Chapter 24

Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Oh, nope, no money either...just for fun.

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Severus entered the staff room and frowned slightly, but imperceptibly to anyone who didn't know him well, at the witch sitting with imperious propriety between Dumbledore and Minerva wearing Pepto-Bismol pink robes and a matching pillbox-shaped hat. He sidestepped his usual chair and sat between Madam Hooch and Flitwick, getting warm smiles from both.

"An' how was your summer, Severus?" Rolanda asked softly.

"Tolerable," he replied, hoping that the meeting would start soon. "Yours?" Severus knew that the flying instructor went home to Düsseldorf evey summer, and he personally hoped that the news from her homeland would be favorable.

"You know, not so good," she said softly, leaning toward him slightly. "Went home. Although the effects of the heat can be felt, it's not as devastating as things in Scotland, Sussex, and Surrey. I heard that Mr. Potter had some trouble."

Severus concealed his reaction to her veiled report. "When does he not?" he asked, the tone of his voice projecting his condescending attitude about Potter's favoritism. "It was resolved in his favor."

"When is it not?" she said with a roll of her eyes, clearly alluding that she held the same opinion as he did. "Do tell the Headmaster that the young birch trees are listening, but many are still scarred from the last round of twig harvest and are not as pliable this season."

Severus refrained from smirking that her not-too-subtle use of metaphor meant that the young wizards and pure-blood families in Germany were not going to join in the Dark Lord's campaign. "Good to know, but why can't you tell him yourself?" he asked dryly, seeing Dumbledore rise to his feet.

"Have you seen the state of the school's brooms? I have to replace the twigs on over forty of them this year alone before the first flying lessons can be scheduled," she said, recoiling back slightly with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. She leaned toward him again. "Only because there is no budget for new brooms...again. Who's the witch with a fly-eating grin in the putrid pink robes?"

Severus chuckled softly only because he could well imagine how much damage fifty to sixty students a year could do to the school's brooms.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "We're about to find out," Severus replied, turning his attention to the Headmaster.

"I would like to introduce you to Miss Dolores Umbridge, who shall be taking the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts," Dumbledore said, indicating the short, squat, and flaccid-looking witch with a wide-jowled face making an attempt at a girlish smile. Severus was immediately suspicious of her. "If you'd please make her welcome and..."

"Thank you, Headmaster, for that kind introduction," Umbridge interrupted the Headmaster, making the staff stare at her in astonishment. "I'm so looking forward to working with all of you in enlightening today's youth with the important relevant information they will need for their lives ahead of them. I'm sure that you, like me, can't wait to impart the fundamentals of magic in a safe and worry-free environment. I trust that we will work together to strive to do what's best for the students and in making them fine, upstanding members of our wizarding community. I like you ..."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as she droned on. When the witch was done rambling, everyone simply stared at her in silence.

"Ah, yes. Thank you, Professor Umbridge. I'm sure we are all looking forward to a productive year," Dumbledore stated, finally gaining control of the meeting. "Now, if I might bring up the matter of staff assignments. This year due to the reemergence of Voldemort..."

The irritating witch in pink coughed.

"We will be increasing the shifts to the nightly patrols and..."

Professor Umbridge coughed again, this time louder.

Dumbledore turned to look at her. "Yes, Professor, you have something to add?"

"Excuse me, Headmaster, I don't mean to be rude, but as of yet there is no proof that anyone of any great significance has returned, let alone a dead, Dark wizard," Umbridge said in a high-pitched saccharine-girlish voice that made Severus want to puke. "I have no idea why such considerations would be necessary."

Even Professor Flitwick rolled his eyes as the Headmaster replied, "Because I see it as a necessary precaution," and continued with the meeting, ignoring the indignant huff of the jowl-faced witch.

Severus had felt the usual headache coming on even before he had his first class of the day. Dolores Umbridge's speech at the Sorting Feast had been, as all political speeches went, mostly falsely polite platitudes and innuendos...but those innuendos had spelled out trouble for the year ahead. The Ministry was interfering at Hogwarts.

Ever since the first staff meeting, Severus had known that he distrusted the new professor, and now more than anything, Severus resented Dumbledore's insistence that he not be given the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Miss Umbridge, a stout supporter of Fudge, was apparently holding steadfast to his beliefs.

