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Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and, after a moment, he closed it again, defeated.

“She’s an awful woman,” said Hermione in a small voice. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in… we’ve got to do something about her.”

“I suggested poison,” said Ron grimly.

“No… I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we’re not going to learn any Defence from her at all,” said Hermione.

“Well, what can we do about that?” said Ron, yawning. “It’s too late, isn’t it? She’s got the job, she’s here to stay. Fudge’ll make sure of that.”

“Well,” said Hermione tentatively. “You know, I was thinking today…” she shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on, “I was thinking that—maybe the time’s come when we should just—just do it ourselves.”

“Do what ourselves?” said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.

“Well—learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves,” said Hermione.

“Come off it,” groaned Ron. “You want us to do extra work? D’you realise Harry and I are behind on homework again and it’s only the second week?”

“But this is much more important than homework!” said Hermione.

Harry and Ron goggled at her.

“I didn’t think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!” said Ron.

“Don’t be silly, of course there is,” said Hermione, and Harry saw, with an ominous feeling, that her face was suddenly alight with the kind of fervour that S.P.E.W. usually inspired in her. “It’s about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge’s first lesson, for what’s waiting for us out there. It’s about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don’t learn anything for a whole year—”

“We can’t do much by ourselves,” said Ron in a defeated voice. “I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practise them, I suppose—”

“No, I agree, we’ve gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books,” said Hermione. “We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we’re going wrong.”

“If you’re talking about Lupin…” Harry began.

“No, no, I’m not talking about Lupin,” said Hermione. “He’s too busy with the Order and, anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that’s not nearly often enough.”

“Who, then?” said Harry, frowning at her.

Hermione heaved a very deep sigh.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she said. “I’m talking about you, Harry.”

There was a moment’s silence. A light night breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron, and the fire guttered.

“About me what?” said Harry.

“I’m talking about you teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Harry stared at her. Then he turned to Ron, ready to exchange the exasperated looks they sometimes shared when Hermione elaborated on far-fetched schemes like S.P.E.W. To Harry’s consternation, however, Ron did not look exasperated.

He was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then he said, “That’s an idea.”

“What’s an idea?” said Harry.

“You,” said Ron. “Teaching us to do it.”

“But…”

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2. A few people mumbled “good afternoon” in reply.
3. A plump witch carrying a smoking goblet entered the lift at that moment, and Mr. Weasley did not elaborate.
4. A practice what they learn day after day
5. Adverbs the hereafter
6. After a few minutes’ progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached Harry’s ears.
7. After a good night’s sleep, Harry felt nearly back to normal.
8. After an hour or so, Hagrid and Slughorn began making extravagant toasts: to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore, to elf-made wine, and to—
9. After glancing once at this portrait, Professor McGonagall made an odd movement as though steeling herself, then rounded the desk to look at Harry, her face taut and lined.
10. All three of them raised their wands again, but none of them struck: they were all gazing, open-mouthed, appalled, at what was happening to the man’s head.
11. And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too—four.
12. And then, out of nowhere, the pain in his scar peaked. As he clutched his forehead and closed his eyes, a voice screamed inside his head.

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