~*~*~

Sophie and Roderick had indeed met in the common room the night before, looking for Andrea’s wand and Edward’s shoes respectively. They made plans to go to breakfast together. Andrea and Edward gave them their space, using the time to meet for breakfast themselves and continue working on plans for Operation Sophie-Roderick Romance. As they sat down at the long table, carefully on the opposite end from the hopeful couple so that they could watch them all they wanted, they celebrated a successful completion of phase one.

“Here’s to you,” Edward raised his glass in a toast to Andrea.

“Back at you, Ed,” Andrea gave him the same honor. “Now, phase two. I’m predicting that we won’t have to step in much for phase two to happen. It’s phase three and beyond that I’m worried about.”

“Don’t I hear you! Roderick is completely gutless when it comes to pursuing the ladies,” Edward admitted.

“Yeah, Sophie is almost completely devoid of experience in the subject of romance. We have our work cut out for us.”

“We’re naturals. Just look at them,” he tilted his head toward Sophie and Roderick. “We should maybe think of opening a little business. There are plenty of people in this very room right now that I’m sure would love to be set up into neat little couples.”

“How would you put a price on that kind of thing?” Ed merely shrugged. “Well,” Andrea guessed, “It’s more of a priceless thing, so we could easily gouge the price as high as we wanted. Then there’s the supply and demand aspect to take into account.”

“Definitely. So many people would be lined up that we’d have complete control of the price.”

Someone cleared a throat behind the two of them. They both turned around only to be face to face with Professor McGonagall. “I may point out before you begin such an ambitious and ridiculous business that you, Miss Benning, will have you hands full with preparations for your O.W.L. examinations, and you, Mr. Abercrombie, start your N.E.W.T. level classes this year. Don’t think it’ll be a step back in the progress that you made in lessons last year.”

“Yes, Professor,” the two said together.

“Now here are your schedules. Mind to study hard, I hate to see such potential be left idly by the wayside.” She handed them their respective schedules and moved on down the table.

“Let’s see, I’ve got Arithmancy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic with an emphasis in Goblin Relations. Not too bad; except for there’s Arithmancy every day, and History of Magic is never good.”

“I think that if they found someone other than Binns to teach the subject that it would be not merely bearable, but interesting as well,” Andrea observed. “What career path did you choose again? I forgot.”

“Banking and being a curse cracker for Gringotts.”

“Of course I remember now you’ve told me.”

“What about your schedule?” he asked between mouthfuls of porridge.

“Death warmed over for Monday. Listen to this,” she said, buttering some toast, “History of Magic, double Potions, with the Slytherins mind you, Arithmancy, and then double Defense Against the Dark Arts. Arithmancy is complicated, but not terrible. I just wish I didn’t already have a bad feeling about that Umbridge. Something is not right about her, Ed, but I don’t know what it is.”

“I hear you, I can’t believe Dumbledore hired someone like that. Good luck to both of us.” They continued to eat their breakfast in silence after that. People started to file out of the Great Hall in groups heading to their first lessons of the day. “Oh, have to go, there’s Katie. Pleasure dining and conspiring with you.”

“Bye Ed.” Andrea quickly finished her eggs and then gathered up her school bag. She looked for someone she knew, but the only Gryffindors left, it seemed, were the first and second years. Andrea gave up looking for someone to walk with and just left the Great Hall by herself. She went up the staircase in the Entrance Hall, trodding her way to Binns’ classroom in the far east wing of the castle.

Turning a corner, she charged right into, and was knocked over backwards by a couple of people. “Sorry,” they both said. Then, “Andrea?” two hands extended forward to help her up. It was the Trouble Twins themselves, Fred and George Weasley.

“Thanks.” She took their hands and they hoisted her back to her feet.

“Are you all right?” George asked.

“Fine, I believe.”

“No doubt of that,” Fred muttered, so only George could hear.

“What?” she asked.

“Where are you off to?” George asked quickly.

“Binns. History of Magic.”

“Fred and I will walk you. Can I take your books?” George offered.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you,” she said as she handed over her books.

Fred gave his twin a queer look. “We’ve got Transfiguration though.”

