Facing Danger
Chapter 11: Breakfast and Beginnings (Year 5)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 11: Breakfast and Beginnings
Dolores Umbridge crept out of her quarters cautiously on Sunday morning, clutching her wand close.
I was just imagining Potter that day, she told herself. He can’t actually have appeared to me with a flaming sword. It was my imagination. He can’t be in the castle any more—Argus and I have searched everywhere, and there’s no sign of him.
Odd how blasé his parents seemed to be about the whole thing. They’d been contacted, of course, about his expulsion and his going missing, but hadn’t responded as Dolores had half-thought they would, judging by past experience. A bland letter with the general tone of ‘oh, that’s a shame, find him if you can’ had arrived the next day, and nothing more had been heard from them.
The bright morning sunlight streaming in through the windows began to calm Dolores’ nerves. Who drove Harry Potter out of school with hardly any trouble? Who has him excoriated in the press as a mad fool who’s deserted the safest place for him? Why, that would be myself.
The thought buoyed her so much that she stopped looking around every corner and searching every cross-corridor, and in fact began to strut down the halls as though she owned the castle.
Which I do. Or will within a short period of time. Dumbledore is fading fast. It won’t be long before I can catch him in a mistake from which there will be no extracting himself, and then I will be Headmistress, and the castle will be mine.
Her good mood lasted down the stairs and into the Great Hall, up to the staff table and through cereal and toast.
Then the doors of the Great Hall burst open with a very dramatic chord.
Three hundred heads turned as one.
"Nobody expects the Hogwarts Inquisition!" shouted a small, plump, heavily-made-up figure in hot pink robes, swishing into the Hall. "Our main weapon is surprise, surprise and double-talk—two, our two main weapons are double-talk and surprise, surprise and double-talk, and an almost fanatical devotion to the current administration—three, our three main weapons are surprise, double-talk, an almost fanatical devotion to the current administration, and our pretty pink Alice bands—ah spit."
It turned and sashayed out of the Hall, and the doors slammed shut behind it.
Silence reigned for an instant. Then laughter erupted simultaneously at four or five different points. It spread like dragon pox through the room, until it seemed that all the students were laughing. Even some of the teachers were hiding smiles.
Laughing. Smiling. At me.
"Quiet!" Dolores shouted. "Be quiet!"
The laughter continued.
Dumbledore got to his feet and waved his wand once. A lion’s roar stopped the noise instantly. "Thank you," he said into the silence. "Now, if I might—"
"Headmaster, I demand that the doors be locked!" Dolores shouted, jumping to her feet. "Lock the doors, and count the students. The one who is not here is the one behind this, this insult!"
"A fair request," Dumbledore said gravely. "Argus, Minerva, Severus, if you would."
Dolores seated herself, trembling with rage and anticipation.
Whoever that was, they will pay for this. And if no student is absent, then I have proof positive that Harry Potter has not left Hogwarts, and that he is quite mad. What other reason could he have for baiting me thus?
xXxXx
Minerva moved slowly up the Hall along the Gryffindor table, ticking names off her mental list as she went. Jordan, Jordan, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley —though Ginny Weasley seemed to be asleep against Neville Longbottom’s shoulder—Longbottom, Black, Black, Granger-Lupin, Lovegood, Brown, Finnegan, Patil, Thomas...
She reached the end of the table and stepped up to the dais. "All present and accounted for, Albus, except for our one missing."
"Who is that?" Umbridge demanded greedily, leaning forward. "Who?"
"Harry Potter," Minerva said, feeling an unaccountable urge to laugh in the woman’s face. "As you undoubtedly know, Dolores, he has been missing for several days."
"Well, then—"
"However," Minerva cut the other woman off, "I frankly doubt he was our mysterious prankster. For one thing, where would he have found the supplies he needed? For another, if he is safely in hiding, why would he risk himself by emerging for such a silly stunt?"
And for a third, that was not Harry’s voice. Not even Harry’s voice when he is playacting. She had happened across the Pride several times while they were entertaining themselves, and Harry, though quite capable of throwing his voice into the upper register, could never have managed the shrill tones this prankster had used.
"Are all your students present?" Albus asked Severus, Pomona, and Filius.
"Of course." "I counted them twice." "Yes indeed."
"Dolores, I do not know what to tell you," Albus said solemnly. "It seems your persecutor has somehow evaded our grasp."
"Harry Potter did this," Dolores said certainly. "He is trying to discredit me, to make me look like a fool in front of the school—I won’t have it, I tell you, I won’t have it!"
Why should Harry bother to make you look like a fool, Minerva wondered sardonically, when you do such a good job on your own?
Severus covered a cough with one hand. Startled, Minerva looked over and caught half a smile on his usually dour face.
Dear heavens. Something we agree on. I never thought I would see the day.
But that still leaves a question unanswered.
