DA Stands for ‘Don’t Ask’
The storm outside shook the stone around them, and Harry got the distinct feeling that the island had won. He was now a dementor.
For most students of Hogwarts, Defense Against the Dark Arts class was one of the most unreliable next to History of Magic. Naturally as it had been taught by a ghost for the passed 50 years at the least. Some of the muggleborns would ponder over the justification behind such a decision. Surely there was a protocol or set of qualifications required to teach at Hogwarts… right?
Thus it shouldn’t have been a surprise to any that Hogwarts’ new DADA professor left a lot to be desired. The first class of Delores Umbridge just so happened to consist of 4th year Hufflepuffs, known for their ability to spread exaggerated gossip, much to the ire of their subjects. By the time Delores Umbridge began teaching her 3rd class that day, nearly half the school was at least partially aware something wasn’t quite right. Unfortunately, the day would end in disaster for a certain duo as they approached their final class for the day, Defense Against the Dark Arts. The mood was melancholic due to the absence of a certain student made all the more bitter with the presence of a smug pink-adorned ministry employee.
As the 5th year Gryffindors found their way to their seats, said woman silently watched over them with what could only be described as a poorly disguised smug smile. The majority of the red-tied students were oblivious to this fact and chattered happily with friends about previous summer activities. Attention was drawn from the teens as a small bird folded from parchment made an appearance and began fluttering around the room, spreading with it the elation to be back at Hogwarts and surrounded by magic once more.
However, its flight was short lived as the parchment abruptly darkened and singed with fire before falling neatly to the desk of two girls, surprised and disappointed over the abrupt ‘death’ of the bird. They weren’t alone, as the class of rowdy teens quieted in trepidation.
“Good morning children,” a voice spoke up from the back of the classroom. In unison the class turned to see who had spoken, finally noticing the witch adorned in pink watching them.
As the new professor made her way between the desks, she flickered her wand and chalk began writing on the chalkboard at the front of the class.
“Ordinary wizarding level examinations,” her high pitched voice echoed out over the silent classroom. “O. W. L.s, more commonly known as OWLs. Study hard and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so and the consequences may be severe.” It was hard for even the most dim witted Gryffindors to miss the delight splashed across the professor’s face at the mention of severe consequence.
As textbooks distributed themselves around the room, the class listened tentatively as Professor Umbridge continued to speak about the inferiority of their previous teachings with what should have been taught. Read: what the Ministry wants them to be taught.
“There’s nothing in here about using defensive spells.” One Hermione Granger spoke up, after raising her hand of course.
“Well I can’t imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom,” Professor Umbridge responded as though what she’d said was reasonable at all.
“We’re not gonna use magic?” Ron Weasley spoke up in confusion. It was what the entire classroom was thinking as they glanced at one another.
“You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk free environment.” When no further questions were forthcoming, the witch turned back to her chalkboard with a high pitched titter.
Upon dismissal the class packed their textbook away and quietly crowded out of the classroom under the unnerving eyes of the Professor. Hermione and Ron spoke quietly to one another as they made their way to charms class next, one of the few classes shared between the pair.
“This is ridiculous. She’s teaching us absolutely nothing useful,” Ron whispered in quite outrage.
“It’s our OWL year as well. She shouldn’t be allowed to damage our education like this,” Hermione whispered back, frustration clear in her voice. Their conversation wasn’t quiet enough it seemed as other students around them mumbled in agreement.
“If Harry were here he wouldn’t have let this slide,” Ron spoke, a myriad of emotions in his inflection.
“No,” Hermione’s was rather similar. “I can’t imagine he would.”
They entered charms class.
A week passed and Hogwarts happily welcomed the end of classes. Her students happily conversed under the floating candles in the Great Hall, a magical atmosphere spurring the joy felt by most. The buffet that lay artfully over the four tables was hungrily eaten by the tired students as they formulated plans for the weekend.
Much to the disgust of Hermione, nobody she could see at the Gryffindor table appeared different than what she recalled from fourth year. Friend still spoke as they usually would, smiles were still passed around as they had been, jokes and plans and conversation were swapped between the Gryffindors like nothing had changed.
Ron Weasley, a hungry boy, was contently finishing the food remaining on his plate as he examined other options around him. It was a constant scratching at the back of his mind that prevented him from truly immersing himself in the plentiful buffet. The scratching was firmly labeled ‘Harry’. Where was he? Was he eating ok? Was he hurt? When would he come back?
Feeling slightly unsettled, Ron put his fork down and starred at his unfinished meal regretfully.
“I know!” Hermione exclaimed as she turned to Ron. “We should teach ourselves defense! We can use the textbooks the year before us used and go from there! I can make a curriculum to follow and you can help with the practical practise, all we need is a-“
“What’re you on about?” Ron looked lost, brow furrowed as he watched the witch prattle about curriculum.
“Oh, honestly Ron,” she sighed exasperatedly. “I’m saying we should make our own DADA class. One not controlled by Umbridge.”
“Professor Umbridge,” he corrected with amusement. All he got was a huff in response and a dismissive wave. “That sounds cool n’ all, but where would we find a classroom to do it? If we were caught by ol’ toad face there’s no saying what she’d do to us.”
Both thought back to her… speech on their first day of class. What would a witch like her classify as severe consequences?
“That will be a problem,” she admitted. “That wall of hers will be full of ridiculous rules by the end of today what with everyone’s focus being elsewhere than their studies.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if wands were banned next,” Ron grumbled as he pushed his food around his plate.
“Regardless,” Hermione continued. “We need to try to at least teach ourselves how to protect ourselves. Self-defense is a basic human right after all.”
It went unsaid that their plan was the perfect kind of crazy that reminded them of Harry. They’d do this for Harry. If they learned enough they could find him. It was a hope both clung to fiercely.
With hardened resolve the pair leaned in together and began discussing how to make their plan work. Where would they meet? A set rotation of abandoned classrooms. How would they send invitations to their peers? By verbal invitation in the common room to exclude any prying ears. How often would they meet? That would depend on the size of the group they had. How would they get last years’ textbooks? They’d ask for them from the now sixth years, obviously.
With a rough plan formed, they left the Great Hall optimistic and much happier than when they’d entered.