Is It Flammable?

Chosen stopped himself outside of the hall and waited next to the double doors for Dark. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms watching as others left the hall and walked past him, whispering to each other as they glanced at him. He knew that Dark would follow him outside so he decided to make it easy for him, he was feeling generous.

“Hey, dumbass,” Dark appeared outside of the hall and tossed him a slice of toast with butter and cinnamon. Chosen caught it and took a big bite. 

“What classes do you have today?” Chosen asked him, now walking with him through the hallway. Dark yawned and closed his eyes.

“Double Transfiguration, Herbology, History of Magic, and Free Period. It’s not that bad even though Herbology might actually kill me but what’s new, am I right?” Dark had his hands behind his head in a relaxed manner and he opened one of his eyes to look at Chosen, “I plan to study ancient runes again during my free period. I have a great idea for making something with them. No, I'm not going to tell you what it is, it’s a secret. Anyway, how ‘bout you?”

Chosen sighed he knew Dark wouldn’t tell him what he was going to start working on, but at the moment Chosen couldn’t bring himself to pressure Dark about it. So he said, “That’s pretty tame compared to what I have,” Dark perked up at this, listening carefully, “I have a History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts today.”

Dark whistles, “You have it rough. Although, if it was me, it would be better because Snape actually likes me.” 

Chosen looked at Dark and his eyes were sparkling with humor. 

“Really? Well, I bet I can make Snape give me, a Gryffindor, points this week,” Chosen felt his lips tug upwards at Dark’s expression, “If I win, you tell me what you are working on.”

“I accept,” Dark told him, “and if I win, you owe me Calligrapher supplies.”

“We share money Dark, buy your own.”

“Fine! Then you’ll owe me…” Dark trailed off thinking, “...no, that would be unproductive…” Chosen rolled his eyes at him, then Dark snapped, “I GOT IT! You’ll find a way to sneak me into Hogsmeade whenever I want to go!”

“Deal,” Chosen agreed immediately, taking a big bite from his toast. That should be easy. He shook Dark’s now extended hand.

Chosen had finished his toast right when they had gotten to Professor Binns's classroom. Did Dark purposefully lead them there? Chosen wasn’t paying attention to where they were going, it seems that Dark did. He better start paying attention again, he was losing his nerve.

“Well looks like you made it to your first class! Try not to die, cus then I can’t kill you later. Bye!” Dark said all of this rather fast, then sped off to his first class, leaving Chosen in front of the classroom door. Seeing that some of his classmates were walking down the corridor towards the room as well, he slipped inside and sat down.

All the rest of his classmates came in and sat down as well, and the bell rang. As soon as Professor Binns started talking, his wheezy, droning voice affected the class immediately. He started talking about giant wars, of which the subject was slightly interesting. He listened intently, ignoring the sensation that Binns' voice tried to lure him to sleep. It seems the only other one in the class doing this was Hermione, whom he had tremendous respect for because of her diligent writing. She obviously valued her education. 

To his amusement, however, Ron and Harry were playing some sort of game. His attention was diverted from listening to Binns to watching their game with interest. Because the two were sitting in front of him, he saw that Harry had drawn five lines at the bottom of the page and a weird symbol at the top above it. Ron scratched down the letter a, Harry crossed it out then he drew on the symbol a circle. The process continued. Ron wrote an i, and Harry placed the i on the second line below. Chosen turned his attention back to Binns, he still needed to pass this class, he needed to listen.

Chosen spent most of the rest of class paying attention, until Hermione sent Ron and Harry a dirty look, just as Binns introduced Gregory the Green Giant, and Chosen drew his attention back to their game. His eyes widened at what he saw. The symbol he saw earlier was not a symbol, it was a gallow and the circle they made was a head. They drew a black stick figure hanging. Why did they do that?

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Chosen had to know. So he quickly put his things in his bag and ran to catch up to them. 

“Hey, Harry, Ron!” Chosen said after them, catching up rather quickly.