The Order knew that Fudge was paranoid, and his delusion that Dumbledore wanted to take over the Ministry was escalating. Never mind that Dumbledore had turned down the position each time the current Minister stated intention of stepping down. To date, Severus knew of at least ten times that the Headmaster had refused the post, possibly more. The first time was back in 1932, and then six years later, surprising everyone, when he'd chosen to take a position as Transfiguration professor instead of working for the Ministry. He'd declined the Minister's job again in 1947, two years after he'd defeated Gellert Grindelwald, and at least six more times since then. Heubert Meriwether, Undersecretary to Minister Bagnold, had offered the position to Dumbledore in 1990 before the Wizengamot approved Cornelius Fudge's appointment. How more definite could a wizard be that he simply isn't interested in the post?

Severus walked to his desk and tossed the Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard on his bookshelf with disgust. It fell on the floor with a thud, but he left it where it landed. The book was pure tripe. Not one defensive spell or incantation at all. Four hundred and eighty-one pages with a twelve page prefix, twenty-nine page appendix, and ten pages of author's notes of useless information and dribble. What a waste of ink. That meant that the students would have a teacher that didn't want them fighting or learning any spells that could be used offensively, let alone defensively. And the Dark Lord is out there, slowly gathering his fold and making plans, and our seventh-years are going out there at the end of the year to face the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters with assertive communication skills and diplomacy? It's pure idiocy!

"Professor, do you have a moment?" Miss Brambila Rusbridge, one of his fifth-year Slytherins asked from the doorway.

"Yes, briefly. Class will start in five minutes," he said, ushering in the girl. Mr. Rayne Boughton and Miss Tracey Davis entered the room behind her, and all three walked quickly to his desk.

"Professor, I was wondering if we could talk to you about... er... Defense?" Miss Rusbridge asked shyly.

"All right," he said, hoping she'd get to the point. He had to be patient with her; he was her Head of House after all, but her timidity around him tested his reserves.

"She handed out this book," Miss Rusbridge replied, holding her Defensive Magical Theory in her hands and looked at Rayne Boughton, her boyfriend, for support.

"How are we supposed to pass our O.W.L. in Defense?" Mr. Boughton blurted out and set his copy of the book on Severus' desk. "Have you seen her book? It's all theory! Not one spell or actual defensive spell in here...unless non-offensive responses and talking nicely to your attacker count. Assertive communication my arse... er, sorry, sir. But this is important, and she acts like we won't even need a wand to learn how to defend ourselves."

Miss Davis nodded in agreement. "She said that she's teaching us in a 'safe, carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic,'"* the girl said in a high-pitched imitation of the witch, "to quote the Toad."

Severus narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in warning, to hide the smirk at her cheek. He liked Miss Davis; the girl had a sharp mind, when she applied herself, but a little bit of an attitude.

"I'm sorry, sir. I meant professor."

"Return after dinner, and we shall discuss this. No more cheek from you, Miss Davis; I expect better from you. And warn your housemates to do the same." The door opened, and he looked up, seeing the rest of the fifth-years filing in. "Now, take your seats. I have a lesson to teach."

Hermione set her quill down beside her on the bed and smiled at it as she remembered when she'd tried to make a spoon out of a broken quill. She'd found the right spell since then, of course, and she'd added the new transfigured spoon to her Potions kit. Professor Snape had been as demanding as always in his classroom, but something was bothering him; she could see it in the creases between his eyes. They were deeper...he was stressed about something, and she fervently hoped it wasn't Voldemort. "Surely he wouldn't summon him away from school? He'd be missed...it'd be noticed," she mumbled to Crooks when he jumped up on her bed.

He sat down and regarded her as if considering how to answer her, then proceeded to wash his face.

Hermione was absolutely disgusted with the way things were going this year. She had sorted out her schedule with Professor McGonagall, insisting that she loved all her lessons and really did want to take all of them. She knew it would be a daunting schedule, but nothing like her third year. Harry kept landing himself in detention with Professor Umbridge, even after Professor McGonagall had warned him to keep his temper. She'd even asked Hermione to try and keep Harry from losing his temper around the new Defense professor. As if that's remotely possible, she thought, sitting crossed-legged on her bed, reading her useless Defense book. She'd wanted to say the exact same thing in class, only Harry had beaten her to it. Of course, then she'd be the one in detention with that woman.

