A/n : This chapter is boring and unedited. I will only edit the chapters (and add some scenes or take away some) if I already finish this. Sorry for the long wait. School - sucks.
------
Under the blanket of stars, the Quidditch pitch was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight as Harry and (Y/n) embarked on another late-night quidditch lesson. The events of the day's first Hogsmeade trip and the gathering at the Hog's Head had left Harry in an unusually buoyant mood. As the two mounted their brooms, the exhilarating promise of flight seemed to amplify the cheerful aura that surrounded him.
The wind tugged playfully at their hair as they took off, Harry's voice cutting through the night as he guided (Y/n) through various maneuvers. With every dive and curve, (Y/n)'s confidence grew, and the thrill of the wind in her face was matched only by the radiant smile on Harry's lips.
As they continued to weave through the night sky, (Y/n) couldn't help but glance at Harry every now and then. His happiness was palpable, and it was evident that something extraordinary had transpired to bring about this change. The thought of Cho standing up for him and talking to him filled (Y/n)'s mind. She wrestled with a mix of emotions, unable to put a name to the intense feelings that swelled within her.
Lost in her thoughts, (Y/n) found herself unintentionally slowing down, trailing behind Harry. Sensing her distraction, he adjusted his course, slowing his broom to match hers. Their eyes met, and a gentle smile touched Harry's lips as he mouthed, "You okay?"
The words snapped (Y/n) out of her reverie, and she gave a quick nod, offering a small smile in return. With an encouraging nod, Harry picked up speed again, and they resumed their aerial practice. But the emotions swirling inside (Y/n) didn't dissipate.
After a particularly well-executed maneuver, Harry's voice broke through the wind once more. "You're really getting the hang of this! I'm impressed."
The praise sent a surge of pride through (Y/n). She felt her heart swell with gratitude, not just for the compliment, but for Harry's patience and dedication to teaching her. Every lesson, every bit of guidance—it was all starting to pay off. She was becoming a better flier, and it was all thanks to him.
As they landed and their brooms touched the ground, (Y/n) couldn't resist letting out a satisfied laugh. "I guess I owe it all to my amazing instructor."
Harry chuckled, a warm grin on his face. "You're the one putting in the effort. I'm just here to help."
She shook her head, a playful glint in her eyes. "No, really. You've been a fantastic teacher."
His expression shifted, a hint of pride mixing with a softness that made (Y/n)'s heart flutter. "Well, I'm glad I could help. And who knows, maybe you'll end up on the Gryffindor team one day."
They shared a lighthearted laugh. Amidst the night's enchantment, (Y/n) contemplated how surreal it was to be part of the quidditch team when she wasn't from this world but a real human from the real world outside of this book—not just a fictional character like everyone else here. However, her very presence here was surreal as well.
As they sauntered toward the castle, the night air seemed to kindle (Y/n)'s playful curiosity. A spontaneous thought urged her to steer the conversation toward Harry, unearthing a question that had silently sprouted in her mind.
"Harry," she pondered, her tone infused with intrigue, "have you ever considered what life might have in store for you after Hogwarts?"
Harry's stride faltered momentarily, his gaze ascending as if searching for insight among the stars. "You know, I've thought about it, but I can't say I've got a solid plan. Always fancied becoming an Auror, but beyond that... well, I haven't really given it a thorough think-through."
A knowing smile curved (Y/n)'s lips. "Becoming an Auror does sound rather exhilarating."
Harry offered a modest shrug, a self-effacing grin tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I suppose it could be."
With a soft chuckle, (Y/n) added, "You've mentioned it a few times already."
Amusement glimmered in his eyes as he arched an eyebrow. "You mean when I've been rambling about it?"
Their shared laughter wove into the gentle symphony of the night. Then, Harry deftly swung the conversational spotlight back to (Y/n), his curiosity a gleam in his expression. "So, what about you? Any dreams for life beyond Hogwarts?"
A knowing smile lingered as she met his gaze. "Actually, I've always dreamt of becoming a doctor."
Harry's eyebrows rocketed up in genuine surprise. "A doctor? Like a Healer at St. Mungo's?"
With a mysterious smile, she shook her head. She knew Sabrina - the character she was embodying now - hailed from the Weasley family, purebloods who were familiar with only a smidge of Muggle lore. Mentioning her knowledge of extensive Muggle concepts might arouse suspicion. She smiled and said. "Not exactly."
Confusion danced with curiosity on Harry's features. "I'm not sure I understand. What do you mean, then?"
(Y/n) held his gaze, a veil of secrecy enshrouding her words. "It's a tad more complicated than that. But let's just say, becoming a doctor has always been my life's aspiration."
Harry's intrigue deepened, his interest scarcely contained, and he responded with a simple, "Alright."
With a hint of playful mystery, she offered a subtle shrug. "Perhaps one day, I'll reveal the entire story."
A warm chuckle slipped from Harry's lips. "You know, I was quite surprised when you mentioned wanting to be a doctor. It struck me as interesting, considering doctors are akin to Healers, but in the Muggle realm, they're referred to as such." He delved into further explanation, and (Y/n) responded with an awkward laugh.
"Really?" she inquired, feigning innocence.
"Yeah," Harry replied, a smile gracing his lips. "By the way, what exactly is a doctor here in the wizarding world? It seems the term holds a different meaning."
His curiosity was evident, causing (Y/n) to inwardly facepalm. She should have said "Healer" instead of "doctor." Regretfully, she conceded, "It was actually a Healer."
"I'm confused," Harry admitted, his brow furrowing. "If that's the case, why did you mention that it's more complicated than a Healer? Why not just say—"
"I'm sorry, Harry," she interrupted with a laugh, "I was just having a bit of fun with you." The excuse felt flimsy, and she couldn't help but think it lacked creativity.
