all still looking unconvinced and she let out a sigh. "Come on, you all know who I love." She winked at Hermione who blushed and a soft smile she couldn't hold in made its way onto her face. Sure, she was jealous a while ago, but Blair's reassurance was enough to let her know she had nothing to worry about. The four boys, even Harry, simply laughed and changed the topic.

"You lot had an inspected lesson yet?" Fred asked them.

"No," said Hermione at once, "have you?"

"Just now, before lunch," said George. "Charms."

"What was it like?" Harry and Ron asked together.

Fred shrugged. "Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like, he treated her like a guest, didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it."

"I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down," said George, "he usually gets everyone through their exams all right."

"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Blair.

"Trelawney —"

"A T if ever I saw one —"

"— and Umbridge herself."

"Well, be a good girl, Little B, and keep your temper with Umbridge today," said George. "Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices. Well, you know, not if she doesn't kill you yet after finding out about Snape."

Blair let out a heavy sigh. "I'm starting to think Oliver is in her, you know."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Blair was pulling out her dream diary when Ron elbowed her in the ribs. She looked around and saw Professor Umbridge entering through the trapdoor. The class fell silent at once.

"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"

Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawney's seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag, and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.

Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses. "We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. "Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other's latest nighttime visions with the aid of the Oracle."

She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left toward Parvati and Lavender, who were already deep in discussion about Parvati's most recent dream.

Blair opened her copy of The Dream Oracle, watching Umbridge covertly, as she sat beside Neville. Umbridge was making notes on her clipboard now. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in Trelawney's wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there.

Blair bent her head hurriedly over her book. "Think of a dream, quick," she told Neville, "in case the old toad comes our way."

Neville laughed slightly and thought hard. "Well, I dreamed of Trevor, turning into Professor Umbridge the other day."

Blair clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. After a few minutes, she calmed down. "Well, I dreamed that Snape and Umbridge got married. They suit each other. Greasy bat and foul toad." Blair and Neville laid their heads on the table to prevent themselves from laughing. Blair looked at Umbridge and Trelawney, who were directly behind her.

"Now," said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, "you've been in this post how long, exactly?"

Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, "Nearly sixteen years."

"Quite a period," said Professor Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. "So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?"

"That's right," said Professor Trelawney shortly.

Professor Umbridge made another note. "And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?"

"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher.

Another note on the clipboard. "But I think — correct me if I am mistaken — that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of second sight?"

"These things often skip — er — three generations," said Professor Trelawney.

Professor Umbridge's toadlike smile widened. "Of course," she said sweetly, making yet another note. "Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?" She looked up inquiringly, still smiling.

Professor Trelawney had stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. "I don't understand you," said Professor Trelawney, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.

"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umbridge very clearly.

Now, most of the class were staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her full height, her beads and bangles clinking. "The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" she said in scandalized tones.

"I see," said Professor Umbridge softly, making yet another note on her clipboard.

"I — but — but... wait!" said Professor Trelawney suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger. "I... I think I do see something... something that concerns you... Why, I sense something... something dark... some grave peril..." Professor Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Professor Umbridge who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised.

"I am afraid... I am afraid that you are in grave danger!" Professor Trelawney finished dramatically.

There was a pause. Professor Umbridge's eyebrows were still raised. "Right," she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. "Well, if that's really the best you can do..."

She turned away, leaving Professor Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving. Blair, Harry and Ron looked at each other. They all knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, they loathed Umbridge so much that they felt very much on Trelawney's side.

"Well?" Trelawney said, snapping her long fingers under Harry's nose, uncharacteristically brisk. "Let me see the start you've made on your dream diary, please." While Trelawney predicted Harry's death, Professor Umbridge stood a few feet away, making notes on that clipboard, and when the bell rang she descended the silver ladder first so that she was waiting for them all when they reached their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later. She was humming and smiling to herself when they entered the room.

Blair, Harry and Ron told Hermione exactly what had happened in Divination while they all took out their copies of Defensive Magical Theory, but before Hermione could ask any questions Professor Umbridge had called them all to order and silence fell.

"Wands away," she instructed them all smilingly, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out sadly returned them to their bags. "As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. Blair was fiddling with the pages when she noticed Hermione had her hand in the air again.

