Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would currently be rolling around in insanely large piles of money. Since I only have about five dollars to my name, I somehow don't see that happening. Don't own it, don't sue me: everyone's happy!
Chapter 8 - What a day.
Harry awoke to the deep, hurricane like sounds of Ron snoring in the corner. Peeking out from under his covers to the window, he saw there was a misty gray pallor to the sky. 'I hope this day fares better then the weather,' thought Harry.
After gathering his things for a quick run through the showers, Harry stopped and attempted to rouse Ron. "Come on Ron. Time to face the day," he said as he pulled the covers down. Ron muttered something about how cold it was in Australia and started to slither down the bed is search of the missing blankets. "Ron! Time to get up or you'll miss breakfast. Food, Ron! Food!" called Harry. 'There that should work. Food always gets his attention,' thought Harry as he made his way to the boys loo.
Harry and Ron eventually made there way to the Great Hall and found Hermione already there. "You look well rested this morning," commented Harry as he took his seat across from her. "And you don't," she replied. "Oh, Harry. Are you still having nightmares?"
"No, I just had a lot on my mind, I guess," Harry muttered as he peered at Hermione over his spectacles. "Just as well, I guess. I doubt if my body would know how to react to a good nights sleep."
Glancing up from her toast, Hermione mumbled, "Nothing wrong there".
Before Hermione's comment sank into Harry's morning sodden brain, a flurry of owls descended on the room, each carrying either a package of forgotten school items or the usual first day 'I miss you already' letter.
A large brown owl swooped down and landed next to Hermione. Reaching over, she removed the copy of the Daily Prophet from its leg and dropped a knut in the owl's pouch.
"Why are you still getting that rag, 'Mione?" asked Ron. "The ministry already admitted that Vol…Vol… oh bloody hell, you-know-who is back."
"As if it's any concern of yours, Ron, but I want to keep an eye on them. You never know what that idiotic Fudge might do."
Tilting his head to one side, as though he needed the blood to pool to that side in order to ponder this, Ron replied, "Aye, you do have a point there I guess."
It wasn't long before they noticed the change in timbre of the conversations going on around the room. Professor McGonagall had appeared at the front of the table, passing out the class schedules to all of the Gryffindors. She greeted them with a smile as she approached, "Tis good to see you again Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley. Have a good summer, all of you?"
"Yes," they all replied. "And you Professor?" queried Hermione.
"Yes, quite relaxing, thank you Miss Granger. Here are your schedules; and Mr. Weasley, please come by my office after your final class. I would like to discuss the upcoming Quidditch season with you. Good day, you three."
Harry looked down at his schedule and moaned, "Double Potions, Herbology, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts on alternate days; Care for Magical Creatures, double Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts again, and double Charms on the other days. Oh, my head hurts already. What about you two?"
Hermione's was even worse with a double Arithmancy thrown in for good measure. Ron at least had been spared potions and was actually looking forward to his Muggle Studies class.
"Well, we best be off I suppose. We certainly don't want to be late for Snape's class," said Hermione as she rose from her seat.
"I've got Muggle studies first" added Ron heading for the door, "See you two later in Herbology."
Harry and Hermione made their way through the cathedral like halls to the small and depressing dungeons where their Potions class was located. The deeper down the stone stairways they went, the more hushed their footsteps became, the dimmer the sunlight. As though this was a forbidden land of eternal still and darkness. Harry's unease mounted with each step, as though he was the condemned being led to the gallows. Noticing his quiet hesitancy, Hermione asked him what was wrong.
"Nothing, Hermione," Harry grumbled as he stared at the floor.
Grabbing his arm and pulling him into the corner next to the classroom door, Hermione looked at him, "Harry, this is me, Hermione, remember? Your best friend? I know when something's bothering you, now out with it!"
Harry studied the stonework of the wall, as though, if he only looked hard enough, on it he would find the answers to everything. Giving in to the inevitable, he turned to her, "I guess… well, it's just that… well, Snape was miserable before. What is he going to be like now that he is being forced to accept me in his class?" he answered with defeated eyes.
