I smirked as I glanced at the Insurgents' large ad, pinned up on the common room noticeboard by yours truly the night before, over a poster giving the date and time of the first Hogsmeade weekend. 

'GALLONS OF GALLEONS! 

Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings? 

Like to earn a little extra gold? 

Contact Daisy Potter or Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room, for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs. 

(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.) 

"Some firsties have already come to us about it." Fred smirked to me. 

Our frosty tensions seemed to have evaporated over the night, and all was well again. Fred's arm was slung around my shoulders as we and George made our way across the common room, to head to the hospital wing. 

"...You look absolutely - Oh, for heaven's sake." I heard Hermione's voice behind me. I turned. 

She was staring at the common-room noticeboard. 

"They are the limit." Hermione said grimly. "We'll have to talk to them, Harry, Ron." 

"No thanks." Harry politely declined. 

Ron looked positively alarmed. "Why?" He asked her. 

"Because we're prefects!" Hermione said, as they climbed out through the portrait hole. "It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!" 

Ron said nothing; I could tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping me, Fred, and George doing exactly what we liked was not one he found inviting. 

I turned away from the portrait hole and towards Fred and George. "So. We still need to test out the Fainting Fancies again; I have a feeling that they're reacting weirdly to me and not to you guys and Hopper because I'm female." 

"Oh, yeah." Fred and George said, dawning realisation on their faces. 

"I didn't think that some ones might react differently to different types of people." Fred said thoughtfully. 

"That's interesting; maybe the Nosebleed Nougats'll react differently to Hopper because he's a geeky know-it-all." 

"Nice." I high-fived George. 

"Better get you up to Madam Pomfrey before you arm falls off, Softpaw." Fred said, glancing at my sling with a hint of guilt. 

"Right-o!" I said cheerily, extending my good arm. George quickly took it instead of Fred, who scowled jokingly. 