Professor Umbridge had noticed too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Hermione, she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face-to-face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, "What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read chapter two," said Hermione.

"Well then, proceed to chapter three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

Blair beamed proudly at Hermione. Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly. "Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He says that counterjinxes are improperly named," said Hermione promptly. "He says 'counterjinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows, and Blair smirked. She knew Umbridge was impressed against her will. "But I disagree," Hermione continued.

Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder. "You disagree?"

"Yes, I do," said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the rest of the class's attention. "Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you?" said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But —" Hermione began.

"That is enough," said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor House." There was an outbreak of muttering at this.

"What for?" said Blair angrily.

"Don't you get involved!" Hermione whispered urgently to her.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Professor Umbridge smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them — with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects — would have passed a Ministry inspection —"

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Blair loudly, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head." This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Blair had ever heard. Then —

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Ms. Wood," said Umbridge sleekly.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The cut on the back of Blair's hand had barely healed and by the following morning, it was bleeding again. She did not complain during the evening's detention; she was determined not to give Umbridge the satisfaction; over and over again she wrote I must not tell lies and not a sound escaped her lips, though the cut deepened with every letter.

The very worst part of this second week's worth of detentions was, just as George had predicted, Angelina's reaction. She cornered Blair just as she arrived at the Gryffindor table for breakfast on Tuesday and shouted so loudly that Professor McGonagall came sweeping down upon the pair of them from the staff table.

"Miss Johnson, how dare you make such a racket in the Great Hall! Five points from Gryffindor!"

"But Professor — she's gone and landed herself in detention again —"

"What's this, Wood?" said Professor McGonagall sharply, rounding on Blair. "Detention? From whom?"

"From Professor Umbridge and Snape," muttered Blair, not meeting Professor McGonagall's beady, square-framed eyes.

"Are you telling me," she said, lowering her voice so that the group of curious Ravenclaws behind them could not hear, "that after the warning I gave you last Monday you lost your temper in Professor Umbridge's class again?"

"Yes," Blair muttered, speaking to the floor.

"Wood, you must get a grip on yourself! You are heading for serious trouble! Another five points from Gryffindor!"

"But — what? Professor, no!" Blair said, furious at this injustice. "I'm already being punished by them, why do you have to take points as well?"

"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "No, not another word of complaint, Wood! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team Captaincy!" She strode back toward the staff table. Angelina gave Blair a look of deepest disgust and stalked away, upon which Blair flung herself onto the bench beside Ron, fuming.

"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?" Blair said angrily.

"I know, mate," said Ron sympathetically, tipping bacon onto Blair's plate, "she's bang out of order."

"Well, at least, she stopped Angelina from killing you." Harry said, patting Blair on the shoulders comfortingly. Hermione, however, merely rustled the pages of her Daily Prophet and said nothing.

"You don't think McGonagall was right, do you?" said Blair with a frown.

"I wish she hadn't taken points from you, but I think she's right to warn you not to lose your temper with Umbridge," said Hermione's voice. Blair took a deep breath and glared at Fudge's face. Hermione put down the newspaper and rubbed a thumb over Blair's left hand comfortingly before eating her breakfast.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

During Charms, Blair was silent, still fuming about what happened. When they entered Transfiguration, she forgot her anger. Professor Umbridge and her clipboard were sitting in a corner and the sight of her drove the memory of breakfast right out of her head.

"Excellent," whispered Ron, as they sat down in their usual seats. "Let's see Umbridge get what she deserves."

Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there. "That will do," she said and silence fell immediately. "Mr. Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework — Miss Brown, please take this box of mice — don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you — and hand one to each student —"

"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed back Blair's essay; Blair took it without looking at him and saw, to her relief, that she had managed an O.

"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," said Professor Umbridge.

"Yes?" said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.

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

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Many of the students exchanged looks of glee.

"As I was saying, today we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell —"

"Hem, hem."

"I wonder," said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking." Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously.

Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more. "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..."

"How she can lecture me about not losing my temper with Umbridge!" Blair said to Harry and Ron under her voice, but she was grinning; her anger with Professor McGonagall had quite evaporated.