“Oh. Hey Chosen, what’s up?” Ron said.

“I wanted to ask you two what kind of game you were playing in class. I’ve never seen it before.” Chosen asked, avoiding Hermione’s disappointed look.

“Ah- It’s called hangman,” Harry said, “Don’t you play it in America?”

Chosen tried not to look taken aback by this, “I’m sure other people have played it but I know I’ve never seen it before. Sorry.”

“No problem, mate,” Ron told him.

Chosen nodded and Hermione interjected, “You two better pay more attention in Professor Binns's class because I might not let you use my notes this year.”

“But Hermione,” Ron whined, “You don’t want us to fail do you?”

Chosen saw his opportunity and slipped away from the group, already having gotten the information that he needed. The game, Hangman, made him feel sick. Especially since they were playing it so casually. He supposed that they themselves never really knew about sticks as he and Dark did. It just shook him how similar the black stick figure they made resembled how he looked.

After a moment of gathering himself together on a bench in the hallway, he remembered they had a small break before starting Snape’s class so he spent a few moments there clearing his head. Chosen then left to go to the library for the rest of the break. The journey there was uneventful, and he gave a slight nod to Madame Malcum before slipping between the shelves.

He supposed while he was here he could look for any way someone could turn invisible. He had decided that Harry could be their suspect. Because 1. Harry and his friends were notorious for being nosey. 2. The invisible person slipped past him and went up to the boy’s dorm. 3. Chosen did not see Harry in the common room with Ron and Hermione. 4. When Chosen went upstairs, Harry was alone in their room. 5. Harry has constantly slipped around previous years (according to Dumbledore) and he probably just had something to help him not get caught.

Chosen leafed through the books and came across a book-shaped gap in the bookshelf as if a book was there. He reached out and, as he suspected, grabbed an invisible book off the shelf. Maybe this is the book he needs. Chosen soon realized, to his amusement at his stupidity, that he couldn’t read an invisible book. He returned it to the shelf, telling himself that he would just let Dark look into it. He wouldn't even be surprised if Dark already has.

After the failure at the library, Chosen walked slightly faster than usual down to the dungeons for his second class. So far his first day of school has been very boring and just like he suspected it to be. He hopes that in Snape's class, they will learn at least something interesting. 

The temperature dropped as he walked down the stone stairs, the walls lined with torches. He finally made it to Snape’s classroom. He joined the group of Gryfindors on the right side of the door. The Slytherins were all bunched together on the other side, whispering to each other. It seems like the house rivalry was not exaggerated at all.

The bell rang and they all entered, the Gryfindors sitting on one side and the Slytherins on the other. Chosen found himself sitting next to Hermione, who gave him a small smile as they sat down in the back of the class. Chosen was preparing to get points from Snape to win his bet.

“Settle Down,” said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him with a snap.

As soon as Snape entered the class it became so quiet, that if someone dropped a needle Chosen would bet all his money that everyone in the class would be able to hear it. Snape’s mere presence was enough to ensure that the class was silent.

“Before we begin today’s lesson,” said Snape, gliding over to his desk and turning to face all of them, “I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting in 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 are, I expect you to scrape an ‘Acceptable’ in your O.W.L, or suffer my…displeasure.”

His gaze lingered on Neville, who looked like he would melt into a puddle of goo. Chosen immediately noticed that Snape was acting differently in class than during his previous lessons with him. He seemed more… cold.

Snape continued “After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me. I will take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of you will certainly be saying goodbye.”

Snape was now looking at Harry, and his lip curled. He really doesn’t like Harry.

“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 N.E.W.T., I advise all of you to concentrate on your efforts upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.”

Chosen wasn’t planning on being here next year, so he supposes he doesn’t have to worry about all that then. He still will learn what he can (it might be handy later).