Harry rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're not exactly a comedian."
"Who said I was trying to be funny?" she countered in a mockingly innocent tone. As they entered the castle, their voices remained hushed to avoid being overheard by Filch.
Harry and (Y/n) continued their playful bickering as they walked through the corridors, the echo of their hushed banter becoming a secret symphony in the enchanted night.
-----
(Y/n) noticed that Harry seemed happier throughout the rest of the weekend than she had seen him all term. She thought it might be due to Cho Chang. She had never seen him so elated before, or at least not smiling like that. The idea of Cho Chang and Harry being together stirred an odd feeling within her, almost to the point where she felt the urge to reprimand herself for entertaining such amusing notions. In an attempt to quell these thoughts, she busied herself and tried to ignore them. She knew it was inappropriate to feel this way, especially considering she was not from this world. Furthermore, Harry, the main protagonist of this story, was destined to be married to Sabrina's (the character she was currently inhabiting) sister, Ginny Weasley, in the future.
On Sunday, she spent her time assisting Harry and Ron in catching up with their homework. While this activity hardly qualified as enjoyable, the last vestiges of autumn sunlight persisted. Instead of sitting hunched over tables in the common room, they took their work outdoors and relaxed in the shade of a sizable beech tree on the lake's edge. Hermione, who, of course, was up to date with all her assignments, brought along more wool, enchanting her knitting needles so they glimmered and clacked in midair beside her, crafting additional hats and scarves. She had convinced (Y/n) to join her efforts after (Y/n) had finished helping the two boys, albeit with disapproving glances, as they felt a tinge of guilt for relying on (Y/n)'s assistance instead of doing it themselves.
"Good morning, 'Mione," (Y/n) greeted with a yawn as the Monday morning sun streamed into the room. She noticed that Hermione, her bushy hair now tamed, was already seated on her bed, engrossed in getting ready for the day. It was evident that she was prepared and focused on their upcoming classes.
(Y/n) let out a groan, the kind that accompanies early mornings. Hermione always managed to wake up before anyone else, eagerly awaiting (Y/n)'s awakening. And if, by any chance, (Y/n) overslept, Hermione was quick to take matters into her own hands and nudge her out of slumber.
"Good morning, Sabrina," Hermione responded, her attention shifting momentarily from her tasks. (Y/n) sat up and stretched, feeling the stiffness of sleep slowly fading away.
"How was your sleep, 'Mione?"
"Oh, it was alright. I spent quite a bit of time knitting hats for the house-elves, you know..." Hermione's voice trailed off, and (Y/n) instinctively averted her gaze. Remembering what Ron had done the last time she had tried to trick the house-elves. The guilt still weighed on her for not telling Hermione. She wished she could be honest, but she knew Hermione would take action, potentially disrupting the plot of this story. Being an outsider inhabiting the body of a real character here, (Y/n) didn't want to throw things into chaos.
"Oh, it's..." A soft, wistful smile curved (Y/n)'s lips as the memory of Harry's infectious grin, his genuine praise for her flying prowess, and their lively back-and-forth banter replayed in her mind. "Just the usual."
Hermione arched an eyebrow, a pause lingering in the air before her gaze drifted toward Parvati and Lavender's beds. It was a reminder that (Y/n) and Lavender were still not on speaking terms, a situation that seemed to cast a shadow over their dormitory.
"I see..." Hermione's voice carried a hint of understanding as she returned her attention to (Y/n). Although (Y/n) hadn't explicitly shared that Harry was giving her nightly Quidditch lessons, Hermione had pieced it together herself. Ron seemed to be the only one who remained unaware of this secret arrangement. "Did you notice Cho Chang at the Hog's Head? She couldn't seem to take her eyes off Harry," Hermione inquired.
The curiosity in Hermione's statement prompted (Y/n) to look at her with interest.
"I did notice," (Y/n) responded honestly. She couldn't deny that she had seen Cho's attention focused on Harry during their visit to the Hog's Head. Remembering it stirred a familiar unease, especially when thoughts of Harry and Cho possibly being together crossed her mind. Her smile faded as the uneasiness settled in. Hermione picked up on the shift in (Y/n)'s mood and gave a knowing shake of her head.
"And Harry likes her and I think Cho found him interesting, and you know... what I'm trying to say is that I think, well, I think she likes him too."
It took (Y/n) a brief moment to collect herself before her smile returned.
"Yeah, I'm aware of that too," she admitted.
Hermione raised an eyebrow, her gaze scrutinizing (Y/n)'s expression before she let out a somewhat exasperated sigh. "I'm not trying to upset you by mentioning this. It's just that Harry is my best friend, and you are my best friend, and..."
"I understand what you're getting at, Hermione. I appreciate your concern. I know you're only looking out for me, but..." (Y/n) met Hermione's gaze squarely, offering a gentle smile. "I've told you before that my feelings have changed. I— I don't have those kinds of feelings for Harry anymore. I see him as more of a brother now." She spoke with conviction, pouring all her energy into making her words sound convincing. She realized she wasn't just trying to convince Hermione; she was trying to convince herself too.
Hermione held (Y/n)'s gaze for a moment, seemingly searching for any hint of deception in her words. Finding none, she returned the smile. She rose from her bed and walked over to (Y/n). "I'm glad to hear that. I just want to make sure you don't end up hurt. Harry's my best friend, but you're my best friend too. I genuinely care about your well-being," she said kindly.
(Y/n) felt the sincerity in Hermione's words, and she couldn't help herself; she leaned in for a hug. Hermione was momentarily surprised but quickly embraced her in return.