Who was that mysterious woman, anyway?
xXxXx
One of the kitchen cabinets in the Hogwarts Den opened, and Ginny Weasley tumbled out of it, red-faced under her makeup and laughing. Harry jumped up to help her to her feet. "How did it go?" he asked.
"Perfectly." Ginny half-fell into the chair Harry had vacated, fanning herself with the edge of the pink robes. "No one knew who I was, and Umbridge was turning interesting colors before I’d even got to the bit about fanatical devotion to the current administration. Help me out of these? They’re awfully hot."
"Of course." Harry undid the back of the padded robes and pulled them forward, letting Ginny slip her arms out of the holes cut for them. "What happened next?"
"I heard people laughing, but I didn’t stay to hear anything else. I’d imagine they took a nose count, though." Ginny smiled, her eyes shut. "It’s a good thing Neville can make people think I’m there when I’m not."
"Yes. Good thing." Harry set aside the padded robes and busied himself at the stove, rather than paying attention to Ginny, who was wearing only a T-shirt and thin leggings. She can take care of herself. And she’ll want something to drink. And I shouldn’t be staring. I shouldn’t even want to be staring—I like Cho, remember?
The thought of Cho gave him his usual jolt of excitement, but it quickly dulled. Cho probably thinks I’m as mad as Umbridge says I am. I didn’t even get a chance to see her before I had to hide down here. I wonder if she’d keep my secret if I came out and told her where I am? I wonder if she’d like the Den?
"You don’t have water hot for tea by any chance, do you?" Ginny murmured
"It’s almost up. Just wait a second." Harry turned the burner under the teakettle higher and pursued his last train of thought, which had chugged off without him. Cho in the Den. Why does that seem wrong somehow? Why do I think she wouldn’t care for it?
Cho’s a very lawful person. She likes things to work by the rules. And me hiding off in the Den like this is very much outside the rules. Harry rummaged in the cupboard for a pair of teacups and saucers and some tea bags. There even being a Den is outside the rules. She wouldn’t like it at all.
The kettle whistled. Harry picked it up and filled the cups. "Here you are," he said, carrying the cups to the table by their saucers. "Take your pick."
"Well..." Ginny opened her eyes and grinned at him. "I’m not a great fool," she said in a nasal voice, "so I can clearly not choose the tea in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool; you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the tea in front of me..."
Harry laughed. "Just don’t chase me around going ‘Umbridge, Umbridge, Umbridge’," he said, setting down one of the teacups in front of her.
"Don’t worry, I won’t." Ginny picked up her tea and blew on it. "You’re not Miracle Max anyway."
"Who am I, then? Westley?"
"Maybe. Or maybe you’re Inigo Montoya."
Harry laughed. "I can see it now," he said. "I walk up to Voldemort, and..." He set down his tea and stood up, adopting a Spanish accent and a heroic pose. "Hello. My name is Harry Potter. You killed my father. And my mother. Prepare to die."
Ginny almost fell out of her chair laughing. "Dare you to do it," she got out through her giggles. "Next time you meet him."
"I’ll think about it." Harry sighed, abruptly sobered by the very real thought of Voldemort. "I don’t know, Ginny. I just don’t know."
"Don’t know what?" Ginny took a deep breath to get herself under control and dipped her tea bag up and down a few times.
"I don’t know if I can do this. Any of this. I don’t even know if I can make it through today—who am I to be the ‘hope of the wizarding world’?" Harry sat down. "I have no idea what I’m doing. At all."
"I don’t think anyone does, really," Ginny said contemplatively, taking the tea bag out of her cup and setting it on the saucer. "Mum always says life is what happens in the meantime, in between the big important things. So this is life, right here, right now." She took a sip of her tea. "And I rather like it."
Harry removed his own teabag. "You’re right," he said. "Your mum’s right."
"She usually is. It gets annoying." Ginny drew her wand and aimed it at herself, murmuring a charm to remove her thick makeup. "There. Much better."
Harry pulled out his own wand to Summon the plate of tea cakes he’d made the night before. "Have one?" he asked. "I know you missed breakfast."
"They look delicious." Ginny picked one up and took a bite. "Taste good, too," she said around it.
"Thank you." Harry broke a cake in half, just to be companionable. I can’t let myself get into the habit of eating too much when I get bored. I’ll lose my edge.
"So Ron says the Room of Requirement seems like exactly what we need," said Ginny, breaking the silence. "When do you think we should first meet?"
"Why are you asking me? Never mind, I know." Harry held up a hand to forestall Ginny’s answer. "I’m the alpha. I’m in charge. But I was ten when I said I’d do that, and a lot’s changed since then..."
"Not you," said Ginny. "Or you have, but not in a way that would make you a bad leader."
"It might help if the leader had some idea where he was going."
"To the end of the war. To beating Voldemort and the Death Eaters and letting everyone live normally again."
"Normally." Harry looked into his tea, halfheartedly wishing he’d taken Divination so he could see his future in the patterns of his tea leaves. Of course, it would help if I hadn’t used tea bags. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like to live normally? If there was no Pride, no war, no Voldemort, and we’d both grown up and gone off to Hogwarts that way?"