“Today we will be brewing a potion that often appears at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion that calms anxiety and soothes agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a deep irreversible sleep, so pay close attention to what you are doing.” Chosen thought that this potion will be quite nice to have on hand just in case, it’ll be nice to learn. “The ingredients and method-” Snape flicked his wand “-are on the blackboard-” (writing appeared on the blackboard) “-the ingredients-” he flicked his wand again “- are in the cupboard-” (the cupboard opened) “you have an hour and a half. Begin.”

This potion was the hardest Chosen ever had to make (Although he has only made thirty-one potions before today, so he supposes that it is not that much of a contest). It was so precise that if you stirred it one more time, put too much or less of one ingredient, had the flames too hot or cold, or had the heat on for one more or less second than necessary, the potion would be done for. Fortunately for Chosen, he had an amazing memory (sometimes he wished he didn’t…), so he had no problem following the steps perfectly. Chosen found himself having the urge to change the potion and add new ingredients but he stopped himself and followed the recipe the way it was written down. He can do his experimenting later when Snape isn’t hovering next to him.

“A light silver vapor should be rising from your potion,” Snape called out, with ten minutes left.

Chosen’s potion was doing just that. He glanced over at the others and Hermione was correct like his but everyone else was not doing great. On the Gryffindor's side, Harry’s had a massive amount of dark gray steam, Ron’s was spewing green sparks everywhere, Seamus was trying to start his fire with his wand and it kept going out, and Neville’s had the consistency of just-mixed cement. On the Slytherin side, Malfoy’s had pure green steam, a big boy who sat next to Malfoy’s looked like it was constantly about to catch on fire, and a girl with black hair’s cauldron could be seen wobbling on her table like it was about to walk away if she didn’t turn down the heat.

That was all he saw before Snape's voice caught his attention.

“What is this supposed to be, Potter?”

Chosen noticed that all the Slytherins perked up eagerly at Snape’s words.

“The Draught of Peace,” Harry responded tensely as if Snape were going to attack him.

“Tell me, Potter,” asked Snape softly, “Can you read?”

Draco Malfoy laughed. Chosen was thinking about interfering, Snape’s words seemed targeted and sharp.

While Chosen was contemplating whether it would be worth it, Harry said “Yes I can,” while his hand was clenched on his wand. 

“Read the third line of the instructions then, Potter,”

Chosen chose to interfere indirectly, he held his wand under the table and flicked it at the potion that the boy next to Malfoy was working on. 

FWOOM!

The potion went up in a torrent of flames, causing everyone to turn and look towards the fire. Malfoy and his two friends yelped and ran away from their desks as the heat hit them.

Snape turned his back on Harry and yelled “Aquimente!” water shot out of his wand and doused the potion. The flames were still sputtering, being too big to be put out with Snape’s spell. Chosen, realizing he made the fire too big, ran over and flicked his wand, shooting water out of it and helping Snape stop the fire. The fire flickered out of existence but the room was now filled with smoke. Snape flicked his wand and the smoke disappeared. He then rounded on Chosen.

Silence permeated the room, everyone was staring at him. Snape broke the silence.

“That is a sixth-year spell that you did non-verbally,” Snape's eyes then narrowed, “It was helpful however, so I will award Gryffindor ten points. I would like to speak to you after class.”

Oops. Chosen forgot about the fact that he is not supposed to know some things. It’s nice to know that non-verbal spells do exist and that he won his bet with Dark, though.

The Gryffindors looked at Snape as if he had lost his mind. Then turned and looked at him in awe. The Slytherins looked like… they respected him? That was weird. Maybe it was Dark’s fault.

The sound of the bell rang through the classroom, which snapped everyone back from their shock.

“Class is over, everyone bring up your potions in a flagon,” ordered Snape tiredly, “label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk. Your homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of Moonstone and its uses in potion making, to be handed in on Thursday.”

Chosen turned sharply and came face to face with Hermione looking at him intensely. 

Ignoring this and focusing on his potion, he filled up his flagon and put a label in it with his name on it. He did this as slowly as possible, watching as Harry filled his up quickly before Snape could change his mind and delete his potion from existence. Hermione walked past him with her own, leaving the room with Harry and Ron. Everyone else ran out rather quickly and only Chosen was left.