Professor Umbridge did not follow Professor McGonagall around the class as she had followed Professor Trelawney; perhaps she thought that Professor McGonagall would not permit it. She did, however, take many more notes while she sat in her corner, and when Professor McGonagall finally told them all to pack away, rose with a grim expression on her face.

"Well, it's a start," said Ron, holding up a long, wriggling mouse tail and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around.

As they filed out of the classroom, Blair saw Professor Umbridge approach the teacher's desk; she nudged Harry, who nudged Ron, who nudged Hermione in turn, and the four of them deliberately fell back to eavesdrop.

"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Professor Umbridge asked.

"Thirty-nine years this December," said Professor McGonagall brusquely, snapping her bag shut.

Professor Umbridge made a note. "Very well," she said, "you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."

"I can hardly wait," said Professor McGonagall in a coldly indifferent voice, and she strode off toward the door. "Hurry up, you four," she added, sweeping Blair, Harry, Ron, and Hermione before her. Blair winked at her and could have sworn she received one in return.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When Care of Magical Creatures came, they found Umbridge and her clipboard waiting for them beside Professor Grubbly-Plank. "You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" Blair heard her ask as they arrived at the trestle table where the bowtruckles were.

"Quite correct," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid."

Blair exchanged uneasy looks with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Malfoy was whispering with Crabbe and Goyle; he would surely love this opportunity to tell tales on Hagrid to a member of the Ministry.

"Hmm," said Professor Umbridge, dropping her voice, though Blair could still hear her quite clearly, "I wonder — the headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter —can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?" Blair glared when she saw Malfoy look up eagerly.

"'Fraid I can't," said Professor Grubbly-Plank 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," said Professor Umbridge, scribbling upon her clipboard. Umbridge took a different tack in this class and wandered among the students, questioning them on magical creatures. Most people were able to answer well and Blair's spirits lifted somewhat; at least the class was not letting Hagrid down.

"Overall," said Professor Umbridge, returning to Professor Grubbly-Plank's side after a lengthy interrogation of Dean, "how do you, as a temporary member of staff — an objective outsider, I suppose you might say — how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?"

"Oh, yes, Dumbledore's excellent," said Professor Grubbly-Plank heartily. "No, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed."

Looking politely incredulous, Umbridge made a tiny note on her clipboard and went on, "And what are you planning to cover with this class this year — assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?"

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

"Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," said Professor Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard.

Blair did not like the emphasis she put on "you" and liked it even less when she put her next question to Goyle: "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"

Goyle gave a stupid grin. Malfoy hastened to answer the question. "That was me," he said. "I was slashed by a hippogriff."

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

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

Harry, Ron and Hermione groaned. Professor Umbridge turned her head slowly in Blair's direction.

"Another night's detention, I think," she said softly. "Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."

"Jolly good," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Professor Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was nearly midnight when Blair left Umbridge's office that night, her hand now bleeding so severely that it was staining the scarf she had wrapped around it. She expected the common room to be empty when she returned, but Harry, Ron and Hermione had sat up waiting for her. Blair was pleased to see them, especially since Hermione was there.

"Here," Hermione said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid toward her, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help."

Blair placed her bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around her legs, purring loudly, and then leapt into her lap and settled down. "Thanks," she said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with her left hand.

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

"No," said Blair flatly.

Harry frowned at her. "McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Blair. "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?" Nobody spoke. She was right. They couldn't risk losing more of their Professors.

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

"I suggested poison," said Harry grimly.

Blair's eyes twinkled. "I second the motion, but maybe, some Skulking Sandwiches?"

"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," said Hermione.

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

"Well," said Hermione tentatively. "You know, I was thinking today..." She shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and Blair and then plunged on, "I was thinking that — maybe the time's come when we should just — just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Harry suspiciously while exchanging confused looks with Blair.

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

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

"But this is much more important than homework!" said Hermione. Blair, Harry and Ron goggled at her.

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

"Don't be silly, of course there is!" said Hermione, and Blair's heart started beating faster when her face was suddenly alight with passion. "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry and Blair 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," said Ron 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," said Hermione. "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Remus..." Blair began.

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's too busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."

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

Hermione heaved a very deep sigh. "Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm talking about you and Blair, Harry."