“Well, that’s clear on the other side of the castle,” Andrea observed and Fred nodded.

“It’s the least we can do,” George said pointedly to his twin.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

“We insist. Fred and I don’t mind in the least.”

Fred rolled his eyes, unbeknownst to the other two, and then stepped in line with them as they made their way down the corridor.

There was silence between them all for a moment. “Er, how was your summer Andrea?” George asked.

“It was nice actually. Played a lot of Quidditch; Aidan Lynch broke his arm at our house last week, but Mum patched it up good as new. She’s skilled in the area of medicine, seeing as how there are so many injuries at our house from the Quidditch games.”

“Lynch? Really?” Fred asked, now interested in the exchange.

“Yes. He really is quite the clumsy chap.”

They laughed. “You were at the World Cup last year, right?” George asked.

“Don’t even talk to me about the World Cup,” she quipped.

“Er, why not?” George asked tentatively.

“I wasn’t there,” she grumbled.

“Really? Why?” Fred inquired. “Isn’t your dad the Head of the British and Irish League?”

“Well, the Cup was in the middle of the summer holidays right?” The twins nodded. “Well, we had a whole bunch of players at our house almost nonstop leading up to the Cup. Mum said that if Roderick and I didn’t have all of our summer homework completed by the time we were supposed to leave for the Cup, that we wouldn’t be able to go. But as I mentioned before, there were a lot of Quidditch-playing visitors, and so we played a lot of Quidditch; we didn’t think Mum was really all that serious. The night before, Mum asked if we were finished. We said almost. Almost is a relative term; for us, it meant we’d almost finished procrastinating the work. We worked all night, and we did almost finish our work. Probably would have if we hadn’t grown so tired in the wee hours of the morning, we were both working along rather sluggishly then. Mum ruled with the iron fist, though she’s usually the lenient one. It killed Dad that we couldn’t go. To make matters worse, they made us stay with our muggle neighbors, so we couldn’t use any sort of magic for the five days they were gone.”

“Awful bad luck,” Fred said in awe.

“Indescribable bad luck,” George agreed.

“I know, like I said, the Cup was in the middle of the holidays. We would’ve had plenty of time to finish it. Needless to say we didn’t speak to Mum for weeks.”

“Wow, that’s a bit harsh don’t you think?” Fred asked.

“It was the World Cup!”

“True. Never mind then.”

“Besides, I was a year younger in my maturity. But the silent treatment wasn’t without its payoffs.”

“How so?” George asked.

“Mum asked Connolly and Lynch if she could have their Firebolts to give us as belated birthday presents.”

“No,” Fred started.

“Way,” George finished.

“Oh, you haven’t lived until you’ve ridden on a Firebolt. Absolutely nothing is better. Not one thing.,” she sighed. “Sorry,” she laughed nervously, “I guess I’ve got a bit carried away with myself.” She bit her lip.

Fred turned his head to look at George, and whereas usually they would’ve shared a look, Fred was surprised, because George was looking intently at Andrea, smiling, and said, “Rubbish. I don’t want to hear Fred talk anyway, he’s got nothing new to say.”

“Thanks you two for walking me. It was nice to have the company,” she said, turning to face them as they reached the door to the classroom.

George handed Andrea her books. “It was a pleasure really. Think nothing of it.”

“Well, I’ll see you around,” she smiled and went into the classroom.

As they turned and started running down the corridor towards Transfiguration, knowing McGonagall was not going to be one bit pleased with their tardiness. Fred didn’t let this fact go unnoticed by his twin.

“Since when have you ever cared whether or not we were on time to our lessons?” George asked. “When have you ever cared whether or not we even made it to our lessons at all?”

“I’ve never cared, and I don’t now, I’m just wondering if I missed something back there between you two.”

“Between me and Andrea? You’re full of dung bombs. Honestly, George Weasley and Andrea Benning, does that even seem like a possibility to you?”

“You’re right, I was mistaken. A girl would have to be lacking a brain to go out with you.”

“Ha ha brother. It’s the same in your case as well.”

~*~*~

“Now, I know this is kind of a silly question, because you never pay attention in History of Magic, but was it possible that you were paying even less attention than normal?” Sophie asked Andrea as they walked to Potions.