"We might not ever have met, then," Ginny said. "I’m sure we wouldn’t be as good of friends. We’d probably know each other through Ron, and maybe through Quidditch, but we wouldn’t be able to sit and talk like this."
"That’s true." Harry looked up and smiled at her. "And I like this."
An odd and familiar feeling tried to rise within him. Hurriedly, he sat on it. No you don’t. She’s my Pridemate, nothing more.
"I like it too." Ginny rested her elbows on the edge of the table and put her chin in her hands. "But you got off the question. When should we have our first meeting of the Anti-Umbridge League?"
Harry laughed. "First things first. We can’t call it that."
"Aww." Ginny pouted. "Why not?"
"Unless you lot want to get kicked out of school too."
"And spend all day down here with you?" Ginny batted her eyelashes outrageously. "What a terrible fate."
"I’d chase you around the Quidditch pitch all day if you did," Harry said without thinking about how it sounded.
Ginny’s eyes widened. "Harry!"
"Not like that—agh!" Harry pressed his hands against his burning cheeks. "Don’t do that to me!"
"Don’t do it to your own self," Ginny retorted. "What were you saying about not being able to call it the Anti-Umbridge League?"
"We need a real name for it." Harry stood up and started pacing around the kitchen, concentrating on his feet rather than his face. "Something we can say in casual conversation—well, not me, but the rest of you. A name you can mention without Umbridge knowing right off the bat that you’re up to no good. Because you just know that if she gets wind of this, she’ll do whatever she can to stop it."
"Right." Ginny took another bite of tea cake. "It’s all about Defense Against the Dark Arts. Why not call it something about Defense?"
"The Defense Association," Harry said. "Or just the DA for short. She can’t know anything’s wrong from just two letters."
"Why the DA?" Ginny asked curiously. "Something special about that?"
Harry grinned. "Because it could stand for something else, too. I went walking last night and heard Umbridge talking to herself. Do you know why she’s here?"
"Because Fudge wants to keep an eye on Dumbledore?"
"Yes, but why does he?"
Ginny shrugged. "I don’t know, why does he?"
"Because he’s afraid of us," Harry said, flinging his arms out wide. "He’s afraid we’ll turn into an army."
"We will," said Ginny in a ‘you’re being rather thick’ tone. "Eventually. Against Voldemort."
"But Fudge doesn’t believe Voldemort’s back. He thinks we’ll be coming for him."
Ginny snorted. "Why would we bother?"
"Good question. But he thinks he’s important, so he’s afraid of Dumbledore’s army..." Harry let the last word trail off suggestively.
"Oh." Ginny traced the two letters on the tabletop. "DA. I like that."
"Thanks. And I think we should have our first meeting...what about tomorrow after dinner? Is that too soon?"
Ginny frowned, thinking about it. "We’ll have to hustle to tell everyone, but I think we could manage it."
"Good." Harry took another bite of tea cake, and got a whiff of curiosity from Ginny’s direction. "People won’t have too much homework yet for the week," he explained through his mouthful, "and I don’t think any of the Quidditch teams have practice." He swallowed and scowled. "Not that I’d know."
"Don’t make me come over there."
"You couldn’t even catch me."
Ginny shoved her chair back, and Harry’s eyes widened. Wolf dashed out the kitchen door yelping in alarm, Lynx hot on his trail.
xXxXx
"I feel sorry for Minister Fudge," said Luna as she, Draco, and Meghan walked up the stairs towards the seventh floor.
"Why?" Meghan asked, dancing backward a few steps with excitement.
"Because one person couldn’t possibly be as horrible as he is on purpose. You know how he keeps trying to have the goblin leaders assassinated so he can take over Gringotts, or how he’s secretly paying centaurs to tip their arrows with Love Potions so that people will be too busy plotting against each other to pay attention to him?"
"Now we do," Draco said diplomatically. "What about it?"
"Well, I think he’s been infested." Luna peered around, then lowered her voice. "With Polyticks."
Meghan looked suitably impressed. "What’re those?"
"They’re swarms of little bloodsucking insects. Once they latch onto you, they bite you and inject their venom so they can keep sucking out your blood forever. The venom makes you want to talk for a long time without saying anything, and get power over other people by making everything so complicated they don’t know what to do, and do almost anything, even really terrible things, to keep your power."
"Fudge isn’t the only one, then," Draco said as they came abreast of the tapestry featuring the tutu-wearing trolls. "I think Umbridge has them even worse. Is there any way to get them off?"
"I’ll have to write Daddy and ask. Maybe he knows." Luna began to pace back and forth. "We want to be in the room where Harry’s waiting," she murmured. "We want to get in to be with Harry and learn how to fight."
"There!" Meghan dashed across the hall and pulled open the door which had appeared. "Here we are!" she cried happily, darting into the room. "Here we are, here we are!"
