Chapter One, Sewing the Seed.

Author's Note: This fanfiction is a collaboration with Truthweaver. This is our first attempt at writing fanfiction, so please bear that in mind when reading. Feel free to write a review; constructive feedback is always welcome. We are both totally blind, so if you have any feedback regarding formatting, we would love to hear it.

Disclaimer: All of the characters and settings throughout this fanfiction belong to J. K. Rowling, We're just putting our own spin on it.

Monday, 15th January 1996.

Minerva McGonagall could not recall a time when Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry had been under such threat as it was today. Things had been getting progressively worse since the year began. Where once there had been laughter and chatter in the halls, now there was only sullen despondency and fear. Even the staff weren't pleased with this development, no matter that it lead to quiet, manageable classes. It wasn't right, and everyone felt it. The only ones who seemed unaffected were the Slytherins, some of whom were almost disgustingly jubilant.

The dramatic difference in atmosphere had little to do with Voldemort's recent embodiment and gradual return to power. Nor did it stem from the headline in yesterday's Daily Prophet which proclaimed that ten notorious death eaters had escaped from Azkaban Prison. The student body as a whole, in fact grew morbidly excited at this news. Only the students who had a personal connection to the escapees were noticeably upset and terrified, and this was made worse by the ghoulish curiosity of those who blessedly knew nothing of their pain.

Hogwarts however was facing a more immediate threat. One from forces within its own walls. This threat came (yet again) from the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Indeed it could be argued that this year's teacher was capable of more harm than all of the previous ones put together.

Dolores Umbridge (undersecretary to the minister of magic) had been appointed at the beginning of the school year. Although the headmaster was usually responsible for making staffing decisions, the terrible circumstances surrounding his last few choices had been enough to disuade anyone from applying. This was the perfect excuse for Cornelius Fudge to get involved. Educational decree 22 was passed. This allowed the ministry to appoint their own professor.

They claimed that they were stepping in to help Albus combat the 'seriously falling standards at the school'. Minerva knew the real reason was to keep an eye on Albus while damaging his reputation and improving their own. It was working. People were questioning whether he was as capable as they had been led to believe. Then Umbridge had taken things to another level.

From her very first day, Umbridge had caused controversy, and left drama and destruction in her wake. By the end of the first term she had already been responsible for the sacking of one member of staff. Granted, Sybill Trelawney was never going to get a nomination for the teacher of the year award, but even those who strongly disliked the rather batty divination teacher or openly disparaged her and her subject were outraged at the decision.

As time went on, her actions became more and more focused on limiting the freedoms of students and professors alike, and things had come to a head just this morning. The notices that had been pinned up around the school overnight, coupled with the announcement over breakfast made Minerva yet more pessimistic. Yet another unreasonable restriction had been put in place, and this time it would impact both students and teachers. Before today, she had foolishly believed that there were limits to Umbridge's power, that there were things that she could simply not do, that she and Albus would always find a way to fight back. Now Minerva understood just how much she (and Hogwarts as a whole) was at the mercy of the whims of the ministry, and of Umbridge in particular. She'd already taken so much control. Stopping clubs. Inspecting teachers. Now she'd gone a step further.

Educational Decree 26 (the third since Umbridge had become the self-appointed high-inquisitor of Hogwarts) prevented professors from speaking to students about matters other than their subject of instruction. By creating and enforcing this rule, Dolores had chipped away at their freedom of speech. Who knew what she would do tomorrow?

Others might think that Minerva was exaggerating and that the situation could have been much worse. But Minerva was worried for two reasons. First, this step showed just how obsessed Umbridge, if not the minister himself, was with the control of information. If they could do this then what would stop them from going further? She already knew that Mr Potter was being given frequent detentions for refusing to back down from the truth, but that was a direct and targeted approach which was unlikely to have much impact. By all accounts she was simply having the boy write lines, and Potter wasn't nearly so weak-willed that he would allow that to affect him. But if other professors were made to openly deny the truth to their students for fear of losing their jobs... That would be a problem. If that happened, Minerva would have to make a choice. A choice between her principles and the truth, and protecting her students. She did not care about her job on its own account, though she would of course be devastated to lose it. No, she cared more about the fact that if she lost her job, that was one person in power gone from Hogwarts. She couldn't bear that. But could she bear to lie about something so important? and to besmirch the word of Albus and Mr Potter as she did? She prayed she was not asked to make this choice. She did not think her conscience could stand it.

