"You look upset, love," Draco commented as she reached him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing!" She replied a little too quickly. She let out a breath, running her hand through her hair. "Nothing..."
He watched carefully, seemingly unimpressed, "You do know you're still terrible at lying, yes?"
"I'm fine, just tired," She lied again, not quite meeting his gaze. He knew she was lying, she could tell, but he didn't press her any further.
"Well," He paused, thinking of what else to say, "how have lessons been so far? You looked rather stressed in Potions."
She groaned, already tired at the mere mention of the class, "That Draught of Peace was the stupidest potion ever created. If you need it because of anxiety, but it makes your anxiety worse while you make it what even is the point!?"
"I'm sure the person with the anxiety isn't the one to make the potion," Draco replied, chuckling.
"If they have anxiety I'm certain that dreaded thing takes way too long to be even remotely helpful by the time it's brewed, anyway," She snarled bitterly, crossing her arms and glaring at the ground.
He shook his head, ruffling her hair, "I think you're overthinking things."
"Hmph," She grumbled. Knowing he was right but too stubborn to admit defeat.
"Potter went off in quite a rush today," He changes the subject fluidly, brushing back a stray strand of hair from her face. "He seemed angry."
She stiffened, her gaze flickering off to the side, "Yes, I assume enjoyed seeing that very much."
"No... not really," He murmured, eyes watching her carefully. "Not in the state you were in after he left."
'Go run off to your little boyfriend instead of lecturing me about friendship.'
"I told you," She snapped, her eyes narrowing, "I'm fine. Nothing happened, he was stressed."
He glared right back, "You're lying."
"Oh, good for you, you're able to notice something anyone else could," She spat, pulling away from him. "What talent."
He staggered backward, eyes wide, but then his expression hardens.
"What has gotten into you?" He exclaimed.
"I'm going up to Divination," She muttered, swinging her bag over her shoulder and stalking away. He didn't follow after her.
-=+=-
She was, in fact, heading up to Divination when she bumped into a rather distressed Hazel Lamark.
"Hazel?" Amisty forced her anger at Draco out of her voice. "What are you doing up here?"
The blond stumbled, all her books tumbling out of her hand and to the ground. She let out a miserable groan.
"Hi, Amisty, I'm so sorry!" Hazel fell to her knees, scrambling to pick up her books. "I was on my way to Transfiguration and the staircase I was on just started moving!"
She almost laughed, "Yeah, they do that sometimes."
"And I don't want to be late because Professor McGonagall is so scary sometimes and, oh, I'm just a mess," Hazel crumpled to a heap on the floor, head in her hands.
"Hey, hey," Amisty dropped down next to her, picking up to scattered books and brushing them off gently. "Calm down."
"No one told me school would be this hard," She whined, holding open her bag so Amisty could dump the books in.
"Yeah, it can get pretty tough sometimes," Amisty kept her voice calm as she helped Hazel to her feet, "but it gets easier. Do you know how to get back to the Great Hall?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, find the Great Hall and then if you go left you'll find this hallway. It should be down there, and if you get lost again ask around. The Ravenclaws are usually the ones that figure out the castle the fastest, so if you see one of them -- they have blue and silver ties -- they can help you," Amisty explained.
"Thank you so much!" Hazel almost shouted, throwing her arms around Amisty's waist and then racing down the staircase.
"Slow down! You won't be that late!" She called after her.
"Early is late for Professor McGonagall!" Hazel called back.
Amisty grinned.
"Hey, Am," Ron raced up to her side, tie half undone and robes slung over one arm. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Glad I caught up with you."
"I'm not ready to face whatever stupidity we'll be assigned in Divination," She groaned dramatically.
"When is anyone?" Ron replied scathingly.
"Good point," She nodded. The two of them crawled up the ladder and through the trap door.
Harry was sitting in the corner, mostly shrouded in shadows. They headed over. Amisty dragged her feet.
"Hermione and me have stopped arguing," Ron announced as they took their seats.
"Good," Harry muttered.
"But Hermione says she thinks it would be nice if you stopped taking out your temper on us," Ron added.
Harry scowled, "I'm not -- "
"I'm just passing on the message," Ron held up his hands. "But I reckon she's right. It's not our fault how Seamus and Snape treat you."
"I never said it -- "
"Good day. And welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely -- as, of course, I knew you would," Professor Trelawney cut him off.
"You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your O.W.L. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so..."
Amisty almost snorted. As much as she hated the class, it was downright entertaining sometimes.
"Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on."
-=+=-
Amisty hurried to Hermione's side when she entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, hurrying away from Umbridge. The toad-faced cardigan wearing professor had given her quite a strange look as she walked in.