"Thank you, 'Mione," (Y/n) murmured, her smile radiant. She hadn't had a friend like Hermione in her real world, making her even more grateful for this friendship now.
After the embrace, (Y/n) began to prepare for the day. As she finished, the other two girls in the room woke up and started getting ready as well. Without exchanging greetings, (Y/n) and Hermione left the room together. However, as they reached the stairs that led to their dormitory, they found the stairs transformed into a stone slide – an indication that someone of the male persuasion had attempted to ascend. (Y/n) couldn't help but grin.
"Who's the daft one attempting to climb upstairs?" She asked, a giggle bubbling up as she entertained the possibility that what she had read in "Hogwarts: A History" might actually be true. Springing to her feet, she cast a playful glance at Harry and Ron.
"It was me," admitted Ron, looking somewhat rumpled. "I didn't expect that to happen. It's unfair!" He voiced his frustration to both Harry and (Y/n).
"Morning, Sab," Harry greeted, though his recent cheerful demeanor seemed to have dimmed, leaving her wondering why.
"Morning, my dear Harry," she replied, her tone teasing.
"If Hermione and you are allowed in our dormitory, why aren't we allowed—?" Ron protested, determined not to let go of the idea of venturing into the girls' dormitory.
"It's an old rule," Hermione chimed in, smoothly sliding onto a rug in front of them before rising to her feet. "Hogwarts: A History actually states that the school's founders believed boys were less trustworthy than girls. In any case, why were you attempting to gain access?"
"To catch a glimpse of you two—look at this!" Ron exclaimed, tugging her over to a noticeboard. Both (Y/n) and Harry followed suit, and as (Y/n) shot Harry a questioning look, he gestured towards the noticeboard. A sense of foreboding began to settle in as (Y/n) realized that whatever she was about to read was likely the reason behind Harry's recent change in mood.
— by order of —
The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts All Student Organizations, 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
Hermione and (Y/n) scanned the contents of the noticeboard. Hermione's features hardened into a stony expression, while (Y/n) seemed unfazed, her lack of surprise evident.
"Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron exclaimed angrily.
"They couldn't have," Hermione responded in a hushed tone, exchanging a knowing glance with (Y/n).
"You're being naive," Ron retorted. "You think just because you're all honourable and trustworthy—"
(Y/n) rolled her eyes at his assumption.
"No, they really can't have," Hermione contradicted, her tone grim. "Sabrina and I placed a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed. Believe me, if anyone has rushed off to inform Umbridge, we'll instantly know who it is, and they will deeply regret it."
"What will happen to them?" Ron inquired eagerly.
"To put it mildly," Hermione began, "their fate will make Eloise Midgeon's acne appear as mere freckles."
"And their nose will grow to the size of a tomato, with boogers sprouting from it like coins begging for help," (Y/n) added with an impish grin, aligning herself with Hermione's statement. The two boys exchanged bewildered glances.
"Alright then, let's head down for breakfast and gauge the others' reactions... I wonder if this notice has been posted in all the houses," Hermione mused, a smile playing at her lips.
Upon entering the Great Hall, it was immediately evident that Umbridge's decree had not been limited to Gryffindor Tower alone. An unusual buzz of conversation and a heightened sense of activity filled the hall as students hurried up and down the tables, discussing the contents of the notice. Just as Harry, (Y/n), Ron, and Hermione took their seats, Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny converged on them.
"Did you guys see it?"
"Do you think she's aware?"
"What's our plan now?"
All eyes were on Harry, awaiting his response. He scanned the vicinity to ensure no teachers were in earshot.
"We're going to proceed as planned, regardless," he whispered.
(Y/n) looked at Harry with a flicker of something in her eyes, an almost mischievous spark. Hermione noticed it too but chose not to mention it.
"Knew you'd say that," George chimed in, grinning as he playfully thumped Harry's arm.
"The prefects and our perfect sister as well?" Fred quirked an eyebrow, directing a curious look at (Y/n), Ron, and Hermione.
"Absolutely," Hermione replied with an air of assurance.
"I'm rather excited to explore new spells," (Y/n) chimed in with a smile, a sense of eagerness in her voice.
"Why don't you explore something else with your boyfriend?" George teased with a chuckle.
(Y/n) felt her cheeks warm with a blush.
"Harry isn't my boyfriend!" She responded defensively.
"I never even mentioned a name, and you automatically assumed it's Harry?"
"Shut up! You—"
"Here comes Ernie and Hannah Abbott," Ron muttered with a hint of disgust, glancing over his shoulder. "And those Ravenclaw guys and Smith... and nobody seems to have a lot of acne."
Hermione's expression turned alarmed, and (Y/n) realized they shouldn't have come to them in the first place.
"Forget about the acne. They can't approach us right now, it would look suspicious. Sit down!" Hermione mouthed urgently to Ernie and Hannah, making frantic gestures for them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. "We'll catch up with you later! We'll find you later!"
"I'll inform Michael," Ginny said impatiently, pushing herself off her bench. "Honestly, what a fool..." She hurried away toward the Ravenclaw table, and Harry's gaze followed her. Cho was seated nearby, engrossed in conversation with the curly-haired friend she had brought along to the Hog's Head. (Y/n) shifted her attention to Harry, noticing that he seemed deep in thought. She was about to ask him if he was alright, but then she realized he was actually looking at someone else.
The true impact of the sign wasn't fully realized until they were departing the Great Hall en route to History of Magic.
"Harry! Ron!"
Angelina was approaching them urgently, her demeanor brimming with desperation.
"It's alright," Harry spoke quietly as she neared them. "We're still going to—"
"Do you understand that she's even including Quidditch in this?" Angelina interjected, overriding his words. "We'll need to seek permission to reform the Gryffindor team!"
