❛ chapter five ⎜ defense against the dark arts ❜

"𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄'𝐋𝐋 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓?" Sylvia asked as we approached the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room.

"Hopefully not very long," I said, dread filling the pit of my stomach. Dread, anger, hopelessness. Why couldn't I get a happy emotion once in a while? Or were they not a part of the emotions the painted version of me could understand?

"Maybe one good thing about the DADA curse," Kiera muttered. "The bad teacher ends up gone by the end of the year."

We entered, eyeing Professor Umbridge, who was sitting at her desk.

"She hasn't changed her outfit," Sylvia hissed under her breath, repressing a look of revulsion. I hummed in agreement.

"Hello," Professor Umbridge said sweetly, her voice probably supposed to be like honey but sounding false and sickly to me.

"Good afternoon," Kiera said politely, ever the brown-noser.

We found three seats near the middle, right next to each other. Kiera on my left and Sylvia on my right. I sat twiddling my thumbs as the rest of the class slowly entered, my mind wandering.

Even my thoughts were jumbled. The one thing I wanted to figure out was why I felt so hollow, so painted. It started three months ago, when - yeah no. I was not going down that memory lane. The last thing I needed was the start bawling in the middle of the classroom. But I knew it was connected to Uncle Paul's death.

My lips drew up faintly at the thought, but I felt no emotion.

Uncle Paul was... strange, to put it nicely. He loved explosives, he loved destruction, but he was never evil. No, instead he loved to watch as things grew back after being burned down. He wanted to see the order after the chaos. That's why the Ministry didn't believe me when I said he'd been murdered. They thought he was mad. They didn't see that there is beauty in destruction and rebuilding. All they could think about was order. Yet did they ever think that to have order, you must first have chaos? Order is the subduing of chaos. How can order thrive if it does not feed off chaos? Neither can survive without the other. If there is chaos, someone will attempt to produce order. If there is order, it is holding chaos at bay. The two are intertwined, like the sun and the moon, like light and dark, like love and hate, like growth and destruction. The Ministry is just too blind to see it.

"Well, good afternoon!" said a sickly sweet voice, drawing me out of my thoughts. I glanced around. The entire class was sitting, a few of them mumbling a reply, Kiera included. Neither Sylvia nor I opened our mouths (which really isn't like Sylvia at all).

"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge in that horrid voice of her. "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," everyone else chanted. I stayed silent.

"There, now. That wasn't too difficult was it?" Yes it was difficult enough that I couldn't even open my mouth to say it, you lying evil little cockroach. "Wands away and quills out, please."

"What?" Sylvia muttered, outraged. Normally any lesson that followed the words "wands away" was dull and useless. From what I knew of Umbridge, no doubt this entire year would be like this.

The entire class shoved their wands back inside their bags and pulled out parchment, a quill, and ink. Umbridge drew a short and thick wand from her handbag and taped the blackboard. Words appeared almost immediately.

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?" Professor Umbridge turned to face us again. "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."

She paused. If she wants applause, she ain't getting any. Not before my hair turns grey, at least.

"You will be pleased " - Oh, really? - " 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."

A new message appeared on the board as she tapped again. Merlin's beard, that cardigan was awful.

Course aims:
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learn to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

Working against every muscle in my body that wanted to stay still, I scratched down the 'course aims'. Really, does the Ministry actually think we'll believe this dragon dung? I wondered to myself. It's so stupid!

"Has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" asked Professor Umbridge once everyone was done writing.

"Mhmm," Kiera mumbled. Once again, I kept my lips sealed. Umbridge, well, Professor Umbridge, pursed her lips.

"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?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," I mumbled, although the rest of the class said it loud and clear.

"Good," she said, a horrible smile on her face. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, "Basics For Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

She sat herself behind her desk as I opened my book reluctantly.

I made it through the first page before the words began to slide together.

Normally I'm a perfectly adequate reader. I don't love it - I would rather be sketching or painting - but I'm okay with it. This, though, was like reading a transcription of Professor Binns' lecture. In other words: so boring it made me want to fall asleep. Honestly, Kiera and Hermione are the only people who pay attention in his class. I stay half awake, and Sylvia snoozes the entire time. It's a miracle she hasn't gotten into trouble with those loud snores of hers.

My mind began to wander; I honestly couldn't pay attention anymore.

I wonder how Charlie and Monica are doing. With the commotion of the entire school getting back to their common rooms, I had lost sight of my siblings. And Kiera wouldn't have interacted with them because she wasn't a prefect. Note to self. Ask her why. She'd be a much better candidate than Weasley. But the twins would have had - how many was it? Let's see. I had gone through History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and this was a double block of DADA. So they would have had four classes already. I wonder if Monica has given any of her teachers any trouble yet...