She shifted so she could look at the clock. He's probably still with her. He'll have at least another half-hour to go. Hopefully he'll watch his tongue and not get another. She laughed at the idea of Harry restraining himself and thinking before speaking. Not him. She wanted to ask him if he still had trouble with his scar. It could wait until morning, but sometimes the pain was intense enough to make him hiss. That worried her.

When Sirius had appeared in the Gryffindor common room fire, he'd tried to reassure Harry by telling him that now that Voldemort was back, his scar might hurt more often. That made sense, she supposed. But the information he'd told them about Umbridge, her hatred of half-breeds and werewolves...that was alarming. He's right; the world isn't divided between good people and Death Eaters. But that the Ministry didn't want them trained in combat...not trained to fight...alarmed her a great deal. We're facing a war...possibly, and of course we'll need to fight! We'll have to protect our families, our way of life...I'll be fighting for my life! For my parents' lives! But would they be ready? Not if Umbridge refuses to teach us defensive spells!

She sighed as she looked down at the book resting on her legs. Why no one wanted to believe Harry and Dumbledore about Voldemort's return astounded her. The entire Ministry was acting like Cedric Diggory merely died of unfortunate circumstances from the Triwizard Tournament...and that Harry was an attention-seeking nutter. Of course Percy's letter to Ron had been a huge disappointment. Stay away from your best mate... the git. It was just like him to side with the Ministry against Harry and Dumbledore.

Hermione threw the book down and fell back against her pillows, covering her face with her hands. She couldn't believe what was happening this year. Professor Umbridge's words echoed in her head: "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..."*

"And she had the audacity to tell us that she's going to be giving us a 'carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic'* without any intent at teaching us any practical skills at all," she complained to her familiar.

"Grr-meower," Crooks replied in disgust.

"I know!" she replied, idly stroking his fur. She scratched behind his ears as she wondered what she should do about the situation and found herself calming at the sound of his purr. "You're right, of course. I just have to calm down and look up the defensive spells for myself. It can't be that hard, right?"

"Murrower," he said and turned so she could give his other ear equal attention.

Hermione entered the Defense section of the library and gasped in shock. The entire aisle was empty except for two shelves: one on the right and one on the left, both at eye level. She moved down one shelf, reading the titles:

Generation Me: Why Today's Young Americans Are More Confident, Assertive, Entitled.

Anger: Handling a Powerful Emotion in a Healthy Way*

She picked up a black and gold soft cover book, Anger Management for Dunderheads, and snorted, shoving it back into place. The entire section was full of books on anger management, self discipline, assertive communication, and building successful relationships. Hermione covered her face with her hands and exhaled slowly. She really regretted not taking some of the books from the Grimmauld Place library... If only I'd been nicer to Sirius, I'd be able to ask him to send me some.

"Oi, Hermione," Fred said as he entered the aisle behind her.

Hermione, startled, nearly jumped out of her skin as she spun around to face him. "Geo...er...Fred," she stammered, her heart pounding in her throat.

"Sorry, saw you in here and wanted to pass this on to you," he said, giving her a note from Professor McGonagall.

He turned to go. "Fred, wait!" she hissed loudly. He turned around. "Are you on good terms with Sirius?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't be too curious as to why.

"Yeah," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly with a deep crease between them.

Damn, his curiosity was piqued. "If you asked him to send you some books, say on shield charms, protection spells, deflection..."

He crossed his arms as he interrupted her. "Is Miss Perfect Prefect wanting to defy authority?" he asked.

She stepped closer to him. "These books are not going to help me pass my O.W.L.s any more than they are going to help you pass your exams," she stated, pointing to the useless books on the shelves.

"My exams will be set by Umbridge," he stated. "As will your O.W.L.s."

"I thought that they were administrated by the Wizarding Examinations Authority..." He was right of course. "Which is part of the Ministry..." She looked down, staring at his shoes, as she considered what would convince him to help her.

"George and I already asked him," he said, and she looked up hopefully, "and before you ask, yes, you may borrow them."

"Thank you, Fred," Hermione said with heartfelt relief.

"Don't mention it. You and I know what's really going on and know what's coming," he said offhandedly, "no matter what the Toad says."

He turned to leave, and Hermione thanked him again, getting a wave before he disappeared from view. She left the aisle and headed for the Potions section, glad that at least Professor Snape still believed in giving his students a real and practical education.

