[Chapter Seventeen: Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four]
By the time I'd got home, I hadn't forgotten the note George had given me, but I waited until I was in bed that night to read it.
Acacia,
Hello dearest! I miss your pretty face. And, to be quite honest, I'm not sure why I'm writing this. Like I've already said, I just miss you a lot. I miss your laugh especially. You've been kind of withdrawn lately, which I can understand from detentions with Umbridge and all the smarmy gits giving you trouble. I don't see how you have such good restraint... (HA! Who am I kidding? You? Restraint?) Anyway! Let me get to it, then. Monday night, be in the common room at 11, sharp! Well, the 'sharp' part doesn't really matter much, I've just always wanted to say that!
Peace, love, and muggle hugs,
George
*
I felt happier for the rest of the weekend than I had all term. I spent most of Sunday helping the boys catch up with all their homework again, and although this could hardly be called fun (because let's face it, Ron is hardly an 'A' student.), the last burst of autumn sunshine persisted, so rather than sitting hunched over tables in the common room we took their work outside and lounged in the shade of a large beech tree on the edge of the lake. Hermione, who of course was up to date with all her work just as I was, brought more wool outside with her and bewitched her knitting needles so that they flashed and clicked in midair beside her, producing more hats and scarves.
Knowing we were doing something to resist Umbridge and the Ministry and that I was a key part of the rebellion, gave me a feeling of immense satisfaction. I kept reliving Saturday's meeting in my mind: all those people, coming to us to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts- knowing all those people did not think me a lying trollop, but someone to be admired, buoyed me up so much that I was still cheerful on Monday morning, despite the imminent prospect of waking up early. And possibly another run-in with that awful toad woman.
I awoke early and gathered myself up after slipping on the appropriate attire.
"C'mon, Mione. I bet the boys are already up." I urged my best friend as she glanced in the mirror one last time to fix the collar of her gray sweater.
"Coming, Ash!" She let out a frustrated breath, "You are so inconveniently pushy."
I was ready to come back with a witty reply, when I heard a familiar voice from below the stairs.
"I wonder if they know- let's go see them." Ron said, starting up the stairwell. I watched him curiously, a small smirk plastering my features. One... Two... Three...
He was on the sixth stair when there was a loud, wailing, klaxon-like sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide like a helter-skelter. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backwards and shot down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Harry's feet. I didn't even try to quiet the laugh that burst forth from my lips.
"Er- I don't think we're allowed in the girls' dormitories," said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh as well.
Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide past Hermione and I.
"Oooh. who tried to get upstairs?" they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.
"Me," said Ron, who was still rather dishevelled. "I didn't realize that would happen. It's not fair!" he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. "The girls have been in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed-?"
"Well, it's an old-fashioned rule," said Hermione, who had just slid neatly on to a rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet. I followed promptly behind her, and smoothed out my skirt as I stood.
"When are you ever going to read Hogwarts: A History? It says the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls." I snickered at Ron's reddish face, "Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?"
"To see you two- look at this!" said Ron gesturing wildly to the noticeboard.
A large sign had been affixed to the Gryffindor noticeboard, so large it covered everything else on it- the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training timetable, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog Cards for others, the Weasleys' latest advertisement for testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends, and the lost and found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.
BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded.
An organization, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.
Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor
(Professor Umbridge).
No student organization, society, team, group, or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.
Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organization, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four.
Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor
I felt my jaw lock in a sudden anger I didn't know could exist from something that seemed so utterly simple.
"Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron said as angrily as I felt.
"They can't have," said Hermione in a low voice.
"You're so naïve," said Ron, "You think just because you're all honourable and trustworthy -"
"No, they can't have, because Hermione had me put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," I spat. I felt bad right afterward though, I was losing my temper much too often, even with my friends, these days.
"Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it." Hermione added.
"What'll happen to them?" said Ron eagerly.
"Well, allow me to put it this way," I smirked, "It'll make Eloise Midgeon's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think... I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses?"
It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. The four of us had barely taken our seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon us with questions blindingly obvious.
"Did you see it?"
"D'you reckon she knows?"
"What are we going to do?"
They were all looking at Harry and I. I glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near us.
"Coast is clear." I whispered in Harry's ear. He nodded at me.
"We're going to do it anyway, of course," he said quietly to the group.
