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Usually, when you get a different exam from all your friends and peers, you tend to notice. Unfortunately, when the three people in question include two of the most oblivious people on the planet ( cough-RonAndHarry-cough) as well as Hermione Granger, the one person after Percy Weasley who no one liked discussing their exams with after the fact, that ‘tend to notice’ part becomes a little less happenstance and a little more wishfulness.
On that auspicious day when students all around the UK were getting letters with their OWL results, and another generation with their NEWTs results, it was these three who finally realized the very unwanted problem that was getting their NEWTs results as OWL students.
“What?” Hermione said blankly for the nth time, simply staring at the letter and not even managing to speak out about it. “What?”
“What?” Ron echoed, but mainly because he was waiting for Hermione to get over with hers before he even thought about touching his.
Harry, who was apparently the only Gryffindor in the room at that very moment, burst into action and actually opened his letter. He paled.
“What’s wrong?” Ginny demanded, eyes flickering back to make sure Mrs. Weasley wasn’t there yet.
“I—” Harry broke off, apparently no longer a Gryffindor.
Hermione made a sound closer to a wounded banshee than anything else.
“Oh, you got your results!” The Mrs. Weasley in question said that very second, entering the room. Then she seemed to realize Hermione had moaned, which had also brought all the other adults down behind her. “And Hermione, dear, are you alright.” She winced. “Surely you did great…?” She asked.
Hermione didn’t reply, staring at the letter in horror.
“I, uh,” Harry mumbled, staring blankly at his own. “I got an O in DADA.”
Ron’s eyes lit up. “Yeah?” He said excitedly, and opened his own, only to finally realize what Harry and Hermione were finally reacting to. “... Oh,” He squeaked.
Hermione whimpered. “I wasn’t prepared!” She practically wailed.
Ginny seemed to have had enough of all of that, and inched forward to tug the letter from Hermione’s hands. Hermione let go easily enough, burying her head in her hands. Ginny looked at it, then scoffed. “What’re you even crying about? You got eight Os! And the rest are Es!”
Sirius, who’d just come in alongside Remus, Tonks, Mr. Weasley, Fred, and George, whistled. “That’s incredible,” He praised.
Hermione just whimpered, the sounds coming out muffled. “I wasn’t prepared,” She repeated.
“Wasn’t prepared?” George said incredulously. “You’ve had Ron and Harry studying since fourth year. I’d be surprised if you hadn’t been studying since third!”
Hermione didn’t reply.
Mrs. Weasley frowned. “Hermione, your grades are wonderful. Exceeds Expectations aren’t bad at all!”
“I have– I have six Es,” Ron admitted, sounding both incredulous and embarrassed.
It was Fred who whistled this time. “Exceeding all our expectations this time, huh?”
“But that’s not what Hermione’s screaming about,” Harry said shakily, putting his own letter face down, splotches of red on his face.
“Harry,” Arthur said slowly. “How are your grades?”
Harry blushed even more. “That– that’s not important,” He insisted.
“Of course it is!” Mrs. Weasley protested.
“Then what is?” Sirius asked at the same time.
Hermione groaned again.
Ginny pulled up the letter again and this time, began to read from the top and— “Bloody hell,” She gasped.
“Ginny!” Her mother said. “Language!”
“But Mum!” Ginny replied, too awed to sound annoyed. “Hermione!” She snapped her head to look at Ron. “Wait, you too?”
Ron shrugged helplessly.
“What?” Fred asked.
Sirius jumped past and stole Hermione’s letter, eyebrows raised. “You sure no one’s pranking you?” He asked.
The three kids, as one, snapped to look at Fred and George with triplet glares.
“As much as we’d love to take credit—” One of them began.
“And we would,” The Second interrupted cheerfully.
“—we don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Hermione slumped back, slightly more composed but still irked. “How in the world did this even happen?”
“Well,” Sirius said, faux seriously. “Apparently, you’re the ones who went and gave your NEWTs, so, honestly, we should be asking you.”
For a second, there was stupefied silence.
Then Mrs. Weasley gasped. “What in the world?”
“As fifth years?” George asked in disbelief. “Now you’re pranking us.”
