"Don't fret sir, this is not the end of your tenure. I will recommend to the Ministry and Headmaster Dumbledore that you take those exams, however. A qualified Care of Magical Creatures professor should have at minimum an OWL in Defense and a NEWT in Creatures. If you sit those by the start of next term, I believe that should be acceptable. In the meantime, I would recommend you stick to the calmer animals in your curriculum, and enlist the help of a qualified teacher's assistant for the upper year's more dangerous lessons."
"Those are fair requests, thank you, sir." Hagrid said, feeling a bit dumbfounded at the thought of taking exams. Luckily those two should not be too difficult? When was the last time he'd studied? "About Buckbeak - the hippogriff - "
"That is outside of my domain, I'm afraid. A hearing has been scheduled. Please keep the creature paddocked in the meantime."
Hagrid nodded bitterly. He was lucky enough he wasn't getting sacked, he'd return to the notion of saving Buckbeak later. Harry, the sweet kid he was, shot him a thumbs up from where he was working. Hell, even if Harry was the only one enjoying the lessons, Hagrid was gonna call that a win.
...
The trio were enjoying their lunch, discussing the inquisitors who were roaming around the school in earnest, questioning students on their general safety, when Luna came in from her last class, tears running down her face.
"Who was it?" Harry asked without preamble. This was now the fifth time Luna had shown up late to a meal near-tears, and each time she refused to divulge any names. Harry was starting to feel a mass of built-up energy whispering in the back of his mind. This was now five times too many, and his annoyance that Luna was refusing to tell him which child he could be murdering was wearing on his patience.
"One of my dormmates called me a stupid bitch," Luna said, sitting down with a frown. "She took my shoes again and I went to ask for them back since I have Herbology next and I don't like the feeling of dirt in my socks, and Professor Sprout says it's not safe to be barefoot in the greenhouses." Harry nodded sagely, unpleasant textures near one's feet felt like stepping in hell. "She refused to give them back, though. And she started saying lots of mean things to me. And the other girls in my dorm agreed with her. All I did was try to explain to Fiona that the dragonpox vaccine is dangerous because it lowers your IQ. She told me that I must have gotten several vaccines then since I'm such a stupid bitch." She shielded her face in her hands and tried to hold back her tears. "And - and I still don't have my shoes!"
Hermione also put her head in her hands and sighed for a good minute straight.
"Luna, I'm pretty sure vaccines don't actually do that," Ron explained gently.
"Oh. But daddy said that -"
"Luna," Hermione said. "Look, that is a controversial opinion, so it's probably one that should stay inside. Like I explained last week, remember?"
"If from my dad, I am taught, it should stay, an inside thought." Luna sang the song Hermione had made her memorize the last time she'd done something like this.
"It wasn't right of them to nick your things," She clarified. "But I'm worried you'll accidentally encourage them by saying something that might be insensitive."
Luna frowned, pondering Hermione's view. She hated the thought of not being true to herself, of having to put on a mask around others so they didn't think she was strange. It just felt wrong. And she had only been trying to help Fiona by warning her. But things were quite tense in her dorm. Hermione was right in that she did not wish to escalate things further. She didn't understand. She didn't try to force any of them to be her friend, she was just joining in their conversation. If they didn't like her, why couldn't they just leave her alone?
Luna, in a moment of very non-whimsical, nihilistic self-reflection far removed from her typical daydreaming peacefulness realized that she didn't think anyone really liked her.
...
The two women could not have been more opposite if they'd tried. Their potions class was no longer the drab, gloomy dungeon room but that did not mean Alabasandria was any more of a color-loving person than Snape had been. Besides a fair amount of potted plants around the perimeter of the class, both the room and Alabasandria were entirely devoid of color. Umbridge stood in front of the class, standing tall and proper with a foul look on her face and clashing against the dark room in her vibrant pink business attire, strings of pearls, and curled updo. Alabasandria towered over her, posture lax and with her hands crossed in front of her, and was dressed in her favorite pair of black jeans and a black muggle t-shirt. Umbridge was trying and failing to not look overtly horrified at Alabasandria's general appearance and demeanor.
"Not dressed professionally," she murmured. "Just a few questions before you begin your class, Miss Adams."
"Hmm. Set up your stations, children." Alabasandria ordered the group who had their attention glued to the inevitable theatrics that were about to occur. The children began to pull out their supplies at a snail's pace, unwilling to remove their eyes from the two adults. Harry shoved a large wad of parchment in his mouth to preemptively hold back his giggles.
"How old are you?" Umbridge asked.
"Older than you," she responded curtly.
.....
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