Chapter 40
Hermione
“That horrible, miserable pink-coated COW!” Hermione fumed as she stomped alongside Harry. Harry nodded, his jaw clenched tightly, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists as he marched alongside her.
“Who the hell does she think she is? Teaching with no qualifications other than being Fudge’s bloody bitch lapdog!” Hermione continued, her face flushed and tone pitching with anger.
Needless to say, as they continued their quick, angry pace to Professor McGonagall’s office, the first DA class had not gone well. It seemed “the toad woman” otherwise known as Dolores Umbridge was not going to be any kind of improvement on DA teachers. In fact, Hermione rather thought she’d have been happier with a return of Quirrell, who was actually a puppet of Voldemort, than that woman. She had started the lesson with the announcement that they would not need wands in her class, as they would not be allowed to practice the spells they were being taught. “Taught” used in the loosest term, as their classes would consist of reading the book, chapter by chapter until their O.W.L’s. A book she had already read and therefore memorized. It was, she mused wryly, a blessing and curse in one to never be able to forget the things you read. Quite helpful for tests, and, as she had learned, real-life survival.It was also annoying when the book was the blandest, most error-ridden drivel I have come across to date. Which is saying something after reading all of Lockhart’s books. Harry had taken a different approach to classroom disruption, taking a stand about Voldemort's return and calling their new professor a liar.
“Sent out of class? For asking a question?!” She continued.
“Well, you didn’t just ask a question.” Harry said hesitantly, catching her eye for the first time on their walk.
“What?” She snapped, stopping and turning to glare at him.
“Hermione, you asked if the lesson plan had been approved by the headmaster and the school Governors, and where she got her training to teach.” He said challengingly, cocking a brow.
“So?” She said petulantly.
“You asked what special allowances would be given to 5th and 7th year students for NEWTS and OWLs and when they changed the test to remove the practical portion.”
“Basic questions.” She snapped.
“You were provoking her and you know it.” He laughed, “You just didn’t expect to get in trouble for it.”
“I have a perfect school record, or I did until that bitch wrote this.” She sighed, brandishing the note she clenched tightly in her fist. Let it go, she told herself. You don’t have to be perfect anymore. Hell, Sirius will probably laugh.
“It’s overrated.” Harry shrugged. His anger was cooling now that his antagonist was gone. Hers was still a flame within her, burning for retribution. How dare that puffed up toad punish her for asking perfectly reasonable questions?
“She gets quite purple when she’s mad. Clashes with her pink tweed, doesn’t it?” She quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
“We did piss her right off.” Harry said smugly.
“She did rather look like a tea kettle ready to blow.” Hermione puffed out her cheeks and crossed her eyes, blowing the air out in a whistle. Harry gaped at her, then began to laugh, doubling over and gasping for breath.
“You really…have been spending too much time with the twins.” He wheezed. She found the laugher too infectious and joined him, honestly surprised at herself for breaking their anger with a joke.
“What is going on out here?” A sharp voice snapped as a door, mere steps from where they had paused, swung open, revealing the emerald robes and stern face of their head-of-house.
“Professor.” They said in unison, voices laced with guilt.
“Why aren’t the two of you in class?” She snapped, crossing her arms.
“We, er…” Harry stuttered.
“We were sent to give you these.” Hermione held her hand out, displaying the folded and sealed note Umbridge had given her. Harry held his aloft as well.
“Hmf.” She grunted, taking the notes and sweeping into her office. “Come along!” She snapped. They followed in her wake, sitting across from her at her neat desk. She read the notes quickly, her frown gradually increasing. She looked up at them over her spectacles.
“Is this true?” She asked incredulously. “Mr. Potter you yelled at her? Ms. Black, you ‘questioned and mocked the professional qualifications of a high-ranking ministry official’?”
Hermione smirked. “Last time I checked asking someone for their job qualifications is not against the rules.”
“Ms. Gran-Black. It also says you refused to stop speaking out of turn and made wildly impossible academic claims.” McGonagall raised an eyebrow at her.
“She turned away every time I raised my hand. She said the lesson would consist of reading chapter one without speaking, and I informed her I had already read the book, she quizzed me and I answered.” Hermione said placidly, without shame. She was sure McGonagall would be on her side.
“And Harry?” She turned her sharp gaze on him.
“I…yeah I yelled at her.” Harry mumbled looking down. McGonagall breathed hard threw her nose and looked down at the notes again. She then tossed them on the desk and roughly pushed a tartan cookie tin closer to them.
“Have a biscuit.” She said harshly. Hermione gingerly plucked a cookie from the tin. Harry tried to refuse but a harsh glare from their professor had him quickly snatching a taking a bite of his cookie.
“You two need to be more careful. Acting out this way in front of Dolores Umbridge could cost you more than house points and detention.” She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You know who she’s reporting to.”
“But professor, she has no qualifications to be a teacher! What about our OWLS?” Hermione cried.
“Ms. Black. I mean now is not the best time to put yourself on the wrong side of the Ministry.”
“So, they are in control of Hogwarts now?” She asked, shocked her head-of-house was not on her side.
“It would seem so. My hands are tied.” She sighed sharply. “It says here you both have detention with her every night this week.”
“That’s unfair!” Harry shouted.
“All week?” Hermione screeched at the same time.
“She is your teacher and has every right to give you detention. You are to report to her at 5Pm, starting tonight.”
“Professor, can’t you-” Harry began, but she cut him off with a slice of her hand through the air.