"Let's go!" 

~~~

On the way down to breakfast from the hospital wing, I spotted Angelina marching towards us. I nudged the twins and turned to her. 

"Hi, Angelina." 

"Hi, you three." She said briskly. "Good summer?" And without waiting for an answer, "Listen, I've been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain." 

"Sa-WEET!" I said, grinning at her; I suspected Angelina's pep talks might not be as long-winded as Oliver's had been, which could only be an improvement. 

"Yeah, well, we need a new Keeper now Oliver's left. Tryouts are on Friday at five o'clock and I want the whole team there, all right? Then we can see how the new person'll fit in." 

"Okie dokie." I said. 

Angelina smiled at us and departed. 

"I'd almost forgotten Oli had left." Fred said vaguely as he sat down beside me and pulled a plate of toast towards him. 

"It'll make quite a difference to the team." George commented, sitting on the other side of me. 

"You'll never get a better Keeper than our Keeper." Terry boasted as he snuck over from his house table, smirking. 

"Oh, shut up, Rottenclaw." I said using Floppy's weird insult from last year; it had turned into a sort of inside joke between us. 

With a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. 

Snidget pelted towards me with the usual letter from Dudley, letters from admirers and now supporters and believers of me and Harry, and another bouquet of expensive flowers. My face flushed, already knowing who they were from, and I displayed them in the middle of the Gryffindor table, to everyone's 'ooh's' and 'ahh's.' Fred was scowling for real this time. 

He attempted to drop his scowl as we all spotted Kylie picking her way across the crowded, chattering hall towards us, but didn't do a very good job. I rolled my eyes. Really, it's not like he loves me or something. We're both just using each other to release our hormones. We find each other hot, but it's not like we wanna get married and have babies or anything. This relationship is purely about sex. Why is he acting any different? 

"Hey, Daisy Potter." Kylie slid down smoothly onto the bench beside Terry, who looked as if he might faint, having his celebrity role model sitting right next to him. 

"Hey, Kylie Ford." I replied, taking a bite of my toast. Our eyes made contact. She smirked slightly.  

"You like my little gift?" Kylie said casually, her eyes twinkling. 

I beamed at her as Fred scoffed. 

"'Little.' Yeah, right." He said aloofly. 

Professor McGonagall was now moving along the table handing out timetables. 

"Look at today!" I groaned just after I took mine. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts... Binns, Snivellus, Trelawney, and that Umbitch woman all in one day! I wish the Skiving Snackboxes were ready..." 

"I wish that too." Ron grumbled. "C'mon, Daze, surely you can give me an unfinished product or something?" 

"Do mine ears deceive me?" Fred said, turning with George to look at their younger brother. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?" 

"Look what we've got today." Ron said grumpily, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen." 

"Fair point, little bro." Fred said, scanning the column. "You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like." 

"Why's it cheap?" Ron said suspiciously. 

"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet." George said, helping himself to a kipper. 

"Cheers." Ron said moodily, pocketing his timetable. "But I think I'll take the lessons." 

"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes," Hermione said, eyeing me, Terry, Fred and George beadily, "you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard." 

"Says who?" I said, looking astonished. 

"Says me." Hermione said. "And Harry and Ron." 

"Leave me out of it." Ron said hastily as Harry shook his head, holding his hands up. 

Hermione glared at them. Fred, George, and Terry sniggered. 

I smirked. "You're very authoritative, Mynee. That's kinda hot, not gonna lie." 

Hermione immediately went bright red and turned back to her newspaper. Kylie looked slowly over at her with curiosity. 

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione." Fred said, thickly buttering a crumpet. "You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long." 

"And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?" Hermione asked. 

"Fifth year's OWL year." George said. 

"So?" 

"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw." Fred said with satisfaction. 

"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs." George said happily. "Tears and tantrums... Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint..." 

"Will Ash came out in boils, d'you remember?" Fred said reminiscently. 

"That's 'cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas." I said. 

"Oh yeah." Fred said, grinning. "I'd forgotten... hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?" 

"Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth." George said. "If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow." 

"I bet you did keep your peckers up." I muttered, and everyone around me roared with laughter. 

"Yeah... you got, what was it, three OWLs each?" Terry grinned, once we'd calmed down. 

"Yep." Fred said unconcernedly. "But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement."

"We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year." George said brightly. "Now that we've got Softpaw's Triwizard winnings and all that gold from Bagman." 

"I mean, do we really need NEWTs?" Fred said.

"But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early, not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat." 

"Plus, we couldn't leave Softpaw and Hopper." Fred grinned down at me. I grinned back. "She might have killed us if we left her early." 

"That's true." I said. 

"We're not going to waste our last year here, though." Fred said, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. "We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand." 

"So I assume you guys have a premises then?" Ron asked. "Talking like that, I mean." 

The Insurgents all exchanged glances. We had indeed been casually looking; we'd found a good shop in Diagon Alley with a three-bedroom apartment above it. It was very much affordable considering the money we'd already accumulated. And it had just come on the market. 

"There's a good big space in Diagon Alley. Three-bedroom flat with it, too." Terry told Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Kylie. 

"Wouldn't cost us too much, we'd definitely have a lot left over for ingredients and inventions." George grinned. "Some of those other places were a bit steep; bit on the pricey side." 

Kylie stretched, yawning. "I could buy you lot a shop. A whole department store, if you wanted, Daisy." 

I perked up in interest, but Fred was scowling once more. 

"We can get by just fine on our own, without any help, thanks." He said coolly. 

Kylie smirked, loosening the cuff on her shirt sleeve. 

"Three bedroomed?" Hermione said, frowning. "But there's four of you. Is someone not staying with you? Or are two of you sharing a room?" 

Simultaneously, all three of my clan mates glanced at me, then George and Terry glanced at Fred. I felt my face turn bright pink, and I dropped my wand under the table, causing it to shoot orange sparks onto the ground. I dove under the table to get it. 

I heard Fred say overhead, "Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione. C'mon, Bushy, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology." 

I emerged from under the table to see Fred and George walking away, each carrying a stack of toast. 

"What did that mean?" Hermione said, looking from me to Terry. "'Ask us no questions...' Does that mean two of you lot ARE sharing a room?"

"Yeah, and if so, who?" Harry leant in, his suspicious look back on his face. 

Terry and I looked at each other. 

"Er - Red and Bushy. Separation anxiety from sharing the same room for so long." Terry told Harry. 

"But they'd be adults." Ron frowned. "What happens when one of them wants to bring a girl home and -"

"Goodbye!" I squeaked, running from the table and out the doors as Terry cackled wickedly behind me. 