"Elise! Elise wake up!" Sylvia hissed from my right, poking me with her quill. I startled, sitting up straight and looking around frantically. Sylvia jerked her head to the side. "Look!"

I peered past her. Hermione - the biggest brown-noser, tied only with Kiera - was sitting straight with her hand in the air, her copy of Defensive Magical Theory unopened in front of her. She stared fixated at Professor Umbridge, who was looking anywhere in the room but her.

Finally, when more than half the class was watching Hermione, Professor Umbridge gave up.

"Do you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked in an obviously fake tone of surprise. Merlin's underpants, I hope I don't sound like that when I fake a happy voice.

"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione replied politely.

"Well, we're reading just now." Oh really? No one seems to be mildly interested in you or any of your stupid ideas. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims."

The Professor raised an eyebrow. "And your name is-?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, Miss Granger," Professor Umbridge said in her sickly sweet voice with a sickly sweet smile upon her face, "I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

"Well I don't," Hermione said bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

That's a strange approach. The brainiac pretending to be stupid. Isn't it obvious? If the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts - and you're smart enough to figure that out - don't you know that they aren't going to want us to be able to defend ourselves because 'there isn't anything to be afraid of!'?

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated, a small laugh leaving her lips. "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 cried out loudly.

"That's ridiculous!" Sylvia cried.

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

"Weasley," answered Ron.

"And Miss - ?"

"Parker."

The two of them thrust their hands into the air, waving them around. Professor Umbridge smiled, turning her back on the two of them. Harry, Hermione, and Kiera's arms raised immediately. Professor Umbridge sighed, her eyes lingering on Harry, then moving to Hermione."

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione, letting her hand fall. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

Kiera shot her a grateful look, letting her hand fall as well.

"Are either of you a Ministry-trained education expert, Miss Granger and Miss - ?"

"Amaris," Kiera answered. "No we aren't 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?" Harry interrupted loudly. I nodded in agreement, along with half of the class. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a - "

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sand Professor Umbridge.

Harry's hand shot up, but she promptly turned away from him, but now Kiera, Sylvia and others had raised their hands too.

"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge asked Dean.

"Dean Thomas," he answered, pulling down his hand.

"Well, Mr. Thomas?" the Professor asked expectantly.

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" Dean said, glancing at Harry for a second. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free - "

"I repeat," Professor said in a slightly exasperated fashion, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"No, but - "

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run," she said in a tone that suggested otherwise, talking over Dean, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds." She gave a nasty laugh.

"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean angrily, "he was the best we ever had - "

"Yeah!" Sylvia added, annoyed.

"Hand, Mr. Thomas and Miss Parker! 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," Hermione said, "we just -"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Seconds later, it was, but Professor Umbridge ignored her.

I pressed my lips together in an effort not to talk, but it was getting harder by the minute.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, but he actually performed them on you - "

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean hotly.

"But we still learned loads - " Sylvia interrupted.

"Neither of your hands is up, Mr. Thomas and Miss Parker!" Professor Umbridge trilled in a sing-song voice.

"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. Yes, Miss Amaris?" she added when Kiera's hand shot up.

"The Ministry may have decided to change this, but are we not supposed to get a grasp of what casting the spell feels like? Transfiguration would be a waste if we only learned the incantation. The actual spell casting is much more difficult," Kiera said in a calm and collected voice. Trust Kiera to be polite to the most awful teacher in history. "Although Defense Against the Dark Arts is different, it has the same theory of learning, and right now you seem to be focusing on theory."

"Thank you Miss Amaris," Professor Umbridge said, her voice normal for once. "But the Ministry has changed it and is going to stick with its decision. You are all young and - yes - ?"

"Pavarti Patil," the dark haired girl answered, "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 counter curses 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," dismissed Professor Umbridge.

"Without ever practicing them before?" Sylvia exclaimed, ignoring Professor's "Hand Miss Parker!". Well, actually, she put her hand in the air and continued talking. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exams?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough - "

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" I turned my head to see Harry with his fist in the air and an angry expression on his face.

Professor Umbridge stopped, looking up coolly. Her voice soft, she said, "This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world.

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

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh yeah?"

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?"

I looked at Harry. Don't take the bait. Don't take the bait. Don't take the bait. Prove to me your not as stupid as I think. And so obviously, he took the bait and proved himself stupid. Of course.

"Hmm, let's think," said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, "maybe Lord Voldemort?"

