\ wherein they propose an idea /
"PHEOBE! HEY!" CALLED a voice.
"Nott," I greeted shortly, turning around.
"Nott?" he frowned, an eyebrow raised.
"Yeah," I bit the inside of my cheek, "we called off the fake dating thing, right?" He shrugged.
"We had to, didn't we? You literally snogged Potter and the whole school found out in less than twelve hours."
"Right," I nodded, "so we can go the hell back to not talking to each other."
"You wound me, darling," he mocked. "Come on, can't we be friends?"
"Er, hello? You snapped my glasses in half?"
"Yeah...and?"
"Goodbye." I said shortly, turning around and walking off.
"I mean, we can do our homework tonight," said Ron as he, Harry, and I made our way down towards the Quidditch pitch. "And we've got tomorrow, she just gets really worked up about it," he muttered as Hermione's warnings about failing our O.W.L.s rang in our ears, "that's just her problem."
"Yeah...still, this is important, too, we've got to practice if we want to stay on the Quidditch team ..." said Harry.
"Yeah, that's right," said Ron, in a heartened tone. "And we have got plenty of time to do it all ..."
"Right, I'll go sit in the stands or something," I said finally, waving a book in my hand as we reached the Quidditch pitch, "er, good luck in your...practicing?"
"Pheobe, do you even like Quidditch?" asked Ron with a raised eyebrow.
...no, but I like Harry.
"Er- just here to support you both at your first practice of the year, is that a crime?" I shot a smile at both of them before heading over to the stands.
"Hey- Pheobe, over here!" called a voice. I glanced over and saw many Slytherins gathered around halfway up the empty stands and felt a sinking feeling in my stomach when my eyes went to my cousin and Theo laughing merrily about something.
"...er, what's going on over here?" I asked hesitantly, walking over to the two of them."
"We're all here to watch the Gryffindor's today," Draco said nonchalantly.
"Yeah, okay," I said suspiciously, making my way back over to my seat, where Blaise was now sitting, frowning as he read my book.
"Hey, you're aware they aren't here just to watch, right?" Blaise said, not looking up as I sat beside him.
"Yeah, but the fuck can I do?" I sighed. "Why're you not stopping them?"
"Because this book is much more fascinating than reality." I almost laughed, flashbacks to me constantly reading the Harry Potter books flashing through my mind.
"Okay, Zabini, but why're you here if you're only going to read?"
"Because it's going to start raining soon and I think it'll be pretty interesting to see a bunch of Quidditch players, like, a thousand feet up on slippery little broomsticks trying to navigate their way through the storm." he grinned. I scoffed and looked over at the pitch, where the team was flying up into the air and practicing.
"Yeah, okay. Enjoy cheering for the loser team," I rolled my eyes and elbowed him.
"What's that Weasley's riding?" Draco called in his sneering drawl. "Why would anyone put a flying charm on a moldy old log like that?" I bit my lip as Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson guffawed and shrieked with laughter and Ron mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground.
"Hey, Johnson, what's with that hairstyle, anyway?" shrieked Pansy Parkinson. "Why would anyone want to look like they've got worms coming out of their head?" they were too high up for anyone to be able to hear the Quidditch team's reactions, but Angelina looked surprisingly calm. I didn't know whether to fight Pansy or cheer for the Gryffindors, so I just sat there awkwardly as Blaise intently read the book I had brought for myself.
Ron fell back towards the opposite goal. Angelina raised the Quaffle with one hand and threw it hard to Fred, who passed to George, who passed to Harry, who passed to Ron, who dropped it.
The Slytherins roared and screamed with laughter. Ron, who had pelted towards the ground to catch the Quaffle before it landed, pulled out of the dive untidily, so that he slipped sideways on his broom, and returned to playing height, blushing. I saw Fred and George exchange looks, but uncharacteristically neither of them said anything, for which I was grateful.
Ron threw the Quaffle to Alicia, who passed back to Harry, who passed to George ...
"Hey, Potter, how's your scar feeling?" called my cousin. "Sure you don't need a lie down? It must be, what, a whole week since you were in the hospital wing, that's a record for you, isn't it?"
George passed to Angelina; she reverse-passed to Harry, who had not been expecting it, but caught it in the very tips of his fingers and passed it quickly to Ron, who lunged for it and missed by inches.
"Come on now, Ron," said Angelina crossly, as he dived for the ground again, chasing the Quaffle. "Pay attention."
It would have been hard to say whether Ron's face or the Quaffle was a deeper scarlet when he again returned to playing height. Draco and the rest of the Slytherin team were howling with laughter.
"Shut up!" I snapped, turning to the Slytherins, "not like Gryffindor's come and be little asshats to you at your practices, do we?"
"Yeah, 'cause we don't suck!" I rolled my eyes and looked back at the team high up in the air.
On his third attempt, Ron caught the Quaffle; perhaps out of relief he passed it on so enthusiastically that it soared straight though Katie's outstretched hands and hit her hard in the face. I heard Draco laugh loudly behind me as I winced, watching Katie's nose bleed and Fred hand her some small purple thing from his pocket. Harry, George, and Fred flew down to the crate containing the balls and extracted a Bludger and Snitch before flying back up to playing height. Fred and George let fly the Bludger as Harry released the Snitch, and it was clear he was barely aware of anything else that was happening, rolling and swerving in and out of the Chasers, clearly in his zone-
before the whistle blew loudly and he came to a halt all of a sudden, looking confused. I followed the Slytherin's eyes to Ron, who was hovering in front of the left-hand hoop, leaving the other two completely unprotected. Angelina seemed to be yelling something to him, and Ron's face was red, shining like a beacon against the bright blue sky. They spoke for another moment before trying again just as the Slytherins set up a chant of 'Gryffindor are losers, Gryffindor are losers,' which Angelina looked like she was struggling slightly to ignore.
My gaze fell on Harry who was flying around with a determined, hard look in his face, and barely three minutes later Angelina's whistle sounded, and I instantly noticed that Angelina, Fred and George were all flying as fast as they could towards Katie. I bit my lip as Harry and Alicia sped towards her, and it seemed Angelina had stopped training just in time- Katie was now chalk white and covered in blood. As the Slytherins continued to chant, I rushed down to the Quidditch Pitch, my breath caught in my throat when I saw Katie's pale face.
"She needs the hospital wing," said Angelina.
"We'll take her," said Fred. "She--er--might have swallowed a Blood Blisterpod by mistake--"
"Well, there's no point continuing with no Beaters and a Chaser gone," said Angelina glumly as Fred and George zoomed off towards the castle supporting Katie between them. "Come on, let's go and get changed." her eyes flicked back up to the Slytherins jeering in the stands.
