a/n: guys im in literal shock right now
1K VOTES AND 29K VIEWS
holy shit thank you so so so much
I never expected my small little fanfic to grow this big- so thank you to each and every
person who's reading this right now :))
by the way, this book is from now on gonna be written in third POV, and I won't be changing it up anymore like I used to, just a head's up!
anyways that's my little authors note, hope you guys enjoy this week's chapter!
\ wherein christmas arrives /
PHEOBE FELT LIKE SHE WAS carrying some kind of talisman inside her chest over the following two weeks, a glowing secret that supported her through Umbridge's classes and even made it possible for her to smile blandly as she looked into Umbridge's horrible bulging eyes. The DA was resisting her under her very nose, doing the very thing she and the Ministry most feared, and whenever Pheobe was supposed to be reading Wilbert Slinkhard's book during her lessons, she dwelled instead on satisfying memories of their most recent meetings, remembering how Neville had successfully disarmed Hermione, how Colin Creevey had mastered the Impediment Jinx after three meetings' hard effort, how Parvati Patil had produced such a good Reductor Curse that she had reduced the table carrying all the Sneakoscopes to dust.
Hermione soon devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to all the members in case we needed to change it at short notice, because it would look suspicious if people from different Houses were seen crossing the Great Hall to talk to each other too often. She gave each of the members of the DA a fake Galleon (Ron became very excited when he first saw the basket and was convinced she was actually giving out gold).
"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione said, holding one up for examination at the end of our fourth meeting. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches. "On real Galleons, that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry and Pheobe set the date of the next meeting they'll change the numbers on their coins, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic theirs."
A blank silence greeted Hermione's words. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted.
"Well--I thought it was a good idea," she said uncertainly, "I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But ... well, if you don't want to use them--"
"You can do a Protean Charm?" said Terry Boot.
"Yes," said Hermione.
"But that's ... that's NEWT standard, that is,'' he said weakly.
"Oh," said Hermione, trying to look modest. "Oh ... well ... yes, I suppose it is."
"How come you're not in Ravenclaw?" he demanded, staring at Hermione with something close to wonder. "With brains like yours?"
"Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting," said Hermione brightly, "but it decided on Gryffindor in the end. So, does that mean we're using the Galleons?"
There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forwards to collect one from the basket. Pheobe looked sideways at Hermione, brushing her hair out of her eyes.
"You know what these remind me of?"
"No, what's that?"
"The Death Eaters' scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join him."
"Well...yes," said Hermione quietly, "that is where I got the idea ... but you'll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members' skin."
"I prefer your way," the gray-eyed girl grinned, slipping her fake Galleon into her pocket, "suppose the only disadvantage would be that they look so similar someone might accidentally spend it."
"Fat chance," said Ron, who was examining his own fake Galleon with a slightly mournful air, "haven't got any real Galleons to confuse it with."
As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, DA meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game; the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretense of sportsmanship, were determined to see their own side victorious.
It was revealed just much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving homework in the week leading up to the match.
"I think you've got enough to be getting on with at the moment," she said loftily. Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron and said grimly, "I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don't want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won't you?"
Snape was no less obviously partisan; he had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin's attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eye-witnesses who insisted they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.
October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy draughts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly grey, the mountains around Hogwarts were snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so low that many students wore their thick protective dragonskin gloves in the corridors between lessons.
The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. Harry and Ron received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table when they arrived, where everyone was wearing red and gold, but far from raising Ron's spirits the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale; he collapsed onto the bench looking as though he were facing his final meal. Pheobe seriously considered offering Ron a bucket to vomit in- he looked so green that she didn't think he'd last very long.
"I must've been mental to do this," he said in a croaky whisper. "Mental."
"Don't be stupid," Pheobe scoffed, passing him a bowl and a choice of cereals which he bleakly stared at, "you're great at Quidditch."
"I'm rubbish," croaked Ron. "I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?"
"Get a grip," said Harry sternly, tipping one of the cereals into Ron's bowl, "look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant."
"That was an accident," Ron whispered miserably. "I didn't mean to do it--I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and when I was trying to get back on I kicked the Quaffle by accident."
"Well, see!" replied Pheobe triumphantly, pouring milk into Ron's still-untouched bowl and pushing it towards him hopefully, "you even managed to save the ball from going in on accident, think of what you'd be doing when it's on purpose!"
"Besides, few more 'accidents' like that and the game's in the bag, isn't it?"
Hermione and Ginny sat down beside Pheobe wearing red and gold scarves, gloves, and rosettes, however it was obvious that they could also tell how sickly Ron was looking. Ginny stared at Ron, who was looking into the dregs of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them.
"How're you feeling?" asked Ginny tentatively.
"Like I might not live to see Harry and Phoebe's next kiss."
"Get lost." Pheobe rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh, grabbing some toast. "I don't understand the big deal, Ron, you love Quidditch, you're brilliant at Quidditch-"
"Am not-" Ron interrupted half-heartedly.
"Yes, you are, and anyone with half a mind can see it- so then, what's the problem? Just...fly around, guard the...rings..and everything should be fine!" Pheobe waved a bit of toast as if that would prove her point. Harry stared at her in surprise.
"You've been watching our practices for- for weeks! Have you learned nothing?" he asked incredulously.
"What?" Pheobe scoffed irritably, "they're big white hoops. It's...basically basketball except on brooms and hundreds of feet up in the air."
"Yeah, but basketball hasn't got, like, five balls!" Harry said, his eyes wide. "Quidditch is- the most spectacular sport- how can you compare it to basketball-"
"Hello," said a vague and dreamy voice. Luna Lovegood had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table. Many people were staring at her and a few were openly laughing and pointing; she had managed to procure a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which was perched precariously on her head.
"I'm supporting Gryffindor," said Luna, pointing unnecessarily at her hat. "Look what it does ..."
She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump.
"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna happily. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time."
"It's gorgeous, Luna," said Pheobe kindly, her gaze darting to Hermione who was attempting to hide her shock of Luna's hat. "Very creative. You must teach me how you do it someday." Luna visible brightened at this, her smile growing just a little wider.
