The morning was a bringer of bad news. The school was greeted in the morning with the news that Professor Dumbledore had stepped aside as Headmaster, and that Professor McGonagall was now acting as Headmistress.

To the school as a whole, with all of the attacks, this was obviously a negative, and Michelle could hardly believe that Dumbledore had stepped aside willingly. She could recognize a force-out when she saw it. But the real question troubling her was that with Dumbledore no longer there, what would become of her, of her situation?

Part of her hoped that it meant she would be allowed to stay.

She knew it was not her life, but she couldn't help but think she had somehow done her penance in her actual life, and that this was a reward for her patience. And she loved having friends, family, people who loved her and understood her and wanted her to succeed. How could she ever go back to the streets now that she had this life?

"It's madness," George said, frowning at his porridge as though it had offended him. "Even the governors can't really be so stupid that they would think getting rid of Dumbledore would help anything."

Michelle knew nothing about the governors, but she did know that people could be stupid when bad things happened, and anyone involved in politics had a pretty high stupid quota to begin with.

"Yeah, but think about who's on the governors," Fred said darkly. "He might have pushed it through with that in mind."

"Who?" she asked.

"Lucius Malfoy," the twins growled, their eyes flickering over to the Slytherin table.

Michelle did not know Draco Malfoy well, but she knew enough of him to know he wasn't the sort of person she would want to be around in any life. He was whiny, spoiled, and not seeming to possess any redeeming qualities.

"As bad as his son?" she asked, spreading marmalade on her toast.

"Worse," Fred said. "Our dad got in a fistfight with him in Diagon Alley this summer, though. That was pretty epic."

Not that Michelle knew enough about Arthur Weasley to know if he'd be decent in a fight, she did know that Lucius Malfoy would have to be a bit hardier than his son to have held up at all. Draco looked like a single blow would put him unconscious for a week.

"Sorry that I missed it," Michelle said, frowning up at the head table at the strange emptiness. There was something else wrong that she couldn't put her finger on, something more than the absence of Albus Dumbledore, but perhaps it was simply the fact that Gilderoy Lockhart had done his hair differently. That man made everything he did an event, somehow.

"I wish we could go for a walk," George said, pouting as Alicia and Angelina sat down and began buttering toast. "But I suppose we won't be allowed to do that, since we have to be escorted to every class."

Michelle did miss the element of privacy that had already been eliminated from their lives. She knew, as Professor McGonagall had warned them, that if the attacks continued on as they were that Hogwarts would be closed.

Where would Michelle go if Hogwarts was closed? What did she have if she could not go to Hogwarts? Would she see George? How would she learn magic? Would it even be possible for Albus Dumbledore to send her home, and did she want to go home?

"Michelle?" Fred said, pushing a bit of tea toward her. "Are you alright? You look ill."

She actually felt slightly ill, but the last thing she wanted was to worry George, who was already giving her his concerned look.

"Just didn't get much sleep last night," she said.

Of course, she hadn't. Nobody had slept well after Hermione Granger was attacked. She was a Gryffindor, one of theirs. And although no one in Gryffindor called Harry Potter the Heir of Slytherin anymore – for why would he attack his best friend? – Michelle knew he probably hardly noticed. He had other things to think about.

"Maybe we can take a nap during our free period," George said, kissing her fingers. A few first year girls down the table began to giggle at the sight of this sign of affection, but Michelle found herself not minding. Her cheeks flushed in the most peculiar and pleasant way every time George showed her affection in public. Michelle would never have guessed she would appreciate such things, but George was so sweet that she hardly minded anything he ever did.

"There is one person who doesn't seem to have noticed yet," Katie Bell said thoughtfully, frowning up the table.

"Who?" Michelle asked.

"Wood," the whole of her friend group said, all turning to look at Oliver.

Michelle, then, looked at Oliver, who was staring at his porridge with the blankest expression on his pale face, eyes wide and sort of glassy. She thought for a moment that he, too, had been petrified, but she realized why he was so out of sorts. Nothing in the world, not petrifications or disappearances of professors, could draw his attention away from the fact that Gryffindor's chances for the Quidditch Cup were dashed for the year.

Never mind the fact that his Seeker's best friend was petrified, and therefore he would be unlikely to think and function normally.

She shook her head, picking up a second piece of toast and buttering it. Angelina passed the marmalade before she even had a chance to ask, and Michelle muttered her thanks before glancing back up at the table.

"Weird, isn't it?" Alicia said. "I don't know if I'll be able to get used to his being gone."

"Maybe he'll be back soon," Lee said reasonably. "Maybe if they find whoever is responsible they'll bring him back."

There didn't seem to be a lot of logic in any scenario, but Michelle just shook her head.

