"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "So... like I was saying... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to—"
"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?" There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.
"Yeah," said Harry, slightly defensive.
"A corporeal Patronus?"
"Er— you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" Harry asked. The girl smiled.
"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So— is it true? You make a stag Patronus?"
"Yes," said Harry.
"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"
"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."
"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry and a couple of people laughed. The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.
"And did you kill the basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year..."
"Er— yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.
Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled, the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks, and Lavender said "wow" softly. Harry was feeling slightly hot around the collar now.
"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Philological Stone—"
"Philosopher's," hissed Hermione.
"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who," finished Neville. Hannah's eyes were as round as Galleons.
"And that's not to mention," said Cho, smiling at Harry, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year— getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things..."
"And, of course, the smaller things," (Y/n) chimed. "Joining a Quidditch team in his first year, casting a Patronus on the dementors and still winning the game, saving two hostages, and, perhaps the bravest thing he has done, survive a week and a half in detention with Umbridge."
There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry's insides were squirming. He was trying to arrange his face so that he did not look pleased with himself. The fact that two pretty girls had just praised him made it much, much harder for him to say the thing he had sworn to himself he would tell them.
"Look," said Harry and everyone fell silent at once, "I... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but... I had a lot of help with all that stuff..."
"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying..."
"Yeah, well—" said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree.
"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Susan.
"No," said Harry, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is—"
"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" Zacharias Smith said.
"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth before a lot worse than a drink explosion?" He looked at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed.
"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," Zacharias said.
"That's not what he said," snarled Fred.
"Don't you listen?" (Y/n) taunted.
"Would you like us to clean your ears out for you?" George offered, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of his Zonko's bags.
"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stuck this," said Fred.
"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily, "moving on... the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"
There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in George's hand.
"Right," said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week—"
"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."
"No," said Cho," nor with ours." She nodded her head at (Y/n).
"Nor ours," Cedric added.
"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," said Hermione, slightly impatiently, "but, you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters—"
"Well said!" barked Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry had been expecting to speak long before this. "Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!"
He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry, "Surely not!" When nobody spoke, he went on, "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells—"
"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, "is that she's got some... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."
Nearly everybody looked stunned at Hermione's news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."
"What?" said Harry, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information.
"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths," said Luna solemnly.
"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione.
"Yes, he has," Luna said.
"What are heliopaths?" asked Neville, looking blank.
"They're spirits of fire," said Luna, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of—"
"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione tartly.
"Oh yes they do!" said Luna angrily.
"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione.
"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you—"
"Hem, hem," said Ginny in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defence lessons?"
"Yes," said Hermione at once, "yes, we were, you're right..."
"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee.
"As long as—"
"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," said Hermione in a tense voice. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet..." This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.
"Library?" Katie suggested after a few moments.
"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.
"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.
"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Triwizard..."
"There's loads of abandoned rooms and you're suggesting an already occupied one?" (Y/n) asked, raising her eyebrow.
"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Hermione. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting."
She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something.
"I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think," Hermione took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge— or anybody else— what we're up to."
Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully put down his signature, but there were lots of other people that looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.
"Er..." said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass him. "Well... I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is." But Ernie was looking rather hesitant signing too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.
"I— well, we are prefects," Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found... well, I mean to say... you find yourself, if Umbridge finds out..."
"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.
"I— yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it's just..."
"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave the list lying around?" said Hermione testily.
"No. No, of course not," said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious.
"Here," Cedric said, holding his hand out for the parchment that George then gave to him. The moment the Head Boy signed his name, several people were now far more all right at the idea of putting their own names down.
Nobody raised objections after Ernie. When the last person— Zacharias— had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract.
"Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. "George, Lee, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later." He sent (Y/n) a sly wink, giving her the hint that she would be roped into whatever business plans the boys had going on.
In twos and threes, the rest of the group took their leave too. Cho made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forward to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry. (Y/n) bade her Slytherins farewell before joining Ron, Hermione, and Harry.
"Well, I think that went quite well," said Hermione happily as the group of four walked out of the Hog's Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later. Harry and Ron still had their butterbeers and (Y/n) was still sipping her drink.
"That Zacharias bloke's a wart," said Ron, who was glowering after the figure of Smith just discernible in the distance.
"Who invited him?" (Y/n) asked.
"I don't like him much either," admitted Hermione, "but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say> But the more people the better really— I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if he hadn't been going out with Ginny—"
Ron, who had been draining the last few drops from his butterbeer bottle, gagged and sprayed butterbeer down his front.
"He's WHAT?" said Ron, outraged, his ears now resembling curls of raw beef. "She's going out with— my sister's going— what d'you mean, Michael Corner?"
"I know! Horrible first boyfriend," (Y/n) said, shaking her head.
"That isn't what I—"
"Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think— well, they're obviously interested in learning Defence, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on—"
"When did this— when did she—?"
"They met at the Yule Ball and they got together at the end of last year," said Hermione composedly. They had turned into the High Street and she paused outside Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant-feather quills in the window. "Hmm... I could do with a new quill." She and (Y/n) turned into the shop, being followed by Harry and Ron.
"Which one was Michael Corner?" Ron demanded furiously.
"The dark one," said Hermione.
"I didn't like him," Ron said at once.
"Big surprise," said Hermione under her breath.
"But," said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, "I thought Ginny fancied girls!"
"People are allowed to explore their sexualities, Ron," (Y/n) chimed from a row over. "I mean, why don't you go and get a boyfriend?" Ron gaped at the shelves as though expecting to see (Y/n) through them. Hermione nodded in confirmation of what (Y/n) said.
"I think I'll have this one..." Hermione said, going up to the counter and handing over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts, Ron still breathing down her neck. "Ron," she said severely as she turned and trod on his feet, "this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake."
"What d'you mean, who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything..." Ron continued to chunter under his breath all through the time (Y/n) purchased a pretty cherry blossom glass dip pen and some purple ink. Hermione rolled her eyes at (Y/n) as the two led the boys out of the shop. (Y/n) snickered.
"And talking about Michael and Ginny... what about Cho and you?" Hermione said, smirking at Harry.
"What d'you mean?" said Harry quickly. It was as though boiling water was rising inside him; a burning sensation that was causing his face to smart in the cold— had he been that obvious?
"Well," said Hermione, smiling slightly, "she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?"
"Back off," (Y/n) said defensively. "Cho's mine. Go find someone else."
"I do have someone else," Harry said boldly. "However long it takes." Ron abruptly stopped rambling and Hermione's eyes narrowed at Harry. The trio stared at one another and (Y/n) rolled her eyes.
"Get moving, losers. I've got some shopping I need to do," (Y/n) said.