•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The week passed by slowly for Deanna, who acted as if everything was fine. She had a huge amount of homework that she did in the kitchens or in the bathroom, and Umbridge would always keep her and Harry until midnight so she would have only a few hours of sleep. She avoided Dumbledore and slept in the kitchens for the rest of the week. Harry and her had a silent agreement not to tell anyone about what they were going through. It was their fight. On Friday before her meeting with Umbridge, Harry had apologized once more for her taking his detention and having to suffer another week of Umbridge's torture, but Deanna told him again and again that she was fine.

Everyone was worried for her. The Hufflepuffs were asked by Dumbledore if Deanna was sleeping in their Common Room, but they said no, thinking she was sleeping in the Headmaster's Office. The badgers exchanged uneasy glances but knew they shouldn't push on. Deanna had walls all around her, and they shouldn't do anything to make those walls grow higher. In the short durations of his free time, Dumbledore would look for his daughter but couldn't see her during meals or those times. He knew there was something wrong with her, and every time he would think of a reason as to what was wrong her, his concern would grow more and more.

To avoid everyone, Deanna usually stayed with Myrtle and Peeves in the bathroom, telling them about what she was going through. The two ghosts were absolutely horrified and their hatred for the professor in pink grew even more, but they knew that they couldn't tell anyone because telling people, especially Dumbledore, was breaking Deanna's trust.

It was Saturday morning. Deanna was doing her homework in Astronomy. The doors to the kitchen suddenly opened, and Deanna's eyes widened when Hermione came in, rushing to her. "There you are, Deanna."

"Her –" Deanna was cut off when Hermione suddenly hugged her. "How did you find me?"

"Professor Dumbledore asked us where you were," said Hermione, pulling away. "And we said you've been sleeping in the our Common Room because you're busy with homework."

Deanna sighed in relief. "Thank you, Mione, but how did you find me?"

Hermione smiled softly at the use of her nickname before glaring at the girl. "Give me your hand."

"W-What?" said Deanna, her heart beating fast. Did she know? Did Harry tell them? Hermione raised an eyebrow and Deanna let out a sigh before holding her unscarred hand out. "Here."

"The other one." Deanna looked down. Hermione Granger surely was persistent, but she had no escape anymore. She held out her right hand, and the Gryffindor gasped as she read the words on the back of Deanna's hand.

"Deanna," said Hermione, teary-eyed. "S-She can't –"

"She did, Hermione. And I'm fine –"

"What she is doing isn't fine, that foul twisted gargoyle! You're not fine at all. You've been sleeping in the kitchens and avoiding everybody. How is that fine, Deanna? You don't have to fight your battles alone. You've got us. You've got me."

Deanna felt a pang at her heart at her words. Fifty years ago, a man she loved told her that, and he had gone and left Deanna alone, but when she looked into Hermione's eyes and saw nothing but sincerity and kindness, Deanna thought that maybe this time, it would be different. Maybe Hermione would be here to stay.

"I –" Deanna found it hard to express the gratitude she felt in words. She opened her mouth and closed it before she simply leaned in and placed a kiss on Hermione's forehead. "Thank you... Mione."

Lub dub... lub dub... Hermione's cheeks flushed. There was a warmth lingering on her forehead. She stared at the beaming girl in front of her, and unknowingly, a smile spread across her face. "I'm here for you, Deanna, and don't you think for a second that you shouldn't have returned because you're the best thing that happened to us this year."

"I don't regret a thing, Mione," said Deanna softly. "I got to meet you, and that's what makes it all worth it."

Lub dub... lub dub... There it was again. A strange sensation came over Hermione's body as she smiled back at Deanna. But no matter how strange it was, Hermione would welcome it every time it would come. It made her feel warm like a fire was lit inside her. She promised then. She would be there for the Hufflepuff and get to know her better.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"Okay, I can do this. I can do this. I'm Angelic Ariana, yes I am." Deanna took in a deep breath as she arrived at the gargoyle on Monday morning. "Fizzing Whizbee." The gargoyle moved aside and Deanna smiled at him weakly as she walked up the stairs and to her father's office. She took in another deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Come in," said Dumbledore softly, and as Deanna pushed the door open, Dumbledore's eyes widened when he saw who was there. "Hello, love."