"Something else is wrong," she finally said. "I can't figure what, but something else is wrong with the Head Table."

Her friends looked up at the front of the hall and glanced at the table. Finally, Fred said, "You're right. Hagrid should be here by now."

Michelle's eyebrows shot up almost of their own accord. Something so large she couldn't believe she had missed it. Hagrid, the giant man who was always so kind. None of the teachers seemed terribly bothered by his absence, which she supposed suggested that they expected it. Lockhart, indeed, seemed unceremoniously merry in spite of everything that had happened.

What could have kept Hagrid in his hut, she wondered? If indeed, he was in his hut. She supposed many things could have delayed him from breakfast.

"Maybe he's ill," Lee reasoned.

"If we hear ridiculously loud sneezes on the way to Care of Magical Creatures, we'll know," Fred said with a weak smile.

Michelle couldn't blame him. She didn't feel much like smiling either, nor, she expected, did any of their friends. Nothing worth smiling about had happened for quite some time.

She simply crunched on a bit of toast, trying to focus on the here-and-now instead of thinking about things out of her control.

"How are Ron and Harry taking it?" Katie asked Fred and George. "I haven't seen them since I found out about Hermione Granger."

"Dunno," George said thoughtfully, scratching his chin. "I haven't spoken to them, either."

"I saw Ron this morning on my way down to breakfast," Lee said. "He looked like he hadn't slept at all, and that he was ill. I guess stress and worry can do that to a person."

Although Michelle knew that Fred and George loved to poke fun at their younger brother, they seemed to think this was not the time to do so. Michelle knew they would not take kindly to anyone teasing them over Michelle's misfortune, and she happened to think that the state Hermione was in was somehow worse. Without memory was one thing, but lifeless in a hospital cot seemed a bit too close to death for comfort. No one should have to see a friend like that.

"Percy seems a bit out of sorts," Angelina finally said, changing the topic. "Wasn't he patrol partners with the Ravenclaw girl?"

They all looked around at each other, trying to recall. It seemed reasonable, although no one could really remember.

They ran low on time to think about it, though, as breakfast time came to a close. The group gathered their things and went out to the lawn after the limping Professor Kettleburn, who was taking fourth year students to Care of Magical Creatures out in a paddock, to examine nifflers. Michelle didn't like nifflers. She felt uneasy around things that valued shininess, like magpies and street thugs and nifflers. It was the sort of priority that she believed had to do with a lack of moral fiber. She did not say this out loud, but she stayed very close to George during the niffler lessons in Care of Magical Creatures.

The walk to the paddock passed close enough by Hagrid's hut that Michelle was able to get a good, long look at the windows. She assumed there would be the signs of a fire, a candle, anything to indicate that Hagrid was inside. Perhaps he had overslept, but it seemed unlikely. The closer they got to the paddock, the less comfortable Michelle felt with the idea that perhaps Hagrid was sleeping still. The troubled look on George's face as the students gathered around the nifflers told Michelle that he, too, was concerned about Hagrid.

Michelle struggled to focus on class as they took notes on the creatures' sleeping habits while Kettleburn lectured quietly. Her eyes kept drifting back to the hut, expecting to see a puff of smoke billowing out of the chimney at any time. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she got before particularly vicious street fights, that only bad things could happen. If she had thought things were bad the night before, she now felt that things could only get much worse before they got better – if they ever got better again.

By lunchtime, there were whispers about what might have become of Hagrid. He obviously had not been Petrified, as he was not to be found in the infirmary by the several students who had gotten curious enough to check on their way to the lavatory. Teachers were not answering questions about the matter, but news came out of Slytherin House well before dinner arrived.

Hagrid, it seemed, had been arrested for the attacks.

Michelle thought this was ludicrous. After all, she had never met a kinder soul than Hagrid, and surely someone would have noticed him attacking students. Nothing seemed to add up, and she had a sinking feeling that this was another terrible mistake by bureaucracy. Apparently not all things were better in the wizarding world. It was almost a comfort to know that not everything in this Michelle's life was perfect. It served as a reminder that it was all real and not simply a coma dream of sorts.

Or maybe it was both.

"Do you get the feeling something terrible is going to happen?" Angelina said when the girls pulled out their Charms homework that afternoon to review before class the following morning. "I mean, worse than it is."

Michelle shrugged, licked her lips, and then said, "Honestly, I can't imagine how it's going to get any better, especially with Dumbledore gone. But I guess…anything's possible."

Before she came to Hogwarts, she would never have said those words, but now she truly believed it. If she could come to a place like this, be safe, be happy, have friends, have magic…. Anything could happen, absolutely anything. And it would be rather cruel of the universe to teach her to hope and then shatter everything again, so she had to believe that somehow, someday, it would get better.