"I know, Harry. This isn't going to be easy, but you must keep your temper this year. Our studies are going to be hard enough and you don't want to fall behind because you're in detention with Snape."
"You're right, I suppose. I'm just glad that you're here to help keep me out of trouble. I don't know what…"
"My, but isn't this quaint! Scarhead and his mudblood," interrupted Draco. "Don't tell me you were actually accepted into Potions, Potter! I thought Professor Snape had higher standards than that. I can understand him cutting the mudblood a little slack because, well… because she's a mudblood, but you on the other hand…"
"That will suffice, Mr. Malfoy" the deep, sarcastic voice of Professor Snape began. "Potter," the malevolent voice added, "quit lurking in the shadows and proceed to your seat or I'll be forced to take points away from Gryffindor even before class begins."
Quickly, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and led him into the classroom before he could respond. They made their way into the classroom to their usual seats to find that they were the only Gryffindors in the room. This didn't bode well, Harry thought.
Strolling, with a hint of swagger, Snape made his way to the front of the room. Turning with a flourish, he looked around the room, "Welcome to NEWTs level Potions. All that you have learned in your previous five years has been but to prepare you for this. All… excuse me," pausing to glare down at Harry with a deeply dark, vindictive sneer, "most of you have achieved the required level of proficiency in the precise art of potions making that allows you the privilege of attending this class. You will work harder and study longer than you ever have before. Make no mistake; I do not care about your other classes, how much work they give you, if you are on the Quidditch team, or if your pet is ill. My class is the only thing that matters to me. If you cannot comply with these requirements or are unable to rise to the challenge, you will be dismissed from this class. Do I make myself clear?"
Silence dominated the room as everyone, even Malfoy, nodded their heads in hesitant acknowledgement.
"Good. You have the remaining time to produce the potion on the board," and with a wave of his wand, the longest potion they had ever seen appeared on the board, "you had best… hurry."
Harry and Hermione both grabbed their cauldrons and began discussing the next steps. As Harry took a step away from the table to begin gathering the needed ingredients, Snape stopped him. Looking between Harry and Hermione he began with a very condescending lilt, "No, I don't think this will do, Mr. Potter. No, I don't think this will do at all. The table for students on probation shall be… that one back there, in the corner."
As they both started to gather their things to move to the back table, Snape turned to Hermione with a stern look, "Miss Granger, are you on probation as well? If so, it is news to me. As much as it pains me to break up this little… duet, you shall remain here. Now, I recommend you start gathering your ingredients, as you haven't much time. You, Mr. Potter, over to your own desk."
As Snape walked away, Hermione grabbed Harry's arm, looked him in the eyes, and shook her head from side to side. "Don't, Harry! He's just looking for an excuse to toss you out of his class. Don't give it to him. Just ignore him and do the work, Harry. You can do this if you just pay attention and try. Ok?"
As the blaze of hatred in Harry's eyes began to subside, he gave her a strained smile and gathered his things in silence.
Harry did his best to maintain his composure throughout the rest of the class. At least Snape didn't taunt him any more, that is unless sitting at his desk and fuming at Harry counted. Hermione's mere presence allowed him to refrain from doing something really stupid. Why was she always able to calm him down like that, he thought? No one else could, not even Ron.
The completed potion was to be a thin, bubbling, deep forest green. "Well, at least this isn't a complete disaster," he muttered, stepping back to assess his creation. Although its consistency reminded him of the thick, boiling mud pools one found near volcanoes, the potion simmering within the cauldron was at least of a light pea green color. To his relief, Snape hadn't vanished it outright, but had awarded a half point and assigned him two feet of parchment to explain his mistakes.
Hermione sensed that Harry was depressed about his dismal showing and quickly joined him at the door as they began their way to Herbology. "Well, things are looking up," she began with a smile.
Stopping mid-step, with a look of extreme bewilderment, Harry asked, "And just how is that?"
"Well, a half point is more than he would have given you last year, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I suppose," was he could muster.
Herbology was with Ron and was a bit more interesting. They would be studying medicinal plants this year, which with the return of the Dark Lord, seemed a potentially useful thing.