“With those grades?” Fred tacked on. “I’d believe Hermione, but you two…” He shook his head loftily.
“Fred,” Mr. Weasley said in admonishment. “Harry and Ron are perfectly intelligent young boys.” He raised his eyebrows. “Except for not noticing you were conducting an exam well above your skill level.”
“Not exactly above, though, if these grades are any indication,” Ginny said archly.
Harry buried his own face in his hands, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Hermione made us study,” He said, his voice coming out small and muffled. “I just— thought it was part of the exam.”
Ginny snorted. “Sure, Potter. I’d expect it of your oblivious—” She coughed. “And maybe Ron. But Hermione?”
Hermione just groaned. “I was busy worrying about Professor Umbridge,” She shot back. “OWLs weren’t exactly my top priority, okay?” She huffed. “And I didn’t even get to take OWLs!”
Tonks cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, let me just—” She hesitated, looking lost. “Did you just say you three passed the NEWTs as fifth years?”
“Incredible,” Remus said, looking genuinely impressed. “I’d never have imagined.”
“I wasn’t prepared!” Hermione complained again.
“If eight Os isn’t prepared, please just give me your brain and be done with it,” Ginny mumbled under her breath.
Harry snorted.
She pouted at him. “You’ve got nothing to laugh about, Mr. O in DADA. What else did you get in your NEWTs?”
All attention turned to him.
Harry winced. “Can I not?”
“No,” Ginny said primly.
“We had to tell, mate,” Ron said totally, not sympathetically. “You get to, too.”
Harry sighed. “Four Os,” He admitted. “A couple of Es and a couple of As.”
Remus beamed. “Incredible, Harry,” He said sincerely. “I’m proud of you.”
Harry smiled shyly back, still feeling a little warm from the embarrassment.
“Well, I guess this is it,” Tonks said dramatically. “Geniuses have arrived in the wizarding world. Let’s say goodbye to the success of our mediocrity, everyone.”
Fred sniffed theatrically. “Farewell, our love of being underwhelming.”
George placed a hand over his forehead and mock-swooned. “Au revoir, our dreams of mundanity!”
Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop it,” She said. “It’s a time for celebration!”
“But really,” Mr. Weasley said. “It is confusing. How did this even happen? Shouldn’t the examiners have noticed?”
Harry frowned. That was true…
“Umbridge!” Ron said, snapping his fingers in triumph. “She must’ve done something!”
“Why would she want us to pass our NEWTs?” Hermione asked, sounding a tad impatient. “Surely she had to know it would make us look better, right?”
“Yeah, but maybe she wanted us to fail.”
Hermione blushed. “Ah,” She muttered. “Right.”
Fred snorted. “Just because you’d never fail doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t going to,” He told her, part mocking, part genuine.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point.”
Harry agreed with her. “The point is, if we passed our NEWTs, does that mean we don’t have to go to school anymore?” He hoped to Merlin not, because he wasn’t seventeen yet, and that meant— but no. He’d run away before he had to go live year-round with the Dursleys again. He glanced at Sirius. Or maybe Dumbledore would allow…?
“You’ve got more letters, though?” Ginny pointed out, ruffling through the pile on the table, throwing two at her elder brothers – their NEWTs, which they pocketed in silent glee because literally nobody’s attention was on them – and nodding at the rest. “One for each of you. Maybe Professor Dumbledore has a fix, right? It’s got the Hogwarts crest.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, and she and Ron leaped toward it, pushing Ginny out of the way – though not exactly unkindly, because Ginny snickered and pulled back, hands raised. Harry sighed, sighed again when Ginny smirked at him, and did the same as his best friends, albeit slower.
Hermione gaped at the letter again.
Ron opened his mouth, closed it, and then repeated.
“What’s the fuss now?” Remus asked, having decided enough was enough, and then moved on to making himself a cuppa.
“No!” Hermione wailed.
Harry was the only one who simply stared at the letter and shrugged. “Well, I guess it won’t really be that different from last year,” He said hopefully. “Except without Umbridge.”
Ron sputtered.
“Any clarification here?” Tonks asked. “Should we prepare ourselves for something even more genius, oh defeaters of NEWTs?”
Remus snorted, then hid it with a cough.