"What?" Harry exclaimed.
"No way," Ron protested, looking appalled.
"Read the sign, it specifically mentions teams too! So listen, Harry... I'm saying this for the last time... please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again, or she might ban us from playing altogether!"
"Alright, alright," Harry conceded, noting the distress in Angelina's eyes.
"Don't worry, I'll behave myself, ..."
(Y/n) chuckled when Angelina walked away, prompting Harry to glance at her with a raised eyebrow. "What's so amusing?" he inquired.
"'I'll behave myself,'" (Y/n) mimicked his voice, "that's probably the funniest lie I've ever heard you tell." She teased him, and Harry playfully rolled his eyes before pinching her nose for a brief but uncomfortable moment. In retaliation, (Y/n) gave his chest a playful punch, her face reddening as he kept holding her nose.
As Harry finally released her nose, she shot him a glare, but Ron intervened by nudging her to his side, effectively putting some distance between her and Harry. Ron's protective move halted Harry's attempt to ruffle her hair.
"I bet Umbridge is in History of Magic," Ron remarked grimly as they made their way to Binns's class. "She hasn't inspected Binns yet... I'd wager anything she's there..."
However, Ron's assumption proved wrong. When they entered the classroom, the sole teacher present was Professor Binns, floating slightly above his chair as usual, ready to continue his monotonous lecture on giant wars. Harry paid minimal attention to Binns's droning today, engaging instead in an unspoken competition with (Y/n) to see who could create the better doodles on their parchment. They blissfully ignored Hermione's pointed glares and nudges. Yet, (Y/n) couldn't suppress her chuckles when she witnessed Hermione delivering an especially painful poke in Harry's ribs, causing him to shoot her an annoyed look while disregarding (Y/n)'s amusement.
"What?"
She gestured toward the window. Harry and (Y/n) turned their gaze in that direction. Hedwig was perched delicately on the narrow window ledge, her gaze penetrating the thick glass as she held a letter fastened to her leg.
Observing Hedwig's presence, many of their classmates began nudging one another and pointing her out.
(Y/n) detected something unusual about Hedwig's behavior.
"Oh, I've always admired that owl, she's so graceful," Lavender sighed to Parvati.
"Harry, you should fetch Hedwig and see why she hasn't delivered the letter. Go on," (Y/n) encouraged him silently. Harry nodded in agreement. He glanced briefly at Professor Binns, who remained engrossed in his notes, blissfully oblivious to the fact that the class's attention was even less engaged than usual. Silently, Harry rose from his chair, crouched down, and stealthily made his way along the row toward the window. With care, he slid the latch open, allowing the window to creak open gradually.
Anticipating that Hedwig would extend her leg for him to remove the letter before she soared off to the Owlery, Harry was taken aback when she promptly hopped inside, emitting a mournful hoot. Casting an apprehensive glance at Professor Binns, Harry quietly closed the window, then crouched low and hurried back to his seat, where (Y/n) awaited him—her curious gaze fixed on him. Hedwig settled on his shoulder. With Hedwig now on his lap, Harry began to extract the letter secured to her leg.
Only then did the two realize that Hedwig's feathers were oddly disheveled; some were bent in the wrong direction, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle.
"Harry!" (Y/n) silently hissed, "she's injured!" Her voice was laced with concern for the owl.
"I'm aware," said Harry, his face betraying a hint of panic, which he quickly controlled.
"Look at her condition," (Y/n) continued, worry evident in her eyes as she observed the owl.
Harry didn't respond with words; instead, he lowered his head and bent over Hedwig, his voice a hushed whisper as he addressed her, "She's hurt."
Hermione and Ron leaned in closer, their curiosity piqued. Hermione even set down her quill, fully engaged in the situation.
"Look – there's something wrong with her wing –"
Hedwig trembled; when Harry attempted to touch her wing, she gave a small start, causing all her feathers to stand on end, giving her the appearance of being inflated. She regarded Harry with what seemed like a reproachful look.
"Harry, take her to Professor Grubbly-Plank. She might be able to help her," (Y/n) suggested.
"Yeah, I'll do that, but how can I get out of this class?" Harry pondered aloud.
"Just come up with any excuse on the spot, and you'll be fine," (Y/n) advised.
It took a few moments before Harry spoke up.
"Professor Binns," he announced loudly, causing the entire class to turn their attention to him.
"I'm not feeling well."
Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, displaying his usual look of astonishment at finding a room full of people in front of him.
"Not feeling well?" he repeated drowsily.
"Yeah," said Harry with conviction, rising from his seat while concealing Hedwig behind his back. "I believe I need to visit the hospital wing."
"Yes," said Professor Binns, clearly caught off guard. "Yes ... yes, the hospital wing ... well, then, off you go, Perkins..."
"I'll catch up with you later, Sab," Harry said before leaving the room. (Y/n) simply nodded as Harry disappeared from view.
-----
After the class, the three of them swiftly gathered their belongings. (Y/n) had also picked up the items Harry had left behind earlier due to the rush. The trio walked in silence, finding a sheltered corner where they turned up their cloak collars to protect themselves from the wind, waiting for Harry.
"Where do you think Harry went?" Ron inquired.
"I suggested he go to Professor Grubbly-Plank to mend Hedwig," (Y/n) explained to the two.
"Ah, right."
"I've been thinking..." Hermione broke the silence after a period of contemplation. "What if someone tried to intercept Hedwig?"
"Yeah, given her state earlier, it's as though someone attacked her," (Y/n) mused, considering Hermione's words.
"The only evil I know who would do that is that Umbridge woman," Ron voiced his suspicion.