"Now who can tell me from what type of tree this branch is from?" boomed professor Sprout. Instantly, Neville's hand flew into the air. "Yes, Mr. Longbottom."
"That, I believe, is a Willow branch, Professor."
"Right, and do you also know what it is used for?"
"Well, I'm not quite sure, but I know some wands are made from Willow."
"Quite right, Mr. Longbottom, but does anyone else know what can it be used for?" whereupon, Hermione's hand came up.
"Yes, Miss Granger."
"The bark of the Willow branch contains Salicylic acid and was used by early European muggles in a similar manner as Aspirin is used today. But in the magic world, if the bark is combined with finely crushed limestone, grasshopper legs, and clear spring water it produces a rudimentary poultice that can be used to treat burns caused by hexes."
"Excellent! Because you both were correct, and for also describing the Muggle use of the Willow branch, twenty points for Gryffindor," answered Professor Sprout to a beaming Hermione and Neville.
"Blimey, where on earth did you learn that 'Mione?" asked Ron. "I mean, is that something I'm going to have to learn in Muggle Studies? Muggle Potions?"
"No, don't be silly, Ron. Muggles don't have potions. Well, not like we have potions anyway. My parents taught it to me. We were on a picnic one day and were talking about the trees, and, well being dentists, they know this kind of thing."
Professor Sprout handed out various sizes of the long, supple, Willow branches and the students spent their time practicing extraction of the light inner bark. Ron soon found that he had rather a knack for peeling the bark from the twig in one continuos piece. "All those times I was in trouble, my mum would make me peel potatoes by hand," he groused, "I guess it paid off."
As the three made their way back to the Great Hall for lunch, Neville caught up with them. "Harry," he started, looking around to see whom was near, "are you going to start up the DA again?"
"It's okay, Neville, you don't have to whisper. Yeah, I am. Dumbledore is making it a real club this year. We just have to allow everyone in now, Slytherin included," replied Harry.
"Oh… does… does that mean Malfoy will be there too?"
With a lopsided grin, Harry looked at Neville, "I suppose he might be. But don't worry Neville, you're much better than he is. I hope you will still come, whether he's there or not."
Neville's worried look faded away, he walked a little taller, and a smile appeared that stretched his face to the breaking point. "Thanks, Harry. I will!"
As Neville practically bounded away, Hermione nudged Harry in the ribs. "That was a rather nice thing to say, Harry. It really helped Neville's confidence."
"I meant it, Hermione. He improved far more than anyone else did last year. He just needs some self confidence."
"Oi, considering where he started from, he needed a lot of improvement," added Ron.
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, "It's comments like that which destroy any confidence he might have. I think it would be rather interesting to watch you duel against him in the next DA meeting. You just might be eating your words!"
As the three sat down in the Great Hall for their lunch, Hermione and Harry noticed that Ron had gotten rather quiet. Although his plate was a towering conglomerate of food from all dishes within arm's reach, he wasn't attacking it with his usual gusto and aversion to good manners.
Whereas she was apparently safe from an inadvertent fork jab while reaching for a food platter, Hermione was becoming concerned. "Is there something wrong, Ron? You're not mad at me now, are you?"
Ron looked up from his meal and peered at Hermione and Harry, "No. But, well, now that you mention it… I was kind of wondering if you two could help me with something. I mean, well I can't seem to figure it out. I've been trying all morning, but I can't get it to work…"
"Can't get what to work, Ron. What are you talking about?" asked Harry.
"Oh, sorry. They gave us this "pin" in Muggle Studies and said we had to do all of the homework with it. I just can't seem to get it to work, I mean, I dipped it in ink and all, but it just made a bloody mess."
As Ron pulled his ink covered ballpoint pen from his bag, Harry and Hermione fought with everything they could muster to keep from laughing in the face of their best friend. They looked at the table. They looked to the ceiling. They looked at each other… and lost it.
"Oh, bloody hell. See if I ask you two for help again," barked an indignant Ron.
"Ron, please…haha… we're sorry…eep," stammered a very red faced Hermione, "Here, I'll show you." Reaching across the table, napkin in hand, she took the pen from Ron and gave it a good cleaning. "Ron, first off, this is called a ballpoint pen, not a pin. You don't have to dip it into ink; the ink is inside already. See you just press on this little button here and the point comes out the other end. Now you can write with it."