"Thank you, Pheobe. Anyway, I better go ... good luck, Ronald!"
She drifted away. It had barely been ten seconds before Angelina came hurrying towards them, accompanied by Katie and Alicia, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Madam Pomfrey.
"When you're ready," she said, "we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."
"We'll be there in a bit," Harry assured her. "Ron's just got to have some breakfast."
It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Harry thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms. As they rose from the table, Hermione and Pheobe got up, as well, and the latter took Harry's arm, pulling him over to the side.
"Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges," Pheobe whispered as Hermione nodded vigorously, the words 'Weasley is Our King' shining back at them.
Harry looked questioningly between them, but Pheobe shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over, looking lost and desperate.
"Good luck, Ron," said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. "And you, Harry..." Ron's face turned beet red as Hermione walked away quickly, a rosy blush appearing on her cheeks that she hid with her bushy hair.
Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened. He seemed too distracted to notice much around him.
The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they hurried down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes. Harry and Pheobe pointed out these encouraging factors to Ron in hopes of lightening his mood, but it seemed Hermione's good luck kiss had done enough.
"You know," said Harry in a low voice just before Pheobe could tell them good luck and head up to the stands, "I'm a bit anxious too about this match too...I think I need a good-luck hug, or maybe a kiss-" Pheobe rolled her eyes and scoffed under her breath, but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug nonetheless, breathing in his scent of Pumpkin Juice.
"Good luck," Pheobe whispered, releasing him and leaning up to press her lips to his cheek quickly. He grinned lopsidedly, his cheeks light pink. Pheobe ran a hand through her hair as she turned back to Ron one final time, digesting with the end of her sweater. "Don't worry, Ron, you'll be brilliant."
Pheobe hurried up to the stands and squeezed into a seat between Hermione and Lavender where they could see the teams getting ready to fly into the air.
"Pheobe!" called a voice. "Announcing! You in?" her gaze flew to Lee Jordan, who was standing by two microphones and waving her over, as McGonagall shook her head slightly from beside him.
She leapt forward with a grin, leaving Hermione behind with a raised eyebrow.
"You don't even like Quidditch!" she called.
"Yeah, only 'cause I'm over here watching the sods zoom around on flying sticks for an hour, aren't I?" The brunette grinned back.
"And the teams are shaking hands!" Lee announced, his voice booming through the microphone, "and it's Johnson --Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me, amazing player she is, though, absolutely fantastic, going to win the match for Gryffindor--"
"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "If you're going to be biased-"
"No, don't worry about him," Pheobe said swiftly into the microphone, "Lee's done being biased, though I don't think he's done being bi-" Pheobe smirked as McGonagall opened her mouth indignantly, "anyways, Johnson's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's--ouch--been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe ... Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and--nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away--"
"--dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger--close call, Alicia--and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"
And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:
"Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King."
"And Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Pheobe shouted, trying to drown out the words of the song, her insides boiling at the lyrics, "Come on now, Angelina--looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat!--SHE SHOOTS--SHE-- er..."
Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie.
"Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King."
Pheobe looked over to see Ron, a pale, sickly lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goal hoops while the massive Warrington pelted towards him.
"--and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead--"
A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:
"Weasley cannot save a thing"
He cannot block a single ring ..."
"-- so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team--"
"Come on, Ron!" Pheobe yelled.
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherins' end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Ron's central hoop.
"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below, "so that's ten-nil to Slytherin--bad luck, Ron."
The Slytherins sang even louder:
"WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN... "
"--and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch--" cried Lee valiantly, though the singing was now so deafening that he could hardly make himself heard above it.
"And it's Warrington again," Pheobe shouted, "who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet, come on now, Angelina, you can take him - okay, turns out you can't--but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell--er--drops it, too--so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle and he's off up the pitch, come on now, Gryffindor, block him!"
"--and Pucey's dodged Alicia again and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!"
"THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING
WEASLEY IS OUR KING."
But twenty-nil was nothing, there was still time for Gryffindor to catch up or catch the Snitch. A few goals and they would be in the lead as usual, Pheobe thought to herself as she saw Harry bobbing and weaving through the other players in pursuit of the Golden Snitch...
But Ron let in two more goals.
"--and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now, Angelina--GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle ..."
Pheobe could hear Luna's ludicrous lion hat roaring amidst the Gryffindor cheers and felt heartened; only thirty points in it, that was nothing, Gryffindor's team could pull back easily. Harry ducked a Bludger that Crabbe had sent rocketing in his direction and resumed his frantic scouring of the pitch for the Snitch, and Draco was doing the same, searching the field eagerly for the small golden ball...
"--Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey--Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good--Pheobe mean bad--Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again ..."
"WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN ... "
Harry suddenly dove.
Draco followed and the two were suddenly neck and neck, reaching for the flying ball.
It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds--Harry's fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball--Draco swore loudly as Harry pulled his broom upwards, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval ...
They were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won--
WHAM.
A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flew forwards off his broom. Luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but he looked winded all the same as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch.
"Son of a bitch," Pheobe muttered to herself. Lee grimaced.
"And...that's it for today's match, I guess-" but he was barely heard over all the cheers from the Slytherins. Pheobe went back to Hermione quickly, but she looked distracted.
"Pheobe," she said slowly, "what do you think's going on down there?" Pheobe followed her gaze to see Harry and George advancing on Draco while Fred was being held back by the three Gryffindor chasers.
"Oh, shit, oh, shit."
"Oh shit is right," muttered James' grim voice. "Umbitch isn't going to let them play Quidditch ever again if she finds out." Hermione furrowed her eyebrows.
"What did you just call her?"
"Ah, right, James, I forgot to tell you, Hermione's also a Prefect, but she actually takes her role seriously-"
"Oh, shut up," he huffed as Pheobe watched Madam Hooch hold up her wand as Harry and George attacked my cousin. "You know, dinner nights would be awful," James said thoughtfully, "cousin Draco and husband Harry sitting opposite each other as you give them your famous cherry cake-"
"I don't even know how to make a cherry cake, James," Pheobe huffed, rolling her eyes before she paused. "Husband!?"