"Hey, Pops," said Deanna, smiling slightly and sitting down in front of him. She glanced at her father who was watching her with a soft smile, and she did what she didn't what to do. She met her father's light blue eyes that were same as her own, and everything she was holding in since Tuesday had came out. Dumbledore kept himself composed though he was raging inside. How dare that woman touch his daughter? How dare she tell Deanna that she should not have returned? And he raged even more at the thought that he didn't know and that he couldn't prevent his daughter from getting hurt.

Deanna knew that though her father looked calm, there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. She knew he was angry about what happened. She reached over for his hand with her scarred one and smiled at him, "I'm fine, Pops. Don't even think about doing something. I need you here, and for you to be here, we need to keep our heads down."

"Keep our heads down?" said Dumbledore, raising his eyebrow. Deanna smiled guiltily. She was the hothead between the two of them. Dumbledore shook his head in amusement and let out a sigh. "I won't do anything if you promise that you and Harry will try to keep your heads down."

"Deal, Pops," said Deanna, raising her hand. Dumbledore chuckled softly and high-fived her. And of course, the two of them had their fingers crossed behind their backs. Those promises were ones that would be broken soon. An owl suddenly flew in the office and dropped two copies of the Daily Prophet. Deanna took one and read the headline. Her eyes narrowed as she read the main article.

"Pops, did you see this?" said Deanna, holding out the Daily Prophet. "Look at what they're saying. Dolores Umbridge is Hogwarts' first ever High Inquisitor. And they're saying you've made eccentric decisions! What is this bloody Ministry doing?"

"Calm down, love," said Dumbledore in slight amusement. "Like we promised, we won't do anything. Remember, we'll keep our heads down, all right?"

"All right," said Deanna, looking down at the Prophet and frowning at the face of Cornelius Fudge. This man was driven by fear, and he was doing everything to stop them from spreading the word about his return, but Deanna wasn't too worried. She had faith in Dumbledore. Dumbledore always had a plan, and he could make things right... in time.

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"Godric's mushrooms," muttered Deanna as Umbridge entered the Divination classroom. "This toad just wants to do everything." Harry and Ron chuckled lowly.

"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 turned her back on Umbridge. Umbridge sat at the front of the class and took out her clipboard.

"We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," said Trelawney, her voice shaking. "Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each other's latest nighttime visions with the aid of the Oracle."

Since the number of students were odd, Deanna, Harry and Ron made a trio. While reading through her own copy of The Dream Oracle, she watched Umbridge, who was writing on her clipboard.

"Think of a dream, quick," said Harry. "In case the old toad comes our way."

"Hmm," said Ron. "I dreamed we won the House Cup."

"Oh right," said Deanna. "That's right, you're Seeker, right, Harry? And Keeper, Ron?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "Did you play, Deanna?"

"I was a Beater," chuckled Deanna. "I kept on aiming for Walburga Black." Harry and Ron chuckled once more. Deanna smiled and turned around to watch Umbridge and Trelawney.

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

"Nearly sixteen years," said Trelawney resentfully.

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

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

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.

"Of course," Umbridge said sweetly, making yet another note. "Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?" She looked up inquiringly, still smiling. Deanna exchanged glances with Harry and Ron. They had told her that Trelawney had made false predictions before, especially with Harry's death.

"I don't understand you," said Professor Trelawney, clutching her shawl.

"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umbridge very clearly. All eyes were on Professor Trelawney, who looked as if Umbridge had asked something so scandalous.

"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!"

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

"I — but — but... wait!" said Professor Trelawney suddenly. "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, whose eyebrows were raised. "I am afraid... I am afraid that you are in grave danger!"

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 and roamed around the classroom while Professor Trelawney stood rooted to her spot. Deanna glared at Umbridge, who was smiling widely at her. She would even embarrass a Professor in front of her class? That just gave Deanna more reason to feel more loathing for this, borrowing Hermione's words, foul evil cockroach.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"And she just embarrassed Professor Trelawney in front of the whole class!" said Deanna angrily to Pomona and Minerva. She had an hour before her detention with Umbridge and she thought she better spend her time with Pomona and Minerva after not talking to them for a week. The two Professors were horrified when they heard about the detentions she had and that she had another week of them, but Deanna brushed it off saying it was the last anyways. "How were your inspections?"