"Here you are, here you are," Harry teased, intercepting her running hug. "Aren’t I the wrong one to be hugging that way?"
"No." Meghan grinned cheekily. "I hug you like that. I hug him like this." She turned to Neville, who had been sitting beside Hermione listening to her read aloud, and plopped herself onto his lap, insinuating her arms under his and laying her head against his shoulder.
"She’s not twelve," Harry said to Ron. "Not even close."
"Twelve going on twenty-two?" Ron suggested.
"Probably."
"You’re just jealous," Neville said complacently, adjusting Meghan’s weight on his lap.
"Jealous?" Harry sputtered slightly. "That’s my sister!"
The rest of the Pride laughed. Luna, nearest the door, blinked halfway through a giggle. "More people," she announced. "Harry, hide."
Harry slid into a convenient corner just as the door opened, revealing Ginny. Behind her came Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, Colleen Lamb, Fred and George, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, the Creevey brothers both wide eyed with excitement, Natalie McDonald (who ran straight to Meghan), Lee Jordan, a younger female version of him hand in hand with Dean Thomas, and a sixth year girl Draco knew only on sight. She had honey-colored skin and a mass of dark hair cascading around anxious almond-shaped brown eyes, and she reminded him slightly of someone, but he couldn’t think who.
"Hi," she said a little nervously, coming over to him. "I’m Maya Pritchard. You’re Draco Black, aren’t you?"
"That’s me." Draco shook her hand. "Pritchard—any relation to—"
"Graham’s my cousin. Our dads are brothers." Maya made a face. "I wish I was his sister instead. Why I had to get stuck with the snob-act branch of the family..."
"Family doesn’t have to define you forever. Trust me on this."
Maya laughed a little. "I suppose you would know."
"Dean, who’s the girl?" Ron was saying behind them.
"Lindsey Jordan, Lee’s sister," Dean introduced her. "She’s Ginny’s year, I thought you might know her already."
"We tend to keep ourselves to ourselves," said Ginny, shutting the door. "And Ron wouldn’t know a fork from a spoon unless they were right under his nose."
"Oi!"
Lindsey laughed. "This from the girl who can’t recall where she left her Potions notes," she said. "Call me Lindz, everybody does."
"How come we’ve never seen you two together before?" Hermione asked with interest.
Dean looked as though he’d like to shrink. "We’re just friends, really we are..."
Ron gave a loud false cough.
"As though you’re any better, Ronniekins," said Fred, turning from examining one of the bookshelves.
"It’s not for lack of interest, either," George added, grinning.
"There are loads of girls eyeing you. Weasleys are irresistible."
"Now if you’d just get off your duff and notice them..."
"Weasleys are irresistible, really now?" said Angelina smoothly. "Is that why you broke up with George, Alicia?"
"We were never really together in the first place," Alicia said, shaking her head. "I went with him to the Yule Ball out of pity, because he couldn’t get a date to save his life. What about you and Fred?"
Angelina looked over the twins, who were visibly cringing now as the rest of the room snickered. "It’s always a little disconcerting not to know exactly who you’re kissing," she said. "And it’s not as if he was particularly good at it, anyway."
Snickers increased to chuckles and guffaws. George covered his face with his hands and moaned. Fred leaned against the wall—
And disappeared into it with a yelp.
Ron recovered enough from his laughing fit to reach in and haul his brother back out. "Have to be careful," he warned when he could get enough breath to speak. "This room gives you whatever you think you need."
"No kidding," said Lee, grabbing George by his shoulder and hauling him up out of the floor, where he had begun to sink. "Lay off them for right now, how about."
A knock sounded on the door, and Parvati, who was closest, opened it. "Padma!" she squeaked happily. "You came!"
"And I brought friends," Parvati’s twin answered from outside. "Is there enough room in there?"
"There will be," said Luna, stepping back from the door. "Everyone come in."
Draco backed up to the wall, watching Ravenclaws flood into the room. "Are you sure about this?" he asked out the side of his mouth. "There’s a lot of people here—"
"Don’t have much choice now, do I?" Harry answered. "Everyone here is another person who might not think I’m mad. Another person who might be able to fight with us when the fighting starts."
"You’re right." Draco turned back to the room and started counting. The Pride was eight, and fifteen other Gryffindors had shown up, so that made—
"Twenty-three."
"Was I talking aloud again?"
"Yes."
"Sorry." Now Padma Patil had arrived, accompanied by Terry Boot and two of his friends, a tall blonde girl at whom both the twins were staring appreciatively, a redhead with a confident air, a small Asian girl who looked somewhat familiar, and right behind her—
"Harry, stay where you are, but Cho Chang’s here. And she brought a friend." A curly-haired girl who looked apprehensive had entered the room behind Cho. "That’s nine Ravenclaws. Thirty-two already, and we’ve only had two Houses show."