And it wasn't a pleasant one.
"Well, good afternoon!" She beamed. There were a few mumbles of reply, but mainly the class was silent.
"Tut, tut. That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please," She still held that smile as she gazed around at them again.
Amisty fought down a scowl.
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," They repeated.
"There, now. That wasn't too difficult, was it?" Her voice was painstakingly sweet. "Wands away and quills out, please."
Amisty let out a miserable huff of breath, grudgingly shoving away her wand and pulling out a quill and ink.
Umbridge tapped her blackboard with her own wand, and curly, delicate words wrote themselves in white chalk.
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."
Amisty nearly threw her head against the desk. Lecture notes in a Defense class.
Course aims:
Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Umbridge asked after the scratching of quills subsided.
They murmured their replies.
"I think we'll try that again. 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?" She scolded.
Amisty rolled her eyes, "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."
She flipped open her book, balancing her chin on her hand and reading the incredibly dull, elementary school level information.
'There was a Death Eater in disguise as our last DADA teacher and it was more enjoyable than this,' She thought to herself miserably.
Eventually, her gaze slipped to the girl next to her. Hermione was sitting up very straight in her chair, hand in the air, and staring directly at the Professor. Umbridge was looking resolutely in the other direction.
A few moments passed, and more and more people started to look at Hermione.
Far more entertaining than the tedious chapter they were assigned.
"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge asked, giving a very faux start of surprise.
"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione replied.
"Well, we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class," Umbridge smiled a small smile.
"I've got a query about your course aims," Hermione elaborated.
Umbridge's eyebrows raised, "And your name is -- ?"
"Hermione Granger."
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," Umbridge was still smiling.
"Well, I don't," Hermione countered. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."
She laughed. Fauxly. "Using defensive spells? Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"
"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed.
"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. -- " She scolded sharply.
"Weasley," Ron growled, throwing a hand up into the air.
She pointedly turned her back to him. Amisty, Hermione, and Harry all raised their hands.
"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"
"Yes," Hermione nodded, her eyes flashing. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"
"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?"
"No, but -- "
"Well then, I'm afraid you 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 -- " Harry growled.
"Hand, Mr. Potter!" Professor Umbridge sang out. Harry's fingers twitched as he stuck his hand up further.
"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge turned away from them all to address Dean.
"Dean Thomas."
"Well, Mr. Thomas?"
"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free -- "
"I repeat, do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"
"No, but -- "
"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed -- not to mention," She laughed, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."
Amisty bristled, "Excuse me -- "
"I do not see your hand Miss -- "
"Amisty River," She spat.
"And what is the problem?"
"Half-breeds?" She almost snarled the word.
"Temper, Miss River," Umbridge smiled that infuriating smile. "Dangerous, yes, and quite a reckless act of generosity."
"If you mean Professor Lupin, he was the best we ever -- " Dean exclaimed angrily.
"Hand, Mr. Thomas! 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, we just -- " Hermione exclaimed furiously.
"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"
Hermione threw her hand up into the air. Umbridge turned away.
"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed not only formed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you -- "
"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" Dean cut her off. "Mind you, we still learned loads -- "
"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" She beamed. "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,"
Parvati raised her hand.
"And your name is?"
"Parvati Patil, 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."
"Without ever practicing them before? 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 -- "
"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry hissed.
"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world."
"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"
"Oh yeah?"
"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves."
"Hmm, let's think..." Harry pondered, voice dripping with sarcasm, "maybe Lord Voldemort?"
Amisty suddenly went very still.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."
The class went very quiet.
"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, but yeah, he's returned!"
"Mr.-Potter-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! I saw him, I fought him!" Harry shouted.
"Detention, Mr. Potter! Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basic for Beginners.'"
Harry stood up, "So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?"
The class gasped.
"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge replied coldly.
"It was murder. Voldemort killed him, and you know it," Harry was shaking, his eyes like fire.
Umbridge paused, her voice very soft as she continued, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."
He stalked up to her desk and in complete, utter silence, she scribbled on a sheet of frilly pink paper.
"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear."
Harry snatched the note out of her hand and stormed out of the classroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Amisty let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.
*Singing* I haaaaate Professor Umbridge! *clap, clap* I haaaaate Professor Umbridge! *clap, clap* SING IT WITH ME! I HAAAATE PROFESSOR UMBRIDGE! *STOMP CLAP* I HAAAAAATE PROFESSOR UMBRIDGE! Okay, I'm done. My dog got shaved the other day and he literally is half the size he used to be and I think it's the funniest thing ever. That's all I gotta say, thanks for reading!