"I'll take care of them," I chimed in, twirling my wand between my fingers with a mischievous grin as Harry cocked an eyebrow at me. Angelina gave me a nod that seemed to say 'I shouldn't support this behavior, but go for it' and I grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I ran. "They won't know what hit 'em!" I called back to them.
And they didn't.
Almost every Slytherin there except for Draco and Blaise received either a tickling spell which was set to last more than an hour, a stunning spell, or something worse.
"Ha, you've got a soft spot for us!" Draco laughed. I raised an eyebrow.
"Blaise wasn't being an arse, why would I hex him?"
"Fine, but you won't hurt me," Draco said, puffing his chest out.
"Wanna bet?"
"Five Galleons," he said proudly.
"You're on," I smiled, pointing my wand right at his chest. "Avada Ked-"
"WHAT THE FUCK-"
"Avada ked-ada." I tsked, grinning at my cousin, whose face was pale and he was breathing heavily, and I decided that was probably enough.
"What did you do to the Slytherins?" asked Harry, sounding impressed as him, me, and Ron headed up to Gryffindor Tower.
"Oh, just a couple hexes here, couple charms there," I hummed, pocketing my wand happily. "Safe to say they learnt their lesson, and Draco wouldn't ever rat me out."
"You sure?"
"Oh, I'm sure. Besides, I didn't do anything to him."
"You didn't?"
"Nope. Just pretended to almost murder him." Ron and Harry beamed down at me.
"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" Harry spoke finally. I grinned sheepishly, feeling heat rise into my face.
"It was nothing."
"How was practice?" asked Hermione rather coolly, the three of us climbing through the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room.
"It was-" Harry began.
"Completely lousy," said Ron in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Hermione. She looked up at Ron and her frost mess seemed to melt.
"Well, it was only your first one," she said consolingly, "it's bound to take time to--"
"Who said it was me who made it lousy?" snapped Ron.
"No one," Hermione said, looking taken aback, "I just thought-"
"You thought I was bound to be rubbish?"
"No, of course I didn't! Look, you said it was lousy so I just--"
"I'm going to get started on some homework," said Ron angrily and stomped off to the staircase to the boys' dormitories and vanished from sight. Hermione turned to Harry and me.
"Was he lousy?"
"No," we said loyally.
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"Well, I suppose he could've played better," Harry muttered, "but it was only the first training session, like you said ..."
Ron, me, and Harry spent the whole of Sunday in the common room, buried in our books while the room around us filled up, then emptied. It was another clear, fine day and most of our fellow Gryffindors spent the day out in the grounds, enjoying what might well be some of the last sunshine that year.
By evening, I felt as though somebody had been beating my brain against the inside of my skull.
"You know, we probably should try and get more homework done during the week," Harry muttered as we finally laid aside Professor McGonagall's long essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell and turned miserably to Professor Sinistra's equally long and difficult essay about Jupiter's many moons.
"Yeah," said Ron, rubbing slightly bloodshot eyes and throwing his fifth spoiled bit of parchment into the fire beside us. "Listen ... shall we just ask Hermione if we can have a look at what she's done?"
I glanced over at her; she was sitting with Crookshanks on her lap and chatting merrily with another Gryffindor girl named Kellah as a pair of knitting needles flashed in midair in front of her, now knitting a pair of shapeless elf socks.
"You know she won't let us," I sighed, "it's good, though, hopefully we're learning something."
And so we worked on while the sky outside the windows became steadily darker. Slowly, the crowd in the common room began to thin again. At half past eleven, Hermione wandered over to us, yawning.
"Nearly done?"
"No," said Ron shortly.
"Jupiter's biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto," she said, pointing over Ron's shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, "and it's lo that's got the volcanos-"
"Thanks," snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.
"Sorry, I only-"
"Yeah, well, if you've just come over here to criticize--"
"Ron--"
"I haven't got time to listen to a sermon, all right, Hermione, I'm up to my neck in it here-- "
"No--look!"
Hermione was pointing to the nearest window. A handsome screech owl was standing on the windowsill, gazing into the room at Ron.
"Isn't that Hermes?" said Hermione, sounding amazed. I frowned.
"The God-?"
"Blimey, it is!" said Ron quietly, throwing down his quill and getting to his feet. "What's Percy writing to me for?"
He crossed to the window and opened it; Hermes flew inside, landed on Ron's essay and held out a leg to which a letter was attached. Ron took the letter off it and the owl departed at once, leaving inky footprints across Ron's drawing of the moon Io.
"That's definitely Percy's handwriting," said Ron, sinking back into his chair and staring at the words on the outside of the scroll: Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts. He looked up at the three of us. "What do you reckon?"
"Open it!" said Hermione eagerly, and Harry and I nodded.
Ron unrolled the scroll and began to read. The further down the parchment his eyes travelled, the more pronounced his scowl became. When he had finished reading, he looked disgusted, and thrust the letter at Harry, me, and Hermione, the three of us leaning down together to read it.
Dear Ron,
I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister for Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect.
I was most pleasantly surprised when I heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the 'Fred and George' route, rather than following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility.
But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron, I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this at night rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully, you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions.
From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter...and Pheobe Black. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternization with those two. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this-- no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore's favorite--but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer and the people who count have a very different--and probably more accurate--view of Potter's behavior, not to mention Black's private affiliations with her father. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing--and see if you can spot yours truly!
Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter or Black, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school, too. As you must be aware, given that our father escorted him, Potter had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot and he did not come out of it looking too good. He got off on a mere technicality, if you ask me, and many of the people I've spoken to remain convinced of his guilt. Not to mention how Black went to an interrogation and barely managed to get off with a clean slate about her father, though many of the Wizengamot still have their suspicions- including the part where she mentioned that she was in love with Potter, the boy who lies.
It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with both of them--I know that they can be unbalanced and, for all I know, brutally violent--but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Potter's or Black's behavior that is troubling you, I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a truly delightful woman who I know will be only too happy to advise you.
This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him, but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that, so far, Professor Umbridge is encountering very little cooperation from staff as she strives to make those necessary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next week-- again, see the Daily Prophet tomorrow!). I shall say only this--a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be very well-placed for Head Boyship in a couple of years!
I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticize our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore. (If you are writing to Mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore's, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders.) I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people--the Minister really could not be more gracious to me--and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents' beliefs and actions, either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realize how mistaken they were and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes.
Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter and Pheobe Black, and congratulations again on becoming prefect.
Your brother,
Percy
I looked up at Ron, feeling hurt as I bit my lip.
"Well," I said finally, trying to sound as if I found the whole thing a joke, "if you want to- er- what is it?" I checked Percy's letter- "oh yeah- 'sever ties' with us, go ahead."
