This Dance We Do

Chapter 21: The New Professor

Ron opened the door to the compartment he was sharing with his friends. There was the usual chatter of conversation, silence, then an explosion of sound as the compartment's inhabitants took in Ron's state.

"What the bloody hell happened to you," Seamus asked as he stood up. Ron barely had time to wonder why he and Dean were in the carriage, making it quite full, before Hermione was at his side.

"Oh, Ron! What happened to your face?"

"You look like you were trampled by a herd of Hippogriffs," Neville piped in.

"Or attacked by Death Eaters," Dean said. "You weren't, were you?" he added nervously, pulling Ginny slightly closer.

It was then that Ron noticed that Dean had his arms around Ginny, and her hand was unnecessarily high on Dean's leg. Anger swelled in Ron, temporarily pushing the pain coursing through his body aside. It was probably a good thing for Dean that Hermione and Harry pushed Ron into a seat at that moment, distracting him from his sudden urge to tear the arm that was so casually draped over Ginny's shoulder from its socket and begin beating Dean with it.

"Ron, were you attacked by Death Eaters."

The question came from Harry, and it was the shaky quality in his voice that tore Ron's focus from his sister. Ron looked at Harry, and immediately felt terrible for not answering his question at once. Harry was noticeably paler and looked ill, but resolute.

"Not Death Eaters, just Malfoy and his cronies."

Ron explained what had happened on his way back to the carriage. Everyone, save Hermione, seemed quite pleased that Ron had managed to break Malfoy's nose before he was unfairly restrained. He then, somewhat unwillingly, told them about the young woman who came to his rescue as Hermione healed his face.

"And she was American, you said?" Hermione asked for the hundredth time as they made their rounds.

"Er, yeah," Ron answered distractedly as he looked in the boys' toilet, wand at the ready, to make sure nothing shifty was occurring within.

"And she said that there were Aurors on the train?" Hermione asked as she closed the door to the girls' toilet. "Did she mention which ones?"

"Nope."

"Interesting. And you said her wand was different, not like the ones that Hogwarts students have?"

"Yup." Ron was quickly becoming bored with the repetitive nature of this conversation.

"Well, that does make sense, doesn't it? I mean, we all got our wands from Olivander, and he has only a few materials that he prefers to use. And the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students had very different wands, so it would only be logical that different wand makers in different regions would use different materials, probably what was common or popular in their area. Come to think of it, I seem to remember reading that apple was commonly used in American wands, and it is a much paler wood...."

Ron nodded absentmindedly as he glanced into compartments making sure that the students within were behaving themselves. He passed one that was filled with younger students, probably first years, and remembered what his first train ride was like. It was the first time he had met Harry and Hermione, back when Hogwarts was terrifying for childish reasons: the potential workload, the possible sorting tests, not fitting in. Now Ron was slightly apprehensive about returning to school for entirely different reasons.

"And you're sure that she didn't mention which Aurors were on the train?"

"No, Hermione, she gave me the entire list, I just forgot to mention it to you the past fifty times you asked me."

Hermione looked as though Ron had struck her, and Ron wished he could take back what he said.

They finished the remainder of their rounds in silence, and when they returned to the carriage Hermione was pointedly not looking at Ron, despite his repeated attempts to catch her attention.

Although the conversation in the carriage was bright, Ron failed to pay attention to most of it, but instead spent the remainder of their ride to Hogwarts willing Hermione to at least look at him. But of course, being Hermione, she continued to chat with Ginny and Neville and completely ignored Ron. It wasn't until the train began to slow that Hermione acknowledged Ron at all.

"Come on, we have to help the younger students."

Once they were in the hall, Ron grabbed Hermione's arm and turned her to him.

"Look," he said, trying to get her to actually look at him. "I'm sorry about what I said, but you did ask quite a few times, and I had already answered you, so I don't know what you were expecting."

"You're right, Ron. I don't know what I was expecting."

Ron could tell that her statement had dual meaning, but he wasn't sure what it was. Before he could ask, however, doors were opening, younger students were spilling into the hall, and Hermione was in full prefect mode.

"First-years, out of the door and follow Hagrid. All older students, out of the door and to the carriages."

Ron took his frustrations out on some helpless first year, snapping, "Come on, slowcoach, get moving. You're holding up the line." Ron saw her burst into tears before she ran out of the train door. Hermione glared at him before completely ignoring him.

"Girls," Ron growled when he was finally able to get away and find the carriage Harry and Neville were in, "completely barmy, the lot of them."

Harry snickered as Hermione climbed into the carriage, shutting the door behind her and glared out of the window.

The carriage ride up to the school was long and uncomfortably silent, full of nervous coughs from Neville and Harry.