Thinking of her students brought her mind back to the second reason for concern. It may seem a simple thing to disallow discussion of nonacademic topics between staff and students. However it was in fact detrimental to the students' wellbeing. It made it impossible for them to come to their professors for help in any other matter as they would usually do, because the professors could not respond. Of course Minerva fully expected staff and students to be clever about this and endeavour to meet in secret without attracting the attention of Umbridge or her inquisitorial squad. Still, Umbridge could make this difficult if she so chose, and along with all Minerva's other concerns, it weighed heavily on her mind.

Wednesday, 28th February 1996.

In the month and a half since the latest educational decree had been put in place, things had got steadily worse for the inhabitants of Hogwarts School. Just last week, an article had appeared in the Quibbler that had shaken the wizarding world to its core. The article (with the headline "HARRY POTTER SPEEKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN") had unexpectedly turned many away from the lies of the ministry. Minerva was sure Ms Granger must be behind the article. She could not imagine how she'd managed to persuade Rita Skeeter of all people to write it, and for the Quibbler no less! Still, regardless of the tactics Ms Granger had used to get this article published, Minerva was impressed with her student for realising how to harness Mr Potter's celebrity and the viciousness and fickle loyalty of the press. She also found herself disgusted by the sheep-like way most people seemed to believe every word of the Prophet as though it were the wisdom of Merlin. At least in this instance it was actually useful rather than extremely damaging as it usually turned out to be. This however would likely cause the next escalation in hostilities between Hogwarts and their current adversary.

As these persistently negative thoughts snowballed in her brain, Minerva was distracted by a knock on her office door. Bidding the knocker to enter, she was greeted by the sight of Mr Ron Weasley and Ms Hermione Granger standing in her doorway. With a sinking feeling of dread, she noticed that they looked just as worried as she felt. They were clearly not here to discuss transfiguration. Pulling herself together and ensuring her usual stern mask was firmly in place, she beckoned hurriedly for them to come inside before they were seen.

2 hours earlier.

Hermione Granger had a wonderful brain, and with it came an extensive vocabulary. However, for once in her life she could not think of any word to adequately describe the way she was feeling. The closest thing to the multitude of powerful emotions battling within her was desperation, though this didn't come close to describing the agitation she felt. Her mind was so full of conflicting ideas, each constantly vying for her attention. Hermione felt like she was being pulled helplessly in multiple directions simultaneously. So much so that she feared that she would eventually crack.

From a young age, her circumstances had instilled within her a deep respect of and belief in authority figures, especially teachers. They were the ones who had appreciated her at school. They had helped her when she was bullied by other children for being strange or too clever or for reading books instead of playing, or for her teeth. They were the ones who seemed to really understand her. The ones she could rely on. The ones who gave her the approval she so longed for, and that she never received from her peers.

Even after 4 and a half years of adventures and mishaps at Hogwarts (many of which involved or were caused by the negligence of such authority figures) on the whole she still did as she was told, trusting in their ultimate wisdom. This was much to the chagrin of her best friends Harry and Ron. But she'd come a long way since starting at Hogwarts. Ever since she'd lied about the troll in first year, she'd discovered that there were things worth disobeying a teacher for. Throughout the years she'd learned that the people in authority weren't always right and sometimes breaking the rules was the right thing to do. However that didn't help her with her latest dilemma.

Now she was in a situation where she believed talking to a member of staff was the best cause of action. She couldn't think what she could do herself, and someone had to know. This couldn't go on. The thing was of course, that merely talking to a teacher about this would likely get that teacher in trouble. That had always been the case. That was why neither she nor either of her best friends had wanted to tell anyone earlier. Well, Harry likely had other reasons too but this was one of them. It was becoming too much for Hermione. But now getting help was even more of a problem. She had to do something. Could she risk it? If she did nothing, the guilt and worry would eat away at her. If she did what she planned and things went wrong, her conscience would cause her just as much anguish. She needed Ron. She couldn't make this choice alone.

"So you want to tell McGonagall?" Ron checked after Hermione had finished her rambling explanation.

"Yes. Well... I," she started uncertainly, "oh Ron what else can we do!? It's my fault he's in detention in the first place, and I can't do anything about it! Merclap essence only goes so far."