Ron simply stared, his mouth hanging open, "Oh, never tried that. Thanks, Hermione."
They were quick to finish their lunch so they could arrive early for Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was going to be their first day with Tonks and they didn't want to miss a minute. Since, due to Umbridge, their fifth year DADA class was an utter waste, they were anxious to learn from someone they new had held her own against all the Death Eaters Voldemort had sent her way.
The three made their way into the classroom and found a desk midway up the room. Even if the room was still a bit dim and foreboding, it looked much better than when Umbridge had been the Professor. She had swept the room of most anything that might have been related to the dark arts or useful against it for that matter. Tonks, it appeared, had brought back all of the things that Professor Lupin had used, and more. In fact, the room was bordering on claustrophobic. In some places were heaps of boxes, crates, papers, and bags piled so high, if one could stand on them, you could look the dragon skeleton in the eye.
Everyone jumped when the door to the classroom suddenly burst open, bounced off the wall, then slammed shut once again on who ever had attempted to enter.
The silence following this commotion was finally broken by a collective gasp heard throughout the room as a primal urge to breathe began to exert itself.
Again, the door opened, this time in a more dignified manner. Within the doorway stood a regal looking Tonks, sporting dark blue hair, a burnt orange robe, and rubbing a red mark on her forehead where the rebounding door had obviously connected.
"Good afternoon class! My name is Professor Tonks," she began, making her way to the front of the room, "I am you new Defense Against the -", but she never made it.
Tonks was now sprawled out flat on the floor, having tripped over the last desk.
The room fought hard to refrain from laughing, all that is but Malfoy. "A regular train wreck this one is. Hope she teaches better than she walks," he chortled.
Tonks carefully raised herself from the floor and dusted herself off. Looking straight at Draco, she slowly walked over and spread her hands across the top of his desk. He began to panic now, envisioning his possible life as a bouncing white ferret. Seeing that she now had Malfoy's undivided attention, Tonks leaned over to within inches of his face and let out a deafening "Hee Haa!"
"You might do well to pay attention in my class, Mr. Malfoy. If the defensive abilities that you exhibited on the Tee-rain," which she pronounced like a donkey's brae, "are any indication of your proficiency. You have nothing to be pompous about."
Turning back to the class, "Now where were we… ah, yes. My name is Professor Tonks, and I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. For those of you who don't know me, I am an Auror for the Ministry of Magic. Although I am here in somewhat of a dual role, as an Auror and Professor, my duty is to prepare you all for the dark days that are coming. I am sadly aware of the previous professor's lack of instruction and how far behind this has placed you. But 'eh, we'll fix that. Not to worry."
"Now we will be focusing on the proper casting of curses, hexes, and spells, as well as the defenses against them. Depending on how far we get through the year I'll try and cover elementary wards. Now everyone, pair up!"
Harry quickly looked over and caught Neville's attention. "Hey, Neville. Would you like to join up, since there's only three of us?"
"Are ya' sure, Harry? I mean… well, yes, I guess I would. Thanks, Harry!"
"Here's your chance to show us your stuff, Ron," Harry said with a grin.
Neville and Ron paired together near the windows with Harry and Hermione next to them. Harry was a little nervous pairing off with Hermione. What if he hurt her, or worse yet, made her mad? That… would not be good, he thought.
But as though she could read his mind, which he sometimes believed was a real possibility, this train of thought was unceremoniously derailed, "Harry Potter! I know what you're thinking. Don't you dare hold back on me! I want your best. How am I to improve if you keep holding back?" Harry could only respond with a lopsided grin, since she had in fact figured out the truth.
Tonks assessed the class's different levels of proficiency by having them practice simple spells and counter curses for the rest of the day. It became quickly evident to Harry, and Tonks as well, that those who had been members of the DA found this quite boring. These were all things that Harry had drilled them on relentlessly during their clandestine meetings in the Room of Requirement.
