Monday afternoon and Friday morning were Defence Against the Dark Arts classes for the first- and second-year students.
In the pin-drop silence of the Great Hall, every young wizard stared intently at Hermione and Professor Breen on the raised platform, scarcely daring to breathe. Neville had even clasped his fists before his chest in a prayerful pose.
With a flick of his wand, Amosta raised a stone pillar from the ground. It stood abruptly in the middle of the platform, ten feet tall and as thick as a bowl.
"Now then, Miss Granger—"
Amosta looked encouragingly at Hermione, whose trembling fingers gave away her nerves, and smiled.
"Please begin your performance!"
"Professor Breen—" Hermione's voice carried a faint sob. For the first time, she regretted raising her hand to answer a professor's question. "I can't guarantee that I'll succeed."
"Having the courage to stand on this stage and show yourself to everyone, Miss Granger, is already an unprecedented success!"
Amosta continued to encourage her with a smile.
At last, after what felt like five whole minutes, Hermione, who had been breathing in short gasps, finally overcame her anxiety. Trembling, she raised her wand in her right hand and pointed it at the feather in her sweat-soaked left palm.
"Levicorpus!"
Her slightly childish voice instantly rang through the silent, cavernous hall. As a dim gleam flashed across the white feather, a sharp clang made every young wizard in the hall change expression!
Gasp! Sharp intakes of breath came from the groups of all four Houses!
"Harry, did she ever tell you about this?!"
Ron stared at Hermione on the platform in disbelief, as though he had only just met her. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and Harry did not look much better.
"No, Ron!" Harry said in a