"Swear we won't get violent," Harry managed.
"Give it back," said Ron, holding out his hand. "He is-" Ron said jerkily, tearing Percy's letter in half "the world's-" he tore it into quarters "biggest-" he tore it into eighths "git." He threw the pieces into the fire. "Come on, we've got to get this finished sometime before dawn," he said briskly, pulling Professor Sinistra's essay back towards him.
Hermione was looking at Ron with an odd expression on her face.
"Oh, give them here," she said abruptly.
"What?" said Ron.
"Give them to me, I'll look through them and correct them," she said.
"Are you serious? Ah, Hermione, you're a life-saver," said Ron, "what can I-"
"What you can say is, "We promise we'll never leave our homework this late again,'" she said, holding out both hands for our essays, but she looked slightly amused all the same.
"Thanks a million, Hermione," said Harry weakly, passing over his essay and sinking back into his armchair, rubbing his eyes. I glanced at mine before shaking my head.
"No thanks."
"No thanks?" repeated Ron, sounding stunned. "Pheobe-"
"I'll help you, nonetheless," Hermione brandished, "of course I will." I bit my lip, grinning widely.
It was now past midnight and the common room was deserted but for the four of us and Crookshanks. The only sound was that of Hermione's quill scratching out sentences here and there on Harry and Ron's essays and my pen against my parchment, and the ruffle of pages as she and I checked various facts in the reference books strewn across the table. Though I was trying hard to stay concentrated, there was a sickly, hollow feeling in the bottom of my stomach.
I knew that everyone in the Wizarding World now knew I was the daughter of the Sirius Black, and I knew that many people thought me as mad as my father was supposedly, or because I was still friends with the boy who was heard to have lied about Voldemort's return, but there was something about seeing it written down like that in Ron's own brothers writing, about knowing that Percy Weasley was advising Ron to drop me and even tell Umbridge tales about me, that made this situation feel so much realer.
Granted, I had only seen the Weasley a few times, last year during the Triwizard Tournament, but there was a real sting knowing that someone who didn't even know me was advising his brother to forget I existed.
I set my pen down with a sigh, lifting my head up to look over at Harry, only to find he was staring straight at me before he turned away, his cheeks turning red as he stared at the fire as I felt heat rise into my face, looking down at my parchment once more.
"Okay, write that down," Hermione said to Ron, pushing his essay and a sheet covered in her own writing back to Ron, "then add this conclusion I've written for you."
"Hermione, you are honestly the most wonderful person I've ever met," said Ron weakly, "and if I'm ever rude to you again--"
"--I'll know you're back to normal," said Hermione. "Harry, yours is okay except for this bit at the end, I think you must have misheard Professor Sinistra, Europa's covered in ice, not mice--Harry?"
Harry had slid off his chair onto his knees and was now crouching on the singed and threadbare hearthrug, gazing into the flames.
"Harry?" I said uncertainly, following his gaze, "why're you down there?"
"Because I've just seen Sirius's head in the fire," he said, much too calmly.
"You what?" I breathed, kneeling on the floor beside him and staring into the fire with a raised eyebrow.
"Sirius's head?" Hermione repeated. "You mean like when he wanted to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But he wouldn't do that now, it would be too--Sirius!"
She gasped, gazing at the fire; Ron dropped his quill. There in the middle of the dancing flames sat Sirius's head, long dark hair failing around his grinning face.
"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," he said. "I've been checking every hour."
"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Harry said, half-laughing.
"Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear."
"What if you'd been seen?" I scoffed.
"Well, I think a girl--first-year, by the look of her--might've get a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry," Sirius said hastily, as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth, "I was gone the moment she looked back at me and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly-shaped log or something."
"But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk--" Hermione began.
"You sound like Molly," said Sirius. "This was the only way I could come up with answering Harry's letter without resorting to a code--and codes are breakable."
"You didn't mention you'd written to Sirius!" said Ron incredulously, the three of us staring at Harry, who shrugged.
"I forgot," he replied bluntly. I remembered his conversation with Cho he'd had all of a sudden, but, as if reading my thoughts, he set a hand on my knee with a roll of his eyes. "Not 'cause of her, doof."
"What if someone had gotten secret information out of it?" said Hermione as I watched Ron's eyes flick warningly to Harry's hand on my knee.
"Don't be ridiculous, there was no way anyone would've gotten secret information, was there?" Harry frowned.
"No, your letter was very good," said Sirius, smiling. "Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed--your scars."
"What about your scars-?" Ron frowned.
"After a detention with Umbridge, the fat toad took my hand to see the words and then my scar- Pheobe's too- started hurting really badly," Harry explained quickly, before turning back to my father's head in the fire. "Go on, Sirius."
"Well, I know it can't be fun when it hurts, but we don't think it's anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn't it?"
"Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion," said Harry, ignoring, as usual, Ron and Hermione's winces. "So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention."
"Although I doubt it very much," I said, "besides, now he's back it's bound to hurt more often." my dad nodded in the flames.
"So you don't think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?" Harry asked.
"I doubt it." said Sirius. "I know her by reputation and I'm sure she's no Death Eater--"
"She's foul enough to be one," I said darkly, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded vigorously in agreement.
"Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," said Sirius with a wry smile. "I know she's a nasty piece of work, though--you should hear Remus talk about her."
"Does Lupin know her?" asked Harry quickly, clearly remembering Umbridge's comments about dangerous half-breeds during her first lesson.
"No," said Sirius, "but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job."
I remembered how shabby my godfather looked these days and my dislike of Umbridge deepened even further.
"What's she got against werewolves?" said Hermione angrily.
"Scared of them, I expect," said Sirius, smiling at her indignation. "Apparently, she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose." Ron, Harry, and I laughed but Hermione's arms were crossed disapprovingly.
"Sirius!" she said reproachfully. "Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. After all, you and Pheobe are the only members of his family he's got left, but you're the only one with him, and Professor Dumbledore said--"
"So, what are Umbridge's lessons like?" Sirius interrupted. "Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?"
"No," I said, ignoring Hermione's affronted look at being cut off in her defense of Kreacher. "She's not letting us use magic at all!"
"All we do is read the stupid textbook," said Ron.
"Ah, well, that figures," said Sirius. "Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."
"Trained in combat!" repeated Harry incredulously. "What does he think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?"
"That's exactly what he thinks you're doing," said Sirius, "or, rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing--forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic."
There was a pause at this, then Ron said, "That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with." I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Luna doesn't say anything stupid."
"Are you mental-"
"So we're being prevented from learning Defense Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry" said Hermione, looking furious.