Severus activated the Floo in Minerva's office and stepped out into his office, simply furious at the turn of events. That false-flatterer, incompetent imposter...her and her bloody Minister had the audacity to pass Educational Decree number twenty-three, appointing that insufferable woman as the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts? That incompetent witch dares to assume she has the right to interrogate me in regards to my teaching abilities? Well, he'd see about that. He'd seen her proposed curriculum...and it was asinine! Not one student will pass their O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s...not a one! Well, my Slytherins will... possibly Miss Granger and, of course, Potter.

Umbridge had already inspected Filius' lessons and had found him lacking. What Filius is lacking is stature! Filius was an exceptionally strong and very capable wizard, in Severus' opinion. He is a six-time gold medalist international dueling champion...nine times regional champion...and has numerous trophies and plaques from the Most Honorable Society of Charm Masters. If he isn't overly qualified to teach these dunderheads...who is?

Severus exited his office from the door rather than use the Floo to his sitting room. The walk to his rooms would do well to assuage his temper at present, and he might get lucky enough to dock house points on the way. It was a little known fact that the private residences of the professors were not, in fact, directly connected to their offices. Every teacher was given living space on the sixth floor consisting of a comfortable sitting room, a large bedroom, and private bath, and in some cases a second room for their personal experiments. Severus' personal lab however, was adjacent to his office since his supply closet was down there. It was simply a matter of convenience and very thick stone walls.

There were exceptions: Hagrid, who had opted to retain his hut on the school grounds, Firenze, who had been given accommodations to his preferred specifications on the ground floor, and Pomona Sprout, who likewise requested quarters on the ground floor since there wasn't a Floo to the greenhouses where she worked. Professor Trelawney did have rooms on the sixth floor, but claimed that the windows didn't face in the right direction for her sensitive nature, or some such tripe, so she slept in her tower.

On the third floor, Severus startled two Hufflepuffs scurrying down the corridor for the stairs, apparently, according to their babbling, having just left the bedside of a friend who was laid up in the hospital wing. He also caught a couple in a compromising position in the Armor Gallery, which was another twenty points from Hufflepuff and thirty points deducted from Gryffindor.

On the fourth floor, he deducted ten points each from three students who were running in the corridor, apparently having just been expelled from the library by Madam Pince, and he burst in on two prefects still frolicking in the prefect tub. That was good for twenty points from Gryffindor...each.

In the deep alcove to the photography classroom, he found Mr. Pucey engaged in a sexual tryst with Miss McDougal, which infuriated him as he had to take fifteen points from his own house. However, he did wait patiently, arms crossed and scowling darkly while Miss McDougal dressed before deducting fifteen points from Ravenclaw for being out after curfew and another fifteen for her indecent exposure.

On the sixth floor, he flicked his wand at the door to each of his colleagues' abodes, with the exception of the Umbridge witch and Professor Trelawney's rooms, enhancing the protection and security spells as he walked by. Few of his colleagues used their doorway exits, since each had a Floo connection to their offices, but Severus wasn't going to take the chance that the insipid witch, Umbridge, wouldn't want to snoop around in their rooms uninvited.

Early the next morning, he made his way to the owlery, summoning a dozen owls to him. 'These are for the professors," he said, giving the name of the recipient to each owl as he handed the owls a folded pieces of nondescript parchment. "They should be delivered with the morning post to avoid suspicion."

That done, he turned and went for a leisurely walk down to the lake before breakfast to clear his head.

Lessons in Defense were getting worse, Harry was getting detention now almost every week, and Hermione discovered that reading about spells did very little good if you couldn't practice them. Having overheard both Professors McGonagall's and Grubbly-Plank's review, Hermione knew that Umbridge was taking on too much control at Hogwarts. Dolores Umbridge, professor and High Inquisitor of the school; what a bloody farce that was. It was bad enough that she'd tried to disband all school activities and student organizations and then reinstated the ones she approved of. The woman was insatiable in her desire to control everything.

She'd had enough. Enough to even tell Harry and Ron there were more important things than homework. Ron took the mickey out on her about that one, even insisting she go to the hospital. "Ignorant git. Well, it was a bit out of character for me... but still," she grumbled as Crookshanks climbed gingerly onto her lap.

