Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER**:These are Ms. Rowling's toys, and I'm just playing with them. I promise I'll put them back when I'm done! I do quote her a lot, mostly in dialogue so as to retain accuracy.

"So I thank the Lord, and I thank His sword, though it be mincing up the morning, slightly bored." – Joanna Newsom

Next Hogsmeade weekend, Luna dressed warmly in jeans and an enormous woolen sweater that her father had knitted for her. She pulled on an old pair of his Wellingtons and thought she was good to go, for once checking her hair in her wardrobe mirror. Usually she didn't give time for such frivolities.

After arriving in Hogsmeade, Luna discovered that she was rather earlier than the agreed-on time, and so decided to wander the shops. She looked distractedly through bookstores and trinket shops, not liking to leave empty handed, before settling on a pretty blown-glass bottle with a contoured stopper, also blown-glass. After paying, she slipped the bottle into her pocket, pondering about what she could put in it.

After deciding that she had wasted enough time, Luna made her way down to the Hog's Head, relieved to discover that Harry, Ronald, their friend Hermione Granger, and five other Gryffindors in their year were already present. The boy she had met on the train was there, Neville, along with a tall black boy and three girls, two of them twins. Also present was a sixth-year Ravenclaw, a Chinese girl, the one Harry fancied, and a redhead who was clearly her friend.

More people began arriving soon after Luna found a seat. Two female sixth-year Gryffindors, along with two small, mousy-haired boys who were likely also in Gryffindor. Then four Hufflepuffs in their fifth year, three Ravenclaw boys (also fifth-years) whom she thought might be called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot. Then, to Luna's delight, Ginny, followed closely by a blonde boy, a Hufflepuff. Lastly, two of Ron's older brothers—twins—and a dreadlocked boy who must have been a friend of theirs, all carrying Zonko's bags. Completed, the large group contained no Slytherins.

"A couple of people?" said Harry hoarsely to one of his companions (Luna couldn't see who). "A couple of people?"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," answered Hermione happily, "Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

"Hi," said one of the Weasley twins, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, "could we have… twenty-five Butterbeers, please?"

The barman, who strongly reminded Luna of Headmaster Dumbledore, glanced at Fred before beginning to pull out dusty bottles of Butterbeer from under the bar.

"Cheers," said the Weasley boy—Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these…" Luna didn't either, but several people gave more than their share, and she accepted the bottle gratefully.

Harry and Hermione had a small whispered exchange, interrupted swiftly by Neville, the king of bad timing. "Hi, Harry," said Neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite the dark-haired boy.

Luna, for her part, determinedly stared at everyone and everything but Harry. Once the chatter had settled down, Hermione Granger got to her feet. Sensing that this speech would be long-winded, Luna removed her Wellies and set them under her chair, regretfully wishing that she had worn socks.

"Er," said Hermione, seeming a bit nervous. "Well - er - hi."

The group, which had mostly been focused on Harry, turned its collective attention to her instead.

"Well… erm… well, you know why you're here. Erm… well, Harry here had the idea - I mean" (Harry had thrown her a sharp look) "I had the idea - that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts - and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us -" (Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident). "- because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts -" ("Hear, hear," said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened) "- Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."

She paused, looked sideways at Harry, and went on, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells -"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.

"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defense because… because…" she took a great breath and finished, "because Lord Voldemort is back."

The reaction to her use of the forbidden name was instantaneous, but also, Luna thought, only to be expected. Chang's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; a Gryffindor fifth-year shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, continued to gaze at Harry.

"Well… that's the plan, anyway" said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to-"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said the blond Hufflepuff boy in a rather aggressive voice.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it -" Hermione began.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," said the blond boy, nodding at Harry.

"Who are you?" said Ronald bluntly.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about -"

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry.

Something seemed to have come to Harry: perhaps he'd been bitten by an Epiphitot—they tended to inflict sudden insight. "What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Nobody moved or spoke, until Smith, the blonde Hufflepuff, decided to continue his ignorance, saying dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know -"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry snarled. His temper seemed close to boiling point. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

Nobody moved.

"So," said Hermione, her voice returned to its earlier nervousness. "So… like I was saying… if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to -"

"Is it true," interrupted the Hufflepuff fifth-year with braided hair, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

"Yeah," said Harry slightly defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Er - you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" he asked.

The girl smiled.

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So - is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry!" said the Weasley twins' friend, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed.

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…"

"Er - yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

A fifth-year Hufflepuff boy whistled; the young Gryffindor brothers exchanged awestruck looks; and a female Gryffindor fifth-year—Lavender Brown, Luna thought—said "Wow" softly. Harry seemed to be nervous, and qas quite obviously trying not to look at the Chang girl. At this thought, Luna felt as though she'd been punched in the gut. She took to examining Neville instead, for he was speaking.

"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Philosophy Stone -"

"Philosopher's," hissed Hermione.

"Yes, that - from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.

Hannah Abbott's eyebrows crept toward her hairline in shock.