Mr. Weasley frowned. “Something even better than passing your NEWTs?” He asked.
“Well,” Harry said. “If you call me being the next Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor better than my passing the NEWTs,” He said casually.
There was a moment of silence, and then Ginny squealed, leaping to hug Harry tightly, leaving him slightly red around the ears. “Oh Merlin, yes!” She exclaimed. “I’m going to ace my OWLs!” She grinned widely. “No offense, Professor Lupin, but Harry’s the only reason Luna, Colin, and I even passed fourth-year DADA.”
George raised an eyebrow. “Can people even fail these classes other than OWLs or NEWTs?” He asked doubtfully.
“Yes,” Hermione grumbled, still wilted. “Olivia Hedgewick failed Herbology the year before last and had to do a retest before she was allowed to sit with her own year again.”
“Why’re you so glum?” Sirius asked, having oohed and aahed over his grandson enough. “If Harry’s got the DADA professorship, surely you’ve gotten something equivalent, right?”
Hermione nodded morosely. “Transfiguration,” She mumbled. “I’m teaching first- to fifth-years, while Professor McGonagall teaches the sixth- and seventh-years.”
There was an equivalent number of oohs and aahs.
“Then why?” Sirius persisted. “Shouldn’t you be happy?”
“But!” Hermione protested. “Teachers can’t be Head Girl! I was going to be the first Muggleborn Head Girl at Hogwarts since Harry’s mum!” She wailed again. “My whole plan is ruined!”
Fred and George burst out laughing, then had to duck as Hermione glared at them and threw a quill their way (never mind what she was doing with one in the first place).
“And Ron, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, now accepting everything in stride and deciding that surely, this must be a dream – she might as well enjoy it.
Ron blinked. “Um, Divination,” He mumbled, looking confused. “So weird.”
Harry tilted his head. “I don’t know,” He admitted. “You’ve predicted a lot of stuff that we found out later was true.”
Ron turned to him, surprised. “Really?”
Harry nodded. “Myrtle’s death being Riddle’s fault,” He said. “Sirius showing up as a Grimm, there being a tournament—”
“And Harry getting a ‘windfall’ of gold,” Hermione interrupted, despite not believing in divination in the slightest. “But never mind that,” She continued, stopping Harry entirely. “You got an O in Divination, Ron?” She beamed. “That’s amazing! I didn’t even help you study for that.”
Ron turned absolutely, completely red.
Fred waggled his eyebrows playfully.
Ginny laughed. “Anyway,” She said. “If this really was Umbridge’s ploy, she certainly put her foot in her mouth, didn’t she?”
On the other side of London, Umbridge melted into a puddle.
When Hogwarts began, the Weasleys and the other members of the motley group who’d found out what had happened had finally reconciled themselves with the notion that Ron, Hermione, and Harry had finally done something even they weren’t expecting (or, more likely, actually knew about it this time), and so it was a relatively happy group that made its way to the Hogwarts Express, despite the fact that there was, in fact, a Dark Lord hanging about our there in the non-Hogwarts world.
Harry and Ron hadn’t bothered doing the school shopping, having already passed their NEWTs, apparently, but Hermione, in a frazzle and whatever-else-one-calls-a-terrifying-school-obsessed-Hermione, did, ferreting out the list by writing to a confused Neville, who had apparently not been made aware of the changes in the status of three of his schoolmates.
Despite that insanity, though, all of them had to get their own stuff for lessons, including but not limited to basics-to-advanced textbooks of each of the subjects they'd been marked for. Hermione insisted, obviously, but Harry wasn't protesting too much and, at this point, it was just token for Ron anyway.
None of the Hogwarts professors had yet to contact them, of course, but that was probably nothing to be worried about.
Harry had to admit, though, those loads of supplementary teaching materials really did make him appreciate all his teachers– wait, never mind. Snape might not have gotten them. It would explain his treatment of students, too, quite honestly.
“Pity we graduated,” Fred said cheerfully.
“I can't believe he's saying that,” George added, just as cheerful.
Harry rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” He said drily, and they got on the train, waving goodbye to their family and the finally-free-and-attracting-glances Sirius Black.