~~~

History of Magic was just as boring as ever, but I managed to entertain myself and my classmates okay. I sat between Draco and Terry and spent the hour and twenty minutes playing hangman on a corner of my parchment with them, while Hermione shot us filthy looks out of the corner of her eye. 

"How would it be," She asked us coldly, as we left the classroom for break (Binns drifting away through the blackboard), "if I refused to lend you my notes this year?" 

"We'd fail our OWL." I said. "If you want that on your conscience, Mynee..." 

"Well, you'd deserve it." She snapped. "You don't even try to listen to him, do you?" 

"We just haven't got your brains or your memory or your concentration - you're just cleverer than we are - is it nice to rub it in?" I slipped in the compliment to see how she would react.  

"Oh, don't give me that rubbish." Hermione said, but she smiled to herself as she led the way out into the damp front courtyard. I smirked. 

A fine misty drizzle was falling, so that the people standing in huddles around the edges of the yard looked blurred at the edges. Harry, Terry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, and I chose a secluded corner under a heavily dripping balcony, turning up the collars of our robes against the chilly September air and talking about what Snape was likely to set us in our first lessons of the year. We had got as far as agreeing that it was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch us off guard after a two-month holiday, when someone walked around the corner towards us. 

"Hey, Daisy. Got a moment?" Kylie said smoothly, the tone in her voice suggesting that it was more of a command than a question. I shivered, taking her outstretched hand and allowing her to pull me behind a wall. She pressed me up lightly against it, her eyes locked hungrily onto my lips, and I eyed her up. 

"Someone's horny." I commented, and Kylie laughed, her laugh light and somehow rich at the same time. 

"I'm not horny, Daisy; I simply would like to kiss you." 

"So would everyone else." I said. 

Kylie's eyes glinted. "So I've noticed." She muttered. 

I leaned in. Her lips connected with mine, and they moved together slowly at first, gradually getting faster and more passionate, Kylie pressing me harshly into the rough, cold brick of the wall behind. I allowed her to take full control of my mouth, letting her tongue slip into my mouth and rub along mine. Her lip piercing rubbed against my lips, and I moaned into her mouth as her hands moved across my body, down my sides and onto my hips, gripping them tight. 

I was sent back to my group dazedly after fifteen minutes, feeling my swollen lips with my fingers. The group stopped talking and looked at me as I arrived, Terry's eyes falling to my neck. 

"Woah. Slutty Softpaw." He commented. 

Everyone else's eyes followed his, and Draco gasped dramatically as Ron's eyes practically bulged out of his head and Harry's mouth pressed into a thin line. Hermione's face was uninterpretable. 

"There's no way you're hiding that hickey!" Draco said, tugging my collar up and shaking his head. 

Terry leaned in close. "Fred'll go ballistic." He whispered into my ear, and I blanched. True. Who knows what he'll do when he sees what everyone else is seeing on my neck? That boy is so incredibly jealous it makes me scared for anyone who has ever touched me. 

"What was that, Terry?" Harry said. 

