Disclaimer: The characters, settings, and world of Harry Potter do not belong to me. The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N: This is officially my first fanfiction! Please note that this story is VERY loosely based off of Canon. I use some similar scenes (and obviously characters, settings, etc.), but know that I am not sticking to the story (it's Dramione, I mean...), or, for that matter, the scenes. Also, I appreciate reviews or questions, but I will not hesitate to delete any rude reviews. I am planning on posting one (or two, if I'm feeling generous) new chapters a week, but updating might get a little sporadic, seeing as I'm going away for a couple weeks. I'll let you guys know if anything changes. Also, if you're in need of something short and hilarious, I just read the greatest little Dramione One-Shot, One Thousand Points to Gryffindor, by Glalie773.

Enough from me, though! Without further ado, I present to you, Salazar's Army.

Rae

Chapter One: The New Professor

"Who do you think'll be the next nutter we get for Defense?" Ron mused as he reached across Harry to grab a piece of toast.

"Someone from the Ministry, probably, after what happened last year." Harry suggested, and Hermione shrugged. It was Monday, the first day of classes for the year, and no one had seen or heard anything from the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher.

"Preferably someone who isn't a complete idiot, possessed by Voldemort-for Godric's sake, Ron, he's dead-or a convict who tries to murder Harry." She said, remembering last year's teacher, who had put her friend's name in the Goblet of Fire in order to resurrect the Dark Lord-who, thank Merlin, stayed dead.

"Ugh, and we've got Defense with Slytherins again." Harry grumbled, and Ron groaned around a mouthful of biscuit.

"Dumbledore will never stop trying to 'repair the strife between the two houses', as he puts it," Hermione sighed. "Even now that Death Eaters are disbanding and Voldemort's gone, there's still centuries of grudge between the houses."

"When do we have Defense?" Ron asked, rummaging through his bag for his schedule, and returning to his breakfast when he couldn't find it.

"Right after lunch, I think." Harry said, glancing at Hermione for affirmation, who nodded, rolling her eyes.

"I still maintain that without me, you two would be in perpetual detention for all the classes you'd have missed." She grinned when Harry and Ron both turned to her defensively.

"We would not have-"

"McGonagall loves us too much-"

"Loves me too much-"

"Ridiculous-"

"What do you take us for-"

"Bloody idiots?" The two asked simultaneously. Hermione shrugged, smiling slightly.

"All I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to look at your schedule before the first day of school." Before Harry and Ron could start off again, she looked up at the Head Table. "I don't see anyone new up there," she murmured, and both boys glanced up as well.

"No one was up there last night, either." Harry said, as Parvati Patil leaned towards them from across the table.

"I heard that the professor is Snape's great-aunt who just moved from Bulgaria." She said, glancing up at the Head Table and lowering her voice as if the ill-tempered Potions professor might overhear her.

Hermione scoffed. "Why would Dumbledore hire Snape's great-aunt?"

Parvati shot her a dirty look, muttering, "I guess we'll just have to see."

Parvati, it turned out, was wrong.

According to Fred and George, who'd had Defense right before lunch, Professor Umbridge was short, wore too much pink, and was

"... full of bloody rubbish." George complained, piling his plate with food as Fred shook his head.

"What's so bad about her?" Neville wondered.

"She's from the Ministry, mate. I think that just about sums everything up." Fred said. Some of his fellow sixth years emphatically nodded their agreement, and the table resumed its usual chatter, the fifth years still slightly on edge.

The students were soon dismissed from lunch, and as Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked to Umbridge's classroom, they speculated on what could make their new professor so terrible.

Ron was hopeful. "There's no way she can be as bad as Lockhart, can she? I mean, if she's from the Ministry then maybe she'll actually know something about Defense."

"Hopefully," Harry agreed.

"Lockhart was so bad, I don't think it's very hard to beat him." Hermione laughed, and the three stepped inside the classroom.

The first thing that Hermione noticed was the blackboard at the front of the room. On it was written:

Defense Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

She snorted. Class hadn't even started yet, and she was already beginning to see what Fred and George had meant by 'she's from the Ministry'. Taking a seat next to Harry and Ron in the second row, she set her bag down next to her and made to pull out her wand, but was stopped as the bell rang and Professor Umbridge arrived.

"Good afternoon, class!" A sickly sweet voice cried, and a short, toad-like woman stepped out from behind the blackboard. Her wide smile was like a frog about to catch the biggest fly on the pond.

No one said anything, and the woman-Professor Umbridge-frowned. "Tut, tut. Now, that won't do, will it? Good afternoon, class!" She repeated, then gestured towards the group of fifth years like a preschool teacher.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge." The class grumbled. Hermione kept her mouth shut. Professor Umbridge's smile righted itself, as her eyes fell upon the students.

"Very good, class. That wasn't too hard, was it? From now on, I would like you to answer me when I ask you a question. Take out your materials, please!" Everyone began to take out their wands, but their professor held up a stubby hand, her nails painted a nauseating shade of pink to match the rest of her outfit. "Ah, ah. You won't be needing your wands in this class, only your books, parchment and quills!"