"Most likely her," agreed (Y/n) as they observed several students in the courtyard. Among them was the raven-haired boy with disheveled locks and the bright emerald eyes, walking briskly toward them. He was tearing open a piece of parchment. (Y/n) couldn't help but notice how the wind was making his already messy hair even messier, yet his eyes still sparkled with that vivid shade of green. If only he knew how striking he looked... she thought to herself.
"Is Hedwig alright?" Hermione inquired anxiously, as he came within earshot.
"Sab mentioned you took her to Professor Grubbly-Plank," Ron added.
"Yes," Harry affirmed. "And I spoke to McGonagall... listen..."
And so, Harry recounted what Professor McGonagall had told him. To his astonishment, the three didn't appear shocked. On the contrary, they exchanged meaningful glances.
"What?" questioned Harry, his gaze shifting from (Y/n), Ron, to Hermione and back again.
"I was just discussing with Ron and Sabrina... what if someone attempted to intercept Hedwig? She's never been injured during a flight before, has she?" Hermione explained.
"Who's the letter from, anyway?" Ron inquired, taking the note from Harry's hand.
"Snuffles," Harry replied quietly.
"'Same time, same place?' Does he mean by the fire in the common room?" Ron pondered aloud.
"Obviously," Hermione responded, reading the note as well. An uneasy expression crossed her face. "I just hope nobody else has read this..."
"But it was still sealed and intact," Harry reassured himself more than anyone. "And it wouldn't make sense to anyone who doesn't know where we've talked to him before, right?"
"Well, I can't be sure about that, but I think our best bet is to be cautious," (Y/n) interjected calmly. She wasn't overly concerned, confident that if they were caught, they would be able to handle the situation without anyone getting harmed.
"Sab, is right," Hermione agreed, her voice tinged with anxiety. She adjusted her bag over her shoulder as the bell rang again. "Re-sealing the scroll with magic wouldn't be that difficult, and if someone is monitoring the Floo Network... but I'm not sure how we can warn him not to come without risking interception."
They descended the stone steps toward the dungeons for Potions, each lost in their own thoughts. However, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Draco Malfoy's voice cut through the air, drawing their attention. He stood just outside Snape's classroom door, brandishing an official-looking piece of parchment and speaking loudly enough for them to hear every word.
(Y/n) observed him with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. To her, he resembled a classic high school bully from the movies, but with an air of elegance that was hard to ignore.
"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team immediate permission to continue playing. I asked her first thing this morning. It was almost automatic, you know. She's quite familiar with my father; he's always dropping in and out of the Ministry... I'm curious to see if Gryffindor will be granted the same privilege," Malfoy boasted.
"Don't react," Hermione whispered urgently to Harry and Ron. Both of them were staring at Malfoy, faces stern and hands clenched.
"That's exactly what he's aiming for."
"I mean," Malfoy continued, raising his voice even more, his cold grey eyes gleaming maliciously in the direction of Harry and Ron, "if it's about influence with the Ministry, I doubt they stand much of a chance. According to my father, they've been searching for an excuse to fire Arthur Weasley for years. And as for Potter... well, my father believes it's just a matter of time before the Ministry sends him off to St. Mungo's. Apparently, they've even set up a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic." Malfoy pulled an exaggerated face, his mouth drooping open and his eyes rolling. His henchmen Crabbe and Goyle emitted their usual grunts of laughter, while Pansy Parkinson let out a shrill shriek of amusement. (Y/n) shot her a look of utter disgust.
Suddenly, something crashed forcefully into Harry's shoulder, knocking him sideways and causing him to collide with (Y/n)'s shoulder, eliciting a wince of pain from her. "Sorry," he mumbled, and she nodded slightly in acknowledgment. In that split second, they both realized that Neville had just charged past Harry, aiming straight for Malfoy.
"Neville, no!"
Harry lunged forward, grabbing the back of Neville's robes. Neville struggled wildly, his fists flailing, desperately attempting to reach Malfoy, who looked momentarily shocked by the sudden turn of events.
"Help me!" Harry pleaded with Ron, managing to loop an arm around Neville's neck and pull him backwards, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle flexed their muscles, stepping forward to shield Malfoy, anticipating a fight. Ron took hold of Neville's arms, and together, he and Harry managed to drag Neville back into the Gryffindor group. Neville's face was a deep shade of red; Harry's grip on his throat made his words nearly incomprehensible, but he managed to sputter a few disjointed phrases.
"Not... funny... don't... Mungo's... show... him..."
The dungeon door swung open, revealing Snape's imposing figure. His intense black eyes scanned the Gryffindor lineup until they settled on the spot where Harry and Ron were trying to restrain Neville.
(Y/n) let out an internal groan.
"Engaging in a scuffle, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape's voice was laced with his customary cold disdain. "Ten points shall be deducted from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or face detention. All of you, inside."
Harry released his grip on Neville, who stood there panting, shooting Harry an angry glare.
"I had to stop you," Harry gasped, picking up his bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would've torn you apart."
Neville remained silent, snatching up his own bag and striding into the dungeon.
"I think you should have let him go," (Y/n) murmured to Harry.
Ron's brows furrowed. "What in the name of Merlin," he began slowly, as they followed Neville, "was that all about?"
But Harry remained silent, offering no explanation.
Harry, (Y/n), Ron, and Hermione settled into their customary seats at the rear of the classroom, extracting parchment, quills, and their copies of "One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi." The hushed conversations of their classmates swirled around them, centered on Neville's recent outburst. However, when Snape shut the dungeon door with a resonating bang, an abrupt silence fell over the room.
