•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Deanna sat down beside Ernie for their first class of Defense Against the Dark Arts while Susan and Hannah sat behind them. She looked blankly at Umbridge, who was smiling widely at Deanna. The class was very quiet as they entered the room.

"Well, good afternoon!"

"Good afternoon," mumbled a few people across the class.

"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 said a little louder now but still in the same dull tone.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please." Deanna looked at her with caution as she did as ordered. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

Defense 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? 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 O.W.L. year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, 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 recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

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

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 said, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" There were murmurs all around 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."

"Good, I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk." Deanna opened her copy and read in silence. She frowned though when she looked at the course aims and saw there was nothing at all about defensive spells. It was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and all they were doing was reading? She raised her hand and stared at Umbridge.

Ernie looked at her questioningly. "Deanna? What-"

"Don't worry, Ernie," whispered Deanna, still staring at Umbridge and her hand still in the air. When she saw Umbridge glance at her and look back down as if she hadn't seen anything, Deanna cleared her throat, and all heads turned to them.

Umbridge took a deep breath and smiled at Deanna. "Yes, dear? Did you want to ask something about the chapter?"

"Aren't we going to practice spells?" said Deanna. "It is Defense Against the Dark Arts after all. And we won't be able to defend if we don't practice... Professor." Some of the Hufflepuffs stifled their laughter. Deanna felt Ernie shaking beside her while Umbridge's smile fell off her face.

"Miss Dumbledore, our course aims are clear. Understand-"

"So we're doing Principles against the Dark Arts? Are we supposed to throw books at our attackers?" said Deanna bluntly. "Professor, you-"

"Do you expect to be attacked during class, Miss Dumbledore?"

"Did I say during class, Professor? I don't think I said that," said Deanna, raising an eyebrow. All of the Hufflepuffs were looking at Deanna with a mixture of awe and fear. Some of them knew where this was going, and it was what the Prophet and the Ministry had been against.

"Are we not going to use magic, Professor?" said Ernie hastily, squeezing Deanna's hand to calm her down. Deanna smiled slightly at him before looking back at Umbridge with narrowed eyes.

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

"Macmillan," said Ernie, thrusting his hand into the air. Deanna, Susan, Hannah and Justin all raised their hands as well.

"Yes, Miss —?" Umbridge said, nodding at Susan.

"Bones," said Susan. "Surely, the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

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

"She never said she was one, Professor," said Deanna, her eyes flashing but her voice cool. "She was just asking a question and —"

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

"What use is that? If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a —"

"Hand, Ms. Dumbledore!" sang Professor Umbridge. "And your name is?" she said to Justin.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"Well, Mr. Finch-Fletchley?"

"Well, it's like Deanna said, isn't it?" said Justin. "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 Justin, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but —"

Professor Umbridge talked over him. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"Remus Lupin is more qualified than —" said Deanna angrily.

"Hand, Miss Dumbledore! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —"

"No we haven't," Susan said, "we just —"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Bones! It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —"

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Ernie hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads —"

"Your hand is not up, Mr. Macmillan!" trilled Professor Umbridge. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Hannah.

"Hannah Abbott, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"

"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.

"Without ever practicing them before?" said Hannah 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 —"

"What would theory help in the real world?" said Deanna loudly, her arms crossed.

Professor Umbridge looked up. "This is school, Miss Dumbledore, not the real world," she said softly.

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

"There is nothing waiting out there, Miss Dumbledore. Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

"How about Voldemort?" said Deanna, standing up. She heard the whispers and gasps around the room, but she was staring at Umbridge only.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff, Miss Dumbledore. Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —"

"He wasn't dead, Professor, he's returned."

"Miss-Dumbledore-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself. 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. How do you explain how I —"

"Detention, Miss Dumbledore! For a week!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "See me tomorrow at 5, my office." Deanna was about to say something when Ernie pulled her down and shook his head. Deanna took in a deep breath and clenched her jaw. 1, 2... She couldn't hold it in. She stood up once more.

"Deanna, don't!" Hannah whispered in a warning voice, but Deanna was staring at Umbridge only.

"Are you simply ignoring the death of a boy?" asked Deanna, her voice steady and she clenched her fists to keep them from shaking. "Did Cedric Diggory drop dead of his own accord? Is that what you and that bloody Prophet are saying?" Deanna heard them all breathe in. She knew Cedric Diggory meant a lot to the Hufflepuffs. He was a hero, a friend, a brother and a leader. He was the true symbolism of Hufflepuff, and that was just more reason to defend his memory.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," said Umbridge, the smile wept away from her face.

"Voldemort killed him, and you know it," said Deanna, her voice now much colder.

Umbridge's face was blank for a moment. She spoke in the softest voice that Deanna knew meant danger. "Come here, Miss Dumbledore."

