Purple Rain.

Chapter Thirty.

"No," Hermione interrupted scoldingly. "I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any defence from her at all."

"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, still floating his hand in the essence of murtlap tentacles.

"Well— learn Defence 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.

"Who are you?" (Y/n) demanded. "What've you done with Hermione."

"She's right here!" Hermione exclaimed. 

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

"Don't be silly, of course there is!" said Hermione, her face alight with the very same fervour that S.P.E.W. filled her with. "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."

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

"No, no, I'm not talking about him," 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? Hermione said. "I'm talking about you, Harry." There was a moment's silence. A light breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron and the fire guttered.

"About me what?" said Harry.

"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry stared at her. Then he turned to Ron, ready to exchange the exasperated looks they sometimes shared when Hermione elaborated on far-fetched schemes. To Harry's consternation, however, Ron did not look exasperated. He was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then he said, "That's an idea."

"What's an idea?" said Harry.

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

"But..." Harry was grinning now, sure the pair was pulling his leg. "But I'm not a teacher, I can't—"

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

"Me?" said Harry, now grinning more broadly than ever. "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 both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Look what you've done!"