“No, I can’t. I could, however, suggest that you do what the Malfoy heir does every time he has a detention with me.” Her mouth twitched, and although her face stayed stern as ever her eyes had a sort of twinkle to them. Hermione caught on instantly.
“May we be excused, professor? I need to get to the Owlry.” She asked quickly.
“You stay a moment, Hermione. Potter, you can go.” Harry rose to his feet and shot her a guilty look before hurrying out of the office. Hermione shifted in her seat, unsure what her professor wanted from her. McGonagall laced her fingers together and looked at Hermione over the rim of her glasses.
“I wanted to meet with you this afternoon to check on your well-being. Are you alright, Hermione?” She asked in a kind voice.
“Am I…in what regard, Professor?” She asked, bemused at the sudden shift.
“I wanted to check on you several times this summer, but…anyway, you’ve gone through some very dramatic changes. It would be only natural for you to be…distressed.”
“With all due respect, Professor, you could and should be asking Harry the same thing. He watched a classmate die, and was tortured.” She said firmly.
“In this moment, we are talking about you. You had your home invaded, were almost taken, disowned, and faced danger again to retrieve Mr. Potter- which, before you think I’m praising you should have been handled by the adults, but…do not discount your own hardships because you think someone else has it worse.” She paused, looking down at her hands for a moment. “I want you to know I care deeply for you. I offered my own home when Dumbledore said your parents had…” She shook her head sadly. “And if you ever have need of it, you can come to me; I will always do whatever I can.”
Tears, hot and utterly unwelcome sprang to Hermione’s eyes at the touching statement. She blinked them back and cleared her throat before speaking.
“Thank you, professor. I’m fine, really. I have a family now. We have each other.”
**********************
Sometimes, Hermione wished muggle technology worked inside Hogwarts. Specifically, telephones. Having sent Sirius two letters detailing their situation, they were then left to wait with no idea of if he had received them, let alone how long they would need to wait for a reply. As the day drew to a close and Harry and Hermione found themselves walking together to their joint detention, she felt foolish for even writing. It’s just detention. She told herself firmly. So what if it was undeserved, it’s a few hours of some unpleasant work and off to dinner.
They reached Professor Umbridge’s office, where the door stood ajar and voices carried clearly into the hallway. Hermione and Harry stood frozen in the doorway, taking in the unexpected sight. Sirius Black, looking extremely well-put together in another extravagant suit (this one black with a waistcoat of purple and gleaming silver details), stood facing Umbridge. His voice, low and dangerous, carried through the room.
"A week of detentions? For expressing their opinions? Do you honestly believe that crippling their studies, Professor, is an appropriate response to… disagreement?" His tone was overly formal, and dripping with the distain common to the upper-class purebloods. To Hermione; who knew Sirius favored leather pants and rock t-shirts, he looked very much like an actor in a play. He stood perfectly straight, and kept his chin high, self-confidence oozing out of his pores. Umbridge, her face a mask of barely controlled fury, retorted in a high, brittle voice,
“They were blatantly disrespectful and your daughter questioned my qualifications and methods!
“Questioning is not a crime, Professor. Especially not for students as intelligent as these two. If you expect children to never speak out of turn or ask questions, you’ve chosen the wrong field.” He gestured pointedly towards Harry and Hermione, an unexpectedly paternal warmth softening his face. Umbridge slid her large eyes to the side and took in the teens in the doorway, frowning sharply at them.
“Still, you have no right to come in here and question me, I was personally appointed by the Minister of Magic and-”
“And what, exactly? Does your appointment mean you are somehow not subject to the same guidelines as the other teachers?”
“I didn’t say that I-”
“So, you agree that I have every right as a parent to ensure my children are treated fairly and have the best possible education? O.W.L.S. as you know, directly impact what classes they are allowed to continue in, and affect future job placement.” Sirius said pompously, tenting his fingers.
“As long as the theory is properly studied, they should have no issue-”
“In fact, I think it’s imperative the other parents are made aware of your new teaching method. If you are so certain of its success, you should have no problem answering to all of them.” He looked down at her. “Can you bear the responsibility of an entire class being unable to work?” He sneered, and Hermione was reminded of Lucious Malfoy.
“Mr. Black, you are exaggerating, theory is perfectly acceptable according to-” She simpered, clearly losing the fight.
“To what? Who was this method tested on?”
She pursed her lips but said nothing.
“Back to the matter at hand then. A week is unacceptable. This incident seems more appropriate for docking points and an apology. Speaking out of turn is hardly a capital crime.”
“It is not for you to determine punishment!” She shrieked.
“I am very invested in my children’s education. I won’t have them a week behind in their studies. One day.” He crossed his arms, staring down at her. She stared back, breathing very heavily through her nose.
“Fine.” She snarled. “But I will be writing to the Minister-”
“Excellent. I’ll be stopping by to see him myself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the headmaster.” Sirius gave her his wolfish grin, stood and straightened his coat.
“Harry, Hermione. Meet me in the Great Hall after, we’ll have dinner together.” He nodded to them and turned to leave.
“Mr. Black! They have detention, they won’t be able to meet you…” Umbridge cried after him. He turned slowly, raising an eyebrow to her. Her large eyes bulged and her face was nearly purple with fury.
“Dinner at Hogwarts goes from 6-8 in the Great Hall. It’s 5pm now. Are you suggesting they go without dinner?” He asked slowly.
“Well- that is, this is highly irregular!” She cried.
“It is, highly irregular for a teacher to not understand the schedules in the school she works for.” He turned to Harry and Hermione. “I’d say 7 sounds reasonable. See you there.”