"Yep," said Sirius. "Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge."
"D'you know if there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet tomorrow? Ron's brother Percy reckons there will be--" Harry began.
"I don't know," said my dad, "I haven't seen anyone from the Order all weekend, they're all busy. It's just been Kreacher and me here."
There was a definite note of bitterness in Sirius's voice.
"So you haven't had any news about Hagrid, either?"
"Ah ..." said Sirius, "well, he was supposed to be back by now, no one's sure what's happened to him...But Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine."
"But if he was supposed to be back by now ..." said Hermione in a small, anxious voice.
"Madame Maxime was with him, we've been in touch with her and she says they got separated on the journey home--but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or--well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly okay."
"Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid," said my father anxiously, "it'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be okay." And when we did not appear cheered by this, Sirius added, "When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could--"
"No!" Harry and I said simultaneously.
"Sirius, didn't you see the Daily Prophet?" said Hermione anxiously.
"Oh, that," said Sirius, grinning, "they're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue--"
"Yeah, but we think this time they have," said Harry. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius-- you know, Lucius Malfoy--so don't come up here, whatever you do. If Malfoy recognizes you again--"
"Besides, if you get caught," I shook my head firmly, "that's such a huge risk- imagine if you got caught! Huge setbacks for the Order, not to mention-"
"All right, all right, I've got the point," said my father, looking most displeased. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together."
"And we would!" Harry exclaimed.
"It's just not worth the risk of you getting chucked into Azkaban!" I scoffed.
There was a pause in which Sirius looked out of the fire at Harry and I, a crease between his sunken eyes.
"You're less like your father and me than I thought," he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. "The risk would've been what made it fun for me and James."
"Oh yeah, of course, the risk," I said hotly. "The risk." I had the sudden urge to rip that small necklace off of my neck suddenly as his gaze hardened. "Risk of throwing yourself into Azkaban and leaving your daughter and godson without any parental figures, just as they both have been for nearly all of their lives."
"I'd better get going, I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs," he replied shortly. "I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I, if you can stand to risk it?"
There was a tiny pop, and the place where Sirius's head had been was flickering flame once more.
"Is it so wrong of us to not want him back in prison, surrounded by a bunch of soul-sucking demons?" I scoffed.
"No," said Harry instantly, "it's nowhere near our fault for wanting that."
"Oh, forget Sirius, can we just mention the fact Harry thought Europa was covered in mice-?!"
"Sod off, Ron." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, sod off, Ron," I smirked, "Europa is very obviously covered in mice."
"Oh, right, how could I forget?" Ron exclaimed mockingly, "it's sooo obvious, I can't believe I forgot-"
"Oh, knock it off, the both of you-"
"They're right, I'm surprised by you, Ron, how could you forget Europa's problem with the mice infestation?" Hermione scoffed, "it's so detailed-"
"There's a whole chapter on Europa and its mice-" I grinned as Harry threw a pillow at me. "Aw, something wrong, Little Potty?"
"Shut up."
"And you're sure I'm saying it right?" I heard a voice say as I yawned, making my way down to the common room on Monday morning.
"Positive," said Hermione's voice, "you're doing it perfectly."
"What if she thinks it means, like, 'I hate you with every inch of my-'"
"She won't, she had to teach me a whole different language, can you imagine how difficult it was for her?"
"You pick up things easily!" replied Harry's voice. I frowned, looking around and seeing Hermione and Harry talking to each other with furrowed eyebrows at one of the tables, other students passing me and heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.
"And yet, so many people picked up French swearing from her and can all do it perfectly, even you, Harry!"
"That's only 'cause she says it so much-"
"I don't swear a lot!" I scoffed. "Well, I suppose I do..." Harry and Hermione's heads spun towards me and I put my hand to my heart in mock offense, "what's this? An early morning meet up without me or Ron?"
"I'm right here," Ron commented, and that's when I noticed the ginger's head poking out, which had been hidden by Hermione's bushy hair.
"Oh..." I said, furrowing my eyebrows. "So you're all just having this...secret little chat...?" the mock offense was slowly turning real... "about...me?"
"No- look- Harry wanted to learn some French, and you were asleep, and- and so Hermione was like 'oh, I'll teach you-'" stammered Ron.
"You wanted to learn French this early in the morning?" I asked suspiciously.
"No! Well- yes- just something specific!" I crossed my arms.
"Which is?"
"Which is- which is-" Harry looked to Hermione who glanced back at me anxiously.
"Which is- he wanted to know how to say 'I would like some cheese'!" she exclaimed. I cocked an eyebrow.
"Okay...and he can apparently say it perfectly, then? Go on, how do you say 'I would like some cheese,' Harry?" his, Ron's, and Hermione's faces paled as I scoffed unbelievingly.
"It's- er- it's- ja-"
"Je voudrais un peu de fromage, come on, Harry, you know this!" Hermione said.
"Yeah- yeah! Ja voodra oh poo da frem-age!" I looked at Hermione with a small smile, no longer questioning why they had been down here for so long attempting to teach him this.
"Thank God you didn't wake me, then," I grinned, "else I would've either exploded at him for butchering the love language so much or fallen asleep right here. You suck at French, Harry." he sighed, rolling his eyes.
"I know, I'm very much aware, thank you."
"Breakfast, then?" they nodded and the four of us made our way to the Great Hall, already looking up to the ceiling as we sat down to eat for the Daily Prophet to see if what Percy had spoken about in his letter to Ron was true, but we barely needed to look- the departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper against the table to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at us from beneath the headline.
MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM
DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED
FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR
"High Inquisitor?" said Harry darkly, his half-eaten piece of toast slipping from his fingers. "What's that mean?"
Hermione read aloud:
"In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
'"The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time," said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "He is now responding to concerns, voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of."
"This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person.
'"That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts," said Weasley last night. "Dumbledore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she's been an immediate success--'"
"She's been a what?!" I said loudly, staring at Hermione.
"Wait, there's more," said Hermione grimly.
'"--an immediate success, totally revolutionizing the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts."
"It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.
'"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts," said Weasley. "The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post and we are delighted to say that she has accepted."
"The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts.
'"I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation," said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. "Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation."
"Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, "Mad-Eye" Moody.
"Rumors abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.
'"I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence," said a Ministry insider last night.
"Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.
'"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office," said Madam Marchbanks. "This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore." '(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)'
Hermione finished reading and looked across the table at the three of us.
"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this "Educational Decree" and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!" Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous!"
"I know it is," said Harry, and I followed his gaze to his clenched right hand, the faint white outline of the words Umbridge had forced him to cut into his skin, before my eyes flicked to my own which hadn't healed as well, still a dark red color.