Deanna walked up to her calmly and watched Umbridge scribble on a piece of pink parchment furiously. She glanced behind her and saw the Hufflepuffs looking at her with pride and joy. Deanna felt a pang in her heart when she realized that the Hufflepuffs had lost a spark in them, the golden ray of hope that died with Cedric Diggory. She winked at the Hufflepuffs before looking back at Umbridge. She rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand, and it sealed itself up. "Take this to Professor Sprout, dear.

Deanna nodded silently and walked up to the door. Just as she was about to open it, she turned around and looked at Umbridge with a blank face. "The truth about my return will come out soon, and by then, you won't be able to deny... Voldemort's back, and you better be ready when he comes."

With that, Deanna left the classroom and started walking on her way to Pomona's office. She turned the corner and walked into Peeves. "Hello, Peevesy."

"Hello, Daredevil," cackled Peeves while walking with her. "What's that in your hand?"

"I've got detention," said Deanna simply. "For a week."

"It's just the first day," gasped Peeves. "Who do you have detention with?" 

"Professor Umbridge."

"That toad has it coming... Why'd you get detention, little badger?" Deanna told Peeves all about her intense class of Defense Against the Dark Arts while they walked to Pomona's office. As they arrived, Deanna finished telling the tale and Peeves had a huge frown on his face when she finished.

"Don't worry, little badger, Peevesy's got this," said Peeves.

Deanna smiled gratefully at him and patted his head. "Thank you, Peevesy, but I can do it. I'll see you later." She knocked on Pomona's door, and the door flew open to reveal Pomona who looked surprised at the sight of her.

"Deanna? Why aren't you in class?" Pomona asked with concern in her voice. 

"Here, Pommy," said Deanna, holding out her note. 

Pomona slit it open with a tap of her wand and began to read. Her face became graver with every word she read. Then, she frowned and looked up at Deanna. "Come in, Dee." Deanna followed her inside. Pomona still had a frown on her face as she faced Deanna. "Is this true? Did you talk back to Professor Umbridge."

"Yep."

"You talked to her in a sarcastic tone?"

"Well, not really sarcastic, more like calm?" said Deanna innocently, and Pomona sighed, knowing her friend, now student, had a different definition of sarcastic and calm.

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

"Hmm... I think I did."

"Oh, dear," said Pomona, rubbing her forehead. "Come along then." Deanna's eyes twinkled when she saw her favorite hotdogs on the table. She was about to grab them when Pomona held an arm out. Deanna looked up at her and pouted. Pomona immediately looked away, knowing that her resolve might break.

"Sit and listen then you can eat," said Pomona, pointing to the chair. Deanna immediately obeyed, alternating her gaze between Pomona and the hotdogs.

"Deanna, you have to be careful. You've got a week of detentions with her, and who knows what may happen to you? You could be expelled or put in Azkaban. This is not anymore about telling the truth or not. This is about keeping you head and temper down. The Ministry is interfering, Dee, and we have to be careful or we'd be losing the war before it had even started."

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Dumbledore had reprimanded Deanna after hearing she had detention with Umbridge, but she reassured her father that it was only a week, and the worst that could possibly happen was lines. The next day, she learned that Harry too had detention with Umbridge and even shouted at her. Of course, she clapped the Gryffindor on the back and praised him for what he had done.

Hermione gave Deanna a reprimanding when she had learned that she too had earned detention, but the worst thing that could happen was writing lines... It was Umbridge after all. When the clock struck five minutes to five, Deanna and Harry had arrived at Umbridge's office. 

"Good evening, Miss Dumbledore, Mister Potter. Sit."

"Good evening," said Deanna stiffly as she sat down on one of the armchairs that each had a piece of blank parchment on them. Harry, on the other hand, remained where he was.

"Er... Professor Umbridge?" said Harry in a small voice. "Before we start, I-I wanted to ask you a... a favor."

"Oh yes?" said Umbridge, her eyes narrowing.

"Well I'm... I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o'clock on Friday and I was — was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it — do it another night... instead..." Harry's voice died down, and he glanced at Deanna, who stared at him, thinking of a way to help.

"Oh no," said Umbridge, smiling so widely. "Oh no, no, no. This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mister Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at five o'clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you."

"What if I take it for him?" Deanna blurted out. Harry looked at her with wide eyes while Umbridge's smile became even wider.

"Deanna-"

"Quiet, Harry," said Deanna, staring at Umbridge. "I'll take his Friday detention. Would that be fine?"

"Let's make a deal, Miss Dumbledore," said Umbridge, now grinning at her. Deanna crossed her arms to prevent herself from shaking. "You'll take Mister Potter's one night for a week."

"You can't-"

"Silence, Mister Potter or that will be another week of detentions for you," said Umbridge, her eyes flashing at him, before she smiled back at Deanna. "What do you say, Miss Dumbledore?"