"Knew you'd say that," said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm. I didn't miss the smile he pointed at me. My cheeks flushed and I quickly looked away.
I silently cursed myself for that reaction. This was George. The boy who never failed to make me laugh, the boy who was over-protective, the boy I'd do anything for- The boy who said he'd missed my pretty face and hearing me laugh. I never knew that boy- George Weasley- looked at me as more than a sister. Or that he could make me blush.
"The prefects as well?" said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione. I burst from my thoughts and paid attention to the conversation once more.
"Of course," said Hermione coolly.
"Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott," said Ron, looking over his shoulder. "And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith... and no one looks very spotty."
Alarm ringed through my brain. What were they thinking?!
"Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious- sit down!" I mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. "Later! I'll- talk- to- you- later!"
"I'll tell Michael," said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench, "The fool, honestly..."
She hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table.
But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until we were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic.
"Harry! Ron!"
It was Angelina and she was hurrying towards us looking perfectly desperate. She didn't seem particularly interested in even acknowledging me- oh well, she's flustered- nothing personal.
"It's OK," said Harry quietly, when she was near enough to hear him. "We're still going to-"
"You realize she's including Quidditch in this?" Angelina said over him. "We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!"
"What?" said Harry.
"No way," said Ron, appalled.
I blinked at her like a deer in headlights. Maybe I'd heard her wrong? Umbridge couldn't possibly get rid of Quidditch. It's like trying to rid Americans of football.
"You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry... I am saying this for the last time... please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge or she might not let us play any more!"
"OK, OK," said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself..."
I snorted, glad I didn't play Quiddich. I don't hold my tongue at all.
"Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic," said Ron grimly, as we set off again for Binns's lesson. "She hasn't inspected Binns yet... bet you anything she's there..."
But he was wrong, thank the angel; the only teacher present when we entered was monotoned ol' Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his drone on giant wars. I scratched down a few notes every so often, but made sure to give the boys frequent glares and nudges.
"What?" I heard Harry snap. I looked up in his direction. He was giving Hermione a mean look mingled with bitter annoyance.
She pointed at the window. Harry looked around, and I, ever curious (or nosy, but whatever, to each his own), followed his line of sight. Hedwig was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing through the thick glass at Harry, a letter tied to her leg. I could not understand it; we had just had breakfast, why on earth hadn't she delivered the letter then, as usual? Many of my classmates were pointing out Hedwig to each other, too.
"Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful," Lavender sighed to Parvati.
Professor Binns continued to read his notes, serenely unaware that the class's attention was even less focused upon him than usual. Harry slipped quietly off his chair, crouched down and hurried along the row to the window, where he slid the catch and opened it very slowly.
Instead of holding out her leg so that he could remove the letter and then fly off to the Owlery, Hedwig hopped inside, hooting dolefully. Harry closed the window with an anxious glance at Professor Binns, crouched low again and sped back to his seat with Hedwig on his shoulder. He regained his seat, transferred Hedwig to his lap and made to remove the letter tied to her leg.
I gazed at the owl watchfully. Hedwig's feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle.
"She's hurt!" I whispered to Harry. Hermione and Ron leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill. "There's something wrong with her wing-"
Hedwig was quivering; when Harry made to touch the wing she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she was inflating herself, and gazed at him reproachfully.
"Professor Binns," said Harry loudly, and everyone in the class turned to look at him. "I'm not feeling well."
Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, looking amazed, as always, to find the room in front of him full of people.
"Not feeling well?" he repeated hazily.
"Not at all well," said Harry firmly, getting to his feet with Hedwig concealed behind his back. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing."
"Now might be the time for a puking pastel, am I right, mate?" I said. I had meant for it to be under my breath, but the giggles around me said it had been heard.
"Yes," said Professor Binns, clearly very much wrong-footed. "Yes... yes, hospital wing... well, off you go, then, Perkins..."
Once Harry was out of the room, Proffessor Binn's dove back into his speech. I groaned and let my face fall into the desk.
"Ugh, let this be over with already."
Out to my far left, Hermione tried to scowl at me, but I'm fairly sure it was just an attempt to hide her laugh.
*
It was freezing outside. I drew my cloak closer as Hermione, Ron, and I took refuge in a sheltered corner of the courtyard.
"What if someone was purposely trying to intercept Hedwig?" Hermione asked in a tight voice.