But a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.
"What?" said Hermione and Harry together.
"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."
"Well, come on," I sighed, getting to my feet. "We'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late..."
But Professor Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape's dungeon when we arrived for double Potions, where my moonstone essay was handed back to me with a large, spiky black 'D' scrawled in an upper corner.
"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL," said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among us, passing back our homework. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination."
Snape reached the front of the class and turned on his heel to face us.
"The general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a 'D'."
He smirked as Malfoy sniggered and said in a carrying whisper, "Some people got a 'D'? Ha!" I felt like there was a pit in the bottom of my stomach and realized that Hermione was looking sideways to see what grade I had received; I slid my moonstone essay back into my bag as quickly as possible, feeling that I would rather keep that information private.
Determined not to get such a low grade anymore, I read and reread every line of instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them. My Strengthening Solution was not precisely the clear turquoise shade of Hermione's but it was at least blue rather than pink, like Neville's, and I delivered a flask of it to Snape's desk at the end of the lesson with a feeling of mingled defiance and relief.
"Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" said Hermione, as we climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made our way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. "And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it?"
When neither me, Ron, nor Harry answered, she pressed on, "I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?" I coughed weakly.
"Of course, a lot can happen between now and the exam, we've got plenty of time to improve, but the grades we're getting now are a sort of baseline, aren't they? Something we can build on ..."
We sat down together at the Gryffindor table and I felt like Ron and Harry were also being eerily silent.
"Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an "O"-- "
"Hermione," said Ron sharply, "if you want to know what grades we got, ask."
"I don't--I didn't mean--well, if you want to tell me--"
"I got a 'P'," said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. "Happy?"
"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry's right. "Nothing wrong with a good healthy 'P'."
"But," said Hermione, "doesn't 'P' stand for..."
'"Poor', yeah," said Lee Jordan. "Still, better than a 'D,' isn't it? 'Dreadful'?" I felt my face go warm as Harry had a small coughing fit over his roll and I had the small temptation to fake one, but by the time he emerged Hermione was still going on about OWL grades.
"So top grade's 'O' for 'Outstanding'," she continued, "and then there's 'A'-"
"No, 'E'," George corrected her, "'E' for 'Exceeds Expectations'. And I've always thought Fred and I should've got "E' in everything, because we exceeded expectations just by turning up for the exams."
We all laughed except Hermione, who ploughed on, "So, after 'E' its 'A' for 'Acceptable', and that's the last pass grade, isn't it?"
"Yep," said Fred, dunking an entire roll in his soup, transferring it to his mouth and swallowing it whole.
"Then you get 'P' for 'Poor'-" Ron raised both his arms in mock celebration-"and 'D' for 'Dreadful'."
"And then 'T,'" George reminded her.
"'T'?" asked Hermione, looking appalled. "Even lower than a 'D'? What on earth does 'T' stand for?"
"'Troll'," said George promptly.
I laughed weakly, imagining getting all 'T's in my owls and immediately resolving to work harder from now on.
"You lot had an expected class yet?" asked Fred.
"No," said Hermione instantly, "have you?"
"Just now, before lunch," said George. "Charms."
'"What was it like?" Harry and I asked together, earning a mild shrug from Fred.
"Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like, he treated her like a guest, didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it."
"Can't see old Flitwick get marked down," said George, "he gets everyone through their exams all right."
"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Harry.
"Trelawney-"
"A 'T' if I ever saw one-"
"And Umbridge herself."
"Well, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today," said George. "Angelina might murder you if you miss any more Quidditch practices."
But we did not have to wait for Defense Against the Dark Arts to meet our High Inquisitor. I was pulling out my dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Harry nudged me and, looking round, I saw Professor Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Trelawney, who had been wavering about handing out copies of The Dream Oracle, look round.
"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"
Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawney's seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.
Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses.
"We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. "Divide into pairs, please, and interpret each others latest night-time visions with the aid of the Oracle."
She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left towards Parvati and Lavender, who were already deep in discussion about Parvati's most recent dream.
I opened my copy of The Dream Oracle awkwardly, almost every student in that classroom either not on speaking terms with me, hating my guts, or already partnered up, until Harry pulled my chair closer to his and Ron's, setting a hand on my knee underneath the table which Ron didn't notice.
I raised an eyebrow as I glanced up at Harry who was nonchalantly pretending that absolutely nothing was happening, although tracing shapes on my skin, and I ignored him, looking at Ron.
"Groups of three are the exact same as groups of two," Ron said unbotherdly and I was internally grateful for him and Harry and the excuse not to have to go ask someone if they wanted to be the partner of the lonesome Gryffindor.
"Think of a dream, quick," Harry whispered as I followed his gaze to Umbridge who was making notes in her cupboard and pacing the room in Trelawney's wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there. "In case the old toad comes our way."
"I did it last time," Ron protested, "it's your turn, you tell me one."
"Oh, I dunno..." said Harry desperately. "Let's say I dreamed I was ... drowning Snape in my cauldron. Yeah, that'll do ...right?" Ron blinked before turning to me.
"Okay, you come up with one." Harry opened his mouth indignantly before closing it with a shrug.
"Er...let's say I dreamt that...I spilled Butterbeer all over Snape and found out he was a mermaid in disguise."
"Neither of you can come up with dreams," sighed Ron, opening up his copy of The Dream Oracle. "Fine, we've got to add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject ... would that be 'spill' or 'Butterbeer' or 'Snape' or-"
"It doesn't matter, pick any of them," whispered Harry, chancing a glance behind him. Professor Umbridge was now standing at Professor Trelawney's shoulder making notes while the Divination teacher questioned Neville about his dream diary.
"What night did you dream this again?" Ron said, immersed in calculations.
"I don't know, last night, the night before?" I said, trying to listen to what Umbridge was saying to Professor Trelawney. They were only a table away from me, Ron, and Harry now. Professor Umbridge was making another note on her clipboard and Professor Trelawney was looking extremely put out.
"Now," said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, "you've been in this post how long, exactly?"
Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, '"nearly sixteen years."
"Quite a period," said Professor Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. "So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?"
"That's right," said Professor Trelawney shortly.
Professor Umbridge made another note.
"And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?"
"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher.
Another note on the clipboard.
"But I think-- correct me if I am mistaken--that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of Second Sight?"
"These things often skip--er--three generations," said Professor Trelawney.
Professor Umbridge's toadlike smile widened.
"Of course," she said sweetly, making yet another note. "Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?" And she looked up enquiringly, still smiling.
Professor Trelawney stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. "I don't understand you," she said, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.
"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umbridge very clearly.
Harry, Ron, and I were not the only people now watching and listening sneakily from behind their books. Most of the class were staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her lull height, her beads and bangles clinking.