Chosen approached Snape's desk with his flagon and turned it into Snape.

“Here you go sir,” said Chosen simply.

Silence filled the room.

“Chosen, will you tell me when you learned to use non-verbal spells?” Snape seemed rather focused as if this was crucial information. 

Chosen thought carefully about his answer before saying slowly, “Just recently, I learned how to do them while I was homeschooled, as well as the water spell.” His brain felt slightly tingly, he frowned as he realized that Snape was trying to enter into his mind. He didn’t let him in. “Please don’t do that.”

Snape seemed surprised and asked, “Did your parents teach you Occlumency, Chosen?”

“No,” Alan only taught him how to dodge.

“How did you repel me without learning Occlumency?” Snape’s expression turned calculating.

“I said my parents didn’t teach me, not that I didn’t learn, Professor,” Chosen told him, pointing to the exit, “Now, I have to get to lunch, can I leave sir?”

“No, not yet, I still have questions,” Snape told him and Chosen sighed in annoyance, “If your parents didn’t teach you who did?”

“That information is classified, and if you want to know, ask Dumbledore. I can not tell you. I am under oath,” Chosen told him tiredly. In all honesty, he just didn't want to deal with the question.

Silence filled the room once again.

He must look 100x more exhausted because Snape doesn’t ask him anything else but ushers him out the door saying “Get more sleep.”

As the door thuds shut behind him, he turns around and comes face to face with two members of the golden trio.

“Uh, what are you guys doing here?” Chosen asked them, already knowing that they must have been listening.

“We wanted to thank you,” Harry told him as they briskly walked up the stairs out of the dungeon, “for distracting Snape.”

“You know I did that?” Chosen asked Harry, slightly surprised he was caught.

“Yeah, Hermione told us she saw you flick your wand under the table and start the fire,” Ron told him, “That would be awesome if you did.”

“I just thought he was being unfair to you,” Chosen told them truthfully, “If that happens again, I won’t mind making something else burst into flames or explode.”

Harry and Ron laughed. 

“Well, I’ll see you later,” Chosen told them, waiving and disappearing around a corner before they could follow him.

Chosen wanted to go to the Great Hall as fast as possible to tell Dark about his victory and get his reward. He sped down the hallway, weaving between students until he reached the Great Hall. 

His eyes caught Darks and he grinned. He got over to Dark at the Slytherin table ignoring the people glaring at him for coming over to their table as a Gryfindor. His eye caught a small brown-haired girl next to Dark, who did not glare at him. She must be in Dark’s grade.

“What is it this time,” Dark asked him, he was cutting his food with his knife, not even looking at him.

“I won the bet,” Chosen told him, “Snape gave me ten points.”

“No way!” Dark yelled, turning to him and brandishing his knife, “I don’t believe you!”

“As much as I don’t want to admit it,” a black-haired girl started. Chosen recognized her as the girl with the wobbling cauldron in his potions class earlier, “he’s telling the truth.”

Dark looked at her and then looked back at him, his face now in a scowl at his defeat.

In a blur of motion, Dark moved his knife quickly. “What did you do to get points,” Dark asked, pressing his knife against his throat threateningly. Chosen laughed at him.

“I saved the classroom from going up in flames,” Chosen told him, pushing the knife away from his throat, “Now tell me what you're working on.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Dark said, flipping the knife and catching it, then turning back to his meal, “I’m eating right now.”

“Fine, but you better tell me today,” Chosen told him, “I don’t want you blowing up the school or something.”

“I WOULDN’T DO THAT SHUT UP!” Dark yelled at him, Chosen chuckled at him (he knew full well Dark wouldn’t do that anymore), “GO EAT SOME DAMN FOOD, IDIOT!” He looked like he wanted to launch his knife at him. The brown-haired girl laughed at Dark. Glad he made a friend.