“Maybe he should have come as Snuffles,” Hermione mused, pulling her trunk.
“And deny him the attention?” Ron asked. “No way. You know he'd have snuck here human anyway.”
“Or turned into Sirius at the most attention-catching opportunity?” Harry offered, peeking into random compartments and waving awkwardly to schoolmates he hadn't gotten to know over his five years at Hogwarts. “Hey!” He said happily as he opened up a door leading to Ginny, Luna, and Neville.
They waved back, Ginny smirking. “Finally here, are you?”
Ron grunted in annoyance. “Oh, sod off, Ginny.”
“Ron!” Hermione protested. “You can't say that!”
“Yeah, Professor Ron,” Ginny teased. “Shouldn't you be setting an example for your students?”
“You're not even taking Divination!” He protested.
“I am,” Neville said. “But professors? How'd that happen?”
Ginny snickered. “They passed their NEWTs is what happened.”
Neville looked at her strangely. “We gave our OWLs last year,” He said slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child.
“Oh, you were tricked into giving your NEWTs?” Luna asked astutely. “How very interesting. After all, it must have been quite an infestation of wrackspurts for you not to notice it was NEWTs, not OWLs.”
Harry blushed.
“Huh,” Neville said. “I'm kind of sad I'm not taking Advanced Defense, then.”
Harry frowned. “You're not?” He asked. “Why not? What OWL did you get?”
“E,” Neville said. “But I heard the Professor was only taking Os.”
Ron burst out laughing. “I'm sure he'll be taking Es now.”
Neville’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yeah!” He said. “That's true!”
“And now,” Professor Dumbledore announced, looking like he was having the best time in his life, if Harry's decoding of his eye twinkles was correct. “The newest Professors!”
There was a low murmur of confusion, considering there hadn't been any changes mentioned in the first place.
“Profes sors?” Someone called out from the Ravenclaw table.
“Yes, indeed,” Dumbledore said, still twinkling and looking massively amused. “It seems that our last Headmistress, in her unending wisdom, decided to forego the usual testing formats and allow three students to undergo the NEWTs instead of the OWLs. Seeing as they passed with flying colours, I'm happy to announce that Hogwarts took it upon herself to pronounce these three students as professors!”
Most of the actual professors looked gobsmacked. Huh. Maybe they didn't know about them.
‘Hogwarts?’ Hermione mouthed, almost speechless.
“Huh,” Ron said. “Didn't know Hogwarts was, y’know…”
“For the position of Transfiguration Professor,” Dumbledore continued and Harry finally noted that McGonagall was one of the ones not looking surprised. In fact, she looked… smug? Huh. Interesting. “Professor McGonagall will continue to teach years 6 and 7, but years 1 to 5 will be under the purview of Professor Hermione Granger–”
Draco choked.
“Who,” Dumbledore continued, like he hadn't heard Draco almost die. “Attained Outstanding results for all her NEWTs.”
The smattering of angry muttering died a little.
Dumbledore continued. “In the same methodology, Professor Trelawny will be teaching the NEWT levels, while Professor Ronald Weasley will take up the remaining years.”
All eyes turned to Harry, the only one left.
“And Professor Harry Potter,” Dumbledore continued, and Snape died in his seat but just barely hung on (what a pity). “Shall be, of course, teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts.” He turned a little more serious. “Unfortunately, as we do not have a senior professor at the moment, Professor Potter will have to teach the higher levels as well. I have full trust that he will succeed based on his NEWT results, but any complainant may feel free—”
And then, without even letting Dumbledore finish, there was a literal roar, and all present DA members began to cheer.
“Yes!” A sixth-year Hufflepuff shouted. “He was the only reason I passed the OWLs!”
“Finally!” Katie Bell cheered. “A professor we actually know is good!”
Half the school stared at the other half in surprise, for the cheers were actually, surprisingly genuine, and, to the surprise of Harry, who hadn't actually handled the member list, there were even a few second-year Slytherins in the mix.
“Really?” He asked Hermione, hidden by the din.
Hermione smiled pleasantly. “No one asked,” She said.
And that was that.