Ron frowned; this hysteria was not like Hermione. He was worried and confused. He didn't know what was going on at all. Hermione had dragged him here to the room of requirement and immediately started spewing out a stream of words that Ron had no chance of following. All he had caught were the words 'Harry', 'Umbridge', 'my fault' and 'tell McGonagall'. Something was clearly wrong. This wasn't like her. She could get emotional of course, but she was usually the one who could think through things calmly and logically. That was it. He had to calm her down. Then they could go through everything properly and come up with a plan. They always managed to salvage even the most desperate of situations, and Ron wouldn't let this be the exception to the rule.

"It's ok Hermione," he said awkwardly but sincerely, "we'll sort it out somehow. You always think of something. Now, could you explain all that again more slowly? We're not all as clever as you you know."

He was gratified to see Hermione's lips twitch up in a slight smile. Though it was quickly replaced by her previous expression of desperate worry and guilt. She seemed to think for a moment and her face cleared somewhat. Taking a deep breath, she began.

"I'm sure you already know that Harry has another week of detentions with Umbridge."

At this point, she was interrupted; "well yeah of course I know. I was there when he got them and I've been staying up with you every night waiting for him to come back."

"Right, so then you noticed that the merclap essence isn't as effective anymore?"

"Well I suppose he didn't seem to relax as much as usual last night when he put his hand in the bowl."

"Exactly. He's also been struggling with work a lot. He's always tired and the pain in his hand is making it hard for him to write and make accurate wand movements."

Ron nodded. He knew he could be oblivious at times, but he had noticed his best friend's problems in class. Ron had had to nudge him awake several times because Harry kept dozing off during the professors' lectures. His handwriting was even worse than normal and he alternated between trying to use his wand in his left hand and holding it gingerly in his right (neither of which worked well).

"You're right," Ron responded. "These detentions have always been horrible, but they're definitely getting worse… I told him to tell someone as soon as I found out about them, but you know what he said? The teachers wouldn't do anything about them; they'd either not bother, or they'd try to do something and either fail or get fired, and then Umbridge would only get worse because she'd know that she got to Harry."

Seeing the desperation return to Hermione's face, he quickly added, "but at least he only has a few more detentions left, if he keeps his head down after that he'll be fine."

This unfortunately did nothing to assuage Hermione's concerns.

"We don't know that!" she explained desperately, "she's so angry about the article and how everyone's somehow managed to get their hands on it even though she banned it. I can't believe I was so smug about that! I just didn't think! And... oh Ron, you've seen how gleeful she looks whenever Harry gives her the barest excuse to give him detention. She likes hurting him! She likes provoking him so that she can hurt him! And with his temper and pride, Harry just lets her do it. I don't think he can just keep his head down."

Ron was horrified to see that at some point during this tirade, Hermione had started crying. He stood up and walked over so he was standing next to her armchair. He awkwardly patted her on the shoulder.

"It's alright Hermione," he soothed, "you're right, we need to tell McGonagall. She must be able to do something."

Back in the present.

"Ms Granger, Mr Weasley," Minerva greeted the pair, "please sit."

They did so, still clearly uneasy. Looking more closely at them, Minerva noticed with dismay that Ms Granger's eyes were red and puffy, and they both appeared to worried and uncertain about something. Their eyes darted around nervously and they shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Biscuit?" she offered bruskly, pushing the tarton biscuit tin on her desk towards them.

This seemed to break them out of their mood for a moment. Mr Weasley in particular looked extremely confused, whereas Ms Granger was more surprised.

"What?" Mr Weasley questioned, baffled.

" take a biscuit," Minerva insisted, "really, I don't see what there is to misunderstand about that. Mr Potter was equally confused when I offered one to him."

"Harry was here?" Ms Granger interjected.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at her.

"He has not come to my office since the insident with Mr Malfoy," she replied, her nostrils flaring at the memory. "The time I was refering to was in fact the time when Professor Umbridge instructed him to inform me of his first week of detentions."

It pained her to refer to Dolores as a professor. There was no one else outside of Voldemort's forces who could possibly be less suited to the post. However Minerva still had a reputation to maintain in front of the students, though she had to admit to herself that she hadn't exactly kept her personal opinion of the woman a secret. She noted an exchange of glances between the two students in front of her as she mentioned Mr Potter's detentions. That combined with the absence of Mr Potter in this conversation was a sure indication that this had something to do with him, and possibly Dolores.

"What trouble has Mr Potter got himself into now?"

Mr Weasley choked on his biscuit. Ms Granger, (who hadn't taken one herself), paled and glared disapprovingly at him.