“Nice seeing you too, Dark,” Chosen said quietly, slipping away to the Gryffindor table. He was in a good mood. He plopped down next to Neville.

While he grabbed some food, he could feel the people at his table staring at him and whispering. Neville cleared his throat next to him.

“Hey, Chosen?” He asked nervously.

Chosen looked up from his plate to see Neville’s nervous expression, his forehead was wrinkled in concern.

“Hm?” Chosen hummed at him.

“Why did your brother point a knife at you?” 

Chosen just then realized that Dark did do that. It wasn’t a big deal.

“Oh, that. He does that sometimes. Nothing to be worried about, he won’t actually hurt me,” at least not anymore. We won’t be fighting each other anytime soon… Hopefully. He glanced up at Neville, he looked even more scared. Chosen sighed and added, “Relax, we were just playing around.” Chosen saw that Neville did not look convinced, so he decided to change the subject, “I almost forgot, I wanted to ask you something. You like Herbology, right?” Neville nodded in confirmation, “Do you think you can help me when we have that class? I’m not as confident in that subject and it’ll be nice to have a person who’s good at it to help me.” Chosen got out his Herbology textbook.

“I’d love to help you! What do you need help with?” Neville was cheered up rather fast at his praise. He seemed surprised that Chosen knew about his green thumb.

“I never learned about this plant…”

Chosen spent the rest of lunch conversing about plants with Neville and ignoring the glances sent in his direction. He learned a lot about plants from Neville, who told him cheerfully about a type of vine that would grab its victim with its thorny tendrils and tear them apart, eating their dismembered body. Apparently, its thorns are good ingredients for amplifying pain in potions. That was three minutes ago.

Right now, he was making his way up to Trelawney’s classroom. He wasn’t very excited about drinking tea and smelling the incense. He believes it won't be a productive class, but at least it is not difficult.

He made his way up the stairs and through the trapdoor quite quickly and was bombarded with the smell of incense. He was the last one in the room, Neville having got there before him somehow. Neville waved him over to his table, so he went and joined him. Sitting down cross-legged on a pillow, he prepared for class.

Professor Trelawney emerged from the dark corner of the room, her beads clanking together as she moved over to her desk. She must be hot in all those shawls. This room is quite toasty. She turned to them, her large glasses that perched on her face, amplified the size of her eyes as she looked out at them all.

“Good day,” she began in a misty, dreamy voice, “And welcome back to Divination, or welcome to Divination,” She looked at Chosen as she said this, “I have, of course, been following your fortune's most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely- as, of course, I knew you would.”

“You will find on the table before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is the most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your O.W.L. Not of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of Divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmaster likes you to sit in the examination, so…”

Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them knowing that she thought her subject above such useless matters like examinations.

“Turn, please, to the introduction and read about dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs and use the book to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on.”

He paired up with Neville, seeing that they were sitting right next to each other, and read the chapter together. He was quite nervous about telling his dream to Neville, he contemplated telling him something different.

Once they were done reading, Chosen let Nevile go first and he immediately embarked on a long-winded explanation of a nightmare involving a giant pair of scissors wearing his grandmother's best hat. It was quite interesting to listen to, it let him know more about Neville.

Neville’s dream meant, according to the book, that he will have significant changes or decisions to make. It might have to do with accepting something about himself that he has been keeping down (possibly because of his Grandma). Chosen was happy for him if it was true. 

Now it was Chosen’s turn to tell his dream. He decided to tell Neville a dream he had a little while ago.

“I had a dream about a huge spider, it was red,” Chosen simply said, “It was a pretty good dream. Nothing else happened except we chilled near the lake. The waves were high, but they couldn’t reach us because we were far up and above the storm.”

Neville leafed through the book and hummed, “Red spiders… It says that it could symbolize complex relationships or fear and anxiety. Turbulent lakes… mean your emotional well-being is not great. The fact you were calm and away from it makes the meaning change.”

Neville cleared his throat and announced to him, “I got it!” Then he pointed at him and said dramatically, “You are going to make up with someone with whom you have a complicated relationship and although it won't be easy the both of you will be happy with the outcome.”

