Dark Pasts { A Harry Potter Story }

Chapter 39 - Dumbledore's Army

It was getting rather late and most students had left to go to bed, but Harry still had not come back from detention with Umbridge. I had gone to the library to find out if there was a potion or something I could make to help Harry's hand to heal. Luckily enough, I found something in no time.

"Here," I said when he had come back and sat on the sofa, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help."

He placed his bleeding hand in the yellow liquid and sighed in relief, thanking me.

"That foul, evil old gargoyle!" Hermione exclaimed. "You know, I was just telling them we should do something about her..."

"I suggested poison," Ron said.

"No, I mean... something about the awful teacher she is," Hermione said. "I know, I know, she's already got the job and it's not like we can fire her," she said when seeing Harry's doubtful expression, "but... I was thinking that- maybe we should just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" Harry asked as I gently dried his hand with a towel.

"Well, you know... learn DADA ourselves," she said.

"You want us to do extra work?. Ron asked as he sunk further into his chair.

"Oh, come on! This is much more important than homework!" she said, making Ron and Harry goggle at her. "Look, we need a teacher- a proper teacher..."

"If you mean Lupin-" Ron said but Hermione interrupted him.

"No, no I don't mean Lupin."

"Oh!" I said, finally understanding.

She turned to me hopefully, beaming. "Yeah?"

I nodded in agreement, and as she looked at me, I understood who exactly she was referring to.

"Exactly!" I said, standing up.

Harry and Ron looked at each other before looking at us quizzically.

"What are you two talking about?" Ron asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" I said. "We're talking about you, Harry."

"Me?" He said incredulously.

"Yeah, you could teach us!"

"That's an idea," Ron said, which only seemed to concern Harry even more.

"I'm not a teacher," He protested, but the three of us were grinning in excitement.

"Well, I'm sure you'd be a thousand times better than that old gargoyle!" I said, earning a chuckle from him.

"But how... I mean," He said, looking around nervously. "I'm not even the best at D.A.D.A.."

"This isn't about grades, Harry, look at what you've done!" Hermione told him.

"How d'you mean?"

"Honestly, Harry," I said as I shook my head, a smirk on my lips. "You can be so clueless sometimes."

He looked at me, question marks plastered on his face, and I chuckled. Hermione and Ron began to laugh as they shook their heads.

"First year, you saved the Stone from You-Know-Who," Ron began.

"But-"

"Second year," Hermione interrupted him. "You killed the basilisk and Tom Riddle through his diary!"

"Yes, but-"

"Third year," I continued, smiling widely. "You fought about hundred dementors at once!"