Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - J. K. Rowling [134]
“Here,” she said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid toward him, “soak your hand in that, it’s a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help.”
Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, and then leapt into his lap and settled down.
“Thanks,” he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks’s ears with his left hand.
“I still reckon you should complain about this,” said Ron in a low voice.
“No,” said Harry flatly.
“McGonagall would go nuts if she knew —”
“Yeah, she probably would,” said Harry. “And how long d’you reckon it’d take Umbridge to pass another Decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?”
Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and after a moment he closed it again in a defeated sort of way.
“She’s an awful woman,” said Hermione in a small voice. “Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in … we’ve got to do something about her.”
“I suggested poison,” said Ron grimly.
“No … I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we’re not going to learn any defense from her at all,” said Hermione.
“Well, what can we do about that?” said Ron, yawning. “ ’S too late, isn’t it? She got the job, she’s here to stay, Fudge’ll make sure of that.”
“Well,” said Hermione tentatively. “You know, I was thinking today. …” She shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on, “I was thinking that — maybe the time’s come when we should just — just do it ourselves.”
“Do what ourselves?” said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of murtlap tentacles.
“Well — learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves,” said Hermione.
“Come off it,” groaned Ron. “You want us to do extra work? D’you realize Harry and I are behind on homework again and it’s only the second week?”
“But this is much more important than homework!” said Hermione.
Harry and Ron goggled at her.
“I didn’t think there was anything in the universe more important than homework,” said Ron.
“Don’t be silly, of course there is!” said Hermione, and Harry saw, with an ominous feeling, that her face was suddenly alight with the kind of fervor that S.P.E.W. usually inspired in her. “It’s about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge’s first lesson, for what’s waiting out there. It’s about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don’t learn anything for a whole year —”
“We can’t do much by ourselves,” said Ron in a defeated voice. “I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose —”
“No, I agree, we’ve gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books,” said Hermione. “We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we’re going wrong.”
“If you’re talking about Lupin …” Harry began.
“No, no, I’m not talking about Lupin,” said Hermione. “He’s too busy with the Order and anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that’s not nearly often enough.”
“Who, then?” said Harry, frowning at her.
Hermione heaved a very deep sigh.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she said. “I’m talking about you, Harry.”
There was a moment’s silence. A light night breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron and the fire guttered.
“About me what?” said Harry.
“I’m talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts.”
Harry stared at her. Then he turned to Ron, ready to exchange the exasperated looks they sometimes shared when Hermione elaborated on far-fetched schemes like S.P.E.W. To Harry’s consternation, however, Ron did not look exasperated. He was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then he said, “That’s an idea.”
“What’s an idea?” said Harry.
“You,” said Ron. “Teaching