"Deanna, no!" whispered Harry angrily.

Without even looking at him, Deanna held out her hand. "It's a deal, Professor."

Professor Umbridge smiled widely before shaking Deanna's hand. "Sit down, Mister Potter, and we shall start." Harry looked like he was about to protest, but Deanna tugged on his robes, signaling to him to calm down. Harry took in a deep breath and sat down beside Deanna.

"You're going to do some lines with me, Miss Dumbledore, Mister Potter," she added when Deanna and Harry opened their bags. "No, not with your quills. You will be using a rather special quill of mine." Deanna and Harry looked at each other warily but did as she said anyways.

"Now, Mister Potter, I want you to write 'I must not tell lies' while you, Miss Dumbledore, shall write 'I should not have returned.'"

Harry's mouth opened and Deanna stomped on his foot hard. "How many times?" she asked, avoiding Harry's glare.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go."

"You haven't given us any ink," Harry said, holding his foot in pain.

"Oh, you won't need ink," said Umbridge. Deanna sighed deeply and wrote: I should not have returned. She clenched her fists as the words appeared on parchment in red ink, but the words had also cut into Deanna's hand. The cut healed smoothly, but the words were still there. She felt a sudden throb in her head, feeling as if it wanted to split open, but she shook off the pain anyways. She looked at Harry and saw his face contorting in pain, the words appearing on the back of his hand.

Deanna glared up at Umbridge. "You old –"

"I think we'll keep you until midnight. For disrespect of your Professor, Miss Dumbledore," said Umbridge, smiling at her.

"That's –"

"And the same for you, Mister Potter." Harry closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, mouthing to Deanna if she was okay. Deanna nodded subtly, saying that she was. She took in a deep breath and continued writing. I should not have returned, I should not have returned, I should not have returned... Every time she would write, her head would start hurting again, and she knew it was no coincidence. Those words would scar her hands forever, but it made the fire in Deanna's soul rage even more. She was feared by the Ministry. She was proof of Voldemort's return. That was why they didn't want her back, and they were trying to keep her silent, but she was a Dumbledore, and Dumbledores fought with everything they had.

"Come here," Umbridge said when it was midnight. "Hands."

Deanna and Harry held out their hands while Umbridge examined it. "Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet," Umbridge said, smiling. "Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You two may go."

Deanna and Harry nodded once and left her office. As they were out, the two of them started running up the corridors, their hands throbbing. When they were a floor away from the foul toad, Deanna looked at Harry in worry as they stopped and gasped for breath. "Are you fine, Harry?"

"I am, Deanna," gasped Harry before he glared at her. "Why did you have to take another week just for one night? You realize your hand could be scarred forever with those words?"

"Maybe, Harry, but you're a friend of mine. That night means a lot to you, and that week is nothing to me. These scars are parts of us, Harry. Just like how that lightning bolt is a part of you, these scars will be a part of me too. I've returned, Harry, and the fact she just made me write that affirms that even more."

Harry looked at her with tears in his eyes before he pulled the Hufflepuff into a hug. Deanna was surprised for a moment before she hugged him back, just as tight, rubbing his back comfortingly, not sure about what just happened. The truth was she had just given Harry what he had been longing for a while now. Understanding. Deanna understood because she too had gone through many horrors as Harry did, and that was when Harry Potter promised to himself. He would be the loyal lion to this brave badger for the rest of his life.

When the two of them pulled away, they bid each other good night and went on their respective ways. Deanna walked mindlessly up the corridor, her hand throbbing. She walked quickly to the kitchens. She knew she was a Hufflepuff and she could go into the Common Room, but she didn't want to talk to anyone right now, she needed to be by herself. She tickled the pear and ran in.

"Miss Dumbledore?" said Dobby, a house-elf Deanna met during the past week. "Dobby is happy to see you, miss."

"As am I, Dobby. Can I sleep here tonight?" said Deanna in a small voice.

"Yes, Miss," said Dobby, concern lacing his voice. "Are you all right?"

"Y-Yeah, just tired," said Deanna, lying down on the couch the house-elves fixed up. "Thank you to you all. Good night."

"Good night, miss," rang out across the kitchen, but Deanna was wide awake. What if the other students would experience what had just happened to her and Harry a few moments ago? She stared up at the ceiling and thought about what just happened. What if the other students would also experience having words cut into their hands? What if her father would find out what happened? She had to keep it from him, no matter what. And why did her head start hurting as if she'd lose her head every time she wrote? Then, she smiled softly at the thought of Harry. She had a new friend in Fleamont Jr., and she was sure their friendship was one for a lifetime. Deanna thought Harry was just like Dallas. A selfless and brave leader. Deanna went off to sleep with those thoughts in mind before her dreams started drifting off to a windowless corridor and a locked door.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•