"You will observe," Snape's voice dripped with disdain, "that we have a guest today." He motioned towards the shadowy corner of the dungeon where Professor Umbridge sat, clipboard resting on her knee. Harry exchanged a sidelong glance with (Y/n), Ron, and Hermione, raising his eyebrows. Snape and Umbridge, the two instructors he despised the most. Determining which one he wanted to see defeated more was a difficult choice.
(Y/n) leaned towards the trio so they could hear her words. "Imagine if Umbridge and Snape started dating and had a romantic rendezvous in Snape's office—"
"Eugh. Spare us the gruesome details, please," Ron grimaced.
Harry chuckled while Hermione furrowed her brows, urging them to focus on Snape's instructions.
"We're continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You'll find your concoctions just as you left them after the previous lesson. If properly prepared, they should have matured during the weekend – the directions are on the board." Snape swished his wand, revealing the instructions. "Carry on."
During the first half-hour of the lesson, Professor Umbridge scribbled notes from her corner. Harry was utterly engrossed in hearing her questioning Snape, to the point that he was growing careless with his own potion once again.
"Focus, Potterson -"
"Salamander blood, Harry!" Hermione moaned, seizing his wrist to halt him from adding the incorrect ingredient for the third time. "Not pomegranate juice!"
"Right," Harry mumbled, setting down the bottle, his gaze fixed on the corner. Umbridge had just risen from her seat.
"Hmm," he muttered under his breath as she walked between two rows of desks toward Snape, who was attending to Dean Thomas's cauldron.
"Well, the class appears to be quite proficient for their level," she said briskly to Snape's back. "Although, I do question the wisdom of instructing them in a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I believe the Ministry would prefer that it be removed from the curriculum."
Snape stood upright slowly, turning to face her.
"Now ... how long have you been instructing at Hogwarts?" she inquired, her quill poised over her clipboard.
"Fourteen years," Snape responded. His expression remained inscrutable. As his eyes remained fixed on Snape, Harry carefully added a few drops to his potion. It sizzled ominously, changing from turquoise to orange.
"You initially applied for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, if I recall correctly?" Professor Umbridge questioned Snape.
"Yes," Snape replied, his voice hushed.
"But you were unsuccessful?" Snape's lip curled disdainfully.
"Clearly."
Professor Umbridge made a note on her clipboard.
"And you have consistently sought the Defence Against the Dark Arts position ever since you joined the school, I gather?"
"Yes," Snape answered in a subdued voice, his lips barely moving. His anger was palpable.
"Do you have any insight into why Dumbledore has persistently declined to appoint you?" Umbridge inquired.
"I suggest you direct that question to him," Snape retorted, his words punctuated by a tense jerk of his head.
"Oh, I most certainly will," Professor Umbridge replied, her smile sugary sweet.
"Is this line of questioning truly pertinent?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowing.
"Absolutely," responded Professor Umbridge, "yes, the Ministry seeks a comprehensive understanding of the educators' – well – histories." She turned away, approached Pansy Parkinson, and began questioning her about the subject matter. Snape's gaze shifted to Harry, and their eyes met fleetingly. Harry quickly averted his gaze, focusing on his potion, which was now turning into a repugnant congealed mass and emitting a pungent odor reminiscent of burnt rubber.
"No marks again, Potter," Snape sneered, tipping Harry's cauldron over with a flick of his wand, causing (Y/n) to glance at their direction. Her own potion seemed acceptable, though not on par with Hermione's. "You will compose an essay detailing the accurate formulation of this potion, elucidating your errors and their causes. Submit it during the next class. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Harry replied angrily. Snape had already assigned them homework, and with Quidditch practice scheduled for the evening, this meant yet another few nights of sleep deprivation. It was hard to believe that he had started the day in a relatively good mood. Now all he wanted was for the day to come to an end.
"Perhaps I'll skip Divination," he said despondently, as they gathered in the courtyard after lunch, the wind tugging at the edges of their robes and hat brims. "I'll pretend to be unwell and use the time to work on Snape's essay. That way, I won't have to stay up half the night."
"You can't skive off Divination," Hermione chided.
"Hark who's talking. You walked out of Divination yourself. You despise Trelawney," Ron argued.
"I don't despise her," Hermione replied loftily. "I just believe she's a dreadfully inept instructor and a complete charlatan. However, Harry has already missed History of Magic, and it wouldn't be prudent for him to skip anything else today!"
Her words were too sensible to dismiss.
"You don't need to worry about your homework, Harry. I'm here to help you, you know," (Y/n) said, winking at him. Harry smiled warmly in response.
"I often forget that I have you," he said, causing (Y/n) to blush.
About half an hour later, Harry, (Y/n), and Ron settled into the stifling, heavily perfumed atmosphere of the Divination classroom. Professor Trelawney was distributing copies of The Dream Oracle once again. With a thud, she placed a copy of the Oracle on the table in front of Harry, (Y/n), and Ron, then moved on, tossing a copy at Seamus and Dean. Her throw narrowly missed Seamus's head, and she thrust the last copy into Neville's chest with such force that he slipped off his pouffe.
"What's wrong with her?" (Y/n) asked incredulously.
Harry shrugged, looking equally annoyed.
"Let's just get through this," Ron muttered.
"Well, get on with it!" Professor Trelawney announced loudly, her voice pitched high and bordering on hysterical. "You know what to do! Or is my teaching so inadequate that you've never learned how to open a book?"
The class exchanged bewildered glances, then stared at each other. Professor Trelawney huffed back to her high-backed chair, her magnified eyes brimming with angry tears. Harry leaned closer to (Y/n) and Ron, whispering, "I think she's got the results of her inspection."
"Yeah, that must be it," (Y/n) agreed.