"Banned," said Angelina in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room after George and Harry told us what had happened after they had been sent to McGonagall's office; apparently Umbridge had stepped in, and, well, we all knew why they got banned for life instead of detention. "Banned. No Seeker, no Beaters, and only two Chasers ... what on earth are we going to do?"
It did not feel as though Gryffindor had won the match at all. Everywhere Pheobe looked there were disconsolate and angry faces; the team themselves were slumped around the fire, all apart from Ron, who had not been seen since the end of the match.
"It's so unfair," Pheobe said numbly, "what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle was blown? Did she ban him?"
"No," said Ginny miserably; she and Hermione were sitting on either side of Harry and Pheobe. "He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."
"And banning Fred and Katie when they didn't even do anything!" said Alicia furiously, pummeling her knee with her fist.
"It's not my fault I didn't," said Fred, with a very ugly look on his face, "I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back." According to Harry, Draco had started taunting Ron, Harry's mother, and Ron's mother- which, honestly, Pheobe found a little first-grade level, but Pheobe chose not to say anything as everyone was already so depressed.
Fred had held George back while Harry threw a punch at Draco, and Katie had tried to convince everyone to calm down, but Umbridge being Umbitch, she interpreted it as riling everyone up and banned them all.
"What does Umbridge care?" said Angelina glumly.
Pheobe stared out at the dark window. Snow was falling fast. The Snitch Harry had caught earlier was now zooming around and around the common room; people were watching its progress as though hypnotized and Crookshanks was leaping from chair to chair, trying to catch it.
"I'm going to bed," said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. "Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream ... maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet ..."
She was soon followed by Alicia and Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed sometime later, glowering at everyone they passed, and Ginny went not long after that. Only Pheobe, Harry, and Hermione were left behind.
"Have you seen Ron?" Hermione asked in a low voice.
Harry shook his head.
"I think he's avoiding us," said Hermione. "Where do you think he--?"
But at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind us as the Fat Lady swung forwards and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was a mix of pale and light green and there was snow in his hair. When he saw Harry, Pheobe, and Hermione, he stopped dead in his tracks, and, if physically possible, paled even more.
"Where have you been?" said Hermione anxiously, springing up.
"Walking," Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things.
"You look frozen," said Hermione. "Come and sit down!"
Ron walked to the fireside and sank into the chair furthest from Harry's, not looking at him. The stolen Snitch zoomed over our heads.
"I'm sorry," Ron mumbled, looking at his feet.
"What for?" said Harry.
"For thinking I can play Quidditch," said Ron. "I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."
"If you resign," said Harry testily, "there'll only be three players left on the team." And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, "I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George and Katie."
"What?" Ron yelped.
Hermione and Pheobe told him the full story of how George and Harry had gone up to Professor McGonagall's office and then Umbridge pulled out Decree number 25, and then permanently banned both of them, Fred, and Katie from Quidditch ever again. When they had finished, Ron looked more anguished than ever.
"This is all my fault-"
"You didn't make me punch Malfoy," said Harry angrily.
"-- if I wasn't so terrible at Quidditch--"
"--it's got nothing to do with that."
"--it was that song that wound me up--"
"--it would've wound anyone up."
Hermione got up and walked to the window, away from the argument, watching the snow swirling down against the pane.
"Look, drop it, will you?" Harry burst out. "It's bad enough, without you blaming yourself for everything!"
Ron said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of his robes. After a while, he said in a dull voice, "This is the worst I've ever felt in my life."
"Join the club," said Harry bitterly.
.✫ * ﾟ ･ ﾟ ｡. ★. *｡ ･ ﾟ ✫ *.
"Hagrid's mental," Ron sighed, him, Harry, Hermione, and Pheobe sitting by the Black Lake, Octavian's tentacle rising out of the water to wave to the group every now and then.
"Honestly," Hermione breathed, sitting against a tree and looking up from her book. "I can't believe he actually went and met giants- and on top of that, it took him months to return!"
"All 'cause Dumbledore said so," Pheobe huffed from her seat up on one of the branches on the tree Hermione was leaning against. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked up, as they hadn't seen the brunette climb up, and stared at her for a good moment.
"How did you get up there?"
"Flew." Pheobe rolled her eyes. "I fucking scaled the tree like Godzilla, how else?"
"And you'll fall, too, while you're at it."
"Oh, shut up and climb up here, Harry."
"Yeah, you know you want to," said Ron, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry who rolled his eyes but complied and climbed up the tree, barely managing to get onto the branch beside Pheobe.
"I thought you hated heights," said Harry with a cocked eyebrow, smirking at the girl who scoffed under her breath.
"And on top of that, he's got some- some dangerous creature planned for our lesson," Hermione said anxiously, ignoring us, "even though Umbridge came and told him she would be expecting! Doesn't matter, though," she huffed, "I'll go back down there and convince him to teach something more sensible- at least, just for one class!"
Yesterday Hagrid had explained his story about meeting the giants- and finding out his mother, a giantess, was dead- and attempting to convince them to side with the wizards, but Death Eaters had stepped in, and then fighting took over...
"What happened to him's almost as bad as the rumors," Ron muttered, sitting on a rock in front of the lake.
"What rumors?" Pheobe asked curiously, her thoughts drifting away from Hagrid.
"There's two I've heard of," Hermione said as Ron nodded.
"What're they about?"
"What else?" scoffed Ron, "you two, of course."
"Oh, shit, again?" Pheobe sighed, tipping her head back exasperatedly.
"Again," Harry deadpanned. Pheobe fiddled with the silver ring before pursing her lips.
"Go on, then. What're the rumors?"
"One's bad," said Ron, "and then one's bloody ridiculous."
"One of them's that you're dating Theo Nott," Hermione said matter-of-factly. Harry cocked an eyebrow teasingly.
"As if." Truth be told, Pheobe hadn't seen much of Theodore Nott recently, but she could only wonder what he was up to. "I'm guessing that's the bad one, then- what's the bloody ridiculous one?" Hermione smirked.