Ron looked out of the window as they drew nearer to the school, and noticed the spot where he now knew a Threstral was hooked to the carriage in front of them. The idea of an invisible horse that only those who have seen death could see made Ron very uncomfortable, so he looked away.

As they pulled up to the school Hermione finally spoke to him. Well, more to the carriage as a whole, but he felt that it was a start.

"Just so all of you know, the common room password is mentis mora."

She was out of the carriage and into the school before Ron had the chance to say one word to her.

Fine, Ron thought, she doesn't want to talk to me, her loss.

But somehow, despite how he tried to convince himself as he took his seat next to Harry in the Great Hall, Ron did not really believe that it would be Hermione's loss. Ron was temporarily distracted by the line of first-years nervously shuffling to the front of the hall, led by McGonagall, who was carrying the Sorting Hat.

McGonagall set the Sorting Hat on its stool, and stepped away from it. Ron noticed that many of the first-years were shaking with fear and trepidation.

As the tear at the Hat's brim opened to sing its song, Ron felt rather than saw Hermione and Harry sit at attention. Ron knew what they were listening for, because he was doing the same. They hoped that the Hat would give a warning, much as it had the year before, although, hopefully this one would be easier to understand. But they were disappointed, as the Sorting Hat simply went through the same basic song it did every other year: a general history of the school and a list of qualities that each founder valued. When it was finished, it sat on its stool, still and inanimate, and the Sorting went on as usual.

"Anderson, Randall."

"I wonder why it didn't give another warning," Harry whispered.

"Perhaps it felt that one was sufficient. Either that, or the danger it was warning about has passed, but somehow I doubt that's the case," Hermione replied in hushed tones.

"Maybe it did," Ron said a little louder as the Ravenclaws cheered as Randall took a seat at their table. "Maybe the danger of house separation has passed."

Hermione gave Ron a skeptical look before she replied. "So, planning on getting chummy with any Slytherins anytime soon?"

"Well, there are a lot more students than just us, perhaps a majority of them aren't as biased as we are," Ginny whispered as she leaned across Harry.

"Name one Gryffindor that willingly sits at the same table as a Slytherin. Somehow I don't think the threat of a divided school has passed," Harry whispered back as Burke, Heather was sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Maybe Dumbledore spoke to it, asked it not to give the school any more warnings, you know?"

"I highly doubt it, Ron. Why would Dumbledore interfere with something that important? And hasn't he been trying to encourage the same thing?" Hermione said as she clapped for Jessica Carson, who was taking a seat at Gryffindor.

"What does it matter anyway," Dean chimed in. "I mean, it's just an old hat. Maybe it was pulling our chain or something."

Ron gaped at his roommate.

"What the bloody hell do you think it would do something like that for? Think it gets its kicks and giggles from stringing us along at the start of term?"

"No, I was just saying...perhaps things aren't as dire as we're making them out to be."

Ron shook his head and ignored Dean, turning back to Hermione to continue their conversation.

"Maybe things aren't fixed yet, but the hat feels that it's planted the seed, and there's nothing left for it to do but wait."

"Perhaps," Hermione replied, but she did not seem convinced.

They continued to hash the subject over as the line of first years dwindled. Finally, Wheever, Charlotte, was sorted into Gryffindor, and McGonagall removed the stool and Sorting Hat from the hall. Soon after, the feast began and the conversation slowed.

Ron never failed to enjoy the Hogwarts feasts, with their vast selections of food, immense number of desserts, and wonderful chances to rub his foot over Hermione's. Although this was the first occasion Ron dared to attempt the latter at Hogwarts, it was definitely something he intended to do quite often. All too soon, the plates cleared, and the entire hall turned to listen to Dumbledore's start of term announcements.

"Now that our stomachs are blissfully full, I have a few announcements to make. First, welcome students, new and old. As the old know and the new will soon, Mr. Filch has several announcements he would like me to make. First, the complete list of all banned items resides in his office, and I encourage everyone to start it now, it could possibly take all term. Second, he wants me to inform everyone that he will be watching carefully for any novelty items from the new joke shop, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, and he has warned me that possession these items will result in an instant detention. Of course, no magic is allowed in the corridors...."

The announcements, at least to that point, seemed to be the same as every year, so Ron stopped paying attention and began to focus in earnest on Hermione's foot. She seemed to be similarly focused, which greatly pleased Ron. He took a chance and let his toes drift up to her ankles, then back down. She seemed slightly taken aback by this new progression, but did not reprimand him, or even give him a dirty look, so he continued.

"I wonder who that is," Ron vaguely heard Harry wonder. Ron followed his gaze up to the staff table, to a beautiful young witch, maybe five or six years older than they were, with long, black hair and very pale skin. It took Ron a moment to recognize her, and when he did, his jaw dropped.