Chosen smiled softly and the bell rang, calling the end of class. Professor Trelawmey assigned them a month-long dream diary for homework before they could bolt down the ladder.

Now he had Umbridge’s class, the most important of all of his classes today. He had to make sure Harry didn’t say anything he’d regret, as the ministry already had it out for him. His words would only make the situation worse.

It was a short walk to Umbridge's classroom and he followed Harry and Ron through the door, immediately spotting Professor Umbridge sitting at her desk. She was wearing the same pink cardigan from the night before and a black velvet bow adorned her head. He silently watched her large smile as he went and sat down, looking at her warily. He still didn’t like her smile, but he found himself getting used to it.

The rest of the class filled in quietly. They didn’t know if she was going to be strict with them or not.

Finally, when all the class had seated themselves, Umbridge began, “Well, good afternoon!”

Some students grumbled “Good afternoon” in reply. Chosen wasn’t one of them.

“Tut, tut!” Professor Umbridge said, “That won’t do, now, will it?” Chosen flinched at the words. He didn’t like the way they were worded or spoken. “I would like you to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge!’ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” he found himself chanting back with the rest of the class, annoyed.

“There, now,” said Professor Umbridge sweetly. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out please.”

The tone that leaked out of Umbridge immediately soured his mood. He didn’t want to be in this class anymore. He watched as she dug into her pink handbag and brought out her own wand, which was quite short. Then she tapped the blackboard sharply with it, creating words like Snape had previously:

DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS

A Return to Basic Principles

“Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disturbed and fragmented, hasn’t it?” started Professor Umbridge, turning her face to the class with her hands neatly clasped in front of her. “The content changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.”

“You will be happy to hear that these problems have been rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, Ministry-improved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following please.”

She rapped her wand on the blackboard again, changing the previous message into the ‘course of aims’. Chosen read them carefully.

1. Understanding basic principles underlying magic defense.

Chosen felt as if he had this one down already.

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

This one doesn't matter in the least bit to him. He didn’t want to go against the rules, but if he needs to use a spell he is not going to think about whether or not it is legal.

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

So she doesn’t want them to actually cast spells but learn how? That was stupid. Casting the spell is an important part of learning them.

He heard the people around him scribbling down the three points on their parchment. Umbridge was looking at him and smiling, Chosen, realizing that she would talk to him if he didn’t write any of it down, did so, although he found it to be a waste of parchment.

After he was done, Umbridge continued, “Has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Stinkhard?”

There was a murmur of confirmation throughout the class. Chosen only nodded saltily, now leaning back in his chair.

“I think we’ll try that again,” said Professor Umbridge. “When I ask you a question, I would like you to reply ‘Yes, Professor Umbridge’ or ‘No, Professor Umbridge’. So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Stinkhard?”

Chosen rolled his eyes and said “Yes, Professor Umbridge” with the rest of his class.

“Good,” said Professor Umbridge. “I would like you to turn to page five and read ‘Chapter One, Basics for Beginners’. There will be no need to talk.”

Professor Umbridge then left the blackboard and sat down at the desk, observing all of them with her bluish-gray eyes, as he was looking, her eyes met his and her smile grew larger.

Chosen huffed and turned to page five. After reading the first sentence, he decided that this book is not only pointless to read, but also more boring than anything he has ever experienced. So he pretended to read the book instead, flipping the pages every so often and wondering what Dark was doing.

I know I shouldn’t worry about him, he seems to be doing just fine for the first day. His interest in magic is good for him. His mind shifted over to their bet. Even though he lost the bet, I think I’ll take him to Hogsmead with me sometime. It’ll be fun.

Chosen, having made up his mind, decided to see how his classmates were doing. He looked up from his book to find Hermione with her book firmly closed and her hand straight in the air. Umbridge was pointedly looking in the other direction, ignoring her. Several of his classmates had also abandoned their books and were staring at Hermione or Umbridge, the exchange (or lack thereof) was way more entertaining than Defensive Magical Theory’s first page.