But the following week, life went on as usual. Michelle and her friends went to their classes. They ate meals at the typical times. They talked, they slept, etc. There were a few small differences, such as no Quidditch practices for her friends, and teachers escorting them from place to place. Filch seemed a bit bored whenever Michelle saw him, and no doubt there was hardly anything for him to do with students being constantly supervised.

Michelle did find this new routine to be actually an improvement in her life, in spite of the circumstances that brought it about. Unable to wander the castle, she had George's undivided attention when not in class. Unable to play Quidditch, her friends had more time to help her with classes and spend time being friends. And she could not get lost if she had someone accompanying her everywhere.

"Do you know how I can focus my Summoning Charm?" Michelle asked, her head in George's lap while she tried to decipher Alicia's Charms notes. "I always end up hitting someone else with whatever I'm trying to Summon."

"I'd noticed," George said, amused. "Fred's better with Summoning Charms, love. You should ask him."

Of course, Michelle had known that Fred was particularly good at that specific Charm, but she had been hoping that George would take advantage of a chance for them to be together alone for a while, just to get away from everything else going on. Still, she nodded, closing the notes and tossing them pointedly to the side, where they fell on top of Alicia's books, next to where Alicia and Angelina were spread out on the floor trying to organize their understanding of antidotes.

"I feel like my brain is full," Michelle said, rubbing the heel of her hand into her temple as George ran his fingers carefully through her blonde locks. "I can't believe we still have three years of school after this."

George chuckled and said, "There's a lot of magic we haven't even begun to learn yet, love. Some jobs require even further education. Like your father, actually. He had to do lots of extra training before he could start work."

"Disgusting," Michelle said. "Tell me what he does so I can avoid it."

George tensed a little at the reminder of her memory loss, but he said, "He's an Unspeakable. Work in the Department of Mysteries."

Michelle sat up suddenly, not recognizing this title but feeling that it caused some part of her mind to tingle with significance. Perhaps it was the grandeur of the name.

"What is it?" she asked breathlessly, and Fred and George exchanged confused and slightly hopeful looks. Whatever they believed about her memory, she felt that she needed them to tell her everything they knew about the Department of Mysteries.

And they did, obligingly. Of course, the general public knew almost nothing about what went on in the Department of Mysteries, but there were plenty of theories, and some of them might have been true. In fact, Michelle suspected that was the way of top-secret things. Sometimes, the things that seemed the most ridiculous rumors were actually well-known truths because who would believe them, anyway?

"So we don't know at all what my father does?" Michelle clarified, frowning at the fireplace. "I mean, like what subjects he specializes in or anything?"

"Nah, never asked," George said, shrugging. "It wasn't likely he'd ever tell us, and at least we don't have to have him suspicious that we'll go snooping to find out. We've always respected Mr. Collins, and he's respected us, and I personally would rather like it to stay that way."

Michelle nodded, understanding. Still, she had a feeling that something important was in the Department of Mysteries, and she made a note to herself mentally to ask her father what sort of work he did, even if he couldn't give her specifics. There had to be sub departments, different subjects, different aspects of magic studied. Perhaps there would be a way to right things, or to fix things, or…something. Of course, Albus Dumbledore must have thought of this already, but perhaps there was only so much he could do with the Department of Mysteries.

In spite of her earlier words to George about wanting to avoid anything that would require further schooling, Michelle found herself running through what things might be required to take the career path of an Unspeakable, and what sorts of magic would be involved with things like time, consciousness, and other things that had impacted her strange situation. She excused herself to her dormitory claiming a light headache and pulled out every book in her trunk, flipping through indices for anything that might give her clues of where to look next, if she ever had a chance to stop by the library.

There wasn't much, she found, slightly disappointed, but she made a note of a few different options, and she decided she would have to have a chat with Professor McGonagall if none of this came up with anything. When she expected to do all of this while students being herded from class to class she really didn't know, but students would have to be allowed time in the library. After all, there were students who would be sitting O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s at the end of the year in spite of everything.

"Michelle?"

She looked up to find Alicia look at her, eyebrow quirked in amusement.

"Sorry," Michelle said quickly. "I was just…picking up."

She slipped her notes into her bag and quickly began to pile up books to put them away in her trunk as her friend crossed the room to her own bed.

"What are you doing?" Alicia asked, getting onto her bed and pulling off her shoes.

"Just…thinking," Michelle said awkwardly. "I think all this revising lately has been making me loopy. I'll…I'll just take a shower, see if I can sleep after that."

"Try using my shampoo," Alicia called as Michelle crossed to the bathroom. "The lavender sometimes helps with my headaches."

Michelle, recalling she was supposed to have a headache, told her friend that she would and closed the door, mind still caught up in her notes.