Harry tried to melt in his seat and then decided to ignore the cheers and relish in Snape’s constipated expression.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron were practically mobbed at dinner, but immediately afterwards, they were shuffled off by Professor McGonagall and bundled into the Staff Room. Harry and Ron, who had only really been there for a length of time in their second year with Lockhart, looked around in interest, while Hermione, who had likely come here a lot, teacher’s pet that she was, didn’t seem to care.
Then all three of them realised the room was filled with Professors.
Snape looked the worst, annoyed and horrified all at once. “This is the—”
“Best decision Hogwarts ever made?” McGonagall suggested smoothly. “I agree.”
Flitwick looked annoyed. “I do wish I’d gotten Ms. Granger,” He complained, and Hermione turned bright red. “She’s my best student.”
McGonagall's smirk turned fully smug. “Yes, well, she is my best student as well. And I, as the Vice Headmistress—”
“Yes, yes, Minerva,” Sprout said, waving a dismissive hand. “We heard the argument the first time.”
“The first time?” Snape demanded. “And why was I not made aware?” He looked coldly furious.
“Perhaps Hogwarts did not want you to know,” Dumbledore suggested delicately. “But that is a matter for another day.” He turned to the three students and smiled. “Congratulations! It’s a truly impressive achievement.” His eyes gleamed. “Though I do wonder why we haven't seen such brilliance in every class?”
Harry turned pink, but was relieved that Ron was redder.
Hermione frowned. “But–”
“Other than you, Granger,” Snape cut in, still looking annoyed.
Harry sighed. “Well, it's been hectic. With Voldemort–” He ignored the flinches. “I just… I dunno, it's been hard. We had to do well on the OWLs… well, the NEWTs, I guess, because it affects our future more.”
“Harry!” Hermione admonished. “Our internal grades matter too!”
“Not as much as the OWLs or NEWTs, though,” Ron agreed. “I get what Harry means.”
“Er,” Harry said. “Does this mean I don't have to take potions anymore?”
Snape shot him a glare.
Dumbledore smiled. “Indeed, my boy,” He said jovially. “As you’ve managed to achieve your NEWTs, you’re officially outside our bounds of the schooling we offer. However, it seems Hogwarts isn’t willing to give you three up just yet.”
“But–” Hermione said, biting her lip. “Other than these– these teaching things, what will we even do?”
For some reason, the professors started to laugh.
“Trust me, Ms. Granger,” Flitwick said kindly. “You won’t have the time to wonder.”
“Still,” McGonagall agreed. “If you do find the time, you could take up the subjects you haven’t yet given NEWTs for.” She frowned. “Though I suppose that there are very few options in your case. Only Advanced Arithmancy and Alchemy, right, Albus?”
Dumbledore perked up. “Are we reinstating Alchemy?” He asked excitedly. “I did so miss teaching that.”
Hermione started to beam. “I’ve never heard Alchemy was offered!”
Harry and Ron exchanged glances, saw Dumbledore and Hermione’s entirely hopeful expressions, and shrugged. “Sure,” Ron said. “Sounds cool.”
“Brilliant!” Dumbledore said, clapping his hands. “I must dust off my old tomes and give Nicolas a call.”
Harry startled. “Wait, didn’t he… die first year?”
No one answered because Dumbledore was gone, whistling a jaunty tune as he daydreamed about alchemy.
McGonnagal cleared her throat. “Well, I suppose, now that I have the time, I may as well start streamlining the curriculum. We are lacking compared to the other schools.”
Hermione nodded eagerly. “Yes, I asked some of the Beauxbatons students fourth year and they had a lot more subjects than us! Some of their policies were also much better–” She pinked as she realized where she was.
For some reason, Snape’s lips twitched up the slightest bit, but before anyone could notice, he cleared his throat. “Very well,” He said imperiously. “But if you get to distribute some of your workload, Minerva, you shouldn’t mind if I take on an assistant as well.”
Harry wondered if it would be rude to ask who’d want to be Snape’s assistant.
“Can we?” Flitwick asked excitedly, brightening. “I still wish Hogwarts had given Ms. Granger to Charms, but I suppose seventh-year students will do great as well. In fact–”
“We could offer extra tutelage,” Pomona agreed. “Or maybe hands-on experience for those who want to go into specialized fields. It would give them an edge in the job market.”