"She didn't say much," said Pomona. "Just asked a few questions and scribbled on her clipboard."

"You'd be proud of me, Dee," said Minerva smugly. She told Deanna and Pomona about how she had shot back at Professor Umbridge countless times, causing the toad to be all flustered throughout the inspection. Deanna and Pomona were laughing loudly when she finished.

"Helga, you've made me proud indeed, Min," said Deanna in between her laughs. When they all calmed down, she stood up and smiled grimly at her two friends. "Well, I'll see you when I see you. I better get to the old toad."

Deanna left at that and started on her way to Umbridge's office. She nodded at the Professor and sat down beside Harry, who had earned another detention after defending Hermione in class.

"You know what to do," said Umbridge, smiling sweetly. And the two teenagers exchanged glances before they started writing again. Deanna's head had hurt again as it always did every time she used the Blood Quill, but as she always did, she ignored it and continued writing. The only sounds heard for the next seven hours were the scribbling on the parchment. Deanna and Harry still persisted in not making a sound, not giving her the satisfaction. When the clock struck midnight, Deanna and Harry bid good night and left the room.

That was their routine since their first detention. The two of them would ask each other if they were fine, and somehow, talk about different things along the way. Harry would talk about his thoughts that he hadn't opened to anyone else. About Voldemort and how he's been feeling so angry all the time. Deanna opened up about how lonely she had been feeling since learning of her friends' deaths. It may have been too early to talk about deep topics like that. After all, they've known each other for not even a month, but they just had that connection to each other. As if they've been friends since long ago. And it helped Deanna that Harry had a resemblance to Dallas in his personality. Their hands were bleeding so severely that even as they were wrapped in scarves, there were still droplets of blood on the floor.

"Why don't you come with me, Deanna?" said Harry. "We could patch up our wounds there."

"Thanks, Da-Harry," said Deanna gratefully, remembering how Dallas too had wrapped her bruised knuckles with bandages after she had punched Abraxas Malfoy in the face. She and Harry went into the Gryffindor common room and to her surprise, Hermione and Ron were there, waiting up for Harry.

"Hey, Deanna," said Ron pleasantly.

"Ron, Mione," said Deanna, smiling at them.

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

"Thanks, Mione." Deanna placed her bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and sighed in contentment. Crookshanks purred and settled down in Deanna's lap. She scratched him behind the ear with her left hand.

"Thanks," said Harry.

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

"No," said Harry flatly. Deanna didn't know if she should tell them that they already know.

Ron frowned at him. "McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry. "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. He was right though. Losing more of their Professors would be losing more of their allies.

"They know," said Deanna suddenly. All of them stared at her. "I told Pops, and he told Pomona and Minerva, and I told them all to keep silent, Harry," she added when Harry glared at her.

"Sorry, Deanna," mumbled Harry, his face softening.

"It's fine," said Deanna in a light tone. "Anyways, this is our fight. Not Pops', not Minerva's, not Pomona's or yours, Ron, Hermione. We're going to win this, so don't worry, alright?" She looked at them with a firm gaze that Ron and Hermione simply nodded and did not speak about it anymore.

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

"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly.

"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 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. Deanna was curious now. What was Hermione going on about?

"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 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. Harry and Ron goggled at her.

"That's the spirit, Hermione," said Deanna, smiling at the witch proudly. Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly and she smiled at the Dumbledore gratefully.

"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. Deanna held back a chuckle when passion had lit up Hermione's face. "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year —"

"We can't do much by ourselves," 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." Deanna's eyes widened. Was this going where she thought it was going? Was she suggesting...

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

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione said. "I'm talking about you, Harry." Deanna turned to look at Harry, who stared at Hermione.

"About me what?" said Harry.

"She's talking about you teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Deanna.