I shrugged my shoulders, "It's a possibility. Especially if someone is already suspicious of the letters."
Before Hermione could respond again, we spotted Harry hurrying towards us with a split open scroll.
"Is Hedwig OK?" asked Hermione anxiously, the moment he was within earshot.
"Where did you take her?" asked Ron.
"To Grubbly-Plank, obviously," I said without a doubt.
Harry nodded, "And I met McGonagall... listen..."
Harry told us what Professor McGonagall had said about being careful about what you put in writing. It was doubtful she knew all of what was going on, but I'm sure Dumbledore had hinted at what was most appropriate to tell her.
Hermione glanced at Ron and I.
"What?" said Harry, looking at the three of us in turn.
"Well, I was just saying to Ash... what if someone had tried to intercept Hedwig? I mean, she's never been hurt on a flight before, has she?"
"Who's the letter from, anyway?" asked Ron, taking the note from Harry.
"Snuffles," said Harry quietly.
"He needs a better nickname." I muttered.
"'Same time, same place?' Does he mean the fire in the common room?" Ron asked.
"Obviously," said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. "I just hope nobody else has read this..."
"But it was still sealed and everything," said Harry. I was thoroughly unconvinced. It was not hard, especially with magic, to re-seal an envelope. "And nobody would understand what it meant if they didn't know where we'd spoken to him before, would they?"
"I don't know," said Hermione anxiously, hitching her bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again.
And then there was me, always the blunt and cheeky bearer of bad news, "It wouldn't be exactly difficult to re-seal the scroll by magic... and if anyone's watching the Floo Network... but I don't really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted, too."
No one said much more as we trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, all of us, lost in thought, but as we reached the bottom of the steps I was recalled to myself by the voice of Draco Malfoy, who was standing just outside Snape's classroom door, waving around an official-looking piece of parchment and talking much louder than was necessary so that they could hear every word.
"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry... it'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"
"Don't rise," Hermione whispered imploringly to Harry and Ron, who were both watching Malfoy, faces set and fists clenched. "It's what he wants."
Oh, but I was already way above rising. If a confrontation was what the smarmy little git wanted, then I'd give it to him!
"I mean," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes glittering malevolently in our direction, "If it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance... from what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years... and as for Potter... my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's... apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."
Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter; Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee.
"Why don't you shut your filthy little mouth?" I hissed, stepping hastily in that direction. I had already punched Pansy in her face and I wasn't below doing it to Malfoy, or Crabbe and Goyle for that matter. I'm a small girl, but I'm a freaking Tasmanian Devil. I brushed off Hermione's weak attempt to lunge for my arm.
"Oh, you're stepping up now?" Malfoy asked, his eyes glittering with malice, "I heard you can't even fly."
"I've been taught, actually. And I'm an excellent flier now." I said smugly. I faintly heard Hermione begging Harry and Ron to do something, "If one plays they all play. You scared of the competition, twerp?"
"Maybe you're the one who belongs in St. Mungo's." Malfoy paused to cackle with his Slytherin crew, "Now run along, Ivory, before-"
I was inches away from rampaging when something collided hard with my shoulder, knocking me sideways. A split second later I realized that Neville had just charged past me, heading straight for Malfoy.
"Neville, no!" Someone shouted from behind me.
I turned just in time to see Harry leap forward and seize the back of Neville's robes; Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Malfoy who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked.
"Help me!" Harry flung at Ron, managing to get an arm around Neville's neck and dragging him backwards, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were flexing their arms as they stepped in front of Malfoy, ready for the fight. I rolled my eyes at them.
"Oh, please!" I spat, stepping up in front of Crabbe and Goyle, "All brawn an no wit? I may be small but I could pummel you. Do you want to know why? You depenend on strength technique. But to be truly 'strong' in the word's true meaning, you must know how to apply it. There is no real skill to your muscle. I suggest you back off before I embarrass you in front of everyone. Don't put it past me- I will do it."
For a moment the two big boys looked as though they were at a loss for words (not that they EVER had anything of actual value to say.). But they- smartly- backed off.
Ron seized Neville's arms, and together he and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Neville's face was scarlet, and odd words spluttered from his mouth.
"Not... funny... don't... Mungo's... show... him..."
I shot one more mean glare to the blinking Slytherin's and followed dutifully after the Gryffindor boys.