I jumped, banging my knee on my desk and wincing at the pain. There was a small shriek, a gasp, and a thud along with my bang.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," said Professor Umbridge with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

There was utter silence. I glanced from Harry to Professor Umbridge like I was watching a professional tennis match.

"Now let me make a few things quite plain," said Professor Umbridge, standing up, leaning forward, and placing her stubby hands on her desk. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead - "

"He wasn't dead," Harry said hotly, "but yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," she said in one breath, keeping her eyes on the rest of the class. "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!" said Harry. "I saw him, I fought him!"

It was taking all my self control not to stand up and contribute to this conversation. Kiera's hand was on my shoulder, keeping me down; my jaw was clenched so hard I was surprised it hadn't broken yet.

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Professor Umbridge said triumphantly. "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." Yeah, right. That is utter propaganda. "And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.' " She sat down with a flourish.

Harry stood up, his desk screeching as it moved. I stared at him along with the entire class.

"Harry, no!" Hermione hissed, not doing a very good job of keeping quiet.

"So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" asked Harry, his voice quivering.

Me, along with everyone in the class, took in a sharp intake of breath. I had never heard him talk about the night Cedric died. None of us had. I stared avidly at the Professor and Harry.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," she said coldly with no fake smile this time.

That's when I snapped.

"That's the Ministry's response to everything, isn't it?" I spit out, rising from my seat and brushing off Kiera's hand. She tried to tug me back down, but I wouldn't. I was not going to back down this time. "It's all an accident. It's never the truth."

"Cedric Diggory - "

"I watched my uncle be murdered by a Death Eater not even two meters from me. The only explanation for this is because You-Know-Who is back. The Ministry, on the other hand, called it off as an accident. All because they're too scared to admit the truth. That He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back. And that he murdered both my uncle and Cedric Diggory."

"What is your name?" Professor Umbridge asked me coldly.

I stared into her piggy little eyes, feeling truly alive. Anger coursed through my veins and grief pushed at my heart. "Elise Devereaux."

"Well, Miss Devereaux, you will join Mr. Potter in detention tomorrow. Both of you, Mr. Potter and Miss Devereaux, come here."

I stood up to her desk, ignoring Kiera's sigh and the glaring eyes on my back.

There was a pause as Professor Umbridge pulled out a small roll of pink parchment from her handbag and began scribbling something. Nobody spoke. I could feel the eyes of my classmates on me, and my own laborious breathing echoed in my ears.

After a minute or so, she rolled up the parchment. She tapped it with her wand, and it sealed itself so smooth you would need a knife to cut it open.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, both of you," she said, holding the note out to Harry. He grabbed it without a word.

The two of them made their way out of the room, neither one bothering to look back. They strode out into the hallway, the door banging shut behind them.

"I didn't know... about your uncle," Harry said after a minute of clenched fists and quick walking.

"It's not something I like to talk about," I replied tersely. "I'm sure you're familiar with that feeling."

We turned the corner, nearly running into Peeves, the Poltergeist with an affiliation for pranks. He was a wide-faced little man, with orange slanted eyes and bright clothes. Currently, he was juggling a few inkwells.

"Why, it's Potty Wee Potter!" Peeves cackled, dropping two of the inkwells. They smashed and splattered everything with ink. I jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding staining my robes. Harry snarled beside me. "And he's got a friend this time!"

"Get out of it Peeves," said Harry angrily.

"Ooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky!" Peeves called as he pursued us down the corridor, leering. "What is it this time, my find Potty friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Ooh, is your friend deranged too?"

I clenched my fists, but ignored the ghost. The one and only thing I agreed with Argus Filch about: that Peeves was a nuisance that should be gone.

"I said, leave me ALONE!" Harry shouted, turning suddenly and running down the nearest flight of stairs. I sighed, running after him. Peeves followed, laughing aloud.

"Oh, most think he's barking, the Potty wee lad,"

he sang at the top of his lungs. I drew my wand, pointing it at the prankster.

"Langlock!" I cried. Peeves made a choking sound, grasping at his throat. I had just glued his tongue to the top of his mouth. With a muffled snarl, he made a rude gesture and fled.

"What was that?" Harry asked me in amazement, his anger forgotten for a moment.

"My mother taught it to me," I said, continuing to stroll down the hallway. "It's useful, isn't it?"

"Could you teach it to me?" asked Harry. I shrugged.

"I could try, I guess."

Suddenly, a door to the left was flung open.

"What on earth are you shouting about, Potter?" Professor McGonagall snapped, her looking slightly harassed. "And Devereaux? Why aren't the two of you in class?"

"We've been sent to see you," I replied. Harry stiffened beside me.

"Sent? What do you mean, sent?"