After most of the class had abandoned reading and instead were watching Hermione, Umbridge seemed to have decided she could no longer ignore the situation.

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter dear?” she asked Hermione, as if she just noticed her.

“Not about the chapter, no,” Hermione replied.

“Well, we’re reading just now,” said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth, “If you have any other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.” (Chosen felt a twinge of anger at her voice, it must be her condescending tone)

“I’ve got a query about your course of aims,” said Hermione.

Umbridge raised her eyebrows.

“And your name is?”

“Hermione Granger,” said Hermione

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

“Well I don’t,” said Hermione bluntly, “There is nothing written about using defensive spells.”

There was silence as most of the students turned their heads to look at the course of aims, frowning. Chosen already realized this and was mentally cheering on Hermione. He would only intervene if he had to.

“Using defensive spells?” Professor 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?” 

Chosen frowned while she said this, Isn’t the whole point of the class to be prepared just in case something happens? It’s like she is purposefully trying to make her students unprepared for what lies ahead so they will be easier targets.

“We’re not going to be using magic?” Ron exclaimed loudly, interrupting his thoughts.

“Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr-”

“Weasley,” said Ron after thrusting his hand in the air.

Chosen knew the situation was serious, but couldn't stop the small smile that appeared on his lips from Ron’s action.

Umbridge's smile grew larger (how is she doing that? Soon her grin will resemble the Grinches if it keeps growing bigger). Hermione and Harry both raised their hands and her eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before addressing Hermione.

“Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, “Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?” (Spot on, Hermione, Chosen thought to himself)

“Are you a ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?” asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.

“No, but-”

“Well then, I am afraid you are not qualified to decide on 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 defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-”

“What use is that?” said Harry loudly, “If we’re going to be attacked, it won't be in a-”

“HAND, Mr Potter!” sang Professor Umbridge.

That’s it, I need to help. This is getting ridiculous.

Chosen raised his hand in the air, along with several other students.

“And your name is?” she asked Dean.

“Dean Thomas”

“Well, Mr Thomas?”

“Well it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?” said Dean. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk-free.”

“I repeat,” said Professor Umbridge, smiling in an irritating way, “do you expect to be attacked during my classes?”

“Who knows, anything can happen,” Chosen said out loud, interrupting Dean (he threw him an apologetic look), “I won’t rule out the possibility of being attacked anywhere.”

“Raise your hand, Mr Chosen,” she said, turning to him, “I don’t know-”

“It was raised, you just didn’t call on me,” Chosen responded automatically, “Besides, it seems like you are insinuating that the first time using the spells will be during the exam.”

“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 conditions,” she said dismissively.

“Without practicing them beforehand?” Chosen said, “Haven’t you ever heard of practice makes perfect?”

“I repeat, as long as you study the theory hard enough-”

“And what good’s theory in the real world?” said Harry loudly, his fist now back in the air.

Professor Umbridge turned her gaze to Harry.

“This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world,” she said softly. 

“So we are not supposed to be prepared for what’s waiting for us out there?”

“There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter.” Chosen noticed that she is now baiting him.

“Oh, yeah?” Harry looked like he was going to explode, his hands were shaking uncontrollably. I need to interfere.

“Who do you imagine wants to attack children such as yourselves?” enquired Professor Umbridge in her horribly honeyed voice.

“Well,” Chosen interrupted Harry before he could talk, “Not everyone has good intentions, Professor. That’s why prison and Defence Against the Dark Arts exist. To defend against Dark Arts and put those who abuse their power in jail. Naming a certain person is not needed to still be taught what is supposed to be learned and practiced.” Chosen thought he handled that pretty well, all things considered.

Her eyes snapped to him and narrowed slightly. 

“I do not believe, Mr Chosen, that you have the authority to dictate what is or is not ‘supposed to be learned and practiced’. No one would ever attack students such as yourselves, so there's no point in using defensive spells in class.”