The dungeon door opened. Snape appeared there. His black eyes swept up the Gryffindor line to the point where Harry and Ron were wrestling with Neville.
"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape said in his cold, sneering voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."
Harry let go of Neville, who stood panting and glaring at him.
"I had to stop you," Harry gasped, picking up his bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would've torn you apart."
"Pretty sure I would've torn them apart," I said, holding my head high and proud. I could have, too. No doubts.
Neville said nothing; he merely snatched up his own bag and stalked off into the dungeon. I found myself slightly frowning after him.
"What in the name of Merlin," said Ron slowly, as we followed Neville, "Was that about?"
I had no real answer for this, but I wished I knew. I hated not being of any real use to such a sweet and endearing boy.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I took our usual seats at the back of the class, pulled out parchment, quills and our copies of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. The class around us was whispering about what Neville had just done, and what I had just done, but when Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang, everybody immediately fell silent.
"You will notice," said Snape, in his low, sneering voice, "That we have a guest with us today."
He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon and I saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. Oh, great. That old hag was going to ruin one of my best classes.
"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend- instructions-" he waved his wand again "-are on the board. Carry on."
Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. I was very interested in hearing her question Snape; but not so interested that I'd become careless with my potion, much like Harry had.
'"Salamander blood, you idjit!" I snapped, grabbing his wrist to prevent him adding the wrong ingredient for the third time, "Not pomegranate juice!"
"Right," said Harry vaguely, putting down the bottle and continuing to watch the corner. Umbridge had just got to her feet. "Ha," he said softly, as she strode between two lines of desks towards Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas's cauldron.
"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," she said briskly to Snape's back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."
Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her. Yes! Snape, please use that terribly condescending voice on her!
"Now... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.
"Fourteen years,'" Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable.
"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape. Barf. I hated her voice. It was so sickeningly sweet I wanted to throw something- maybe the salamander blood- at her face.
"Yes," said Snape quietly.
"But you were unsuccessful?"
Snape's lip curled. "Obviously."
YES. THE VOICE.
Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.
"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"
"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry, and it was quite amusing. Poison for the toad now, anyone?
"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.
"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily.
"Oh, I shall," said Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile.
"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed.
"Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge, "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'-er-backgrounds."
She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons.
"No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. Harry's potion has been congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"
"Yes," said Harry furiously.
*
"Maybe I'll skive off Divination," Harry was saying glumly, as we stood in the courtyard after lunch, the wind whipping at the hems of robes and brims of hats. "I'll pretend to be ill and do Snape's essay instead, then I won't have to stay up half the night."
"You can't skive off Divination," said Hermione severely.
"Hark who's talking, you walked out of Divination, you hate Trelawney!" said Ron indignantly.
"I don't hate her," said Hermione loftily. "I just think she's an absolutely appalling teacher and a real old fraud-"
"Because that's not hate." I smiled wickedly at Hermione an she groaned.
"But Harry's already missed History of Magic and I don't think he ought to miss anything else today!"
There was too much truth in this to ignore, so half an hour later Harry took his seat in the hot, overperfumed atmosphere of the Divination classroom, next to me. Professor Trelawney was yet again handing out copies of The Dream Oracle.
I moved quickly back to my seat beside Neville; I enjoyed working with him. He seemed really out of it today, no doubt because of the little scene in the dungeon.
Professor Trelawney slammed a copy of the Oracle down on the table between Neville and I and swept away, her lips pursed; she threw the next copy of the Oracle at Harry and Ron, narrowly avoiding Ron's head.
"Well, carry on!" said Professor Trelawney loudly, her voice high-pitched and somewhat hysterical, "You know what to do! Or am I such a sub-standard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?"
The class stared perplexedly at her, then at each other. It seemed quite obvious what was the matter. As Professor Trelawney flounced back to the high-backed teachers chair, her magnified eyes full of angry tears, I leaned over to Harry's table and muttered, "I think she's got the results of her inspection back."
"Professor?" said Parvati Patil in a hushed voice (she and Lavender had always rather admired Professor Trelawney). "Professor, is there anything--er--wrong?"
"Wrong!" cried Professor Trelawney in a voice throbbing with emotion. "Certainly not! I have been insulted, certainly... insinuations have been made against me... unfounded accusations leveled... but no, there is nothing wrong, certainly not!"