Harry looked confused and surprised before turning to Ron, who was frowning slightly. He was silent for a few moments. Then he said, "That's an idea."

"What's an idea?" said Harry.

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

"But..." Harry started. He was grinning now. "But I'm not a teacher, I can't —"

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

"Me?" said Harry. "No I'm not, you've beaten me in every test —"

"Actually, I haven't," said Hermione coolly. "You 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. Look at what you've done!"

Harry'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. "Let's think. Uh... first year — you 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."

"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 fought off You-Know-Who again —"

"Listen to me!" said Harry, almost angrily, because Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. Deanna kept silent, watching the scene play out. Ron and Hermione's reactions were riling Harry up, especially since he had just gone through a detention with Umbridge, he would be even angrier. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck — I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help —"

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

The bowl of murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed as Harry stood up. Ron and Hermione's smiles had vanished. Deanna waved her wand and fixed the bowl, squeezing Harry's hand with her slightly wet hand. Harry took in a deep breath and smiled slightly at her. He 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 a friend die — they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that — and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here alive... Look, Cedric — you just don't get it. That could have been me if Voldemort didn't need me —"

"We weren't saying anything like that, mate," said Ron, looking aghast. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't — you've got the wrong end of the —"

"Harry," Hermione 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."

Deanna realized that it may have been the first time she said Voldemort's name by the way she was shaking. She smiled slightly at the thought that people were growing braver now to say his name. After all, fear of a name would only increase fear of the thing itself. Harry sat back down in his chair beside Deanna, putting his hand in the bowl Deanna held out for him.

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

Hermione stood up. "Well, I'm off to bed. Erm... 'night. Good night, Deanna."

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

"Yeah," said Harry. "In... in a minute." 

"Good night, Deanna, Harry," said Ron as he nodded and left while Harry stared at the fire. Deanna took out the bandage she borrowed from Madame Pomfrey and took Harry's scarred hand while wrapping it carefully with the bandage.

Harry watched her gently work on his hand before speaking. "W-What do you think, Deanna? About their idea?"

"I think it's mad," said Deanna.

"I knew –"

"But brilliant," she cut him off and patted his bandaged hand. "Harry, you may think that all of those challenges you've been through were all because of luck and help, but in the real world, those things don't really work. You said it yourself. You've only got yourself and your guts. These things are what happen in the real world. Seeing a friend die in front of you or being betrayed by someone you loved. I know how you feel," she paused, staring at him before continuing. "I once knew a boy, Harry. You honestly remind me so much of him."

"Who?"

"Dallas River," said Deanna, smiling at the thought of her friend. "He was a Slytherin, but he was unlike most of them. Not at all. He was a pureblood, who was named a blood traitor. Dallas always found a way to fight for what he believed in. He was somewhat our mediator. He was a great leader, and if he was in your situation, I know he'd be like how you are right now. He'll be wary and he'll think about it hard, but he'll make a choice at the end of the day, and it always seems to be the right one."

Harry pursed his lips in thought. "What choice do you think he'd make?

"The same choice you'll make, Harry," said Deanna, smiling at him. "I suggest you go sleep for the night and think about this tomorrow, eh?"

"Thank you, Deanna," said Harry, pulling her into an unexpected hug. Deanna smiled widely and wrapped her arms around the Boy Who Lived. "Good night."

"Good night, Harry," said Deanna before going out of the Common Room. She walked to the Headmaster's office using some of the shortcuts she, Ignatius, Thaddeus and Magnus used. She waved at the gargoyle tiredly. "Fizzing Whizbee, sir." The gargoyle slid open and muttered, "Good night, Miss Deanna." She yawned and knocked on the door.

"Come in," said Dumbledore, and he smiled when he saw Deanna. "Hello, love," he said, reading some papers on his desk. "How was your day?"

"Quite fine, Pops, though I'm quite tired. Do you mind if I turn in for the night?"

"Not at all, Deanna. Good night, dear."

"Good night, Pops," said Deanna before she went up to her room. She smiled at the growing Fawkes and stroked his feathers. "And good night, Fawkes." She lay back on her bed and closed her eyes, plunging into the long corridor and the locked door.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

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