"I'm surprised you haven't heard, yourself."
"Ha, ha," Pheobe said swiftly, "you know very well I don't like to involve myself with passing gossip. Alright, what's the other?"
"That you and Harry were snogging in a broom cupboard yesterday," Hermione said airily, "and were caught by Snape. That's why he's in such a bad mood today." Pheobe choked as Harry looked like he was seriously considering jumping off of the tree.
"Oh wow," Pheobe said as she regained her breath, "that- that's a...that's definitely a new one," she said breathlessly. "Everyone got sick of talking about Harry lying about Voldemort or what?"
"Looks like it," Hermione shrugged nonchalantly.
"Well- who started that rumor?" Harry asked, a half-grin on his face. The corner of Hermione's lips turned upwards.
"I did, of course."
"Hermione!"
"What?" she asked innocently, "I thought it had happened, so I told Ron that I thought it happened, and apparently Dean and Colin heard...well, you know how it is." she grinned smugly.
"Hang on," Ron said suddenly, "Harry, you came to bed late last night."
"Oh, shut up, Ronald," Pheobe scoffed, "as if I'd snog this idiot in a broom cupboard."
"Right," Harry grinned, "you'd much rather snog this idiot behind some...bushes."
"Harry Potter, I will push you off of this tree right this second." she looked over, seeing Ron and Hermione lost in their own worlds and not even paying any attention to the pair.
"Will you?" Harry smirked teasingly.
"Don't try me," Pheobe huffed warningly. He chuckled under his breath as he carefully climbed down from the tree.
"How're you gonna push me off now?" he taunted, running his tongue over his teeth cheekily. Pheobe felt her stomach flip as she slowly realized that she knew how to climb up trees better than she knew how to get down from them.
"Dunno," Pheobe scoffed, keeping a straight face as the gray-eyed girl looked down at the ground dizzily.
"Aren't you scared of heights?" asked Hermione, looking up. Pheobe rolled hereyes, mainly to take them away from the ground and the alarming distance between her and the fall she was surely going to take.
"I am not scared of anything," Pheobe huffed, "I'm a Black. Nothing scares me-"
"Oh really?" Hermione asked with a grin, "then how would you react if I told you there was a spider beside you right now?"
Don't react, don't react, don't react, it's probably just a trick-
"Like I'm going to fall for that," Pheobe replied loftily.
"Right...fall..."
Pheobe scoffed and began tentatively climbing back down the tree, gripping one of the branches to steady herself, but the second she spotted a spider far too close to her fingers, she yelped and let go, causing her to go tumbling-
right into Harry's arms.
Luckily, he had been waiting there, cocky grin and lit up green eyes, knowing the girl would definitely fall. Pheobe muttered a string of colorful words as she stood upright, her cheeks flushed and avoiding Harry's gaze firmly.
"Thanks." she muttered, "let's go back to the castle, yeah?"
Ron and Hermione didn't let it go for the rest of the week.
Hermione ploughed her way back to Hagrid's cabin through two feet of snow on Sunday morning, determined to help Hagrid get a better lesson plan. Harry, me, and Ron wanted to go with her, but our mountain of homework had reached an alarming height again, so we remained grudgingly in the common room, trying to ignore the gleeful shouts drifting up from the grounds outside, where students were enjoying themselves skating on the frozen lake, tobogganing and, worst of all, bewitching snowballs to zoom up to Gryffindor Tower and rap hard on the windows.
"Oi!" bellowed Ron, finally losing patience and sticking his head out of the window, "I am a prefect and if one more snowball hits this window--OUCH!"
He withdrew his head sharply, his face covered in snow.
"It's Fred and George," he said bitterly, slamming the window behind him. "Gits..."
Hermione returned from Hagrid's just before lunch, shivering slightly, her robes damp to the knees.
"So?" Pheobe asked, looking up when she entered. "Got all his lessons planned for him?"
"Well, I tried," she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Harry. She pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed this at her robes, which began to steam as they dried out. "He wasn't even there when I arrived, I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest--"
Pheobe groaned. The Forbidden Forest was teeming with the kind of creatures most likely to get Hagrid the sack.
"What's he keeping in there? Did he say?" Harry asked.
"No," said Hermione miserably. "He says he wants them to be a surprise. I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn't get it. He kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study Knarls than Chimaeras--oh, I don't think he's got a Chimaera," she added at the appalled look on our faces, "but that's not for lack of trying, from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs. I don't know how many times I told him he'd be better off following Grubbly-Plank's plan, I honestly don't think he listened to half of what I said. He's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won't say how he got all those injuries."
Hagrid's reappearance at the staff table at breakfast the next day was not greeted by enthusiasm from all students. Some, like Fred, George, and Lee, roared with delight and sprinted up the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to wring Hagrid's enormous hand; others, like Parvati and Lavender, exchanged gloomy looks and shook their heads. Pheobe knew that many of them preferred Professor Grubbly-Planks lessons, and an unbiased part of her knew that they had good reason: Grubbly-Plank's idea of an interesting class was not one where there was a risk that somebody might have their head ripped off.
It was with a certain amount of apprehension that Harry, Pheobe, Ron and Hermione headed down to Hagrid's on Tuesday, heavily muffled against the cold. Pheobe was worried, not only about what Hagrid might have decided to teach us, but also about how the rest of the class, particularly the Slytherins, would behave if Umbridge was watching the class today.
However, the High Inquisitor was nowhere to be seen as we struggled through the snow towards Hagrid, who stood waiting for us on the edge of the Forest. He did not present a reassuring sight; the bruises that had been purple on Saturday night were now tinged with green and yellow and some of his cuts still seemed to be bleeding. Pheobe could not understand this: had Hagrid perhaps been attacked by some creature whose venom prevented the wounds it inflicted from healing? As though to complete the ominous picture, Hagrid was carrying what looked like half a dead cow over his shoulder.
"We're workin' in here today!" Hagrid called happily to the approaching students, jerking his head back at the dark trees behind him. "Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark."