The fifth years, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike, exchanged gloomy looks as they rummaged in their bags.

"Now, I believe your previous… instruction, if one could call it that, has been, quite frankly, below Ministry standards. I am sure that, what with the constant changing of teachers, you students have very little to no knowledge of proper Defense Against the Dark Arts. Which is why I am here. To correct the information you have been given, and to reteach this subject, with a formal, Ministry-approved curriculum. Now, class, please copy down the following." The woman tapped the blackboard next to her, and a new message formed below the first one. None of the students said anything, but it wasn't hard to tell what they all thought of their new Defense professor. Hermione glanced up at the board, and, seething, dipped her quill into the ink and begrudgingly began to write.

Course aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

Once the scratching of quills stopped, Umbridge smiled sweetly at the class. "Does everyone have a copy of William Slinkhard's Defensive Magical Theory?" The students nodded, and began to pull out their books. "Hem, hem. I thought I told you at the beginning of class to answer me when I ask you a question. Let's try again, shall we? Does everyone have a copy of William Slinkhard's Defensive Magical Theory?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge." The class said in unison.

"Good. Now open your books to page five, and read the first chapter, please. There will be no need for conversation, so I am giving detention if I hear a word out of anyone in this classroom." Her thin lips stretched into an even wider smile, and she surveyed the class before moving to sit behind her desk, hands folded in front of her.

Ron and Harry both opened their books and began to read, although Ron was absentmindedly doodling on a spare piece of parchment, and Harry seemed to be reading the same line over and over again. Hermione, however, refused to open her book. Defense Against the Dark Arts was supposed to be about learning how to defend yourself by using the spells in a classroom environment in order to be able to use them in a non-classroom environment. Not reading about the different methods of casting a spell, from a man who had obviously never fought face-to-face with another witch or wizard. She raised her hand to tell Professor Umbridge as much, and was given incredulous looks by the rest of the classroom. Some of the Slytherins snickered quietly behind their hands.

She was, of course, known as the know-it-all amongst the fifth years of Hogwarts.

And she hated it.

The sole reason she had earned that nickname (among other, cruder ones), was because she was smart-and knew it-and felt the need to prove herself, as a Muggle-born, to the rest of the wizarding community. She knew she could be annoying at times, but wasn't everyone? Harry and Ron (the latter more so) depended on her for homework answers they didn't know, and for their own personal Self-Spelling Quill.

She had grown accustomed to it, and still loved her friends, but had resolved that this year would be different.

Apparently not, based on the looks she was currently being given by the rest of her classmates, and Professor Umbridge.

"Did you have a question about the first chapter, Miss…?" The professor asked, rising from her desk to peer at Hermione.

"Granger. And I did have a question, just not about the book."

"Well, Miss Granger, we are reading right now, so if you possibly keep your hand on your desk until the end of class, I would be more than happy to answer any questions you have once the bell rings." She sat back down, ignoring the whispers rippling through the classroom.

"Professor…" Hermione began, but Umbridge fixed her with a glare.

"Do not speak out of turn, Miss Granger!" Hermione raised her hand. Umbridge looked at her as if she was barely concealing an eye-roll. "Yes, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read the first chapter, Professor."

"Then read the second, Miss Granger. Surely you were taught to count?" The Slytherins, and even a couple Gryffindors, could not conceal their mirth, until their professor turned to them, glaring. The students hastily looked back down at their books, some covering their mouths with their hands.

"I've read the entire book, Professor." Umbridge's shock registered for a second, her face reddening, before she covered it.

"Well then, you can sit quietly and think about the information you gained from reading this book until the end of class."

Before Umbridge could say anything, Hermione plowed on. "I've actually got a question about your course aims."

"I believe they are very clear, if you actually read them." Umbridge sneered.

"Well, that's just it, Professor. I understand them perfectly, but they don't seem to fit the Defense Against the Dark Arts course. Perhaps if Hogwarts offered a Defense Theory class, the course aims would fit, but this class is supposed to be about using spells, not reading about them." Hermione said testily.

"I don't need a fifteen-year old to tell me how to run my class, Miss Granger. Besides, I can't imagine any situation arising in which you would need to defend yourselves, in or out of school." Umbridge smiled placidly, as if that was the end. Hermione thrust her hand in the air once more, but Umbridge ignored her.

"Professor, I think-" Hermione began, but Umbridge saw another hand at the back of the classroom, her eyes brightening.

"Was there something you wished to say, Mister Malfoy?" The professor asked, her voice sweet and coddling. Hermione could have rolled her eyes. Of course, Malfoy would have something to say.

"Professor, no matter how much it pains me to say so, Granger is right. Even though Voldemort is gone, there are still dangerous people out there, Death Eaters who wish to continue His mission." He said, and Hermione could have sworn most everyone in the class' jaws hit the floor, including Umbridge's. Draco smirked. "Don't get me wrong, Granger, you're still an annoying little swot, but just because I have a personal objection to you doesn't mean you're always wrong."