"Honestly Ronald," she scolded, "how can you eat at a time like this?"

"We were offered biscuits," he said defensively, "what's wrong with me taking one?"

Minerva raised a hand to put a stop to this conversation before it turned into a full-blown argument.

"If one of you could answer my questions," she said, bringing them back on topic, "where is Mr Potter? And what do you mean by 'a time like this' Ms Granger?"

A resigned look washed over both their faces. They remain silent for a moment, exchanging glances. They were clearly communicating nonverbally. Minerva was reminded of how close the members of the trio were.

Eventually they turned back to her, a new resolve in their eyes.

"Professor, you have to get Harry out of detention!" Ms Granger burst out.

Minerva sniffed disapprovingly; her lips pressed into a thin line. She was surprised and disappointed that Ms Granger of all people would ask her this. All this just to get Mr Potter out of writing lines for a few days. Realisation struck. Ms Granger was clearly feeling some guilt for the part she'd played in getting Mr Potter's interview published, which was the reason for the current set of detentions.

"Ms Granger," she said, softening her tone somewhat. "I completely understand that you feel the need to interfere with Mr Potter's punishment for the article. I assume I am correct in thinking that you had something to do with it's publication?"

The girl nodded, looking miserable and stricken with guilt. Minerva decided to let her down gently and try to reassure her.

"You must understand Ms Granger that I couldn't possibly interfere in this instance. While I might not see eye to eye with Professor Umbridge in certain matters, I made it clear to Mr Potter that he should keep his head down or he would get into trouble. In that context, a week of writing lines really isn't that bad at all."

Rather than being appeased by this, Ms Granger seemed even more distressed than before. The poor girl was taking this insident much too seriously. Minerva thought she must be missing something here. Mr Weasley put a hand on his friend's shoulder to comfort her.

"Professor I'm not sure you understand," he began anxiously.

"Then explain to me Weasley," she challenged, "what, exactly, do I not understand?"

The boy gulped.

"It's... Harry's not just writing lines," he continued slowly, "well he is but..."

Minerva stared at him intensely, waiting for him to finish his explanation. If this was some foolish ploy to get Potter out of trouble they would all be in detention! But she felt less sure now. Surely they wouldn't go through all this for such a petty reason, and their expressions throughout and the way Weasley was talking put her on edge.

"Harry is writing lines," Mr Weasley tried again slowly, then in a rush he said "but the quill he uses… It uses his blood for ink! It cuts the words into his hand!"

Silence. Minerva continued staring, blankly now, at the students opposite her. Had she heard that right? Could he be mistaken? Was this some sick joke? But no. She could see in their faces that it was not. Ms Granger was in tears now. Mr Weasley's freckles stood out starkly against his now blanched skin. Then it struck her with the force of a herd of rampaging hippogriffs.

She felt her mask slip as her own face crumpled into an expression of shocked horror. She slumped in her chair. Her emotions were too much to contain behind her strict facade.

She'd allowed this to happen. She'd scolded Harry for getting himself into detention so often and for his attitude. She'd snapped at him and told him to watch his temper while she herself openly challenged Dolores. She'd even taken points off him when she'd heard he'd received more detentions earlier in the year. And all this time that toad had been torturing him with a blood quill. He must have felt like he couldn't com to her, that she'd just scold him even more. He'd been suffering in silence, and it was her fault. Why hadn't she thought how odd it was that Dolores was only setting lines? Why hadn't she noticed the difference in Harry's work and behaviour and investigated? She stood suddenly.

"I need to see him, to speak to him," she announced, her voice shaking but determined. "Both of you stay here. I... Thank you for informing me of this. I promise I will deal with it immediately."

Harry sat alone, in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, trying to get through as much of today's homework as possible. He knew from experience that if he didn't get through it now, it would pile up throughout the week and he'd have to skip meals and sleep to do it all. This was of course because of his detentions with Umbridge which took up his whole evening and part of the night most days. It made the work even harder because he was just so tired, and his hand ached as he wrote, making his handwriting less legible than it already was.

He wondered where Ron and Hermione were. Hermione had come in a while ago and dragged Ron off somewhere. She'd given some vague excuse as they left. Something about them needing to do something, and he hadn't had time to ask for more details. He supposed it was probably something to do with them both being prefects. He shrugged. 'Better them than me', he thought; 'I have too much to do without having prefect duties on top of everything else'. As he thought this, he heard the portrait hole open. He looked up from his essay to see if his friends had returned. Instead he saw McGonagall striding towards him, a particularly stern look on her face.