"Professor?" Parvati Patil asked in a hushed voice, clearly concerned (she and Lavender had always rather admired Professor Trelawney). "Professor, is there anything – um – wrong?"
"Wrong!" Professor Trelawney exclaimed, her voice laden with emotion. "Certainly not! I have been insulted, certainly ... unfounded accusations have been directed at me ... but no, there is nothing wrong, certainly not!" She took a deep, shuddering breath and turned her gaze away from Parvati, angry tears slipping out from under her glasses.
"I speak nothing," she choked, "of sixteen years of devoted service ... it has gone unnoticed, apparently ... but I will not be insulted, no, I will not!"
"But, Professor, who's insulting you?" Parvati inquired timidly.
"The Establishment!" Professor Trelawney proclaimed, her voice deep and dramatic, wavering for effect. "Yes, those whose vision is clouded by the mundane, who cannot See as I See, Know as I Know ... 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 retrieved a small embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose forcefully, creating a sound reminiscent of Peeves blowing a raspberry.
"That's unfortunate. But I can't complain, really," (Y/n) said, and Ron couldn't help but snigger. Lavender shot them a disgusted look.
(Y/n) merely shrugged and dismissed Lavender's reaction as though brushing off some invisible dust from her cloak.
"Professor," Parvati inquired, "does this have something to do with Professor Umbridge?"
"Do not mention that woman to me!" Professor Trelawney exclaimed, springing to her feet, her beads clinking and her spectacles gleaming. "Continue with your work, please!" For the remainder of the lesson, she paced among them, tears still escaping from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath. "... might choose to depart ... the humiliation of it ... on probation ... we shall see ... how she dares ..."
"Umbridge and you seem to have something in common," Harry whispered to Hermione later, when they reunited for Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"That's quite insulting, coming from you, Harry. If I'm Hermy, I might have slapped you for that." (Y/n) said with a grin.
"I didn't mean it as an insult to Hermione," Harry clarified, "I meant Hermione and Umbridge both think Trelawney is a fraud." He looked at Hermione, "Looks like Umbridge has placed her on probation."
Umbridge entered the room just as he spoke, wearing her black velvet bow and an air of great satisfaction.
"Good afternoon, class."
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they droned dully.
"Wands away, please."
However, this time, there was no flurry of movement in response; no one bothered to take out their wands. (Y/n) was eager to leave this class, even though it had just begun.
"Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, titled 'The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack.' There will be –"
"– no need to talk," (Y/n), Harry, Ron, and Hermione all muttered in unison, their voices matching their collective exasperation.
-----
"No Quidditch practice," Angelina announced in a despondent tone when (Y/n), Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the common room that evening after dinner.
"But I didn't lose my temper!" protested Harry, horrified. "I didn't say anything to her, Angelina, I swear —"
"I believe you," Angelina sighed.
"She just mentioned needing some time to think it over."
"To think over what?" Ron interjected with frustration. "She allowed the Slytherins to play, so why not us?" Harry understood that Umbridge was enjoying the power of threatening to take away Gryffindor's Quidditch team and that she wouldn't want to give that up too quickly.
"Well," Hermione chimed in, "think of the positive side — now you'll have the chance to complete Snape's essay!"
"That's supposed to be a positive?" Harry slouched into a chair.
"Hey," (Y/n) said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'll help you out." She settled on the floor in front of him.
"Why are you sitting on the floor? Let's switch," Harry suggested.
"No, I'm fine here. Thanks though—" (Y/n) began, but before she could finish, Harry had already moved to sit beside her. He reluctantly pulled out his Potions essay from his bag and handed it to (Y/n), and they both started working. (Y/n) couldn't help but notice that Harry kept glancing at the fireplace, clearly waiting for news from Sirius. Amidst their work, the common room was abuzz with noise: Fred and George seemed to have perfected one of their Skiving Snackboxes, and they were taking turns demonstrating it to a cheering and enthusiastic crowd.
Amidst the crowd, Fred took a bite out of the orange end of a chew and proceeded to vomit dramatically into a bucket placed in front of them. Then he consumed the purple end, and just as suddenly, the vomiting ceased. Lee Jordan, assisting the demonstration, vanished the vomit at intervals using the same Vanishing Spell Snape often used on Harry's potions. The sounds of retching, cheering, and the thumps of vomit hitting the bucket mixed together, punctuated by Hermione's disapproving sniffs and Harry's annoyance.
"Why don't you go and stop them, then?" Harry snapped, frustrated after erasing the incorrect weight of powdered griffin claw that (Y/n) had pointed out.
"I can't. They're not actually doing anything against the rules," Hermione replied through gritted teeth. "They're perfectly within their rights to eat those disgusting things themselves, and there's no rule saying the others can't buy them, unless they're proven to be dangerous in some way, which it doesn't seem they are." Watching as George spewed into the bucket, swallowed the remainder of the chew, and stood up grinning to applause, Hermione, (Y/n), Harry, and Ron contemplated the situation.
"You know, I can't understand why Fred and George only got three O.W.L.s each," Harry mused. "They really know their stuff . . ."
"I've been thinking the same thing. Coming up with a product like this takes brains and creativity," (Y/n) added.
"But they only know flashy things that are practically useless," Hermione responded disparagingly, earning an incredulous look from (Y/n). While she liked Hermione, she often said things that made her roll her eyes.
"Useless?" Ron exclaimed, his voice strained. "Hermione, they've already made twenty-six Galleons!"
The crowd around the Weasley twins took quite a while to disperse, and afterwards, Fred, Lee, and George spent an even longer time counting their earnings. By the time (Y/n), Harry, Ron, and Hermione had the common room to themselves, it was well past midnight. Finally, Fred closed the entrance to the boys' dormitory, making a conspicuous rattle with his box of Galleons, which annoyed Hermione.
