Harry awoke quite early the next morning with the realization that he was not going to be able to get back to sleep. Reaching for his glasses, he decided that now was as good a time as any to start writing in the journal he had been given. Wriggling to the foot of his bed Harry fished around in his trunk for the slender, blue volume and one of Dudley’s ball point pens, which he decided, would be much easier to use in bed than the usual quill and ink.

He opened the book to the first page and tapped the pen against his bottom lip for a moment. What should he write about? Harry made a sudden decision and bent over the book to begin writing.

I think I was supposed to start this while I was still at the Dursleys’, he wrote, but I can’t help feeling that that would have been a bad idea. I wouldn’t want them to get the idea that I’m anymore messed up than they already think I am. I was more than a little nervous, when Snape pointed out to them that I would be of age to use magic next summer, but they didn’t use it against me, which is good. They didn’t seem any more unhappy about seeing me than usual, actually they mostly ignored me. Aunt Petunia didn’t even make me do the gardening, I think she was more disturbed by the charms Mrs. Weasley cast than she let on, though I did get an earful about that. Mostly I ended up staying in my room. As a nice change, however, the only time I was actually locked in was the night they went out to that fancy dinner party at one of Uncle Vernon’s associate’s house. Uncle Vernon didn’t even yell at me much last week, though I think it took everything in him not to. He kept turning quite purple when he looked at me. I can’t help wondering what Snape said to them. He did tell me to owl if there were problems though, which was, he tapped the parchment with the pen-tip several times, nice, actually. I wouldn’t, but it was nice to know that if I’d needed to I could. It was almost like having Sirius back, if Sirius were snarky and greasy, and if he didn’t need to hide from the ministry. I think I could get used to having Snape around. I certainly did over the summer. That was nice too. I’m back at school now though, which means that Snape has to be mean sometimes in class, to keep from arousing suspicion. Apparently Voldemort has ordered him to make me trust him, but at the same time not to be too nice and make Dumbledore suspicious. It’s a little confusing, and I’m really glad I don’t have to do what Snape does.

Suddenly Harry realized what he had just written. If anyone read this Snape’s position as a spy could be uncovered! Hastily pulling out his wand Harry obliterated the last few lines and spelled the journal to be password protected.

Just as he was finishing up, Ron began stirring and making the little, restless movements that signaled he was waking up. Harry crawled back to the foot of his bed and buried the book in the bottom of his trunk. Then he stood up and stretched. Gathering his things he made his way to the washroom to get ready to start the day. When he came back he was just in time to see Dean Thomas levitating a basin of water over Seamus’s sleeping form. With a wicked grin he upended the bowl, soaking his friend and his bedding. Seamus yelped and leapt out of bed. Unfortunately he got tangled in the sodden blankets and ended up sprawling over the floor. “It wasn’t that funny,” he snarled as everyone laughed.

“Sure it was,” Dean replied snickering, “here, I’ll get your clothes so they don’t get wet. You needed a shower anyway.” He helped his friend pick up his things and grabbed his own toiletries as they headed toward the boys washroom.

When Harry and Ron arrived at the Gryffindor table they found Hermione waiting for them. She was chewing on a piece of buttered toast and happily reading her arithmancy text. “Good morning,” she said to them when she reached the end of the paragraph she was reading.

“Morning, ‘Mione,” they chorused.

“What have you got on your schedule today?” she asked.

“COMC and Herbology in the morning and DADA in the afternoon,” Harry replied.

”Me too,” Ron said carefully around a mouthful of eggs.

“I’ve got arithmancy in the morning, but we’re in DADA together.”

“Sounds good,” Harry said. “Hope this professor is better than Umbridge.”

“Anyone is better than Umbridge,” Ron said feelingly.

“Even Lockhart?” Hermione asked playfully. Ron simply groaned and dropped his forehead to the table where he began beating it as Harry and Hermione laughed.

Very soon Ron and Harry were making their way towards Hagrid’s hut. Given that they were older, Hagrid felt it was time for them to start studying “more innerestin’ creatures,” as he put it. Harry and Ron stifled groans and shared a very expressive look. What Hagrid considered “interesting,” most people considered insanely dangerous. For the first class period Hagrid lectured them on Acromantulas, but he assured them that he would have a live specimen for the next class and they’d get to even better things later in the semester. Ron rushed away from class very fast, nearly leaving Harry behind.