"Oh, nothing." Terry said cheerily. "Thought you guys had a Potions class to get to?" 

~~~ 

"Settle down." Snape said coldly, shutting the door behind him. 

There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Well, except for me (I continued to whisper to Draco). Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence. 

"Before we begin today's lesson," Snape said, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at us all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your OWL, or suffer my... displeasure." 

His gaze lingered on Neville, who gulped. 

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me." Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye." 

His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, and I joined him in glaring. 

Harry turned to me. 'I'm feeling a grim pleasure at the idea that I'm gonna be able to give up Potions after fifth year.' He sent. 

'Yeah. Fuck Snape.' I sent back. 

'Indeed.' 

'Naturally.' 

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell." Snape said softly. "So, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students. Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." 

Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of utmost attention. 

"The ingredients and method -" Snape flicked his wand "- are on the blackboard -" (they appeared there) "- you will find everything you need -" He flicked his wand again, "- in the store cupboard -" (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) "- you have an hour and a half... start." 

"So what's the deal with the three bedroomed flat?" Harry asked me as we all rushed to grab our ingredients. 

"Shut up, Harry. I'm sick of you being overprotective as fuck." I told him as I took the ingredient he was about to take. He glared at me. 

"Sue me for being worried about my little sister living with two older guys and her ex boyfriend." Harry snarled. 

"I'm your TWIN -" 

"You're five hours younger than me." 

"Still exactly the same age, Harold." 

"Whatever. Sorry if I'm not exactly sold on the idea of my baby sister living with older males and a dude who has touched her before - no offence, Draco." Harry added.

"None taken." Draco said beside me as we all set up our cauldrons. "I know Terry's not interested in Daisy-flower; never actually has been, not genuinely anyway..." 

"Huh?" Ron turned to him. 

"He's - uh. It's not my place to say." Draco said awkwardly. "Ask him." 

I made eye contact with Draco. I made a small nod to him. I've suspected it for a while now. What Draco just said had just confirmed it for me. 

But I wasn't about to start blabbing. I know that Daisy Potter always gossips about everything and anything to everyone and anyone, but she's not about to do that to her very best friend. I've grown up now. 

Well, at least a bit. 

~~~

When we entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom we found Umbridge already seated at the teachers desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. I was again reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad. 

The class was quiet as it entered the room; Umbridge was, as yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be. 

"Well, good afternoon!" She said, when finally the whole class had sat down, me in between Terry and Kylie. 

A few people mumbled "Good afternoon" in reply, excluding me and Terry. 

"Tut, tut." Umbridge said. "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." The class minus me and Terry chanted back at her. 

"There, now." Umbridge said sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please." 

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order 'wands away' had never yet been followed by a lesson we had found interesting. I kept my wand out and reluctantly pulled out a quill, ink, and parchment, eyeing Kylie's designer quill she had just pulled out. Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once:

'Defence 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?" Umbridge stated, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "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 OWL year. 

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please." 

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

'Course Aims:  

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.   

2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.  

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.' 

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone but me had copied down Umbridge's three course aims she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" 

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class. 

"I think we'll try that again." Umbridge said. "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." Rang through the room, as I said, "No, Professor Umbitch." 

"Good." Umbridge said. "I should like you to turn to page five and read 'Chapter One, Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk." 

Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing us all closely with those pouchy toad's eyes. I turned to page five of my copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read. 

It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. I felt my concentration sliding away from me; I soon gave up completely and turned to Kylie, watching her with my chin propped on my hand. She was doodling on her textbook, without a care in the world for Umbridge's instructions. She was so hot... her sharp jawline... her chiseled cheekbones... her luscious lips... that lip ring... those gorgeous deep blue eyes... 

Several silent minutes passed. Next to me, Terry was making a paper airplane. Ron was absent-mindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Harry was staring glassy-eyed at the page, his eyes not moving. I looked right and received a surprise to shake me out of my Kylie-stupor. Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Umbridge with her hand in the air. 

I could not remember Hermione ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. I looked at her enquiringly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction. 

After several more minutes had passed, however, I was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter we had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Umbridge's eye rather than struggle on with 'Basics for Beginners'. 

When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at our books, Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer. 

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" She asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her. 

"Not about the chapter, no." Hermione said. 

"Well, we're reading just now." Umbridge said, showing her small pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class." 

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

Umbridge raised her eyebrows. 

"And your name is?" 

"Hermione Granger." Hermione said. 

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully." Umbridge said in a voice of determined sweetness. 

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

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned our heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard. 

"USING defensive spells?" Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "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?" 

"What the fuck? We're not going to use magic?" Terry exclaimed loudly. 

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

"Boot." Terry said, thrusting his hand into the air. 

Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Me, Harry, and Hermione immediately raised our hands too. Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on me and Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione. 

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

"Yes." Hermione said. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?" 

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Umbridge asked, in her falsely sweet voice. 

"That's got fuck all to do with anything." I said angrily. 