"Thanks," Harry said sarcastically. "I could never have added twenty-three and nine on my own. And I’m going to leap right out into the middle of the room because you told me Cho Chang’s here. Who cares about Cho Chang?"
"You do. Or have you finally got your head on straight?"
"What’s that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing, nothing—" Draco smiled charmingly at the small Asian girl, who had fixed him with a piercing stare. "I have to shut up now," he hissed without moving his lips. "Someone’s noticing. I’ll be back."
He started towards the middle of the room, catching introductions as he went—the tall blonde was Danielle, the redhead was Amanda, Cho’s friend was Marietta, Boot’s mates were Anthony Goldstein and Michael Corner—probably just as well Harry can’t see the way he’s looking at Ginny, he’d have a fit for all he claims he’s still interested in Cho—and the girl who’d noticed him talking to Harry was Su Li.
"I met Harry Potter on the platform coming to school," she said, shaking his hand politely. "My brother introduced us. I think you know him too. Brian Li."
"Of course."
"Between you and me, some of this lot don’t want to be here," Su said quietly, nodding over her shoulder at her Housemates. "Corner’s just here because he knew Ginny Weasley would be, and he’s been trying to figure out how to get her interested in him ever since the play last year. And Marietta only came because Cho didn’t want to come alone."
"Thanks for the warning."
"Who were you talking to up there?"
Draco smiled nonchalantly. "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
Another knock sounded on the door. "Maybe in a minute," Draco said thankfully, turning to see who this was.
"Are we too late?" said Ernie Macmillan, sticking his head around the door.
"No, you’re just on time," said Hermione, smiling and beckoning him in. "We didn’t have any set starting time, we’re not really organized yet..."
Draco clenched a fist inside his pocket as Zacharias Smith followed Ernie into the room. Insult me again, I dare you...
Justin Finch-Fletchley was next, a blonde girl a year or so younger than him on his arm. "This is Heidi," he said, nodding to her. "She’s only a fourth year; I hope that’s all right."
Ginny turned at this. "It had better be!" she called over the crowd noise.
"I told you so," Heidi said to Justin. "You shouldn’t worry so much."
Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott slipped through the door together, clinging to each other’s hands, with a smaller girl bouncing behind them. "Hi, hi, hi everyone," she said, grinning brightly. "I’m Tessa, Tessa Mallory, I’m a second year—hi Meghan, hi Dennis!"
"Hi Tessa!" Dennis Creevey ran over to the girl, grinning. "You came!"
"Yeah, I did—wow, there’s a lot of people here—"
Draco and Ron exchanged a look, for once totally in agreement over something.
This will not be fun.
"That’s everyone, isn’t it?" said Neville, standing up (Meghan and Natalie immediately claimed his place). "Should we get started?"
"No, there are a few more people coming," said the redheaded Ravenclaw, Amanda, drawing all eyes to herself. "My brother—he’s only a second year, but he really wants to fight. One of his friends is missing, and he thinks it’s something to do with the war."
"And a friend of mine is coming too," Colleen added softly. "Just—please let him come and don’t shout at him?"
"Him?" said Lavender, orienting on her dormmate. "Your boyfriend?"
"What’s your brother’s friend’s name?" Meghan asked Amanda.
Before either of these questions could be answered, one more knock landed on the door.
Draco retreated back to his position by the wall. "You’re not going to believe this," he muttered. "Guess who’s here."
"Erm, Umbridge."
"Nope."
"Filch."
"Nope."
"Slytherins."
"Third time lucky."
Blaise Zabini stepped into the room, shoulders up, face set and neutral.
He expects us to tell him to go away, Draco realized. He doesn’t think we’ll let him stay. And Ron was pushing through the crowd, ready to tell him just that—
"You here for the Defense Association, Zabini?" Draco asked casually, drawing all eyes to him. Just like on stage. Get their attention, then keep it. "Bring your wand?"
Blaise nodded. "So did they," he said, moving aside to allow the people behind him entrance. A small, dark-haired boy who looked a bit like Harry was first into the room, his eyes immediately fixing on Amanda. A girl about his age followed him in, her blonde hair hanging around her face as if to veil it. Last into the room was a slim, proud-faced girl with an Asian cast to her features, though not as strongly as Su or Cho.
"Matt Smythe, Elayne Kreger, and Selena Moon," Blaise said, nodding to each of his Housemates in turn. "We’re here for the same reason as you."
"Who said you could come?" asked Fred.
"Who said they couldn’t?" countered Danielle, the tall blonde Ravenclaw. "They’ve got a right to be here."
"Any of them could be reporting to Umbridge," said George. "I might not want to stay in school that much, but I’d rather not get kicked out."
"Any of you could be reporting to Umbridge too," Amanda Smythe shot back, her hands on her brother Matt’s shoulders. "Slytherins aren’t always bad."
"Who says?" Ron demanded.
"I do!" shouted Colleen, startling everyone, not least herself. "If they can’t stay, then neither will I!"