At the end of the class, Tonks congratulated them on a job well done. She also announced that the DA, as a legitimate club this time, would be beginning as soon as she and Harry were able to work out the details. As the rest of the students gathered their things and filed out the door, Tonks pulled the three aside.
"Wotcher, Harry! I say, it don't take but one eye to see who was in the DA. It was pretty obvious from watch'n the class. You're a pretty good teacher, Harry. Come by tomorrow night and we'll talk about what you want to do. See 'ya latter!" and with that she was off.
Ron turned to the others as he closed the door to the classroom, "I suppose I should head to McGonagall's office, since she did say she wanted to talk about this year's Quidditch team. Any recommendations then, Harry?"
"Well, it's pretty much a scratch now isn't it. Since Katie, you, and I are the only ones still here, we're going to have to hold tryouts, I suppose. Hey Ron, Ginny did a brilliant job as chaser when we played at the Burrow. What do you think? I know she would be interested."
"I don't know, Harry. Playing at home is one thing, but do you think she'd listen to me as Captain? She can be pretty stubborn if you haven't noticed."
"No more than some other Weasleys we know!" huffed an indignant Hermione. "She has just as much right to try out as anyone else, Ronald. In case you haven't noticed, she's perfectly capable of making her own decisions."
"Hermione's right, Ron. Ginny would be fine." Seeing that Ron was concentrating on using his foot to remove an imaginary spot of dirt from the polished marble floor, Harry knew that there was more to this than Quidditch, "Is there something else you're worried about?"
Taking a quick glance at Hermione, Ron looked up at Harry, "Well… you see… I mean it's just me this year, Harry. Fred and George aren't here to help me look out for her. It's… well, mum made me promise…"
"Don't worry, Ron," Hermione added with a bit of sympathy in her eye. It was no secret that Ron, all his siblings actually, felt a deep seated need to watch over and protect their only sister. It was one of Ron's most endearing, and at times exasperating, qualities. Ron had been near frantic when Riddle had spirited her away into the Chamber of Secrets. She also knew what it was like to have Molly extract a promise from you about something, "Look at it this way, where better to keep an eye on Ginny than by having her there with you on the Quidditch pitch?"
"I suppose. Besides, Harry's right. She would make a bloody good chaser. Ok, I'll talk to McGonagall about it. I'll meet you two back in the Common Room, before dinner. Alright, then." and with that decision seemingly resolved in his mind, he was off.
As they slowly made their way to the Gryffindor Common Room, neither one spoke. Both knew that Ron's admission had provided the other a reminder of the previous night's emotional events. As the portrait of the Fat Lady drew aside the entrance hole, Hermione broke through Harry's thoughts by reaching out and giving his hand a light squeeze. "It will be ok, Harry. Let's just focus on our homework, alright?"
Stepping through the portrait hole, Harry responded with a gentle squeeze of her hand and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ok. Maybe I could convince you to explain where it was I went wrong today in Potions? I do have two feet to write you know."
"Yes, Mr. Potter. I do believe I could be convinced to do that. Just don't ask me to write it for you," she responded with a smile as they settled in at the long table at the side of the room.
It wasn't long before Ron stepped through the portrait hole and waived at them to head down to the Great Hall. "McGonagall agreed that Ginny would make a good chaser but said she'll have to try out for the team like everyone else. She wants me to post a note in the Common Room announcing tryouts for a week from Wednesday. Harry, I'm going to need your help to make these decisions. You'll help me won't you, mate?"
"Sure, Ron, I wouldn't miss it," Harry said with a lop-sided grin as they entered the Great Hall.
After a filling meal of roasted lamb and mint potatoes they made their way back to the tower. It had been a long, and in the case of Snape, grueling day. But they had survived their first day back and although two of them still had a git for a potions instructor, they didn't have Umbridge to deal with.
In the common room, the three settled in for what appeared could be a long night of attempting to subdue their homework. Grinning silently to each other from opposite sides of the table, Harry and Hermione watched as Ron feverishly attempted to master the complexities of a three-ring binder, loose leaf paper, and a ballpoint pen. They weren't called Nasty Excruciating Wizarding Tests for no reason, they supposed.