She stroked Crookshanks' fur as she tried to plan her next move. Getting Harry to agree to teach Defense had been easy enough. He had a reputation to those who still believed Harry and Dumbledore that Voldemort was back, or that was what she'd backed on. Besides, she wasn't popular enough to lead the group, so she'd only be effective as an assistant or collaborator. It was her plan and it was happening.

Still, the group of students that had shown up in the Hog's Head hadn't been as many as she'd hoped, but maybe it was a start. But that posed a bigger problem...where to have the meetings. Somewhere Umbridge didn't know about. It had to be a large enough space. It had to be accessible. And it would be an unofficial, illegal group since Umbridge would never sanction such a group; so, if they were caught, it could get every member expelled from Hogwarts.

They had looked at the map, and there wasn't anywhere suitable. There were several unused classrooms, but since this was supposed to be a secret club...they were out. The grounds were too risky. The cave where Hagrid kept the school boats echoed too loudly, and the sounds of their voices had echoed up into the Entrance Hall. The common rooms...well, were not private enough, and she couldn't very well invite all the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws into the Gryffindor Common room any more than they could go to theirs. She'd even thought to use the prefect bath, empty of water of course, but was afraid that some of the spells might crack the pool.

No, they needed to find a practical location. And soon.

Hermione entered the Great Hall and sat down between Ron and Neville. "Any luck?" Neville asked as Hermione set down her bag. Harry leaned around Ron to hear her answer.

Hermione shook her head, and Ron silently shook his head as she turned to ask him the same thing. It was frustrating. Hermione had even considered the dungeons...but the idea of them running into Slytherins down there was not a good idea, especially considering the number of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws in their group. It would be far too suspicious.

Harry straightened up and picked up his goblet with an exasperated huff. "Don't worry, mate, Fred and George are looking too," Ron said to him softly. "Those two know this castle as well as the Marauders. We're bound to find somewhere we can use...eventually."

Hermione was hopeful. After lunch she waved goodbye to the boys and headed for Ancient Runes. Padma Patil and Mandy Brocklehurst entered the classroom and walked to their usual table, Mandy looking at Hermione speculatively as she sat down. Padma looked like she'd been crying, and her hand was bandaged. When class ended, Padma approached Hermione. Mandy stood aside, looking about her as if she'd rather Padma just leave instead of talking to Hermione. "How will we know when the meetings will take place?"

Hermione hadn't considered that problem in her planning. "Harry, Ron or I will tell one of you from Ravenclaw, and they will have to pass word on to the others," she said, realizing that would be an illogical solution.

Mandy must have thought so too, because the girl rolled her eyes. "Okay," Padma said, nodding. "Tell my sister I said Hi."

"Will do," Hermione replied. She was contemplating any possible way to alert the members of the Defense Club to meeting dates and times when she saw Luna skipping down the corridor and moved to intercept her so as to talk to her briefly. "Any luck finding a location?" she asked when the blonde stopped in front of her.

"No, but I did find a new stairwell," Luna replied dreamily with a smile. "But it's not large enough. I'll check with Hanna in class, but I don't think she knows of a place either."

"Right," Hermione stated as she moved to let Luna go. "I'll talk to you later." It was frustrating. Harry was now eager to start teaching them Defensive spells, and there was a growing interest in the idea of a Defense Club, even though it was still prohibited.

She saw Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe in the girls' loo, and Cho had asked her about the first meeting too. Hermione had just shrugged and said that she and Harry were working on it.

After Defense, Hermione maneuvered herself between Ron and Harry as they walked down the corridor. "I saw Luna after Ancient Runes, and she hasn't found a place to hold meetings either," Hermione whispered. "Oh, and, Harry, Cho said to tell you she said hi." Hermione shook her head at the momentary sappy expression that crossed his face. "After dinner I think we should go to the library...I have to look something up."

"Hermione, Harry has Quidditch practice after dinner," Ron informed her.

She gaped at Harry in astonishment. "So Umbridge reinstated privileges to the house team? When?"

Harry shrugged. "Angelina was going to ask her after her class. I haven't heard otherwise..."

Hermione shook her head. "Never assume anything when it comes to that witch. I bet she hasn't just to spite you."

"Oi, that's not fair, Hermione," Ron admonished her.

"No, Ron, it isn't," she said sadly. "I'm going to check on something..."

"In the library," the boys said in unison.