"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" she said in scandalized tones.
"I see," said Professor Umbridge softly, making yet another note on her clipboard.
"I--but--but ... wait!" said Professor Trelawney suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger. "I ... I think I do see something ... something that concerns you ... why, I sense something ... something dark ... some grave peril ..."
Professor Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Professor Umbridge who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised.
"I am afraid ... I am afraid that you are in grave danger!" Professor Trelawney finished dramatically.
There was a pause in which I knew it was over for Trelawney. Professor Umbridge surveyed Professor Trelawney.
"Right," she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. "Well, if that's really the best you can do ..."
She turned away, leaving Professor Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving. I caught Harry and Ron's gazes and knew they were thinking exactly the same thing I was: the three of us knew Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, we loathed Umbridge so much that we felt very much on Trelawney's side--until she swooped down on us a few seconds later, that is.
"Well?" she said, snapping her long fingers under Harry's nose, uncharacteristically brisk. "Let me see the start you've made on your dream diary, please."
And by the time she had interpreted Harry's dreams at the top of her voice (all of which, even the ones that involved eating porridge, apparently foretold a gruesome and early death), Harry seemed to be feeling much less sympathetic towards her. All the while, Professor Umbridge stood a few feet away, making notes on that clipboard, and when the bell rang she descended the silver ladder first and was waiting for us all when we reached our Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later.
She was humming and smiling to herself when we entered the room. Ron, me, and Harry had told Hermione, who had been in Arithmancy, exactly what had happened in Divination while we all took out our copies of Defensive Magical Theory, but before Hermione could ask any questions Professor Umbridge had called us all to order and silence fell.
"Wands away," she instructed us all with a smile, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out, sadly returned them to their bags. "As we finished Chapter One last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence 'Chapter Two, Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation'. There will be no need to talk."
Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. I wondered dully whether there were enough chapters in the book to keep us reading through all this year's lessons and was on the point of checking the contents page when I noticed that Hermione had her hand in the air again.
Professor Umbridge had noticed, too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Hermione she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class could not hear, "What is it this time, Miss Granger?"
"I've already read Chapter Two," said Hermione.
"Well then, proceed to Chapter Three."
"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."
Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly.
"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen."
"He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named," said Hermione promptly. "He says 'counter-jinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."
Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows and I knew she was impressed, against her will.
"But I disagree," Hermione continued.
Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder.
"You disagree?" she repeated.
"Yes, I do," said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, was not whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the attention of the rest of the class. "Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."
"Oh you do, do you?" said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up.
"Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."
"But-" Hermione began.
"That is enough," said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before us, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house."
There was an outbreak of muttering at this.
"What for?" Harry said angrily.
"Don't you get involved!" Hermione whispered urgently to him.
"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Professor Umbridge smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more license, but as none of them--with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects--would have passed a Ministry inspection--"
"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Harry loudly, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."
This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences I had ever heard. Then--
"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge sleekly. I felt my heart break at the words as I looked to Harry's hand, the cut having barely even healed, but- thanks to Hermione harshly stamping on my foot- I somehow managed to not utter a word the rest of the class.
The cut on the back of Harry's hand had barely healed and, by the following morning, it was bleeding again, but I knew that he must not have complained during the detention again, and he didn't tell Hermione, Ron, or I anything about it.
And, just as George had predicted, Angelina nearly exploded and looked on the verge of murder. She cornered him just as he arrived at the Gryffindor table for breakfast on Tuesday and shouted so loudly that Professor McGonagall came sweeping down upon the pair of them from the staff table.
"Miss Johnson, how dare you make such a racket in the Great Hall! Five points from Gryffindor!"
"But Professor-- he's gone and landed himself in detention again--"
"What's this, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall sharply, rounding on Harry. "Detention? From whom?"
"From Professor Umbridge," muttered Harry, not meeting Professor McGonagall's beady, square-framed eyes. I heard McGonagall lower her voice but, sitting a few seats away, all I heard was something about Harry controlling his temper until she raised her voice again.
"Potter, you must get a grip on yourself! You are heading for serious trouble! Another five points from Gryffindor!"
"But--what--? Professor, no!" Harry said indignantly, "I'm already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?"
"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "No, not another word of complaint, Potter! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team captaincy!" McGonagall went and strode back towards the head table briskly as Harry groaned and sat down beside me, looking somewhere bewildered and furious.
"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?"
"I know, mate," said Ron sympathetically, tipping bacon onto Harry's plate, "she's bang out of order."
"You think McGonagall was right, do you?" snapped Harry to Hermione who hadn't said a word, merely rustling the pages of her copy of the Daily Prophet.
"I wish she hadn't taken points from you, but I think she's right to warn you not to lose your temper with Umbridge," said Hermione's voice, while Fudge gesticulated forcefully from the front page, clearly giving some kind of speech. Harry scowled as I picked at my eggs, frowning.
I felt Harry's gaze on me suddenly and lifted my head up to meet it, seeing his hard gaze before it softened when we locked eyes.
"Look, you know she's only looking out for you," I sighed. "And it was only five points. At least you didn't lose fifty," I raised an eyebrow, looking over at Ron and Hermione as well, "each."
"I still don't get how you know all this stuff about us?" Ron muttered irritably, "I want to know something stupid about you so I can hold it over your head for the rest of your life, too!"
When we entered Transfiguration my eyes immediately flew to the sight of Professor Umbridge and her clipboard sitting in a corner and the sight of her drove the memory of Harry's scarred hand right back into my head.
"Excellent," whispered Ron, as we sat down in our usual seats. "Let's see Umbridge get what she deserves."
Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there.
"That will do," she said and silence fell immediately. "Mr. Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework--Miss Brown, please take this box of mice--don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you--and hand one to each student--"
"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed back my essay; I took it without looking at him and saw, to my relief, that I had managed an 'E'.
"Right then, everyone, listen closely--Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention--most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be--"
"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge.
"Yes?" said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.
"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec--"
"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Many of the students exchanged looks of glee. "As I was saying: today, we shall be practicing the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell--"
"Hem, hem."
"I wonder," said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking." I bit my lip, stifling a proud smile.
Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She did not speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously.
Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more.
"As I was saying: the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be Vanished. The snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So-- you know the incantation, let me see what you can do ..."
"How can she lecture me about not losing my temper with Umbridge!" Harry muttered under his breath, but he was grinning--his anger with Professor McGonagall had quite disappeared.
Professor Umbridge did not follow Professor McGonagall around the class as she had followed Professor Trelawney; perhaps she realized Professor McGonagall would not permit it. She did, however, take many more notes while sitting in her corner, and when Professor McGonagall finally told us all to pack away, she rose with a grim expression on her face.