Deciding to give up on the Potions essay for the night, Harry and (Y/n) began putting their books away. Ron, who had been dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt as he woke up and stared groggily into the fire.
"Sirius!" he exclaimed.
Harry spun around. Sirius's messy dark hair was visible in the fireplace once again.
"Hi," Sirius greeted, grinning.
"Hi," the quartet replied in unison, all four of them kneeling on the hearthrug.
Crookshanks purred loudly and approached the fire, trying to nuzzle close to Sirius's face despite the heat.
"How are things?" Sirius asked.
"Not that good," Harry replied, as Hermione pulled Crookshanks back to prevent him from singeing his whiskers. "The Ministry pushed through another decree, which means we can't have Quidditch teams –"
"Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?" Sirius interjected.
There was a momentary pause.
"How did you find out about that?" Harry inquired. (Y/n) couldn't help but find the situation a bit amusing, though it wasn't entirely unexpected that someone from the Order would have information about it.
"You should choose your meeting places more wisely," Sirius said, his grin widening. "The Hog's Head, really?"
"Well, it was a better option than the Three Broomsticks!" Hermione defended. "It's always crowded there –"
"Which would've made it harder for anyone to overhear you," Sirius pointed out. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione."
"Who overheard us?" Harry demanded.
"Mundungus, of course," Sirius revealed, and when their faces reflected confusion, he chuckled.
"He was the witch under the veil."
"That was Mundungus?" Harry exclaimed, surprised. "What was he doing at the Hog's Head?"
"What do you think he was doing?" Sirius retorted impatiently. "Keeping an eye on you, of course."
"I'm still being followed?" Harry asked with frustration.
"Yeah, you are," Sirius confirmed. "And it's a good thing, isn't it? Especially if the first thing you're planning to do on your weekend off is to organize an illegal defense group." However, he didn't seem angry or concerned. In fact, he looked at Harry with a sense of pride. (Y/n) smiled at that, finding it endearing how much Sirius cared for Harry.
"Why was Dung hiding from us?" Ron inquired, sounding a bit disappointed. "We would've liked to see him."
"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago," explained Sirius. "And that barman has a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch quite often lately. Anyway, Ron and Sabrina – I've been entrusted to pass on a message from your mother."
"Oh, really?" Ron responded, his tone betraying some unease.
"What's the message?" (Y/n) asked, anticipating what was to come.
"She says that under no circumstances should the two of you participate in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group," Sirius relayed, his expression serious. "She insists that you'll be expelled for sure and that your future will be ruined. She believes there will be ample time to learn defensive skills later and that you're both too young to be burdened with such concerns right now. Additionally," (Sirius turned his gaze to the other two) "she advises Harry and Hermione not to continue with the group. However, she recognizes that she lacks authority over either of you and simply pleads for you to understand that her intentions are for your own good. She would have written all of this to you, but she's concerned that if an owl were intercepted, it could lead to serious trouble for all of you. Furthermore, she can't convey this herself as she's on duty tonight."
"On duty for what?" Ron interjected quickly.
"Never mind the details, just tasks for the Order," Sirius replied. "So, I'm the designated messenger and she wants you to assure her that I've conveyed her message accurately, because, frankly, I don't think she trusts me to do so."
There was a brief pause, during which Crookshanks mewed and made an attempt to pat Sirius's head, while Ron absently fiddled with a hole in the hearthrug. "So, you want me and Sabrina to tell her that we won't be joining the Defense group?" Ron finally muttered.
"Me? Absolutely not!" Sirius exclaimed, looking surprised. "I believe it's a brilliant idea!"
"Really?" Harry asked, a sense of hope rising within him.
"Absolutely!" Sirius confirmed. "Do you think your father and I would have just complied with the orders of an old hag like Umbridge?"
"But last year, you were telling me to be cautious and not take unnecessary risks," Harry pointed out.
"Last year, there was substantial evidence that someone within Hogwarts was attempting to harm you, Harry," Sirius replied impatiently. "This year, we're fully aware that there's an external threat that could put us all in danger. So, in my opinion, it's an excellent idea to equip yourselves with proper defensive skills."
"But what if we end up being expelled?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed.
"Hermione, you were the one who proposed this idea," Harry said, giving her a quizzical look.
"I know, I was just curious about Sirius's thoughts," she replied, shrugging.
"We won't be expelled, even if we're caught," (Y/n) reassured them.
"And how can you be so certain about that?" Harry inquired skeptically.
"Trust me, Potter. We're covered," she said with a mysterious wink.
"Well, even if you were expelled, it's better to be out of school and capable of protecting yourselves than to remain in school but utterly defenseless," Sirius stated firmly.
"Hear, Hear!" Harry and Ron agreed enthusiastically.
"So," Sirius continued, "how are you planning to organize this group? Where will your meetings take place?"
"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 four of them looked at her, Sirius's head turning in the flames.
"Well, Sirius, it's just that there were only four of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school," said 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-nine 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. Harry gaped at the flames for a moment, then turned to look at (Y/n), Ron and Hermione.
"Why did he –?"
Hermione gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire.
A hand emerged from the flames, reaching out as if trying to grasp onto something. It was a stout, short-fingered hand adorned with unattractive, old-fashioned rings. Harry had grabbed (Y/n)'s arm, prompting her to stand up, and the four of them swiftly made their escape.
Upon reaching the entrance of the boys' dormitory, Harry glanced back. Umbridge's hand continued to make grasping motions within the fire, as if she was well aware of where Sirius's hair had been just moments ago and was resolute in her determination to seize it.