"By the time we leave here, they're gonna put her name on a plaque in there," Ron said, and with a sweep of his hand he added, "Hermione Granger: read every book in here in only seven years."

"Very funny, Ronald," she sneered and ran for the library. When Ron had mentioned fairness, she remembered something she'd read about, a charm that connected objects so two people could communicate with them, when she was in her third year and was staying in the old classroom under Severus' protection. She hoped the library still had the same book.

The next evening, Hermione holed herself up in her dorm, reading an advanced Charms book as the rain pelted her window. She'd found the book easily enough and had smiled at the tiny spiky signature on the borrower's card. This was the same book Severus had read for his essay on communication Charms in her third year.

However, it was really hard to concentrate at the moment, since her mind kept worrying over whether the idea of starting a Defense club was a good one or not. Hearing Sirius' excitement about the club had really made her think. On one hand he was right, it was much better learning how to defend themselves and risk expulsion than being tucked away safely and learning nothing at all.

But the look in Sirius' eyes had alarmed her...the raw excitement as he suggested the Shrieking Shack...the way he'd said that James and he wouldn't 'have lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge'*, especially since he'd had the audacity to chide her for taking an idiotic chance by holding their first meeting in the Hog's Head. If Mundungus had followed them to the Hog's Head, what would have stopped him from following them into the Three Broomsticks? This Defense Club would have been something that James Potter and Sirius would have done. Oh, get a grip, Hermione. No they wouldn't! They'd have sneaked off by themselves, the four of them, and practiced defensive spells on their own...they wouldn't have cared about anyone else.

She sighed and turned the page, smiling when she read the name of the spell: the Protean Charm. Sitting up and crossing her legs, Hermione balanced the book on her lap and withdrew her wand to practice the wand movement.

Severus was fuming. Umbridge had given her report to Minister Fudge, and now he had a list of potions that the Ministry deemed unfit to teach at Hogwarts. Well he'd be damned if he was going to change his curriculum of fourteen years to accommodate the paranoid delusions of an inept Minister and his lackey... What had the imbecile written? 'Potions of questionable lawfulness or practical usefulness for our future law-abiding citizens.' He thrust the door open as he entered the room, taking some pleasure in making the fifth-years jump and turn to sit properly in their seats, eyes facing front.

"Pass your essays forward," he growled as he walked to the front of the class. He stopped and stared directly at Potter. "I believe, Mr. Potter, that you owe me two essays. I do hope that Miss Granger was of sufficient help so as to complete your assignments on time."

He collected the accumulated essays as they were passed up by the students in the front row, and then deposited them on his desk. "Since none of you were able to produce an acceptable Strengthening Solution on Monday, you will all repeat the exercise today. And since this is your second attempt, I expect reasonable results." He flicked his hand at the blackboard and smirked as the directions appeared. "You have one hour."

He walked around the room when the potions were at the halfway point, checking the students' progress. "Mr. Potter, as Miss Granger so aptly reminded you on Monday, you should be adding your Salamander blood at this stage," he said coolly, giving an approving nod to Malfoy and walking on to the next workstation. He smirked when Hermione leaned over to whisper to Mr. Longbottom, just as he'd hoped for. "Mr. Longbottom, put down the boarbeetles. Miss Granger, you'll be spending the evening in my company tonight, I'm afraid, since you seem unable to let Mr. Longbottom. Do. His. Own. Work."

Although he maintained his usual sneer as he continued the round, checking the progress of each student, he was actually smiling on the inside at the expression of indignation on her face...so much like the one he'd seen when she was hiding with him as a teen...not the intimidated student she had become, and it thrilled him.

A long blue box that held the black swan quill Hermione had given him as a thank you sat in the back of his top right desk drawer, beside the well-worn, brown Muggle diary and the small blue box that held the Time-Turner.

It was because of an entry in that diary he'd kept that he had made the decision that would hopefully not only change the outcome of the war and ensure that the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to recruit as many to his side, but would hopefully change public opinion regarding the reputation of Slytherin House forever.

~ T. B. C. ~

Author's Notes:

Okay, I cheated. Many of the titles of the Defense books are actual books and can be found on half.com, but only because I wanted to use the titles of real books.

Since I needed a second Ravenclaw female, I used Mandy Brocklehurst. Yes, she's now in the DA, which is only a minor deviation from canon. There are more deviations from canon to follow, just so you know.