I looked expectantly at Harry as he handed over the note.

"That should explain it," I said as Professor McGonagall opened it with a tap of her wand.

She began to read. Behind her square glasses, her eyes were narrowing.

"Come here, both of you."

I exchanged a glance with Harry. Her voice was controlled, yet I couldn't tell if she was furious or pleased. Probably the former.

We both followed her inside. The door shut with a clap! behind us.

"Well?" asked Professor McGonagall, turning around to face us. "Is this true?"

"Is what true?" I asked at the same time as Harry, although his tone was much more aggressive. My anger boiled beneath my skin, yet I reined it in, keeping my voice free of emotion.

"Professor?" Harry added in a much politer voice.

"Is it true that the two of you shouted at Professor Umbridge.

"...yes," I muttered along with Harry.

"And Mr. Potter, you called her a liar?"

"Yes." He sounded defiant, annoyed. I supposed I would be too if I spent the entire summer being ridiculed at and it followed me to school.

"And you both told her that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back?"

"Yes." This time I was defiant too.

Professor McGonagall sat down at her desk, frowning. What she said next threw me completely off.

"Have a biscuit, both of you."

"What?" I asked, trying to process the words coming out of her mouth.

"Have a biscuit," repeated Professor McGonagall, her voice tinged with impatience. She motioned to a tartan colored tin of cookies balanced upon one of her many piles of paper. "Stop gaping, Devereaux. Sit down."

I closed my mouth with a snap, dropping numbly into one of the chairs. There was a thud as Harry followed me. I grabbed the tin that Professor McGonagall had pointed to, offering a Ginger Newt to Harry before taking one myself.

"You two need to be careful, you especially, Potter."

Once again, Professor McGonagall surprised me. Her voice wasn't stern and tight light usual. No, this time it was low. And... was that anxiety peeking through?

"Misbehavior in Dolores Umbridge's glass could cost you much more than House points and detention. Devereaux, your father works at the Ministry. He works with Dolores. Surely you know where she comes from and to whom she is reporting to?"

"She works for Fudge," I said as Harry spluttered. "She's reporting to him. The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I'm glad one of you has some common sense left."

Overhead, the bell that signaled the end of the lesson rang, making me jump. The sound of hundreds of students stomping echoed through the room as if it was a herd of elephants.

"Potter, she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow. Devereaux, you only have tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall, her eyes flitting down to the note.

I pursued my lips. Who would have thought that I'd be the one getting detention on the first day and not Monica?

"Both of you should tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge."

"But I was telling the truth!" said Harry, outraged. I sighed. "Voldemort's " - I winced, along with Professor McGonagall, shooting him a frightened look as he barreled on - " back, you know he is, Professor Dumbledore knows he is - "

"For heaven's sake, Potter!" Professor McGonagall straightened her glasses tersely. "Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your head down and you temper under control!"

"I can't speak for Harry," I said with a glance at the boy, "but I'll try. This... isn't normally me. I just couldn't stand by while she spoke. I'm sorry Professor."

Professor McGonagall let out a sigh, but it sounded more friendly this time. "Thank you, Devereaux. Potter, I don't expect any promises but please try. Would either of you like another biscuit?"

"No thanks," I said, but Harry begrudgingly took another.

"You are both dismissed," said Professor McGonagall, standing and walking around her desk.

"Thank you," I murmured, dawdling a little as Harry got up slowly.

"Professor McGonagall?" I asked once he was out the door.

"Yes, Devereaux?" she asked, not unkindly.

I twisted my hands together. "Have... have you had either of my siblings yet?"

"You siblings... the two blonde twins with opposite personalities?"

I nodded.

"Yes, they were in my class earlier. Charlie, I believe is his name... he is a bit too over excited. He set his robes on fire by accident. The other, Monica, seems way too excited to transform another student into a ferret."

I couldn't help a small smile from flitting onto my face, but I couldn't feel it. That did sound like the two of them...

"Thank you Professor McGonagall," I murmured.

"Of course. Oh, and Devereaux?" I turned, nearly at the door.

"Hmm?"

"Keep an eye on Potter for me, will you?"

𝔸𝕌𝕋ℍ𝕆ℝ𝕊 ℕ𝕆𝕋𝔼

Hey guys thanks for reading this chapter! We're finally getting to the action! I hope you enjoyed it.

Please comment and tell me your thoughts on this chapter as well as stuff I need to improve / you like! Is the whole 'incorporating my characters into already written stuff' feel to forced?

QUESTION:

Favorite HP character?

MY ANSWER:

Hermione. I've always connected with her: we're both big book nerds who loves to be in the library.

Thanks for reading!