"Well, it's a start," said Ron, holding up a long wriggling mouse-tail and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around.
As we filed out of the classroom, I felt Hermione nudge me and followed Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's gazes to see Professor Umbridge approach the teachers desk, and the four of us deliberately slowed down to eavesdrop.
"How long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Professor Umbridge asked.
"Thirty-nine years this December," said Professor McGonagall brusquely, snapping her bag shut.
Professor Umbridge made a note.
"Very well," she said, "you will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."
"I can hardly wait."
When we walked down the lawns towards the Forest for Care of Magical Creatures, we found Umbridge and her clipboard waiting for us beside Professor Grubbly-Plank.
"You do not usually take this class, is that correct?" I heard her ask as we arrived at the trestle table where the group of captive Bowtruckles were scrabbling around for woodlice like so many living twigs.
"Quite correct," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I am a substitute teacher standing in for Professor Hagrid."
I watched Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchange uneasy looks; my cousin was whispering with Crabbe and Goyle, he would surely love this opportunity to tell tales on Hagrid to a member of the Ministry.
"Hmm," said Professor Umbridge, dropping her voice, though Harry could still hear her quite clearly. "I wonder--the Headmaster seems strangely reluctant to give me any information on the matter--can you tell me what is causing Professor Hagrid's very extended leave of absence?"
I saw Draco look up eagerly and watch Umbridge and Grubbly-Plank closely.
"'Fraid I can't," said Professor Grubbly-Plank breezily. "Don't know anything more about it than you do. Got an owl from Dumbledore, would I like a couple of weeks' teaching work. I accepted. That's as much as I know. Well ... shall I get started then?"
"Yes, please do," said Professor Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard.
Umbridge took a different tack in this class and wandered amongst the students, questioning some of us on magical creatures.
"Overall," said Professor Umbridge, returning to Professor Grubbly-Plank's side after a lengthy interrogation of Dean Thomas, "how do you, as a temporary member of staff--an objective outsider, I suppose you might say--how do you find Hogwarts? Do you feel you receive enough support from the school management?"
"Oh, yes, Dumbledore's excellent," said Professor Grubbly-Plank heartily. "Yes, I'm very happy with the way things are run, very happy indeed."
Looking politely incredulous, Umbridge made a tiny note on her clipboard and went on, "And what are you planning to cover with this class this year--assuming, of course, that Professor Hagrid does not return?"
"Oh, I'll take them through the creatures that most often come up in OWL," said Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Not much left to do--they've studied unicorns and Nifflers, I thought we'd cover Porlocks and Kneazles, make sure they can recognise Crups and Knarls, you know ..."
"Well, you seem to know what you're doing, at any rate," said Professor Umbridge, making a very obvious tick on her clipboard. I did not like the emphasis she put on 'you' and liked it even less when she put her next question to Goyle. "Now, I hear there have been injuries in this class?"
Goyle gave a stupid grin, and my cousin hastened to answer the question.
"That was me," he said. "I was slashed by a hippogriff."
"A hippogriff?" said Professor Umbridge, now scribbling frantically. Harry opened his mouth indignantly but I quickly shot him a warning look, which he very much ignored.
"Only because he was too stupid to listen to what Hagrid told him to do," said Harry angrily.
Ron, Hermione, and I swapped looks, groaning. Professor Umbridge turned her head slowly in Harry's direction.
"Another night's detention, I think," she said softly. "Well, thank you very much, Professor Grubbly-Plank, I think that's all I need here. You will be receiving the results of your inspection within ten days."
"Jeez, someone crown her the High Inquisitor of the year," I muttered under my breath just loud enough for Harry, Hermione, and Ron to hear, the four of us stifling small smiles so Umbridge wouldn't think we were doing anything suspicious.
"Jolly good," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, and Professor Umbridge set off back across the lawn to the castle.
When it was time for Harry's detention, he left the Great Hall with a scowl on his face and I went with him, walking down the corridor with a book in my hand beside the boy.
"Go on, you clearly want to say something," he sighed irritably.
"I know I do," I huffed, "if I do, I'll get expelled, though."
"Oh very funny," he scoffed, "go on, spit it out."
"No need to get snappy with me, Potter," I said loftily, "there's nothing I'd like to spit out unless you plan on never speaking with me again."
He's hurting, he's hurting, he's hurting, I repeatedly thought to myself, don't hurt him more.
"We're never together," Harry complained suddenly. I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
"Yeah we are, we're always together- wow, Harry, and here I was thinking you were getting sick of me."
"No, like, like together."
"...er, what?"
"Like, just the two of us, by ourselves." Harry stammered, waving his hands around. I laughed softly tapping my fingers against the spine of my book.
"Neither of us have time. You've got detentions and Quidditch, I have two fat piles of homework waiting for me-" but without missing a beat, Harry promptly said,
"I'll make time for you. I always will."
It was nearly midnight when Harry showed up to the common room, the scarf wrapped around his hand showing red stains, but Ron, Hermione, and I had sat up today, searching textbooks for hours for some kind of tonic or lotion, until we had come up with strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles which was supposedly a wonderful way to end pain like that. When he entered, Hermione anxiously pushed the small bowl of yellow liquid to him.
"Here," she whispered, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of Murtlap tentacles, it should help."
Harry sat down on the couch and placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl, and I immediately could tell that it had worked. Crookshanks curled around his legs, purring loudly, then leapt into his lap and settled down.
"Thanks," he said gratefully, scratching behind Crookshanks's ears with his left hand.
"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron in a low voice.
"No," said Harry flatly.
"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew--"
"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry dully. "And how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?"
Ron opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out and, after a moment, he closed it again, defeated.
"She's an awful woman," said Hermione in a small voice. "Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron and Pheobe when you came in ... we've got to do something about her."
"We suggested poison," said Ron grimly, the two of us swapping looks and mentally agreeing that it still would be the best decision.
"No ... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any Defense from her at all," said Hermione.
"Well, what can we do about that?" said Ron, yawning. "'S too late, isn't it? She's got the job, she's here to stay. Fudge'll make sure of that."
"Well," said Hermione tentatively. "You know, I was thinking today ..." she shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and then plunged on, "I was thinking that-- maybe the time's come when we should just--just do it ourselves."
"Do what ourselves?" said Harry suspiciously, still floating his hand in the essence of Murtlap tentacles.
"Well--learn Defense Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.
"Come off it," groaned Ron. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realize Harry and Pheobe and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"
"But this is much more important than homework!" said Hermione.
I stared at her, unbelieving of the words that had just come out of Hermione Jean Granger's mouth.