Umbridge chose to ignore me, focusing on Hermione. 

"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 programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way -" 

"What use is that?" I said loudly. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a bloody -" 

"Hand, Miss Potter!" Umbridge sang, choosing to take notice of me at last. 

I thrust my fist in the air. Again, Umbridge promptly turned away from me, but now several other people had their hands up, too. 

"And your name is?" Umbridge said to Dean. 

"Dean Thomas." 

"Well, Mr Thomas?" 

"Well, it's like Daisy said, isn't it?" Dean said. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free." 

"I repeat," Umbridge said, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?" 

"No, but -" 

Umbridge talked over him. "I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school," She said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds." 

"Shut the actual fuck up." I growled at her, as Terry called her a bitch, Harry pulled the finger at her with both hands, and Draco scoffed loudly. 

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

"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!" Draco said. "We just -" 

"Your hand is not up, Mr Malfoy, I presume!" 

Draco put up his hand. Umbridge turned away from him. 

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

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" Harry said hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads." 

"Your hand is not up, Mr Potter." Umbridge trilled. "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. And your name is?" She added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up. 

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? 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." Umbridge said dismissively. 

"Without ever practising them beforehand?" Shannon said incredulously. 

"Hand -" 

"Yeah, yeah, we fucking get it -" 

"Hand, shmand." 

"Honestly, fuck this." 

"Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?" Kylie said, one eyebrow raised. 

"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 said loudly, my fist in the air again. 

Umbridge looked up. 

"This is school, Miss Potter, not the real world." She said softly. 

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

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

"Oh, yeah?" I said. My temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just beneath the surface, was reaching boiling point. 

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Umbridge enquired in a horribly honeyed voice. 

"Hmm, let's think..." I said in a mock thoughtful voice. "Maybe... Lord fucking Voldemort?" 

Ron gasped; Lavender uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at me with a grimly satisfied expression on her face. 

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Potter." 

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or me. 

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain." 

Umbridge stood up and leaned towards us, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk. 

"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead -" 

"He wasn't dead," I said angrily, "but yeah, he's returned!" 

"Miss-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself." Umbridge said in one breath without looking at me. "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 said. "I saw him, I fought him! You're just being a narcissistic insufferable CUNT!" 

I was breathing heavily. Terry glanced at me admiringly, taking out the list, and scored out '18. Call her a cunt.' 

"Detention, Miss Potter!" 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. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.'" 

Umbridge sat down behind her desk. I, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at me; Seamus looked half-scared, half-fascinated. 

"Daisy, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at my sleeve, but I jerked my arm out of her reach. 

"Go Softpaw!" Terry hissed, and a few classmates snickered. 

"So, according to you, Amy Rolfing dropped dead of her own accord, did she?" I asked, my voice shaking. 

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, for none of them, apart from Harry, Terry, Draco, Ron, and Hermione, had ever heard me talk about what had happened on the night Amy had died. They stared avidly from me to Umbridge, who had raised her eyes and was staring at me without a trace of a fake smile on her face. 

"Amy Rolfing's death was a tragic accident." She said coldly. 

"How are you gonna sit there and tell ME, the girl who literally WITNESSED her death, what happened? It was fucking murder." I said. I could feel myself shaking. I had hardly spoken to anyone about this, least of all thirty eagerly listening classmates. "Voldemort fucking KILLED her and you know it, bitch." 

Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment, I thought she was going to scream at me. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Miss Potter, dear." 

I kicked my chair aside, strode around Terry, and up to the teacher's desk. I could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. I felt so angry I did not care what happened next. 

Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that I could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that I could not open it. 

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear." Umbridge said, holding out the note to me. 

I snatched it from her without saying a word, turned on my heel, and left the room, not even looking back at my classmates or my brother, slamming the classroom door shut behind me. I walked very fast along the corridor, the note to McGonagall clutched tight in my hand, and turning a corner, walked slap into Peeves floating on his back in midair, juggling several inkwells. 

"Why, it's Potty Wee Potter!" Peeves cackled, allowing two of the inkwells to fall to the ground where they smashed and spattered the walls with ink; I jumped backwards out of the way. 