Blaise moved quickly to her side and took her hand. "Thank you," he said quietly, then turned to face the crowd. "If you want us to leave, we will," he said. "But we want to fight."
Hermione stepped to the front of the group. "On which side?" she asked, her own voice as neutral as his.
Blaise met her eyes. "We’re with you," he said. "Against..." A long pause. "Against Voldemort."
Gasps and squeaks rippled through the room.
"’Scuse me," Harry said under his breath. "Need to come out now."
"Are you sure?"
"Trust me."
Draco bit back his automatic smart-mouth rejoinder and stepped aside.
Blaise’s eyes widened and Colleen gasped as they saw Harry apparently materialize from the wall. The other students turned and likewise gaped. Harry seemed not to notice, walking across the room as though it were empty.
And for him, it might as well be. He’s got to teach me that trick sometime. Harry seemed to be parting the crowd by sheer force of personality—though maybe it’s just ‘Oh my God he’s here’ and ‘Is he going to attack me?’
For whatever reason, a clear aisle had formed between Harry and Blaise, and Harry took full advantage, walking up to Blaise and stopping directly in front of him.
"Anyone who’s against Voldemort," Harry said clearly, disregarding the second round of gasps and shudders, "is welcome here." He held out his hand. "Glad to have you."
Blaise met the hand with his own. "Glad to be here," he said.
Harry nodded to him, then turned away. "Have a seat, everyone," he said, walking back towards Draco’s side of the room. "This may take a little while to explain."
Girls made small sounds of wonder as silk puffs materialized underneath them. Boys nodded in appreciation as chairs and beanbags appeared. "How’d you do that, Potter?" Lindsey Jordan asked.
"We’re in the Room of Requirement," Harry explained. "It provides whatever we need. A place to practice, equipment to do it with—I don’t think it will give you another wand if you forget yours, though, so don’t do that."
A slightly nervous chuckle ran around the room.
Harry sat down on the edge of a table that had appeared behind him. "Just to get a few things clear," he said conversationally, "I’m not mad, neither am I a criminal, and the worst thing I did to Professor Umbridge was tell her I wouldn’t write lines with a Contract Quill."
"A what?" said Tessa, the Hufflepuff second year, and Dennis Creevey together.
"It cuts whatever you write into your hand," Colin whispered loudly to them. "What did she want you to write, Harry? What was it?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer—
"‘I must not be pert,’" fluted Umbridge’s voice.
Laughter and surprised comments floated around the room. "How’d you do that?" called Maya Pritchard. "You sounded just like her!"
"I didn’t," Harry said. "Ginny Weasley, everyone."
Ginny inclined her head to the polite applause from where she was sitting to the side with the rest of the Pride.
"That was you yesterday morning, wasn’t it?" said Matt Smythe. "How’d you get away with it?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Ginny said in Umbridge’s voice, causing more laughter. "Let’s all listen to Mr. Potter, now, he has important things to tell us."
"Thanks a lot," Harry said, laughing himself. "But yes, I do." The laughter died out of his face, and it took on a tightness Draco recognized. "Why are you all here? Tell me that. Boot." He pointed at Terry. "Why are you here?"
"I was curious," Terry said. "There’s a lot going on I don’t understand. Besides, I don’t want to spend an entire year not learning any practical Defense. We have O.W.L.s to take."
"I agree," Ernie Macmillan cut in. "Professor Longbottom’s quite good, but I can’t learn everything just from listening. I need to be able to practice. Why we’re suddenly not allowed to try the spells in class—"
"The Ministry’s trying to handicap us!" shouted Luna, making Draco wince. I knew I should be over there with her, this isn’t going to help us. "They don’t want us to be able to fight!"
"Fight?" Michael Corner yelled back. "Fight who? A figment of his imagination?" He pointed at Harry. "You-Know-Who’s dead, has been for years—"
"That’s just what you think because you don’t know any better!" bellowed George, starting to his feet.
A free-for-all yelling match erupted. Draco glanced at Harry and was surprised to see his brother sitting quietly in his place, waiting. What’re you doing? he signed. Shouldn’t you try to get them to quiet down?
Harry shook his head. I’m giving them enough rope, he signed back. Just watch.
All right, Draco signed doubtfully.
As though he’d heard some secret signal, Harry put two fingers in his mouth and blew. The shrill whistle cut through the yelling like an Unforgiveable through a shield.
"Who was that you just mentioned?" Harry said, pointing at Zacharias Smith. "You said a name. Whose was it?"
"Cedric Diggory," Smith said, glaring at Harry. "I think it’s a little fishy that you turned up at the end of the Triwizard Tournament with his dead body and some crazy story about You-Know-Who coming back—"
"You and a lot of other people," Harry said, nodding matter-of-factly. Draco would have been surprised by Harry’s polite tone, but he was close enough to see the white knuckles where Harry was holding onto the table and smell the anger Harry was holding in check. "Is that why you’re here? To hear the truth about that?"