"Mr Potter, come with me please," she commanded.

Harry stood quickly; it was not good to keep McGonagall waiting when she was in this kind of mood. As she led him out of the room, he wondered what this was about. He barely withheld a groan as he realised that she had probably only just learned about his new detentions with Umbridge and was likely furious with him for getting into trouble again. If it wasn't that, perhaps she wanted to talk about how he'd been falling asleep in class today or about how he'd hardly taken notes and failed to successfully cast any spell. Now reluctantly dragging his feet, he followed his head of house to her office.

As he entered the office, he was shocked to see Ron and Hermione sitting there. He was then disturbed to see that Hermione had been crying. He looked round the office and it's three occupants in concerned bewilderment.

"What's going on here professor?" he asked.

"Take a seat Potter," she said, surprisingly gently, as she conjured another chair from thin air.

He obeyed, sitting tensely on the edge of his seat. He looked to each of his friends, hoping one of them would offer an explanation. When neither of them did, he turned his questioning gaze back on to his professor opposite him.

"What's going on here professor?" he repeated, "has something happened? Has someone been attacked?"

"No Potter, no one's been attacked," McGonagall said reassuringly. "I wanted to talk to you about your detentions with Professor Umbridge."

Harry was furious. He felt rage rush through him. 'Did she really just interrupt my work to lecture me about Umbridge again? Does she not understand how important that interview was? And why is Hermione crying? Has she just been told off too for arranging the interview for me? What on earth is Ron doing here?' Harry didn't care what McGonagall said or did to him. It couldn't be worse than Umbridge! But she wouldn't do anything to his friends. He couldn't allow that.

He met her eyes with a steely look and said, "I'm the one who chose to do the interview. I know you said I shouldn't provoke Umbridge, but if you want me to feel bad about what I did then you're wasting your time professor. I won't. You can do whatever you want to me, give me more detentions or whatever you want, but leave Ron and Hermione out of it!"

Harry held his breath, tense, as he waited for the inevitable exclamation from McGonagall. He knew he'd probably gone too far, but he didn't regret it. He was tired of being made to feel like a misbehaving child for getting tortured for doing the right thing. He looked at his professor, challenge clear in his eyes.

To his surprise, she did not shout. She didn't even seem angry. What was that expression on her face? Harry was unsettled. Again he looked to his friends, searching for answers, but none came. Their faces were frozen into masks of guilt and pity and shock. That was it, guilt. But why? Harry didn't understand.

"Mr Potter... Harry," McGonagall eventually said, her voice sounding different to Harry's ears. She didn't sound like his confident and stern head of house at all.

"Harry," she began again, "I have no intention of punishing you or your friends. I want to appologise to you, I fear I have made a terrible mistake."

It was Harry's turn to freeze in shock now. He stared uncomprehendingly at her for several seconds. Then the pieces fell into place. A knot of dread coiled in his stomach. Ron and Hermione were here. They looked guilty. Hermione was crying, and now McGonagall wanted to talk to him about his detentions, to appologise to him. His face drained of colour. She knew.

McGonagall interrupted his frantic musings, "may I see your hand, Harry?"

She phrased it like a question but Harry knew it wasn't. He had no choice now. Still, he had to try, at least to delay her, he had to do something. He reached forward with his left hand.

McGonagall glanced at it briefly, but he could see she wasn't fooled.

"You're right hand please. You are right-handed, are you not?"

Shooting his friends a betrayed look, he slowly, oh so slowly, put out his right hand. McGonagall gasped and flinched back as if the sight of Harry's hand had caused her physical pain. Hermione sniffled. Ron was looking away awkwardly, refusing to meet Harry's wounded gaze. Harry forced his eyes back to his head of house. He hadn't wanted to tell her. But now that she knew, he had to see how she would react, what she would do. And if she was going to try something risky, he would have to stop her. For Hogwarts. For her.

The sternness had left her expression completely. McGonagall was wracked with shame and guilt. She appeared to have aged ten years in the last few seconds. Her eyes, just as green as his own, were filled with pain as they met his gaze.

"I'm sorry."