"That's the witch that kept Malfoy from killing me on the train," Ron told Harry and Hermione.

"How come you didn't tell us earlier?" Hermione questioned.

"I didn't recognize her," he answered truthfully. "She looked, I don't know, harsher on the train. And also, it was rather hard to focus really well with my nose broken like that."

"And now, as it seems I've done so many times in the past, I'd like to introduce a new member of the staff, Professor Nicola Hill."

The lady who had come to Ron's rescue on the train half stood and modestly waved. There was a murmur of approval from many of the male students in the hall.

"Professor Hill," Dumbledore continued, "has done me a great favor by traveling here from America to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. So, let's all welcome Professor Hill, not only to Hogwarts, but to Britain."

People applauded politely, then waited for Dumbledore to finish. He usually introduced the new professor last.

"And now, on a more somber note. As you all know, Lord Voldemort and his followers, the Death Eaters, have once more returned to power."

A collective tremor passed through the hall at his name. Dumbledore ignored it and moved on.

"As such, new precautions have been taken. Additional charms and barriers have been put around the school to prevent intrusion, Aurors have been stationed on and around the grounds and in Hogsmeade, the prefects have been asked to do additional rounds, and the teachers are going to have rounds of their own. Now, I ask that none of you take this situation lightly. Yes, Hogwarts is perfectly safe, but that does not mean that students should go wandering off by themselves, regardless of any additional protection they feel they might have." Ron would have sworn he felt Dumbledore's eyes linger on Harry and himself.

"That said, I feel we will have a very delightful term. And now, I release you to your beds, where I urge you to get a full night's sleep, as you all will have full first mornings."

Ron stood up and started to head to the common room with Harry.

"Ron," Hermione called after him. "We have to walk the first years up to the common room, they don't know where it is."

"But we did it by ourselves last year, the sixth years didn't help us."

"Yes, but Emma doesn't speak very loud, and Colin can't control the first years, so it's up to us."

Ron looked pleadingly at Harry, who only smiled, shrugged, then trotted after Neville and Ginny. Ron rolled his eyes, and began to herd the first years towards the Gryffindor tower.

"Oi, midgets, hurry up or you'll be sleeping in the kitchens."

Hermione glared at his back, but the younger students seemed honestly frightened into following him, possibly too closely; several kept stepping on his heels. Hermione kept giving him her "it serves you right" face, so Ron pretended he did not notice.

In what seemed like a lifetime, they finally arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Several of the students closest to Ron gasped in awe as she asked for the password, which Ron gave in raised tones, so that everyone would hear him. He then helped Hermione boost some of the smaller ones through the portrait hole. When the last student wiggled her way into the common room, Ron helped Hermione get through as well.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione spent the last few hours before they went up to bed playing chess, pondering about their N.E.W.T. level classes, and debating how long Professor Hill would be around.

"The job's cursed, Hermione, she won't last past the year. In fact, my money says she won't even last to the end of term feast."

"Well, that's a morbid thought, Ronald."

"What," Ron asked as he leaned back and propped his feet on the arm of the chair Hermione was currently sitting in. "Name one Defense teacher that has been at the final feast since we've been here."

"Moody," Hermione answered triumphantly.

"Doesn't count."

"Why?" Hermione hated it when Ron contradicted her, which was part of the reason he loved to do so.

"Because, he wasn't the teacher we'd had all year, remember. The teacher we'd actually had was Kissed, and was in no fit shape to come to the feast."

Ron could tell Hermione was thinking hard, but that she could not come up with anything to say. He was still grinning at the thought of it when he fell into his four poster bed half an hour later.

The next morning it was obvious that term had began. McGonagall passed out the timetables at breakfast, and Hermione began immediately turning each subject a different color with her wand.

"What are you doing that for now," Ron asked her. "You don't usually start with the color coding until Easter. We're not going to start studying for our finals already are we?"

Hermione glared at him before answering.

"We're going to be studying highly advanced magic for the next two years, it wouldn't hurt us to start studying now. But no, I wasn't actually planning on it. I just thought that instead of waiting until I was weighed down with homework, I'd do this now. Anyway, it looks like we'll be able to find out about Professor Hill this morning, as she's our first lesson."

Ron checked his own timetable. They had Defense first, then a free period, then break, then Charms, followed by lunch and another free period. Their last class was Herbology. Ron looked at what they had Tuesdays and Thursdays, only to groan aloud.

"What?" Harry asked as he placed some eggs on his toast.