"I think we deserve that much. Don’t you think so?" Smith appealed to the rest of the room. A subdued murmur answered him, some agreement, some unsure.
"Why would he lie?" Ginny asked angrily, standing up. "What’s in it for him?"
"Winning the Tournament—getting off on murder charges—"
"Quiet," Harry said harshly, stilling the angry shouts from several corners of the room. Sliding off the table, he faced Smith directly. "Do you think I killed Cedric Diggory?" he asked, looking the other boy straight in the eye.
"Well, I..." Smith fidgeted. "I can’t..."
Harry’s gaze didn’t waver. "Do you think I killed Cedric Diggory?"
"I’m just saying it looks damned strange, all right?" Smith exploded. "How the hell should I know if you killed him or not?"
"You don’t know. But I want to know what you think." The room was absolutely silent except for Harry’s voice. "Do you think I killed him?"
Smith slumped, looking away. "I don’t know what to think," he said, staring at the floor. "Dad’s always putting things in the newspaper—never anything big, just little bits here and there—about how you’re crazy, you make up stories to make yourself look good, you’re dangerous and you shouldn’t be in school..."
"Why?" Harry asked quietly, the anger smell off him increasing. "Why does he do that?"
"How should I know? He doesn’t talk about work to me."
"I don’t think I’ve ever met your dad," said Harry, sitting back down on the table. "So it’s odd how he knows so much about me."
"Well, what else are we supposed to think?" Smith demanded, looking back up. "That You-Know-Who popped out of a cauldron and killed Diggory for no reason?"
Harry shook his head. "Voldemort killed Cedric for a perfectly good reason," he said, challenging the room with the name. "Good to him, at least. He likes killing. And he likes playing with people." His voice was starting to shake. "He played with Cedric. He told Cedric to run. Cedric could have got away clean. He could have lived. But he stayed behind to help me. That’s why he died. Because he was a good person."
Several girls had started to cry, Cho Chang and Meghan among them.
Harry stared into the distance, above everyone’s heads. "I can’t prove this," he said. "I can’t prove any of it. And I wish I didn’t have to." He looked down at the group. "I wish I could just make him go away by saying he wasn’t back. But he is."
Blaise got to his feet. "My family was approached," he said. "By someone who claimed to be from the Dark Lord." The words dripped contempt. "No matter my parents’ politics, I want nothing to do with a murderer."
"My cousin is missing," said Maya, standing up. "And I was told not to ask where he’d gone, or why."
"Dumbledore believes you, Harry," Ernie said, squaring his shoulders and rising. "That’s enough for me. It’s ridiculous, us being handicapped this way, and I won’t stand for it."
"My brother believes in this," said Su, on her feet. "He’s fighting. So will I."
"Will you sign to that?" Hermione asked, drawing all eyes to her. She was standing by the wall, a long scroll in one hand, a loaded quill in the other. "Will you sign to say you’re with us?"
"Gladly." "Of course." "In a second." Blaise, Maya, and Su’s answers overlapped.
"Well..." Ernie fidgeted slightly. "You’ll be careful with that list, won’t you, Hermione?" he said. "I mean, if Umbridge should get a look at it..."
Hermione crossed to Harry’s side. He took the quill and signed his own name first on the list, then gave it to her to sign under his. "Does that answer your question?" he said, looking up. "It’s our necks on the line first."
"Yes, but you can’t get expelled again..."
Draco took the quill from Hermione and added his name. Meghan hurried up to take the quill next, with Neville and Ron behind her, and Luna and Ginny behind them, and the twins and Lee and Lindz behind them, forming a queue along one side of the room.
"But they can," Harry said, waving at the long line of people. "And I won’t let them."
"Well... all right. If you’ll promise to be careful," Ernie said to Hermione over everyone’s heads.
"I promise," Hermione said, raising her right hand. "Harry, will you keep it for me?"
"Of course." Harry grinned. "No one’s found me, no one will find it."
A few people laughed.
"So what are we actually going to do?" Tessa Mallory asked, bouncing on her toes after she’d signed her name. "Are we going to learn spells, or shields, or potions? What are we going to do?"
"Good question," Draco muttered. "What are we going to do?"
"We’ll start with spells," Harry said aloud as Hermione rolled up the parchment and gave it to him. "Since that’s what we can’t get in class. Everyone here should be able to do the first one; I learned it in second year myself. It’s the Disarming Charm, Expelliarmus."
"Will that really help us?" asked the second year Slytherin girl, Elayne, uncertainly. "I mean, against You-Know-Who?"
"Maybe not against him," Harry admitted, "but you probably won’t be fighting him." His fingers twitched in Draco’s direction. Get your wand out. "You’ll be fighting with his followers, Death Eaters."
Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and started rubbing his fingers idly up and down its length.
"Death Eaters are people," Harry told Elayne, "witches and wizards just like us. They’ll probably think we’re not dangerous because we’re young. And you can get anyone with a Disarmer if he’s not paying attention—" His wand was in his hand in an instant, pointed at Draco. "Expelliarmus!"