And, in the face of this revolutionary suggestion, the teacher’s lounge devolved into conversation.
“I mean,” Hermione grumbled later. “I could have suggested that.”
“But you didn’t,” Ron pointed out. “Seriously, though, how the bloody hell am I supposed to teach Divination?!”
“With the plans you made before school started,” Hermione reminded him with the patience (read: lack thereof) of someone who’d answered the same question too many times.
“But!” Ron protested. “I had to learn most of that stuff from scratch! You know Trelawney only ever focused on the inner eye and sight-based divination, not a lot of the other kinds, which, honestly, would have fit most of us better, ’cause we ain’t seers–”
“The fact that you know that puts you as a better starting teacher than Trelawney,” A new voice said, and Harry, Hermione and Ron blinked, realizing they’d reached the Gryffindor common room and were facing down a whole bunch of students.
“You’ll be teaching us?!” Dennis Creevy asked excitedly. “I took Divination, too!”
A random fourth year snorted. “I wish I did,” She said. “Would be much more fun than the fiasco I had with Trelawney last year. Had to beg Professor McGonagall to let me change to Arithmancy.”
Harry frowned. “Yeah,” He said. “That is weird. Shouldn’t we get to figure out what each subject offers before we decide what to take?”
“Like trial classes,” Hermione agreed. “I suggested them to Professor McGonagall in second year but she was too busy to—” Her eyes widened. “She’s less busy!” She squealed and ran right back out.
No one batted an eye.
“Huh,” A seventh year said. “Maybe classes with her wouldn’t have been so bad. I take back my bet, Ian.”
The boy next to him smirked.
It turned out, student professors were exactly the wave of transformation the wizarding world needed. Not only did this distract from the Ministry fiasco, and, subsequently, the resurgence of Lord Voldemort – which, Dumbledore said with a smile, was exactly what was needed – but it also pointed out some glaring options that people ignored out of ‘tradition’.
Hogwarts was changing and there were three students in the middle of it.
With McGonagall's reluctant agreement, the other professors also took on teachers’ assistants to lessen the load, help with marking for classes other than their own – mainly the younger levels – and hold remedial lessons and study groups, as well as handle the day-to-day things the professors kept falling behind on.
Flitwick chose a Ravenclaw, which was obvious in retrospect, who topped her year in Charms, and was planning to go into experimental charms in the future, so working closely with such an expert, and getting the chance to do a project with Flitwick as well as discuss her ideas in detail was apparently a pretty big incentive.
Then there was Sprout, who also happened to choose an obvious option. Neville wasn’t a hufflepuff, and nor was he a seventh-year, but apparently all NEWT students agreed with the fact the he was the most knowledgeable and able.
The most surprising, though? Severus Snape, grumbling and reluctant, ended up choosing Katie Bell, though he did complain loudly that “If it wasn’t for Carmichael being an egotistical—” and “If this didn’t get me out of dealing with the biggest dunderheads as much—”
Ron found it hilarious. Harry just asked them all why they hadn’t been doing that for years, inviting any graduates who had achieved great grades in their subjects and would be willing to do a couple of years as assistants before getting other jobs.
None of the teachers replied, though McGonagall was later seen scribbling furiously on her parchment and changing up all the policies she could.
“Okay,” Harry said in his first lesson to first years. “We’ll start simple. What do you guys know about Defense Against the Dark Arts?”
The kids stared at each other, then at Harry, then at his scar.
And then, slowly, one small boy raised his hand.
Harry smiled.
Ron had it easier than Harry with third years. But he was also teaching something for the first time. Seeing the slightly apprehensive, slightly bored expressions on the students’ faces?
Ron scrapped his first introductory lesson on the different kinds of divination, saving it for later, and clapped his hands for attention, then grabbed a box off his table. “Hey!” He said. “Who wants to get their fortunes told?”
Hermione was honestly the one person who taught most similarly to her predecessor, but then again, what works works, right?
“So what are you teaching the young’uns?” Ron asked with a grin. “I did tarot for the first lesson, then had ’em doing it until they got so good I had to worry about my ‘doomed saturday’.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure,” She drawled skeptically.