"What prefers the dark?" Pheobe heard a sharp voice say and turned to see my cousin furrowing his eyebrows. "Did you hear?" he asked with a trace of panic.
"You scared?" Pheobe grinned smugly. "Deserve it, don't you, after that stunt you pulled at the Quidditch match?" he rolled his eyes and stalked over to Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, and Theo irritably.
"She doesn't know either," he said in a low voice.
"Ready?" said Hagrid cheerfully, looking around at the class. "Right, well, I've bin savin' a trip inter the Forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, Pheobe reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em."
"And you're sure they're trained, are you?" said Draco, the panic in his voice even more pronounced. "Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"
The Slytherins murmured agreement and a few Gryffindors looked as though they thought Malfoy had a fair point, too.
"'Course they're trained," said Hagrid, scowling and hoisting the dead cow a little higher on his shoulder.
"What happened to your face, then?" demanded my cousin.
"Mind yer own business!" said Hagrid, angrily. "Now, if yeh've finished askin' stupid questions, follow me!"
He turned and strode straight into the Forest. Nobody seemed much disposed to follow. Pheobe glanced at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who sighed but nodded, and the four of us set off after Hagrid, leading the rest of the class.
We walked for about ten minutes until we reached a place where the trees stood so close together that it was as dark as twilight and there was no snow at all on the ground. With a grunt, Hagrid deposited his half a cow on the ground, stepped back, and turned to face his class, most of whom were creeping from tree to tree towards him, peering around nervously as though expecting to be set upon at any moment.
"Gather roun', gather roun'," Hagrid encouraged. "Now, they'll be attracted by the smell 'o the meat but I'm going ter give em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."
He turned, shook his shaggy head to get the hair out of his face and gave an odd, shrieking cry that echoed through the dark trees like the call of some monstrous bird. Nobody laughed: most of them looked too scared to make a sound.
Hagrid gave the shrieking cry again. A minute passed in which we continued to peer nervously over our shoulders and around trees for a first glimpse of whatever it was that was coming. And then, as Hagrid shook his hair back for a third lime and expanded his enormous chest, Pheobe felt Harry nudge me and he pointed into the black space between two gnarled yew trees.
A pair of blank, white, shining eyes were growing larger through the gloom and a moment later the dragonish face, neck and then skeletal body of a great, black, winged horse emerged from the darkness. It surveyed us for a few seconds, swishing its long black tail, then bowed its head and began to tear flesh from the dead cow with its pointed fangs.
"I knew they were real," Harry whispered to as Pheobe stared at them, feeling a small memory emerge from the back of her head.
Thestrals.
Pheobe glanced over to Ron, who was still staring out at the forest blankly.
"Why doesn't Hagrid call again?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.
Most of the rest of the class were wearing expressions as confused and nervously expectant as Ron's and were still gazing everywhere but at the horse standing feet from them. There were only two other people who seemed to be able to see them: a stringy Slytherin boy standing just behind Goyle was watching the horse eating with an expression of great distaste on his face; and Neville, whose eyes were following the swishing progress of the long black tail.
"Oh, an' here comes another one!" said Hagrid proudly, as a second black horse appeared out of the dark trees, folded its leathery wings closer to its body, and dipped its head to gorge on the meat. "Now ... put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"
Pheobe raised her hand slowly along with Harry, Neville, and the other Slytherin boy.
"Yeah ... yeah, I knew you'd be able ter, Harry, Pheobe," he said seriously. "An' you too, Neville, eh? An'--"
"Excuse me," said Draco in a sneering voice, "but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?"
For an answer, Hagrid pointed at the cow carcass on the ground. The whole class stared at it for a few seconds, then several people gasped and Parvati squealed. Pheobe understood why immediately: bits of flesh stripping themselves away from the bones and vanishing into thin air had to look very odd indeed.
"What's doing it?" Parvati demanded in a terrified voice, retreating behind the nearest tree. "What's eating it?"
"Thestrals," said Hagrid proudly and Hermione gave a soft 'Oh!' of comprehension. "Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. Now, who knows --?"
"But they're really, really unlucky!" interrupted Parvati, looking alarmed. "They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once--"
"No, no, no," said Hagrid, chuckling, "tha's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky, they're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' don' want ter Apparate--an' here's another couple, look--"
Two more horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to Parvati, who shivered and pressed herself closer to the tree, saying, "I think I felt something, I think it's near me!"
"Don' worry, it won' hurt yeh," said Hagrid patiently. "Righ', now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"
Hermione raised her hand, but for the first time in a while, Pheobe raised her hand slowly.
"Go on, then, Pheobe," Hagrid said, beaming.
"The only people who can see Thestrals," said the girl tentatively, "are people who have seen death and understood it."
"Tha's exactly right,' said Hagrid solemnly, "ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals--"
"Hem, hem."
Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from me, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid. who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.
"Hem, hem."
"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.
"You received the note Pheobe sent to your cabin this morning?" said Umbridge, in a loud, slow voice, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"
"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid brightly. "Glad yeh found the place all righ'! Well, as you can see-- or, I dunno--can you? We're doin' Thestrals today--"
"I'm sorry?" said Professor Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. "What did you say?"
Hagrid looked a little confused.
"Er--Thestrals!" he said loudly. "Big--er--winged horses, yeh know!"
He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard: "Has ... to ... resort ... to ... crude ... sign ... language."
"Well ... anyway ..." said Hagrid, turning back to the class and looking slightly flustered, "erm ... what was I sayin'?"
"Appears ... to ... have ... poor ... short ... term ... memory," muttered Umbridge, loudly enough for everyone to hear her. Draco looked as though Christmas had come a month early; Hermione, on the other hand, had turned scarlet with suppressed rage.
"Oh, yeah," said Hagrid, throwing an uneasy glance at Umbridge's clipboard, but ploughing on valiantly. "Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females. This one," he patted the first horse to have appeared, "name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favourite, firs' one born here in the Forest--"
"Are you aware," Umbridge said loudly, interrupting him, "that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as 'dangerous'?"