Andrea shrugged, smiling, “Perhaps.”

Sophie gasped. “Did something happen?”

“I’ll tell you when we can have a bit more privacy in Potions, er, not Potions. Arithmancy then. There’s no telling who could be listening now.”

~*~*~

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me in Binns’ class or during Potions! How could you possibly wait?” Sophie was raging as they sat made their way from Arithmancy to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Sophie, could you keep it down? It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. At least we’re friends though, and honestly, I’m fine with that. I’m not really to keen to get caught up in any romance after, you know, everything with Neal.”

Sophie gave her an understanding smile and looked like she was about to say something else, but didn’t because that moment brought them to Umbridge’s classroom, and no one knew how strict or lenient she was yet. Sophie and Andrea took seats on either side of Seamus and Dean. They watched Umbridge with apprehension

“Well, good afternoon!” she said when finally the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled “Good afternoon,” in reply.

“Tut, tut,” said Professor Umbridge. “That won’t do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply ‘Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.’ One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,” they chanted back at her.

“There, now,” said Professor Umbridge sweetly. “That wasn’t too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.”

Andrea exchanged a dark look with Dean. This was definitely not a good sign. The last time they’d begun a year of Defense Against the Dark Arts with a quill in hand, they’d been taking a quiz from Lockhart, about Lockhart. Andrea was slow to take out her quill, ink, and parchment. She looked at the blackboard after hearing Umbridge rap on it with her wand.

“You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified.” Andrea gave a groan and sunk a bit lower in her seat. “We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.”

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

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.

([Please turn your books now to pages 240, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245 and 246. Read these pages, because I don’t want to quote the whole thing here. I’ll cut to the end of what I want though...])

”Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear,” said Professor Umbridge, holding out the note to him.

He took it from her without saying a word, turned on his heel, and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, and slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

“Tsk, tsk, I do hope Mr. Potter learns to control that temper before too long. It will do him no good. Now, back to your reading class.”

Many of the class hurriedly put their noses to their books. Andrea lowered her head, but didn’t read. She sat drumming her fingers on her desk top, fuming. She hadn’t said anything, but she was positively shaking with anger at Umbridge’s incredulity. After five minutes, she couldn’t stand it any longer.

She stood, slamming her book closed. Umbridge, as well as the rest of class, looked at her in surprise.

“Is something wrong dear?” Professor Umbridge asked sweetly.

“Yes,” she growled.

“Please tell me what is wrong.”

“You are!” Andrea barked.

“I doubt that dear,” she smiled.

“I believe every word Potter says is true, and so do you or you wouldn’t be stamping out everything he says and trying to discredit him!”

“Miss- what was your name?”

“Andrea Benning. The stupidest thing you can do at a time like this is to impose mere theory on us. If only for the sake of our practical examinations you should teach us everything you can, including the actual procedures!”

“Thank you for you opinions, Miss Benning, you are entitled to them even if they are severely misguided. However, due to the disturbing manner in which you shared them, distracting your fellow students, and speaking without being called upon, I must take another ten points from Gryffindor.”

“It’s worth it.”

“I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself unless you want to find yourself in detention with Mr. Potter. Now, if you will, please, continue with your reading.”

Andrea sat down again, but she didn’t open her book. She merely folded her arms and looked moodily out the window. After about ten more minutes, Professor Umbridge spoke again.

“Miss Benning, is there something of extreme significance taking place outside the window?”

“No.”

“Then why are you not reading dear?”

“I don’t feel well. Stomachache.”

“Well, then collect your things dear, you should have told me sooner. I will give you a note to take with you to go down to the hospital wing. I dare say Madam Pomfrey will have you in tiptop shape in no time. It’s no wonder you were so irritated before.”

Andrea didn’t protest, but quickly gathered up her bag and her book and went to the front of the room to get the note from Umbridge. “If you ever feel a need to talk about anything, I’m here for you dear, just come to my office. I’m always willing to listen.” She whispered sweetly so only Andrea could hear.

“You are the last person I would think of actually talking to about anything, you old hag,” Andrea mumbled under her breath as she left the classroom.