She took a great shuddering breath and looked away from Parvati, angry tears spilling from under her glasses.
"I say nothing," she choked, "Of sixteen years of devoted service... it has passed, apparently, unnoticed... but I shall not be insulted, no, I shall not!"
"But, Professor, who's insulting you?" asked Parvati timidly.
"The Establishment!" said Professor Trelawney, in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice. "Yes, those with eyes too clouded by the mundane to See as I See, to Know as I Know... of course, we Seers have always been feared, always persecuted... it is--alas--our fate."
She gulped, dabbed at her wet cheeks with the end of her shawl, then she pulled a small embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve, and blew her nose very hard with a sound like Peeves blowing a raspberry.
Ron sniggered. Lavender shot him a disgusted look.
"Professor," said Parvati, "Do you mean ... is it something Professor Umbridge--?"
"Do not speak to me about that woman!" cried Professor Trelawney leaping to her feet, her beads rattling and her spectacles flashing. "Kindly continue with your work!"
And she spent the rest of the lesson striding among us, tears still leaking from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath.
"You and Umbridge have got something in common," Harry told Hermione quietly when we met again in Defence Against the Dark Arts. "She obviously reckons Trelawney's an old fraud, too... looks like she's put her on probation."
Umbridge entered the room as he spoke, wearing her black velvet bow and an expression of great smugness.
"Good afternoon, class."
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class chanted dully. I however, did not so much as open my mouth.
"Wands away, please."
But there was no answering flurry of movement this time; nobody had bothered to take out their wands.
"Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled 'The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack'. There will be--"
"-no need to talk," Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I said together.
*
"No Quidditch practice," said Angelina in hollow tones when Harry, Ron , Hermione, and I entered the common room after dinner that night.
"But I kept my temper!" said Harry, horrified. "I didn't say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I--"
"I know, I know," said Angelina miserably. "She just said she needed a bit of time to consider."
"Consider what?" said Ron angrily. "She's given the Slytherins permission, why not us?'"
Umbridge was probably enjoying holding the threat of no Gryffindor Quidditch team over their heads and I could easily understand why she would not want to relinquish that weapon over them too soon.
"Well," said Hermione, "Look on the bright side--at least now you'll have time to do Snape's essay!'"
"That's a bright side, is it?" snapped Harry, while Ron stared incredulously at Hermione. "No Quidditch practice, and extra Potions?"
"Mind your temper." I reminded him sternly. He just gave me a pointed look as if to say 'hypocrite'. Well, I did nearly knock the hell out of those two Slytherin goons earlier.
I wasn't much help to Harry with his potions. Myind was elsewhere. I knew Sirius was not due in the fire until much later, but I could not help glancing into the flames every few minutes just in case. There was also an incredible amount of noise in the room: Fred and George appeared finally to have perfected one type of Skiving Snackbox, which they were taking turns to demonstrate to a cheering and whooping crowd.
First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, at which he would vomit spectacularly into a bucket they had placed in front of them. Then he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease. Lee Jordan, who was assisting the demonstration, was lazily Vanishing the vomit at regular intervals with the same Vanishing Spell Snape kept using on Harry's potions.
What with the regular sounds of retching, cheering and the sound of Fred and George taking advance orders from the crowd, I was finding it exceptionally difficult to focus on something. Hermione was not helping matters; the cheers and the sound of vomit hitting the bottom of Fred and George's bucket were punctuated by her loud and disapproving sniffs were even more distracting.
"Just go and stop them, then!" Harry said irritably, after crossing out the wrong weight of powdered griffin claw for the fourth time.
"I can't, they're not technically doing anything wrong," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "They're quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves and I can't find a rule that says the other idiots aren't entitled to buy them, not unless they're proven to be dangerous in some way and it doesn't look as though they are."
The four of us watched George projectile-vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protracted applause. How charming.
"You know, I don't get why Fred and George only got three OWLs each," said Harry, watching as Fred, George and Lee collected gold from the eager crowd. "They really know their stuff."
"Oh, they only know flashy stuff that's of no real use to anyone," said Hermione disparagingly.
"No real use?" said Ron in a strained voice. "Hermione, they've made about twenty-six Galleons already."
"They're very smart, I just think they prefer jokes to school work." I smiled fondly, "They don't apply themselves because they don't really need to."