Pheobe's heart sank like a boulder, but Hagrid merely chuckled.
"Thestrals aren' dangerous! All righ', they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them --"
"Shows ... signs ... of... pleasure ... at ... idea ... of... violence," muttered Umbridge, scribbling on her clipboard again.
"No--come on!" said Hagrid, looking a little anxious now. "I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it--but Thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing--people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?"
Umbridge did not answer; she finished writing her last note, then looked up at Hagrid and said, again very loudly and slowly, "Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk," she mimed walking (Draco and Pansy Parkinson were having silent fits of laughter) "among the students" (she pointed around at individual members of the class) "and ask them questions." She pointed at her mouth to indicate talking.
Hagrid stared at her, clearly at a complete loss to understand why she was acting as though he did not understand normal English. Hermione had tears of fury in her eyes now.
"You hag, you evil hag!" she whispered, as Umbridge walked towards Pansy Parkinson. "I know what you're doing, you awful, twisted, vicious--"
"Erm ... anyway," said Hagrid, clearly struggling to regain the flow of his lesson, "so --Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o' good stuff abou' them ..."
"Do you find," said Professor Umbridge in a ringing voice to Pansy Parkinson, "that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?"
Just like Hermione, Pansy had tears in her eyes, but these were tears of laughter; indeed, her answer was almost incoherent because she was trying to suppress her giggles.
"No ... because ... well ... it sounds ... like grunting a lot of the time ..."
Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. The few unbruised bits of Hagrid's face flushed, but he tried to act as though he had not heard Pansy's answer.
"Er ... yeah ... good stuff abou' Thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. 'Mazin' sense o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go--"
"Assuming they can understand you, of course," said Malfoy loudly, and Pansy Parkinson collapsed in a fit of renewed giggles. Professor Umbridge smiled indulgently at them and then turned to Neville.
"You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?" she said.
Neville nodded.
"Who did you see die?" she asked, her tone indifferent.
"My ... my grandad," said Neville.
"And what do you think of them?" she said, waving her stubby hand at the horses, who by now had stripped a great deal of the carcass down to bone.
"Um," said Neville nervously, with a glance at Hagrid. "Well, they're ... er ... okay..."
"Students ... are ... too ... intimidated ... to ... admit ... they ... are ... frightened," muttered Umbridge, making another note on her clipboard.
"No!" said Neville, looking upset. "No, I'm not scared of them!"
"It's quite all right," said Umbridge, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile, though it looked more like a leer to me. "Well, Hagrid," she turned to look up at him again, speaking once more in that loud, slow voice, "I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive," (she mimed taking something from the air in front of her) "the results of your inspection," (she pointed at the clipboard) "in ten days' time." She held up ten stubby little fingers, then, her smile wider and more toadlike than ever before beneath her green hat, she bustled from their midst, leaving Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson in fits of laughter, Hermione actually shaking with fury and Neville looking confused and upset.
"That foul, lying, twisted old gargoyle!" stormed Hermione half an hour later, as we made their way back up to the castle through the channels they had made earlier in the snow. "You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again--she's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dimwitted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother--and oh, it's not fair, that really wasn't a bad lesson at all--I mean, all right, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but Thestrals are fine--in fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!"
"Umbridge said they're dangerous," said Ron.
"Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves," said Hermione impatiently, "and I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before NEWT level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could."
"Do you?" Harry said quietly.
She looked suddenly horrorstruck.
"Oh, Harry--I'm sorry--no, of course I don't--that was a really stupid thing to say."
"It's okay," he said quickly, "don't worry."
"I'm surprised so many people could see them," said Ron. "Four in a class--"
"Yeah, Weasley, we were just wondering," said a malicious voice. Unheard by any of us in the muffling snow, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were walking along right behind us. "D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?"
He, Crabbe and Goyle roared with laughter as they pushed past on their way to the castle, then broke into a chorus of 'Weasley is our King'. Ron's ears turned scarlet.
"Ignore them, just ignore them," intoned Hermione, pulling out her wand and performing the charm to produce hot air again, so that she could melt us an easier path through the untouched snow between us and the greenhouses.
December arrived, bringing with it more snow and a positive avalanche of homework for the fifth-years. Ron and Hermione's prefect duties also became more and more onerous as Christmas approached. They were called upon to supervise the decoration of the castle ('You try putting up tinsel when Peeves has got the other end and is trying to strangle you with it,' said Ron), to watch over first- and second-years spending their break-times inside because of the bitter cold ('And they're cheeky little snot-rags, you know, we definitely weren't that rude when we were in first year,' said Ron) and to patrol the corridors in shifts with Argus Filch, who suspected that the holiday spirit might show itself in an outbreak of wizard duels ('He's got dung for brains, that one,' said Ron furiously). They were so busy that Hermione had even stopped knitting elf hats and was fretting that she was down to her last three.
"All those poor elves I haven't set free yet, having to stay here over Christmas because there aren't enough hats!"
Pheobe didn't have the heart to tell her Dobby was taking all of her creations and bent lower over her essay. The only thing she really looked forward to nowadays was the DA meetings, and they would have to stop over the holidays, as nearly everybody in the DA would be spending the time with their families. Hermione was going skiing with her parents, something that greatly amused Ron, who had never heard of Muggles strapping narrow strips of wood on to their feet to slide down mountains. Ron was going home to The Burrow.
Pheobe wouldn't be able to visit her father or godfather for Christmas, it seemed, so she would be staying at Hogwarts, where Umbridge was watching her every move. Even Harry would be leaving for the Burrow with Ron and the Weasley's.
"You should bring sweaters when you come, it's best to layer up because we'll be going outside loads," said George as he and Fred came down the staircase and leant against the couch Pheobe and Harry were sharing to do their homework. Harry nodded numbly, focusing on the ingredients of Forgetfulness Potions, and Fred flicked the side of Pheobe's forehead with a roll of his eyes.
"Did you hear? Bring sweaters."
"Jesus, he heard," Pheobe muttered, flipping through her book. Fred and George exchanged confused looks then turned to Ron instantly, who raised his eyebrows as if he had just remembered something.