The whisper was so quiet that if Harry hadn't seen her lips move he would have thought he'd imagined it. He still found it hard to believe that she'd said what he'd heard. He had never expected to hear those words from Professor McGonagall. It wasn't right, she shouldn't be looking like that. She didn't need to appologise to him. She wasn't the one who had done this, and while he had been extremely angry about the way she'd handled the detentions, he realised now that he'd been unreasonable. She hadn't known about what was happening in detention. He felt some of the pent-up rage that had filled him for much of this year dissipate to be replaced with guilt.

"Professor, it's not your fault. You didn't know. You didn't do this," he said.

"But that's exactly the point," the woman responded dejectedly. "if I hadn't been so harsh, judgmental and hipocritical, maybe you would have felt comfortable enough to tell me."

Harry felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. Was that really what she thought? Didn't she understand that he couldn't have told her anyway? Under any circumstances?

"Honestly Professor, you have to believe me! That's not why I didn't tell you, not at all!" he explained desperately. He needed her to go back to normal, she shouldn't be like this; "the reason I didn't tell you about what was really happening in detention was that you couldn't do anything about it anyway. Umbridge has too much power here. If you'd tried to do anything you would have been sacked like Trelawney, and then things would be even worse. I know you try to stand up to her as much as you can. We all appreciate it. You can't leave. I only have a few detentions left. I'll be fine. Please don't do anything."

McGonagall bowed her head, hiding her face from view. In a slightly choked voice she said, "Thank you Harry. Your ability to forgive and to put others ahead of yourself is truly humbling. You are so much like your parents."

"It's not just me professor," Harry pointed out awkwardly, "Lee Jordan also had detention with Umbridge, and probably other people too. I think we all just thought the same thing really."

McGonagall seemed to pull herself together at this. She looked up, a determined spark in her eyes.

"Well I'll have to put some consideration into how to best solve the overall problem, but I know how I can solve the most immediate one," she announced.

"Please professor really," Harry insisted, "she'll just sack you, the ministry's given her too much power. It's fine."

"It is most certainly not fine Mr Potter," McGonagall retorted, "absolutely not. But be assured that despite evidence to the contrary, I am in fact capable of subtlety and keeping my temper. My plan does not involve sending a complaint through official channels, nor does it involve storming into that toad's office and giving her a piece of my mind, no matter how satisfying that would doubtlessly be."

Harry relaxed slightly. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe she really did have a way to resolve the situation without risking her own job or other manners of revenge by Umbridge. It wasn't like Harry liked having to make himself bleed. He liked other people having to do it to themselves even less. It had just never seemed like a good idea to trust McGonagall or any other professor with fixing the situation.

"Um, so, what is your plan then, professor?" Ron asked.

He hadn't spoken at all since Harry had come in. He was still avoiding Harry's gaze guiltily, but his courage had clearly come back to him since McGonagall had mentioned that she was favouring a subtle approach.

"My plan is to take Mr Potter's place in his detentions, starting tonight."

Once again, silence. For just a second the trio were too shocked to speak. Then.

"What! Are you joking!?"

"Isn't there another way?"

Loudest of all was, "No way! You can't do that professor! You don't need to. Really, it's fine, I'm used to it now."

Her lips pressed together into the thinnest of lines, her nostrils flared, her eyes blazed. Harry was reminded of just how terrifying his head of house could be. He was relieved to see her back to herself again.

"Do not presume to tell me what I can and can't do Potter," she said with icy determination, "I will be taking your place until a more suitable solution is reached. It is the only acceptable course of action. It is my responsibility to protect my students and I have failed terribly, but I WILL do my utmost to not fail you again."

Harry stared, wide-eyeed. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so determined to protect him. Not any adult anyway. He still wanted to argue. If anything this made him even more unhappy about the idea of her undergoing detention with Umbridge. However her expression and voice made it clear to him that any further discussion on this point would be futile.

"Um, professor, I could go instead," Hermione spoke up timidly, "I also had a hand in the interview's publication after all and..."

"Really Ms Granger, don't be absurd! No one should have to go through that, no matter what they've done. But certainly not a student. I will be going and that's final." She paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully at Hermione, then said, "I think you've just given me an idea Ms Granger."

Harry watched the two witches intently, wishing they would give him a clue as to what they were thinking. After a moment, a smug, satisfied smile spread slowly across Hermione's face. She nodded.

"What?" Harry and Ron said together, exasperated.

"Oh nothing you need concern yourselves with," McGonagall said crypticly, a predatory grin on her lips, "Ms Granger and I have merely reached the solution. I should only need to take your place for tonight's detention Mr Potter."