"Hey, Peeves. I'm not in the mood right now."

"Oooh, Crackpot's feeling cranky." Peeves said, pursuing me along the corridor, leering as he zoomed along above me. "What is it this time, my fine Potty friend? Hearing voices? Seeing visions? Speaking in -" Peeves blew a gigantic raspberry, "- tongues?" 

"All of the above." I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes, going down the nearest flight of stairs, and Peeves merely slid down the banister on his back beside me. 

"Oh, most think she's barking, the potty wee lad,  

But some are more kindly and think she's just sad,  

But Peevesy knows better and says that she's mad -" 

"Okay, Peeves, you're an edgelord, we get it." I sighed. 

Peeves grinned. "I know what'll cheer you up, Potty." 

"What's that?" I rolled my eyes again. 

Peeves flew straight towards me, passing right through my body, and I yelled loudly, "FUCK!" as the sensation chilled me to my core. 

A door to my left flew open and Professor McGonagall emerged from her office looking grim and slightly harassed. 

"What on earth are you shouting about, Miss Potter?" She snapped, as Peeves cackled gleefully and zoomed out of sight. "Why are you out of class again?" 

"I've been sent to see you." I said stiffly. 

"Sent? Already? It's the first day back, for heaven's sake." 

I held out the note from Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from me, frowning, slit it open with a tap of her wand, stretched it out and began to read. Her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line they became narrower. 

"Come in here, Miss Potter." 

I followed her inside her study. The door closed automatically behind me. 

"Well?" Professor McGonagall said, rounding on me. "Is this true?" 

"Is what true?" I asked, rather more aggressively than I had intended. "Professor?" I added, in an attempt to sound more polite. 

"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?" 

"Yeah." I said. 

"You called her a liar?" 

"Yep." 

"You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?" 

"Uh huh." 

Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching me closely. Then she said, "Have a biscuit, Miss Potter." 

"Have - huh?" 

"Have a biscuit." She repeated impatiently, indicating a tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. "And sit down." 

There had been a previous occasion when I, expecting to be caned by Professor McGonagall, had instead been appointed by her to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I sank into a chair opposite her and helped myself to a Ginger Newt, feeling just as confused and wrong-footed as I had done on that occasion. 

Professor McGonagall set down Umbridge's note and looked very seriously at me. 

"Miss Potter, you need to be careful." 

I swallowed my mouthful of Ginger Newt and stared at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what I was used to; it was not brisk, crisp and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual. 

"Misbehaviour in Dolores Umbridge's class could cost you much more than house points and a detention." 

"What do you -?" 

"Miss Potter, use your common sense." Professor McGonagall snapped, with an abrupt return to her usual manner. "You know where she comes from, you must know to whom she is reporting." 

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move. 

"It says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow." Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again. 

"Every evening this week!" I repeated, horrified. "What the fuck? But, Professor, couldn't you -?" 

"No, I couldn't." Professor McGonagall said flatly. 

"But -" 

"She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember: tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge." 

"But I was telling the truth!" I said, outraged. "Voldemort is back, you know he is; Professor Dumbledore knows he is -" 

"For heaven's sake, Miss Potter!" Professor McGonagall said, straightening her glasses angrily (she had winced horribly when I had used Voldemort's name). "Do you really think this is about truth or lies? It's about keeping your head down and your temper under control! I know that's not easy for you in particular to do, but you must do it!" 

She stood up, nostrils wide and mouth very thin, and I stood up, too. 

"Have another biscuit." She said irritably, thrusting the tin at me. 

"No, thanks." I said coldly. 

"Don't be ridiculous." She snapped. 

I took one. 

"Thanks." I said grudgingly. 

"Didn't you listen to Dolores Umbridge's speech at the start-of-term feast, Miss Potter?" 

"Yeah." I said. "Yeah... she said... progress will be prohibited or... well, it meant that... that the Ministry of Magic is trying to interfere at Hogwarts." 

Professor McGonagall eyed me closely for a moment, then sniffed, walked around her desk, and held open the door for me. 

"Well, I'm glad you listen to Hermione Granger at any rate." She said, pointing me out of her office.