"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!" I said incredulously.
"Don't be silly, of course there is," said Hermione, and I saw, with an ominous feeling, that her face was suddenly alight with the kind of fervor that SPEW usually inspired in her. "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting for us out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year--"
"We can't do much by ourselves," said Ron in a defeated voice. "I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practice them, I suppose--"
"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books," said Hermione. "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."
"If you're talking about Lupin ..." Harry began.
"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's too busy with the Order and, anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough."
"Who, then?" said Harry, frowning at her. Hermione sighed deeply.
"Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm talking about you, Harry."
There was a moment's silence. A light night breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron, and the fire guttered.
"About me, what?" said Harry.
"I'm talking about you teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts." I thought about it for a moment- it would probably be a good idea, considering he had so much experience with Defense Against the Dark Arts, but it would definitely be a task getting him to agree, not to mention getting everyone else who wanted to learn to legitimately trust him, the boy who was supposed to have lied for months.
Harry stared at her for a moment before turning to me with wide eyes, but I shrugged and we looked to Ron, who was thinking hard.
"That's an idea." he said finally.
"It is," I agreed, "it's definitely something. Much better than poison, though I hate to admit it."
'What's an idea?" said Harry.
"You," said Ron. "Teaching us to do it."
"But..."
Harry was grinning now, probably sure that we were messing with him.
"But I'm not a teacher, I can't--"
"Harry, you're the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione.
"Me?" said Harry now grinning more broadly than ever. "No, I'm not, you've beaten me in every test--"
"Actually I haven't," said Hermione coolly. "You beat me in our third year--the only year we both sat the test and had a teacher who actually knew the subject. But I'm not talking about test results, Harry. Think what you've done!"
"How d'you mean?"
"You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Let's think," Ron said, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. "Uh ... first year--you saved the Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who."
"But that was luck," Harry protested, "it wasn't skill-"
"Second year," Ron interrupted, "you killed the Basilisk and destroyed Riddle."
"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up, I--"
"Third year," said Ron, louder still, "you fought off about a hundred dementors at once--"
"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't--"
"Last year," Ron said, almost shouting now, "you fought off You-know-Who again--"
"That was 'cause Pheeb- she had the knife- and she- listen to me!" Harry exclaimed. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck--I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I always had help--" I followed his gaze to Hermione and Ron and nudged them gently, sure that wasn't helping convince him rather than piss him off even more.
"Don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do, I was there, wasn't I?" he said heatedly. "I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because-- because help came at the right time, or because I guessed right--but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing--STOP LAUGHING!"
The bowl of Murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. I was staring up at Harry who was on his feet as Crookshanks streaked away under a sofa, and Ron and Hermione's smiles vanished instantly.
"You don't know what it's like! You--neither of you--you've never had to face him, have you? You think it's just memorizing a bunch of spells and throwing them at him, like you're in class or something? The whole time you're sure you know there's nothing between you and dying except your own--your own brain or guts or whatever--like you can think straight when you know you're about a nanosecond from being murdered, or tortured, or watching your friends die-- they've never taught us that in their classes, what it's like to deal with things like that--and you two sit there acting like I'm a clever little boy to be standing here, alive, like Diggory was stupid, like he messed up--you just don't get it, that could just as easily have been me, it would have been if Voldemort hadn't needed me--"
"We weren't saying anything like that, mate," said Ron, looking aghast. "We weren't having a go at Diggory, we didn't--you've got the wrong end of the--"
He looked helplessly at Hermione who looked tense.
"Harry," she said timidly, "don't you see? This ... this is exactly why we need you ... we need to know what it's r-really like ... facing him ... facing V-Voldemort." it was the first time she had ever said Voldemort's name and it was evident Harry was calmed slightly, but he still looked angry with the two of them and Hermione looked to me desperately as Harry's eyes flicked in my direction.
"All they were saying," I said, standing up, "was that you'd be a good teacher. You're not a superhero," I began, going over to the couch and picking up the textbook we had found the recipe for the Murtlap Essence in, "and you're definitely no Einstein, either. They definitely weren't making digs at Cedric, Harry. But," I walked back over to where I had been sitting on the ground in front of Harry's chair, beside Ron and Hermione, "you're the only one we know who has had experience fighting Voldemort and escaping him. Yes, you had help almost every time, but you did it." he sunk back into his chair, breathing hard, but Hermione, Ron, and I exchanged glances, knowing he was as calm as he could be at the moment.
"Well ... think about it," said Hermione quietly. "Please?"
Harry wordlessly nodded, looking out of it as Hermione stood up.
"Well, I'm off to bed," she said, in a voice that was clearly as natural as she could make it. "Um...you coming, Pheobe?"
"I...yeah, in a minute," I indicated to the smashed bowl on the floor. She nodded and left.
Ron had got to his feet, too.
"Coming?" he said awkwardly to Harry.
"Yeah," said Harry. '"I'll- I'll just help clear this up." Ron nodded and disappeared up the stairs, and I was just about to say that Harry could go up since picking this up was extremely easy, but by the look on his face it seemed like he was too embarrassed of his outburst to say much to Ron.
"Reparo," I muttered, pointing my wand at the broken pieces of china on the floor. They flew back together, good as new, but there was no returning the Murtlap essence to the bowl. Harry fixed his gaze on the bowl I set on the table as I sighed and pulled a vial of the Murtlap Essence out of my pocket, pouring it into the bowl and handing it to him.
"You- you had more?" asked Harry weakly, eyeing it.
"I- um...yeah, I, I did." Hermione had forced me to take some for my own hand which still hadn't healed perfectly and was still sore, pouring some into a vial and giving it to me, but I figured Harry needed it more than me, and wouldn't accept it if he knew why I had more, but it seemed like he could see straight through my lies.
"You use it."
"Don't need it," I lied with a mild shrug. "If you don't need it either, I'll dump it down the drain, but..." he hesitated for a full second before taking it gratefully, slipping his hand into the bowl.
"Thanks," he murmured. I nodded.
"Good night, Harry," I said quietly, watching him with a small smile, beginning to walk away before he took my wrist and finally met my gaze.
"Don't go," he whispered.
"Okay," I whispered back as he shifted in his seat, taking up half the space and seemingly leaving the rest for me. I smiled gently, easily fitting into the space as he set his head on my shoulder with a quiet sigh.
And, we didn't say anything, but we sat in the comfortable silence together, listening to the sound of the flames in the warm common room, neither of us needing anything more than each other.
harry x pheobe fluff >>>>>>
it's only been two weeks into fifth year though so I'm REALLY excited abt the future...
also guys i cant decide on a set day to publish chapters ;-;
hope y'all enjoyed thoo xx