"Bloody hell, Ronny, you had on job!" George exclaimed.
"You fucked up, mate," Fred scoffed. "Pheobe, you're coming to the Burrow for the holidays. Ron was supposed to tell you ages ago, bloody idiot."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but Pheobe's spirits soared: the thought of Christmas at The Burrow was truly wonderful, though slightly marred by her guilty feeling that she would not be able to spend the holiday with Sirius. Pheobe wondered whether she could possibly persuade Mrs. Weasley to invite hoop lolfather for the festivities. Even though she doubted whether Dumbledore would permit Sirius to leave Grimmauld Place anyway, she could not help but think Mrs. Weasley might not want him; they were so often at loggerheads. The younger Black's father had not contacted her at all since his last appearance in the fire, and although she knew that with Umbridge on constant watch it would be unwise to attempt to contact him, Pheobe did not like to think of her dad alone in his mother's old house, perhaps pulling a lonely cracker with Kreacher.
Harry and Pheobe arrived early in the Room of Requirement for the last DA meeting before the holidays and Harry was obviously very glad he had, because when the torches burst into flame the pair saw that Dobby had taken it upon himself to decorate the place for Christmas. They could tell the elf had done it, because nobody else would have strung a hundred golden baubles from the ceiling, each showing a picture of Harry's face and bearing the legend: "HAVE A VERY HARRY CHRISTMAS!"
Harry and Phoebe were getting the last of the decorations down when the door slowly creaked open and Luna Lovegood entered, looking as dreamy as usual.
"Hello," she said vaguely, looking around at the remaining decorations. "These are nice, did you put them up?"
"No," said Harry,"'it was Dobby the house-elf."
"Mistletoe," said Luna dreamily. Pheobe followed her gaze to a large clump of white berries placed over Luna and Harry's heads.
Harry quickly jumped out from under it.
"Good thinking," said Luna very seriously. "It's often infested with Nargles."
Harry was saved the necessity of asking what Nargles are by the arrival of Angelina, Katie, and Alicia. All three of them were breathless and looked very cold.
"Well," said Angelina dully, "we've finally replaced the team."
"Replaced the team?" said Harry blankly.
"You and Fred and George and Katie got banned, remember?" she said impatiently. "We've got another Chaser!"
"Who?" said Harry quickly.
"Ginny Weasley," said Katie.
Harry gaped at her.
"Yeah, I know," said Angelina, pulling out her wand and flexing her arm, "but she's pretty good, actually..."
"And what about the Beaters?"
"Andrew Kirke," said Alicia without enthusiasm, "and Jack Sloper. Neither of them are brilliant, but compared to the rest of the idiots who turned up ..."
"Who's the Seeker?" asked Pheobe, who was up on a ladder and trying to get the last of the ornaments.
"Still haven't decided on one," Angelina said, pulling off her cloak and throwing it to a corner. "It's between Romilda Vane and Oliver Finn. Mind you, neither are that great at all, but they're the only ones who showed up...got nothing on you, Potter, but since you've been banned..."
"That's nice," said Harry flatly, spinning around on his heel, just in time to slip on the Christmas banner Dobby had put up, sending three ornaments flying into the air.
"Harry!"
It all happened so fast- the ornaments went shooting right back down to Harry, but since Pheobe was already on the ladder, she was easily able to grab two with one hand, but the last was centimeters away from falling onto Harry's head when she grabbed it with her other hand.
"Merlin, Harry," Pheobe huffed, "look where you're walking next time, you git." Pheobe began handing the ornaments back to Harry when she noticed the look on Harry's, Angelina's, and Alicia's faces. Angelina and Alicia swapped looks, grinning. "No- Angelina, no-"
"Please! We've got nobody else- would you rather see Romilda Vane flying around and falling off her broom?" said Alicia.
"Better her than me." Pheobe muttered as Harry reached up an arm and helped her climb back to the ground.
"Just come to the pitch as soon as you get back after the holidays, won't you? We'll re-host the tryouts and everything, make it fair-"
"Besides, I'm not one to talk rubbish about someone, but when Ithrew three balls at them and told them to catch them, Romilda caught two and Oliver caught one with his head!" Pheobe rolled her eyes.
"I can't even fly! I despise heights, you guys-"
"You were up on a ladder, like, thirty seconds ago," said Harry pointedly. Pheobe scowled at him.
"Look, just- just think about it, will you?" said Alicia. "We really need a good Seeker this year."
The arrival of Ron, Hermione and Neville brought this depressing discussion to an end, and within five minutes the room was full enough to prevent Pheobe from seeing Angelina and Alicia's desperate glances.
"Okay," said Harry loudly, bringing everyone to silence, "We thought this evening we should just go over the things we've done so far, because it's the last meeting before the holidays and there's no point starting anything new right before a three-week break--"
"We're not doing anything new?" said Zacharias Smith, in a disgruntled whisper loud enough to carry through the room. "If I'd known that, I wouldn't have come."
"Sorry, Smith, we'll make sure to specifically send you a letter informing you next time," Pheobe said loudly. Harry grinned at her and Pheobe felt her stomach do a backflip as he continued.
"--we can practice in pairs," he went on. "We'll start with the Impediment Jinx, for ten minutes, then we can get out the cushions and try Stunning again."
They all divided up obediently; Pheobe partnered with Neville since the boy was left alone. The room was soon full of intermittent cries of 'Impedimenta!' People froze for a minute or so, during which their partner would stare aimlessly around the room watching other pairs at work, then would unfreeze and take their turn at the jinx.
Neville had improved beyond all recognition. After a while, when Pheobe had unfrozen three times in a row, she had Neville join Ron and Hermione again so that she could be saved from being frozen once again, and so Pheobe could walk around the room and watch the others.
For some reason, Cho was giving the Black a bad feeling, and Pheobe noticed that when Harry walked past Cho, checking on her work, she smiled even more brightly than usual.
After ten minutes on the Impediment Jinx, they laid out cushions all over the floor and started practising Stunning again. The space was really too confined to allow them all to work this spell at once; half the group observed the others for a while, then swapped over.