After a hurried lunch the trio made their way to the DADA classroom. “Have you heard anything about the professor?” Harry asked.

“No, not a word,” Hermione answered him, “which is odd really.”

“Well, I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Ron said as they took their places in the line forming outside the classroom door.

Soon the door opened and they heard a gravelly voice telling them to come in and take their seats. As the class entered and settled in for a lesson they carefully observed the man before them. He stood before the chalkboard, staring back at them until they fell silent. “My name is Gordon Lyons,” he said. “If you’re in this class then presumably you did well on your OWL, Exceeds Expectations or above, I believe. Is that correct?” There were a few nods and much indistinct mumbling. “I beg your pardon,” Professor Lyons said softly, “I don’t recall asking you to discuss your OWL results amongst yourselves. If you would all, please answer the following question with either ‘yes, sir,’ or ‘no, sir.’ Did any of you get lower than an ‘E’ on you Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL?”

“No, sir,” the class replied, though not in the perfect unison they had been drilled in under Dolores Umbridge.

“Very good,” Lyons said, a hint of pleasure in his gruff voice. “Now we’re going to call roll and then we’ll get started.” When he got to “Longbottom, Neville,” Harry turned round in his seat and grinned at the round-faced Gryffindor, who beamed back at him. To Professor Lyons’s credit, he had almost no reaction to reading the name Potter, Harry; he merely flicked his eyes up to the youth in question and went on smoothly calling the remaining names.

The lesson began with a brief summary of the theory and mechanics of a new blocking spell, and then they spent the rest of the period practicing that spell. The Gryffindors were abuzz as they left the class. “Wow, I haven’t had that much fun in a DADA class since, Lupin, I think!” Ron exclaimed happily as they left.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “I wish the old toad could have seen that class. We studied defensive theory and still managed to do a bit of wandwork.”

“It was a good class,” Harry agreed. “I wonder why Dumbledore couldn’t get him before. Merlin knows I could have done without Umbridge, and I think everyone else could have, too.”

They meandered slowly up to Gryffindor tower where they saw a crowd gathered around the bulletin board in the common room. “What’s going on?” Hermione asked curiosity readily apparent in her voice.

“It’s the announcement for Quidditch try-outs,” Ron replied. “McGonagall said she going to put it up today.”

“Really?” Harry asked, “Who’s captain this year?”

“Erm, I am,” Ron said quietly, turning a brilliant, glowing red. “I reckon I should have told you before now, but,” he trailed off helplessly and glanced up at Harry.

“But, Ron, that’s brilliant!” Harry exclaimed.

“Thanks,” Ron said. “McGonagall wanted you, I think, but she couldn’t get the Ministry to lift the restriction…”

“I figured as much,” Harry said, trying to be off-hand but failing as a hint of bitterness crept into his voice.

“It won’t be the same without you,” Ron said. “I don’t know who we’ll get for seeker, with you out and Ginny trying for chaser.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Harry said. He had expected all this, but to be truthful he had been avoiding thinking about it since the first day he went flying at Snape’s manor. Harry knew he should be grateful that he had even gotten his broomstick back, but the thought of never flying as part of a Quidditch team again was extremely disheartening.

“Come on, Harry,” Hermione said. “Let’s go get a table; we can get started on our homework.”

“Sure,” Harry said, allowing himself to be steered away from the milling, chattering mob. “We can work on DADA,” he said aloud, while we’re all here, he continued mentally. For a moment, Harry felt that he truly hated Dolores Umbridge, but he forced the thought from his mind, occluding it briefly. When they found a table Harry pulled out his books and parchments and did his best to focus on the assignment before him, though he couldn’t help but look over at the bulletin board several times. He was very happy when it was dinner time, and the trio left for the Great Hall.

By the time they got back to the common room Harry had mostly made his peace with the idea of not playing for the house team, predominantly by telling himself that he would go flying very often, and maybe he could talk Ron into going with him sometimes. It was a relief, nevertheless, to sit with his back to the notice board and play a game of chess with Ron. It felt very homey, he thought, to sit across the board from his friend while Hermione sat off to the side a bit, curled up with a book, looking up to watch them every few pages. The sense of satisfaction soon put his mind the rest of the way to rest and Harry didn’t think about Quidditch for the rest of the evening.