“What?” Ron protested. “It actually was doomed! I found out that Chudley Canons lost. Saturday was dead to me after that.”
Neville burst out laughing. “Chudley Canons always loses,” He pointed out.
Ron shot him a glare.
“And the older students?” Harry prompted.
Ron cleared his throat. “Well, crystal balls’re a no-go, but dream interpretation is actually pretty interesting, though the books we used weren’t great. I used one of the Middle-Eastern ones for interpretation, and they’re much more accurate. I had fifth year start on that, while fourth is on rune casting. Plus,” He added, looking meaningfully at Hermione. “There’s a bunch of stuff I’m adding to make it easier to understand. There was this one book that really focused on pattern recognition with reading the stars, so I’m gonna have some of the students go into history and figure out how divination has worked — heck, if it’s worked over the years.”
A small smile played on Hermione’s lips.
“Cool,” Neville said. “I’m only just helping Professor Sprout handle the plants and teach the other students how to handle them. I kinda wish I could plan out lessons, too. Sounds pretty fun.”
Hermione smiled wider. “It really is!” She agreed. “I’ve learned so much more about theory—” She reddened. “Well, I’ve had to tone it down a lot for students,” She admitted. “Apparently, I’m not great at teaching when I go too off the track.”
“You, and off the track?” Harry asked ironically.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “And I suppose you’re doing great, Mr. DA?”
Harry smiled crookedly. “You could say that,” He agreed. “I started with practicals, since that's what I'm best at, so it’s been interesting seeing what other people think immediately in response to a spell. The first years are pretty good, actually.”
“I mean,” Freya, the Ravenclaw assisting Professor Flitwick, who was also incidentally in the Teachers’ Assistants room with them, piped up. “They have the added benefit of not being slaves to the years of bad teaching we’ve been afforded.”
“Amen to that,” Katie murmured, before groaning as she stuck her head back into the pile of potions essays she had to grade for the first years. “Why did I agree to this again?”
“Because you’re a masochist.” Stephen, a Hufflepuff TA-ing the arithmancy course, said. “But then, we all are.”
“Especially with all the parchment and quills!” Freya agreed. “I don’t know about you guys, but I seriously miss notebooks and pens.”
There was a moment of short silence.
“Holy shit,” Stephen said. “We’re kinda teaching, aren’t we?”
“They certainly are,” Katie agreed, and all the seventh years in the room immediately spun to face the three sixth years who had started the entire thing.
“What’re pens?” Ron asked blankly.
Suffice to say, there were pens and notebooks aplenty after that. Hermione, who usually would have preferred the ‘tradition’ of the wizarding world, agreed it was much more logical to ask students to hand in papers instead of inches. Who the hell even carried a measuring tape everywhere with them?
(Privately, she just preferred how the ink didn’t bleed.)
It was particularly fun teaching the sixth years, because Harry got to rub his success in Malfoy’s face. Of course, because there were professors keeping an eye on him on and off, considering he was technically still a sixth year student, he couldn’t do it openly.
Still, that wasn’t to say he didn’t manage to do it at all.
He was all well and serious, of course, and started the sixth years with more study barrier spells, barrier-strengthening magics, and other defensive spells to start with – with the second and third quarters of the school year to be focused on offensive magic – but he added muggle skills to the mix.
When he’d done that deep dive into DADA over the summer, he’d realized most of the spells travelled in a straight line, and it depended on aim, which meant three things. One, he needed to focus his students on aim. Two, he needed to find more elusive spells. And, perhaps most importantly, three, if you could dodge, you could live.
Harry learned how to dodge, and his first order of business was starting martial arts. Sirius had been completely on board with him, which was great, because that meant he could sneak out and do it with his godfather. He was still nowhere near good enough, obviously (how could he be with only half a summer’s worth of training?) but he had the basics down, and that meant he could push them on his sixth years.
True, he wasn’t stupid enough to train them in martial arts as a novice himself, but running, dodging, and straight-up brawling? Oh yeah.
And the look on Malfoy’s face when he realized he was going to fight muggle style was the treacle on his tart.