“Yes they would,” Harry said heatedly.

“Who would, Mr Potter?”

“Lord Voldemort!” Harry yelled before Chosen could intervene.

Chosen facepalmed; Ron uttered a gasp; Neville slipped sideways off his chair. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was now looking at Harry with a satisfied grin.

“Ten points from Gryfindor, Mr Potter.”

The classroom was silent and completely still. Everyone was either looking at Harry or Umbridge.

“Now, let me make a few things quite plain.”

She stood up at her desk and leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands stretched out over her desk.

“You have been told that a certain dark wizard has returned from the dead-”

“He wasn’t dead,” said Harry angrily, “but yeah, he’s returned!”

“Mr-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-house-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself,” said Professor Umbridge in one breath, not even looking at Harry, “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!”

“Detention, Mr Potter!” said Professor Umbridge 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 of 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’.”

Professor Umbridge sat back down at her desk. Harry, however, moved to stand up. Chosen was at his desk quickly, pushing him back into his seat, his hand on his shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting way. Harry looked up at him angrily, and before he could open his mouth Chosen spoke up.

“I know it is awful, but she is trying to provoke you,” he said in almost a whisper to Harry, “She is probably reporting your every move to the Ministry, I’ll handle it.”

He saw Hermione nodding at Harry in agreement to his words, and clutching onto his robes. Harry seemed to want to attack Umbridge, but Hermione’s nod made him sigh and slightly relax under Chosen’s hand. Harry then nodded up at him as a confirmation of agreement to his plan.

He then cleared his throat and said clearly to Umbridge, “So, this is how the Ministry handles clear evidence and eyewitness testimony- with scorn and ridicule. What reason does Harry have to lie? He is already rich, famous, and has two good friends.”

Everyone in the class looked at him, probably wondering why he had taken up defending Harry. Or they were thinking about getting popcorn to enjoy the show Chosen was about to perform.

“The Ministry is sensible and fair in its decisions, Mr Chosen. It is quite obvious that Mr Potter is lying, so there is no reason to take his words into consideration. I’d advise you to sit back down.”

Chosen took a deep breath and, taking his hand off Harry’s shoulder, started to make his way to the front of the classroom. “I think a good reason to consider his words is the fact that he is the ONLY eyewitness that would tell anyone about the true nature of Cedric Diggory’s death.”

The whole classroom seemed to hold its breath at the mention of Cedric Diggory. Chosen ignored them as he passed the second row of students.

“Cedric Diggory’s death was a freak accident,” Umbridge said coldly.

“Not according to Harry,” Chosen walked past the last row of students and up to her desk. He paused in front of her desk, looking directly at her blue-gray eyes, his face devoid of emotion. Dropping his voice to a whisper so only Umbridge could hear his next words, he told her, “The Ministry won’t consider Harry’s words because they are scared of the fact he’s telling the truth. Trust me, I would know.” 

Chosen started a flame of anger within Umbridge. Her face turned blank as she looked up at him from her chair. Then she said in her softest most dangerous voice, “Detention, Mr Chosen. Tomorrow evening at five o’clock in my office. You and Mr Potter will both be there. Now sit back down before I deduct points as well.”

Chosen was hoping for that, so he turned around sharply and walked over to his desk, winking at Harry as he passed. He then plopped down on his chair and looked at his still-open book like nothing happened.

The whole classroom was in shock. They stared at him as if he did the most stupid thing ever, which he did. Although his actions may not make sense to his peers, they did to him. Chosen was trying to make Umbridge more interested in him than Harry, and it seemed that his words had done just that. Professor Umbridge was now looking at him with intense interest.

“Now that all is settled, please continue your reading, page five.”

Everyone turned back to their textbooks, but it didn’t seem that anyone was reading. They were too excited about everything that happened. The bell rang shortly thereafter, and Chosen put his book into his bag and left quickly. He will talk to Harry later, right now he should go and tell Dark everything.