"Tuesdays and Thursdays we have double Transfiguration in the morning, and double Potions in the afternoon. Those are going to be a pain in the-"

"Ron, it's expected that we'll be taking harder classes. We have to take double Transfiguration and Potions because those are the N.E.W.T.s that are the most difficult to pass. True, it will be difficult to have both in one day, but we have two breaks and lunch between them, so that should give us enough, er, recovery time."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. If Hermione needed time to recover, that was a bad sign.

"Oh my. We have to be in Defense in ten minutes."

Ron and Harry each grabbed extra toast, threw their bags over their shoulders, and followed Hermione down the hall.

Ron was grateful to find that although this teacher was female, she lacked the styling tastes of the last one. There were books lining most of the walls, and several even stacked next to the desk at the front of the room. The corners were cluttered with pillows that Ron assumed would be used in a lesson on Stunning spells. And, at the front of the room, behaving in a manner Ron had never seen of a teacher, was Professor Hill.

She was wearing off white robes, and her long hair was hanging around her waist. She was sitting, cross legged, on top of her desk, and seemed to be studying each student who walked into the classroom, many of whom were staring and whispering to each other. Malfoy was sitting at a desk in the corner, brazenly pointing and laughing with Pansy Parkinson. Ron, Harry, and Hermione took the table furthest from the Slytherins, and were joined by Neville moments later.

After several minutes, the classroom seemed to be as full as it was going to get, although the whispering persisted. No one seemed to think that a teacher who sat on the desk deserved much by the way of respect. Hermione seemed to be the only one who was ready for class, but after a while, even she leaned over to Ron to whisper.

"I wonder why she hasn't started the lesson yet. She's just looking at us."

"She looks like she's planning an attack," whispered Dean, who had leaned over from an adjacent table.

"I don't think she knows-"

But whatever Seamus thought, they did not find out, as Professor Hill chose then to stand and clear her throat lightly. Ron instantly feared another Umbridge, despite their differences in decorating, but his fears were soon forgotten.

"As Professor Dumbledore said last night, my name is Nicola Hill, and, as I have gathered, you are supposed to call me Professor Hill. As you all can probably tell, I am from America, New York, actually. I graduated from the Salem Witches Institute, one of only four magical schools in the States.

"After school, I attended Muggle college to teach, but later decided that it was too mundane for my tastes."

"You're Muggle-born then?"

"Your name?"

"Ernie MacMillan, Professor."

"Nope, full blooded witch, Ernie."

"Then why on earth would you voluntarily go to a Muggle school?"

"Name?"

"Malfoy. Draco."

"Well, Draco, the idea of it didn't bother me. In fact, in order to go to SWI, you have to have at least an eighth grade education in a Muggle school."

The idea of such a requirement seemed to make Malfoy sick.

"Any other questions?" There did not seem to be any, at least not any that anyone wanted to ask. "Great, now, I have some questions for all of you."

Ron had to hold back a snicker as Hermione seemed to perk up at the idea of being asked a series of questions.

"Okay, first off, we studied all this briefly in school, but we never really got heavily into it, so, who can tell me about this deal with Voldemort."

The reaction was immediate. Neville jumped, a Hufflepuff fell off his chair, three of the Ravenclaw girls looked as though they were going to faint, and many people looked as though they had lost most of the color from their faces. Professor Hill did not look surprised.

"That's the reaction I thought I'd get. Okay, first lesson: Fear is good, if you can handle it. There is no way that any of you will ever be able to live through a serious battle if you can't control your fear. It's okay to be afraid of a man who has done all that Voldemort has, in fact, it'd be stupid not to be. But how the hell do any of you plan on seeing twenty if you're petrified of a name? So, as I'm supposed to teach all of you on how to defend yourselves, let's start small: I want all of you to not only be able to hear the name Voldemort without so much as flinching in a month's time, but I expect you all to be able to say his name as well. That will be our first test, and it's pass or fail, there is no in between. For now, let's talk about fear...."

The rest of the lesson was fairly interesting for a lesson they had basically covered during third year. By the time they left the classroom, feelings seemed to be mixed on Professor Hill's teaching ability.

"This is ridiculous," they heard Malfoy complain. "I don't even know why I continued with this stupid subject. 'Conquer our fears,' what a load of rubbish."

Hermione pulled Harry and Ron towards the stairs they needed to ascend to get to their common room.

"Let him be," she hissed as she released Harry's wrist, her fingers lingering around Ron's for only a second longer. "He's not worth getting detention on the first day back."

"And Dumbledore tells me you have a knack for such things," a voice from behind them said.

They turned around to find Professor Hill standing before them with the traces of a smile playing on her lips.

"I was wondering, perhaps, if I could borrow Harry from you for a moment. I have a few things I would like to ask him."

Harry looked slightly apprehensive, but followed the young professor back towards her office, throwing Ron and Hermione one last look before he rounded the corner.