"Well, Mister Malfoy-" Umbridge began, a look of consternation on her pouchy face.

"Isn't the point of this class to learn how to defend ourselves? I mean, what if we're in a dangerous situation, memorizing this bloody picture book line for line won't do much to help us, will it?" Harry asked. "No matter how much the Ministry likes to pretend that there's not still danger out there-"

"Hand, Mister Potter!" Umbridge cried, but it was no use. The class had already erupted into chaos. By the time the professor managed to quiet everyone, there was no way anyone was going to be able to read anything, let alone chapter one of Defensive Magical Theory, which Hermione had found, was about as informative as The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

"We've had a perfectly fine education the past four years, I don't see why it should stop now, especially after all that's happened." Ron muttered, once the class finally calmed down.

"I will not allow fifth years to insult the Ministry or me, or to lie to their classmates about the safety of this school!" Umbridge screeched, her face turning a violent shade of maroon. "Detention, Potter, Granger, Weasley, and Malfoy!"

"But, Professor…" Malfoy said, no doubt about to use his father's status at the Ministry and friendship with Umbridge to get out of detention.

"No excuses, Malfoy! I will see the four of you in my office at five o'clock tonight." She said, her voice gleeful. Just then, the bell rang, and the students could not get out of the classroom quick enough.

"Bloody Ministry." Ron muttered.

"This is ridiculous," Harry agreed. "And we've got Divination next!"

Staring morosely into his cup of tea leaves, Ron sighed. "I don't see a thing."

"Me neither, mate." Harry said, looking over at his book again.

"Hold on, I see something! It's, wait…" Ron turned his cup around and around before looking up and grinning, "a lump of tea leaves! What does that mean, Harry?"

"I dunno, I reckon that means you'll be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something." Harry said, pretending to study the list of shapes and their meanings and grinning. He didn't see Professor Trelawny come up behind him until it was too late, although Ron was wildly trying to alert him.

"Harry Potter… The Boy Who Lived. Very interesting. You wouldn't happen to mind if I looked in your teacup for a moment, would you?" She asked, her voice serene and eyes wide behind enormous spectacles that only widened her eyes to disproportionate dimensions. Harry handed over his teacup all too willingly, and she inspected it carefully. Ron rolled his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking, and imitated Trelawny, widening his eyes and peering with consternation into his cup. He stopped immediately when the Divination professor looked up at Harry, tears in her eyes. "My dear boy, I am so very sorry. I see… I see a large, black dog. A Grim, dear." She pressed her lips together and patted his head in what she probably thought was reassuring. "We all must die sometime."

The rest of the class had turned to look at Harry, some stifling laughter, others giving him pitying looks (whether because of Trelawney's attention, or because of her prediction, he couldn't tell). Before he had a chance to respond, Professor Trelawny simply glided away, serene as ever.

While Harry knew her prediction was bullshite, Ron seemed a little shaken up. "Mate, what if she was right?"

"Oh, c'mon Ron. Even if she did see a big black dog, it was probably just Snuffles. I thought you didn't buy into that rubbish."

"Yeah. Sorry, mate."

"It's fine." Harry said, and leaned back in his chair, wishing the class was over. "Remind me again why we signed up for this class?" He groaned, realizing Hermione had been right. He'd much rather be in Arithmancy with her right now, than in this class with creepy Professor Trelawny.

"Probably just to try and prove 'Mione wrong. Or to spite her. Or because we didn't want to take Arithmancy." Ron offered.

"Yeah, probably."

Hermione sat down in the Arithmancy classroom, ready to clear her head of Professor Umbridge, at least until detention that night. She laughed to herself as the bell rang and Professor Vector stepped to the front of the class, knowing Harry and Ron were probably already regretting their decision to take Divination.

"Alright, class. Please take out your quills and parchment, and get ready to take notes. Today, we'll be reviewing the basics of Arithmancy before we get into more in-depth equations. There's extra parchment at the front of the classroom for anyone who needs it." The professor paused while a few students grabbed extra parchment, running a hand through her short, spiky black hair. "Ready? Great. Now, for those of you who don't know, the letters of the alphabet are each given a number from one to nine in Arithmancy. I want you all to copy down this diagram, which is an easy way to remember which number belongs to each letter…" Hermione let Professor Vector's words wash over her as she busily took notes and copied down the diagrams that the professor drew on the blackboard. While she despised Divination with a passion, Arithmancy made sense. It was still about making predictions, but the predictions were based in fact and math, and could be proved. Plus, Arithmancy was always a good way to clear her head, something she often found herself in need of. For awhile, she let herself forget about her previous frustration, and sunk into Vector's words and diagrams and logic.

All too soon, the bell rang, and Hermione headed off to Care of Magical Creatures, reminded again of her impending detention and the fact that she would have to spend the rest of the year with an incompetent, prejudiced, Ministry-approved Defense teacher.