There was a moment's silence. A light night breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron and the fire guttered. Blair and Harry stared at each other before turning to Hermione.

"About us what?" said Blair.

"I'm talking about you two teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts." Blair stared at her with an open mouth. She looked at Harry, both of them looked confused and surprised and doubtful. Then, Blair looked at Ron, but to her surprise, he didn't look exasperated every time Hermione talked about something like this.

Ron was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then he said, "That's an idea."

"What's an idea?" said Blair.

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

"But..." Blair started.

Harry was suddenly, grinning now, sure the pair of them were pulling their legs. "But we're not teachers, we can't —"

"Blair, you're the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.

"Me?" said Blair, now grinning as well. "No I'm not, you've beaten me in every test —"

"Actually, I haven't," said Hermione coolly. "You and Harry beat me in our third year — the only year we all sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, you two. Look what you've done!"

Blair's grin fell. "How d'you mean?"

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

"But that was luck," said Harry, "that wasn't skill —"

"Second year," Ron interrupted, "you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle."

Blair ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up we —"

"Third year," said Ron, louder still, "you fought off about a hundred dementors at once —"

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't —"

"Last year," Ron said, almost shouting now, "you two fought off You-Know-Who again —"

"Listen to us!" said Harry, almost angrily, because Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. Blair was frowning as well. "Just listen to us, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck — we didn't know what we were doing half the time, we didn't plan any of it, we just did whatever we could think of, and we nearly always had help —" 

Ron and Hermione were still smirking and Blair felt her temper rising. She winced and pulled her hand out of the bowl before glaring at them.

"Don't sit there grinning like you know better than we do, we were there, weren't we?" Harry said heatedly. "We know what went on, all right? And we didn't get through any of that because we were brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts. Well, Blair is brilliant, but... We got through it all because — because help came at the right time, or because we guessed right — but we just blundered through it all, we didn't have a clue what we were doing — STOP LAUGHING!"

The bowl of murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed as Harry stood up. Ron and Hermione's smiles had vanished. Blair took a deep breath before standing up and putting a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder.

Blair looked at Ron and Hermione with a frown. "Look, you two don't know what it's like. You said it yourself. Neither of you had to face him. It's not just like memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him. 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 parents 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 we're a clever little boy and a strong little girl to be standing here alive... Look, my parents — you just don't get it. That could have been Harry or me if Voldemort didn't need us —"

"We weren't saying anything like that, mates," said Ron, looking aghast. "We weren't having a go at your parents, we didn't — you've got the wrong end of the —" He looked helplessly at Hermione, whose face was stricken. 

"Blair, Harry," she said timidly, "don't you see? This... this is exactly why we need you... We need to know what it's r-really like... facing him... facing V-Voldemort."

It was the first time she had ever said Voldemort's name, and it was this, more than anything else, that calmed Blair and Harry. Blair sank back into her chair, shaking her arm out as her hand was throbbing horribly again.

"Well... think about it," said Hermione quietly. "Please?"

Blair looked down and nodded. She was feeling ashamed that she blew up at them when all they ever wanted to do was to help, and there it was again. Her parents' deaths were still looming over her head, never leaving her mind.

Hermione stood up. "Well, I'm off to bed," she said in a voice that was clearly as natural as she could make it. "Erm... 'night."

Ron had gotten to his feet too. "Coming?" he said awkwardly.

Blair shook her head. "I'll stay here."

"Yeah," said Harry. "In... in a minute. I'll just clear this up." He indicated the smashed bowl on the floor. Ron nodded and left.

"Reparo," Harry muttered, pointing his wand at the broken pieces of china. It was silent between the two of them.

Harry stood up. "Night, Blair."

"Night, Harry." Blair muttered and watched him walk up the stairs. She held her head in her hands and let out a shaky sigh before she got to her feet and walked back to the dormitory. She saw that all her roommates but Hermione were asleep.

Hermione was in her bed and smiled weakly at her. "Hey, Blair. I'm sorry about... that."

Blair shrugged and fell on her own bed. "I'm sorry too, Hermione. Good night."

"Good night, Blair."

Those were the last words Blair heard before her restless night was punctuated once more by dreams of long corridors and locked doors, and she awoke next day with her scar prickling again.

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