Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

64. bloody quills.

Dinner in the Great Hall that night was not a pleasant experience for either Harry or Antheia. The news about their shouting match with Umbridge had traveled exceptionally fast even by Hogwarts' standards. Antheia heard whispers all around her as she sat eating beside Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind her overhearing what they were saying about her and Harry. On the contrary, it was as though they were hoping they would get angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear their story firsthand.

"He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered ..."

"She reckons she duelled with You-Know-Who ... "

"Come off it..."

"Who do they think they're kidding?"

"Pur-lease ..."

"What I don't get," said Harry in a shaking voice, laying down his knife and fork (his hands were trembling too much to hold them steady), "is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them ..."

"The thing is, Harry, I'm not sure they did," said Hermione grimly. "Oh, let's get out of here."

She slammed down her own knife and fork; Ron looked longingly at his half-finished apple pie but followed suit. People stared at them all the way out of the Hall.

"Why wouldn't they have believed Dumbledore last year?" Antheia asked as they reached the first-floor landing.

"Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened," said Hermione quietly. "You two arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body ... none of us saw what happened in the maze ... we just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you."

"Which is the truth!" said Harry loudly.

"I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?" said Hermione wearily. "It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!"

Rain pounded on the windowpanes as they strode along the empty corridors back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry felt as though his first day had lasted a week, but he still had a mountain of homework to do before bed. A dull pounding pain was developing over his right eye. He glanced out of a rain-washed window at the dark grounds as they turned into the Fat Lady's corridor. There was still no light in Hagrid's cabin.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia," said Hermione, before the Fat Lady could ask. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it and the three of them scrambled through it.

The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly, and when Antheia, Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their four favourite chairs at the fireside he leapt lightly on to Hermione's lap and curled up there like a furry ginger cushion. Harry gazed into the flames, feeling drained and exhausted.

"How can Dumbledore have let this happen?" Hermione cried suddenly, making Antheia, Harry, and Ron jump; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of the holes. "How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our O.W.L. year, too!"

"Well, we've never had great Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?" said Harry. "You know what it's like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job; they say it's jinxed."

"But Umbridge won't even let us do magic," said Antheia. "Why would Dumbledore hire someone like that?"

"And she's trying to get people to spy for her," said Ron darkly. "Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-Know-Who's back?"