It was a long while before the crowd around the Weasley twins dispersed, then Fred, Lee and George sat up counting their takings even longer.
I noticed George looking up at me and he mouthed, "Eleven."
I sighed and looked to Harry who was nowhere near done with his work. I impatiently walked over to him when Fred became occupied in a conversation with Lee.
"I can't see you tonight." I whispered to George. He frowned, "I'll be up all night helping Harry with his paper."
"So... Tomorrow then? Same time?" He asked hopefully.
"Persistent, are we?" I joked.
"The most persistent!" He winked.
I rejoined the trio. It was well past midnight when we finally had the common room to ourselves. At long last, Fred had closed the doorway to the boys' dormitories behind him, rattling his box of Galleons ostentatiously so that Hermione scowled. I had been reading a new book I found in the library. It was a book about Chimeras, and I figured it wouldn't hurt to know more about Simba, who seldom left my room anymore. The little devil was always with Crookshanks. Harry, who was making very little progress with his Potions essay, decided to give it up for the night. As he put his books away, Ron, who was dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt, awoke, and looked blearily into the fire.
"Sirius!" he said.
I quickly set my book down. Sirius's untidy dark head was sitting in the fire again.
"Hi," he said, grinning.
"Hi," chorused Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I all kneeling down on the hearthrug.
"How're things?" said Sirius.
"Not that good," said Harry, "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams-"
"Or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?" Said Sirius.
There was a short pause.
"How did you know about that?" I asked with a suspicious look.
"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. "The Hog's Head, I ask you."
"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" said Hermione defensively. "That's always packed with people-"
"Which means you'd have been harder to overhear," said Sirius. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione."
"Who overheard us?" Harry demanded.
"Mundungus, of course," said Sirius, and when we all looked puzzled he laughed. "He was the witch under the veil."
"That was Mundungus?" Harry said, stunned. "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"
"What do you think he was doing?" said Sirius impatiently. "Keeping an eye on you two, of course."
"We're still being followed?" I asked angrily.
"Yeah, you are," said Sirius, "And just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organize an illegal defense group.'"
But he looked neither angry nor worried. On the contrary, he was looking at us with distinct pride.
"Why was Dung hiding from us?" asked Ron, sounding disappointed. "We'd've liked to've seen him."
"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago," said Sirius, "And that barman's got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately ... anyway ... first of all, Ron--I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."
"Oh yeah?" said Ron, sounding apprehensive.
"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also," (Sirius's eyes turned to the restbof us) "Advises Harry, Hermione, and Ash not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight."
"On duty doing what?" said Ron quickly.
"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order," said Sirius. "So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to."
"So, you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the Defense group?" he muttered finally.
"Me? Certainly not!" said Sirius, looking surprised. "I think it's an excellent idea!"
"You do?" I asked with a small smirk. He would.
"Of course I do!" said Sirius. "D'you think your James, William, and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?"
"But--last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks--"
"Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!" said Sirius impatiently. "This year, we know there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"
"And if we do get expelled?" Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.
"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" said Harry, staring at her.
"I know it was. I just wondered what Sirius thought," she said, shrugging.
"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue," said Sirius.
"Hear, hear," said Harry and Ron enthusiastically.
"So," said Sirius, "How are you organizing this group? Where are you meeting?"
"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," said Harry. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go."
How about the Shrieking Shack?" suggested Sirius.
"Hey, that's an idea!" said Ron excitedly, but Hermione made a sceptical noise and all three of them looked at her, Sirius's head turning in the flames. But I knew why.
"Well, Sirius, it's just that there were only four of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school," I said for Hermione, "And all of you could transform into animals and I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you'd wanted to. But there are twenty-eight of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee-"
"Fair point," said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practise jinxes in there."
"Fred and George told me it's blocked," said Harry, shaking his head. "Caved in or something."
"Oh ..." said Sirius, frowning. "Well, I'll have a think and get back to--"
He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace.
"Sirius?" said Harry anxiously.
But he had vanished. I gaped at the flames for a moment, then turned to look at my three companions.
"Why did he--?"
Hermione gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire.
A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings.
The four of us ran for it. At the door of the girls' dormitory I looked back. Umbridge's hand was still making snatching movements amongst the flames, as though she knew exactly where Sirius's hair had been moments before and was determined to seize it.