“Alchemy is about more than turning lead into gold or pursuing immortality,” Dumbledore began, then laughed as Ron’s face fell. “Though those are what it has been used for in popular memory. It is, in fact, a study of transformation at its most fundamental. It is a pursuit of understanding; understanding how we change, how the world changes, and how magic itself is shaped.”
Hermione made a strangled sound between a squeal of excitement and breathless awe.
“So,” Hermione said one day, a month or so after school had started and things had started settling down. “I think it’s time we did something.”
Harry and Ron stared at her in confusion.
“Do what?” Harry asked.
“Aren’t we already doing something?” Ron asked as he waved around a bunch of papers, having bemoaned already the fact that he’d assigned essays in the first place.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I'm talking about more important things,” She said. “Like taking revenge on Umbridge.”
Harry and Ron exchanged another glance. “Well, didn't it already backfire on her?” Ron said reasonably. “She probably expected us to fail.”
“And we got legitimacy instead,” Harry agreed. “Doesn't look good for her no matter what. Besides, Sirius has been lambasting her in the papers since. I think he's actually having fun.”
“Yes, but that's not the point!” Hermione insisted.
“Then what is the point?”
“The point is I can't be head girl!”
Unluckily for Hermione, neither of the boys could help her plan that day. They were too busy lying on the floor and laughing too hard.
It was, in the process of this incredible(y busy) year, where Voldemort featured only in the background, that Ron figured out his real talent for divination. Or, to be clearer, he ran, pale and worried, right into Harry. “Voldemort’s getting the Death Eaters ready to hit Hogwarts!” He said urgently.
“What the heck?” Harry sputtered.
“You can’t be serious–” Hermione tried.
“How do you know?” Harry asked, cutting Hermione off.
“Divination,” Ron said impatiently. “But all the signs fit. We got to warn Dumbledore.”
“But Ron!” Hermione protested. “What if you’re wrong?”
“Better prepared than dead in a ditch,” Ginny suggested, having snuck up behind them. “And Ron’s much better at accurate predictions than Trelawney,” She said. “Even though his are more general and less long-term.”
Ron shot her a glare. “My magic isn’t made for divination,” He complained. “The near future’s the only thing I can do anything about.”
Hermione stared at him with wide eyes.
“So?” Ginny asked. “Are you guys going to go tell Professor Dumbledore? Because Harry’s already gone, by the way.”
Ron and Hermione exchanged panicked glances, then broke out into a run.
It turned out that Ron’s divinations actually did save Hogwarts. They managed to stop Harry from running off to fight Voldemort himself, first, and then found out a ton of his students were ready to throw arms and follow him, too, which was funny if disturbing. And then they headed to Dumbledore, which led to a whole montage of preparations as limited to Hogwarts, since Dumbledore had done a blackout on all communications.
Luckily, Ron's predictions really were short term, because the lack of communication didn't stop Voldemort from attacking the very next week… and it certainly didn't stop him from falling into a trap.
Voldemort and his death eaters were faced with a booby trapped castle that got worse the more they tried to get out (courtesy of Stephen and his muggleborn friends’ obsession with horror-themed video games), a legion of house elves who had started to come around now that Hermione actually had enough time to do real research and apply it for her S.P.E.W. goals, and an army of DADA students who were bloodthirsty and eager to test out everything Professor Potter was teaching them.
Spoiler alert — Ron had already divined the Dark Lord's very humiliating defeat.
And hence started the legend of Ronald Weasley, Diviner Extraordinaire, and his plucky teaching sidekicks.
In the background of what was to be known for decades as the feat of the century (and, by Fred and George, as the best prank ever, considering the recipient was the Dark Lord), Hermione Granger snuck out of Hogwarts and made a beeline for Dolores Umbridge with a laugh so evil that it made Voldemort shudder.
Huh. Maybe it was actually that hesitation that led to his downfall.
“Hogwarts truly is in great hands!” Dumbledore said, smiling genially as he watched the castle descend into madness — but for the light side, of course. “I do think it's time for me to retire. I am an old man, after all.”
As he turned, he wilfully ignored the screams of his Vice Headmistress, soon to be the Headmistress of Hogwarts, saying, “Albus Dumbledore, don't you dare—”