The spell knocked Draco to the floor, and his wand soared out of his hand.
"You have to surprise them, though," Harry said, catching Draco’s wand as the group laughed. "So some of what we’ll be practicing, along with spells, is hiding and sneaking. Thanks, Draco."
"Anytime," Draco said, sitting up and rubbing his shoulder. "I just love getting knocked down."
Luna giggled from the other side of the room. I know you do, she signed to him.
"So welcome, everyone," Harry said, his voice as sure and strong as Moony’s or Dumbledore’s. "Welcome to the Defense Association."
"Also known as the Ministry’s worst nightmare," Ginny added, making everyone laugh. "Dumbledore’s Army!"
"Dumbledore’s Army!" echoed the three male Weasleys in the room together.
"Dumbledore’s Army!" chorused the rest of the group, Gryffindors the loudest at first, but Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs getting louder by the moment, and even the Slytherins joining in. "Dumbledore’s Army!"
xXxXx
Outside the door, a being rubbed his hands together and began to shuffle away. "She will want to hear about this, the Mistress will," he muttered to himself. "She will like to know about this..."
xXxXx
"Harry?"
Harry turned. "Hi, Cho."
"I’ve been so worried since you disappeared," Cho said, twisting a bit of her robes between her hands. "Are you all right?"
"I’m fine. I have a safe place to stay, and I’m even keeping up with my classes. I won’t be able to play Quidditch, but at least I didn’t have to leave school."
"Where are you hiding, though? Professor Umbridge searched everywhere, she even checked inside all our dorms—" Cho looked around. "Are you living in here?"
Harry shook his head. "It’s another secret place in Hogwarts, though," he said. "I’m sure there are other ones, if we just knew where to look for them."
"Does it have to be secret from everyone?" Cho asked wistfully. "I..." She trailed off.
"Do you want to meet somewhere tomorrow night?" Harry blurted.
"Tomorrow? Oh, I can’t—I have Quidditch—but what about Wednesday?"
"Wednesday’s fine."
"Where?"
"Er, Quidditch pitch?"
"All right."
They stared at each other for a minute.
"See you there," Harry said finally.
"See you." Cho hurried out the door, her curly-haired friend Marietta casting a nervous look Harry’s way before she followed Cho out. Harry didn’t care. His chest felt lighter than air, as though he might at any moment start flying without benefit of broom.
I’m going out with Cho Chang.
He barely even noticed Michael Corner talking earnestly with Ginny off to one side.
Wednesday is going to take a very long time to come.
xXxXx
"So much to tell, so much to say, oh yes, oh yes..." The being shuffled to a stop, noticing a sudden change in the patterns of shadow in front of him. Doubtfully, he looked up.
"So much to say?" queried his Master, arms folded. "And who were you going to go talk to?"
He growled, but the compulsion of blood pulled the answer out of him. "To Professor Umbridge."
"And what were you going to tell her?"
"Was going to tell her about Harry Potter, about Harry Potter and his filthy unnatural friends and their little club and where it is..." He broke off with a squeak as his Master grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hoisted him up.
"You should be glad," his Master said, staring him straight in the eye, "that I don’t like killing things for no reason. And that I found you when I did. If you’d gone to Dolores Umbridge with this, I’d have a reason to kill you. And I’d be glad to do it."
"Be glad to have it done," Kreacher spat. "Kreacher hates Master."
"Well, Master’s not that fond of Kreacher either." Master’s wand came up until it was pointed straight at Kreacher. "Which makes this a positive pleasure. Stupefy!"
Kreacher snarled once more before he dropped into darkness.
xXxXx
"Find him?" Remus asked as Sirius stepped out of the fire, one hand in his pocket.
"Oh yes." Sirius tossed a small Muggle-style chess piece onto the kitchen table. "Here he is."
"Transfigured?" Aletha said, peering at the pawn.
"Just to get him back here easier." Sirius sat down heavily. "Honestly, I don’t know what we’re going to do with him. We can’t free him, we don’t want him around..."
"We owe Aunt Amy and Albus both some thanks," Danger put in from the stove. "If it hadn’t been for them, we probably wouldn’t ever have thought about him."
"And Dolores Umbridge would know what the cubs are up to." Remus prodded the pawn with a fingertip. "What are the cubs up to?"
"Apparently, they’ve made a club. If I were a betting man—"
"Which you are," Aletha pointed out.
Sirius ignored this with dignity. "I’d bet that it’s about Defense. They know how important that is, and they’re not getting it. We can ask Frank when we see him next."
"Or we could just ask Harry," Danger said, flicking her Zippophone open and shut. "He can tell us directly."
Sirius pouted. "Oh, have a better idea than me, why don’t you."
"Thank you, I will."
Author Notes:
Chapters are a little shorter these days than they used to be, but I hope they’ve got plenty of good stuff to make up for that. Enjoy!