"And that's not to mention," said Chang (Luna's eyes snapped to her boots) "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year - getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantulas and things…"

"Look," he said, and everyone fell silent at once, " I… I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but… I had a lot of help with all that stuff…"

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying…"

"Yeah, well -" said Harry, seeming to want to disagree.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those Dementors this summer," said Susan Bones.

"No," said Harry, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is -"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias Smith.

"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

Zacharias flushed.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," he said.

"That's not what he said," snarled Fred.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" enquired George, pulling a long and lethal looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily, "moving on… the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There was muttered assent in the bar. Smith kept his mouth shut.

"Right," said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week -"

"Hang on," said a tall black girl, a sixth- or seventh-year Gryffindor, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Chang, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," added Zacharias Smith.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," aid Hermione, slightly impatiently, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters -"

"Well said!" barked a fifth-year Hufflepuff boy pompously. "Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up!" When nobody spoke, he went on, "I, personally am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know- Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells -"

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, "is that she's got some… some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."

Everyone looked shocked, and Luna wondered why. When Ginny looked askance at her lack of surprise, she explained, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Harry, seeming to forget their disastrous kiss those months ago. Luna's stomach seemed to be playing hopscotch.

"Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths."

"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione.

"Yes, he has," said Luna.

"What are Heliopaths?" asked Neville, looking blank.

"They're spirits of fire,"said Luna, holding her hands up like claws and widening her eyes for effect, "great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of -"

"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione tartly.

"Oh, yes, they do!" said Luna angrily.

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione.

Forgetting that Harry was even there, Luna turned furiously to the other girl. "There are plenty of eye-witness accounts. Just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you -"

Ginny cleared her through, sounding so much like Umbridge that everyone looked round, forgetting the conflict. Luna settled down into her seat, crossing her arms.

"Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defense lessons?" asked Ginny.

"Yes," said Hermione at once, "yes, we were, you're right, Ginny."

"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee Jordan.

"As long as -" began the Gryffindor girl again.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," said Hermione in a tense voice. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet…"

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

"Library?" suggested a Gryffindor girl after a few moments.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry. Luna stifled a laugh.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.

"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard." Harry seemed to doubt the plausibility of this location.

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Hermione. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting." She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something.

"I - I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think," she took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to."

One of the Weasley twins reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but even Luna, unacquainted with many of them as she was, could tell plainly that several people were less than happy to write their names down.

"Er…" said the blonde Smith quite hesitantly, pretending not to notice the sheaf of parchment, "well… I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."But his friend was looking rather hesitant about signing, too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"I - well, we are prefects," Ernie, a fifth-year Hufflepuff burst out. "And if this list was found… well, I mean to say… you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out -"

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.

"I - yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it ' s just -"

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione testily.

"No. No, of course not," said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious. "I - yes, of course I'll sign."

After everyone had signed—Luna's signature was upside down—one of the Weasley twins—Fred, she thought—spoke. "Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. "George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too. As Luna stood, she sadly noted that her father's boots had mysteriously vanished from beneath her seat. Nargles, perhaps….

Suddenly an idea skipped unbidden to the forefront of Luna's mind. After she too left the bar, but stood resolutely outside, hands folded behind her back, watching the stragglers through the grimy front window. Chang made quite a show of fastening the clasp on her bag, sneaking looks at Harry, but when her curly-haired companion stayed behind with her, the Chinese girl deemed it prudent to take her leave.

Harry, Ronald, and Hermione made their way into the twinkling sunlight, the latter two casting curious looks at Harry as he stopped before Luna. He gave them no explanation, merely shrugged, and they departed, looking curiously back at them.

Luna eyed Harry, attempting to appear serene as her heart bounded like a pursued hare. "Harry," she said quietly.

"Luna," he replied. He said my name!

"Do you need something?"

"Why are you standing outside…" he looked down. "…Barefoot? Luna, it's almost winter, where are your shoes?"

She offered him naught but a small smile, willing herself to seem confident, steadfast, anything but how she felt—which is to say, like a cold, scared little rabbit being eyed by a hungry fox. No, not a fox—some strange new animal, of unknown danger to her.

"Oh, my possessions seem to have developed the tricky habit of wandering off when I'm not looking," Luna told him, stepping delicately onto a patch of ground that looked less frosty, noting with a sickly mixture of nausea and glee that it took her closer to Harry. "I suspect Nargles are behind it."

Harry looked strangely curious. "And what are Nargles, exactly?"

"Mischievous little thieves who like to take things that seemed to be… cherished," Luna finished, feeling stupid.

"And you cherished your shoes?" Harry cocked one dark brow at her.

"Well, they were my father's, you see," she deliberated. "I cherish him, certainly."

Harry seemed to be fighting the urge to shake his head. "Luna… about that night, a couple weeks ago…"

Luna then felt the alarming sensation of her stomach seeming to vanish, and somehow, she didn't suspect Nargles this time. She quickly stepped around Harry and made for the school, noting with a curious combination of resentment, sadness, and grim satisfaction that Harry Potter did not follow.

A/N: I feel really clever for mentioning Luna's Patronus. And also slightly pretentious. If you liked it, or you hated it, or it made your toenails grow abnormally fast, write me a review!