Hurt | Remus Lupin

~44~ Dumledore's Army

In my anxiety, I puled my veil tighter around myself, hoping no one noticed my face.  

"Could we have 25 butterbeers please?" Fred asked the barman, who I knew as Aberforth Dumbledore, who looked shocked. He no doubt never had this many people enter his bar before. 

"Cheers," said Fred, handing out the butterbeers. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these. . . ." 

I turned my chair to get a good look at everyone as they all sat down around.

"What the hell is evening happening?" Dung whispered to me.

"No clue." I watched with amazement.

Once everyone sat down, they all looked up at Harry. Dung and I were silent, quietly sipping our own drinks and listening in, trying not to stare.

"Er," said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual. "Well — er — hi."

"Well . . . erm . . . well, you know why you're here. Erm . . . well, Harry here had the idea — I mean" — Harry had thrown her a sharp look — "I had the idea — that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts — and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts" —

 "Hear, hear," said one of the Ravenclaw boys. 

Hermione looked heartened — "well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands." She paused, looked sideways at Harry, and went on, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells —" 

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" asked another boy.

"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because . . . because . . ."She took a great breath and finished, "Because Lord Voldemort's back."

Everyone gasped and a couple of girls yelled out in surprise. 

"Well . . . that's the plan anyway," said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to —" 

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said the blond Hufflepuff quidditch player.

"Who are you?" said Ron rather rudely.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back." 

"Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about —" 

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he asked, looking Smith straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Everyone stayed silent. 

Smith said dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know —" 

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said, angrily. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out." 

I felt a surge of pride for Harry as he glared around at everyone.

Everyone stayed silent. 

No one left.