Pheobe felt herself positively swelling with pride as she watched them all. True, Neville did Stun Padma Patil rather than Dean, at whom he had been aiming, but it was a much closer miss than usual, and everybody else had made enormous progress.
At the end of an hour, Harry called a halt.
"You guys are getting really good," he said, beaming, "Pheobe and I were thinking- when we get back from the holidays, we can start doing some of the big stuff-"
"Maybe even Patronuses," Pheobe chimed in, her gray eyes twinkling.
There was a murmur of excitement. The room began to clear in the usual twos and threes; most people wished the pair a 'Happy Christmas' as they went. Feeling cheerful, Pheobe collected up the cushions with Ron and stacked them away neatly, before they and Hermione left the room when Harry said he wanted to hang back and make sure everyone would get out safely.
"Completely random question," Phoebe began tentatively as the three of them made their way down a corridor, "did Chang seem...er, different to you two today?" Hermione raised her eyebrows teasingly as Ron scoffed.
"Lots of mistletoe around today, wasn't there? Probably got infected by the nargles." he said. Pheobe rolled her eyes and elbowed him.
"Don't make fun of Luna like that, she's really nice."
"Yeah, nice is a word."
"Different?" Hermione repeated, grinning mischeviously, "no, not really...but then again, jealousy can twist your perception of things."
"I'm not jealous."
"No, of course not," Hermione said mockingly, holding a hand to her head in fake dramatics.
"You're so funny," Pheobe deadpanned as Rob suddenly started digging in his pockets, his eyebrows furrowed.
"Bloody hell- I think I left my wand in the room of-"
"I'll get it, you irresponsible child," Pheobe chided, spinning in her heel and re-entering the room of requirement.
"Love you!" Ron called back as Pheobe waved and the doors shut behind her.
"...really like you, Harry," a gentle voice said as moonlight streamed in through a window, almost spotlighting Cho Chang and Harry. Pheobe's eyes widened as she ducked behind some cushions and peered over at the two.
"...what?" Harry said blankly. There he was, standing underneath mistletoe with Cho, who was facing him and leaning forward by the second. "Cho...I don't like you like that."
"What?" Cho said softly, sounding like she was on the verge of tears. Pheobe frowned from behind the cushions, watching carefully.
"Sorry," said Harry flatly, not sounding sorry at all as he stepped out from underneath the mistletoe.
"Oh, I understand," said Cho, walking backwards to the door, nodding and swiping at her face. "I just thought...because we could relate over Cedric...I'll see you later, Harry."
Pheobe's heart swelled as Cho left and Harry started picking up the last remaining cushions to put away.
"Hey," Pheobe said, appearing from behind the stacked cushions. Harry jumped in shock, dropping the cushions as his glasses fell askew.
"Were you here? This whole time?"
"To be fair, I came to get Ron's wand," Pheobe said, raising her hands in surrender.
"That's eavesdropping."
"Yeah? Then what d'you call getting your Invisibility Cloak with your friends and following me to Dumbledore's office the day after you met me?"
"How many times are you going to pull that card?" Harry sighed exasperatedly.
"As many as I like." she grinned and helped Harry picked up the cushions and set them aside.
"So, pray tell, why were you eavesdropping?"
"Ron's-"
"Got that part, but I get the feeling someone else would've just left." Harry shrugged. Pheobe raised her eyebrows at him.
"Alright, fine, I wanted to know what would happen next."
"Like a fucking reality TV show?" Harry said, clearly amused.
"Well- I dunno- she was about to come snog you! I wanted to know if-"
"If I'd snog her back?" Harry cocked an eyebrow. "You really think I'm so low as to snog some girl the second she shows the slightest bit of interest in me when you very much know I love you?"
"...when you say it like that-"
"You're jealous, just admit it," Harry said teasingly. Pheobe scoffed loudly, brushing her hair over her shoulder.
"I'm not jealous. I don't get jealous of people. Not since the fiasco of 2019."
"The hell happened in 2019?"
"That is a story for when I am on my deathbed," Pheobe sighed, glancing at her watch. "If we hurry, we'll be able to make it back to the common room before curfew."
"Yeah, okay," said Harry, leaning over and picking up Ron's wand from where it lay deserted on the floor, just as the light began flickering before it completely turned off, leaving the pair in complete darkness.
"Er-?"
"Did you turn off the lights?" Pheobe asked, her eyes barely adjusting to the lack of light when she felt Harry's arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer. "what are you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Sure," Pheobe said with a yawn, "come on, we've got Ron's wand, can we get out of here?" the lights slowly flickered back on and Pheobe blinked the light out of her eyes, looking up and seeing Harry looking back at her with the corners of his lips turned upwards. "Harry, I'm tired as hell, and it's probably past curfew by now, Umbridge'll murder us-"
"Murder us?" he said with a grin, "don't think that's Ministry-approved."
"Nothing we do these days is Ministry-approved, is it?" Pheobe said, looking up just as mistletoe grew over their heads.
"No, I don't think so," he responded, following my gaze. "You don't think she'd mind if I broke educational decree number twenty-six, then, would she?"
"Which one's that?" Pheobe asked dryly.
"That boys and girls must not be within six inches of each other," he said casually.
"We've already broken so many decrees already," Pheobe said teasingly, rolling her eyes. Harry had a hopeful glint in his eye as he leant down-
"Hey, Pheobe, did you find my- er." Ron walked in just as the pair jumped apart in shock, red in the faces. "What were you two doing?"
"Nothing," Pheobe said, shaking it off. "Yeah, I found your wand." Ron eyed her suspiciously as he took it from her.
"Thanks...what were you two doing?" he repeated cautiously, an eyebrow raised.
"Harry had some lint in his hair," Pheobe lied breathlessly, "I was just getting it out."
"Yeah, lint," said Harry, bitterness somewhat evident in his voice. Pheobe shot a strained grin at him, the moment fully ruined.
"Oh, alright."
"Shall we head back to the common room, then?"
"Sure," Ron shrugged nonchalantly, leading the way back.