Chapter Nine
The Start of Something
:.:.:
The next two weeks somehow managed to be even worse than my first official week at this school. I was back to feeling like the lonely outcast, constantly haunted by thoughts of Cedric and Grandad, unable to sleep, and unable to stop crying. Thoughts and emotions were bottling up again, but I didn't want to bother Adrian with it, as I would only be repeating myself.
To top everything off, Finn and I still were not speaking. I suppose he didn't feel he was in the wrong, but I certainly didn't think I was, so neither one of us made any attempt at an apology, and seeing him around only made me more furious with him. So I kept mostly to myself and sat near Daphne and Tracey when it came time for classes, though I wasn't much company. Thankfully, they didn't seem to mind.
Not to mention, my powers began acting up once again. It wasn't just anger which sparked them (no pun intended), but an extreme emotion of any kind. One particular afternoon, I was beginning to feel like I was drowning in my sadness, and that was when the voices came back. Everyone's thoughts began flooding into my mind, my nose started bleeding, and I could feel my Light like electricity at my fingertips — all in the middle of Transfiguration. Something similar or some sort of combination started occuring at some point nearly every day, but I assumed Dumbledore had explained my situation to the professors, because they were very understanding and always excused me to the hospital wing. I knew it would only spark (again, no pun intended) confirmation on the rumors that I was losing it, but there wasn't much I could do. I was starting to believe those rumors anyway.
Remus had written back to me with some very kind and encouraging words. He also voiced his appreciation for me, and it made me so happy and sentimental that I nearly sent a bolt of Light straight for Ares when he delivered the letter.
"Sorry, Ares," I said, tilting my head up to stop any tears from falling. "It's been a rough couple of weeks."
Ares had hopped up onto my shoulder and I began softly petting him before an idea dawned on me. I decided to write to Viktor — I poured out all of my thoughts on the pieces of parchment, and when I was finished, I did the same thing in a letter to Grigor. It helped a little bit, but I hoped it would make me feel better when I actually could read their responses. I wished my brothers were closer and I didn't have to wait to hear from them.
"Sorry again, but it looks as though you've got your work cut out for you," I said to Ares as I attached both letters to him. "You'll have a well-deserved break after this, I'll even tell Fred and George to put business on hold."
Just as Ares had taken flight, I noticed someone making their way toward me as I laid in my bed in the hospital wing.
"Hello, 'Moine," I said quietly as the bushy-haired brunette approaching my bed.
"I hope you're feeling all right," she told me sincerely.
I shrugged. "I've been better."
"I'm sorry," she said before lowering her voice. "I just wanted to stop by and let you know — if you're up to it, of course — Harry's agreed to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts since Umbridge refuses to. Anyone interested is meeting during the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow. Feel free to mention it to Finn —"
"Finn and I aren't exactly on the best of terms right now," I said listlessly, my eyes closed as I tried to calm myself at the mention of his name.
"Oh, er, well if there's anyone else . . ." Hermione began sheepishly.
"I'll pass the message along," I assured her.
"Great," she said fervently. "We're meeting at the Hog's Head. I'll see you tomorrow, Demetria."
I hadn't realized until I'd actually arrived in Hogsmeade that the Hog's Head was a rather terrible spot to be meeting. I s'pose it could've been considered more private in a way, but when I had urgent matters to discuss with Grandad, we met at the Three Broomsticks — it was much more crowded and easier not to draw attention. Regardless, I walked with the small group I'd gathered — Daphne, Tracey, and Adrian — into the Hog's Head.
This was a pub I'd never stepped foot in; I couldn't even imagine any reason I would've. It comprised one small, dingy, and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be earthy, though as I stepped on it, I realized there was some stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries. All in all, a truly delightful establishment . . .
I quickly spotted the Golden Trio surrounded by the following people: Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil, Cho Chang and a rather giggly girlfriend of hers, that Katie bird from the Gryffindor Quidditch team, Angelina Johnson, and two other birds I didn't recognize. Many more people entered after my group and I did — some people I recognized, others I didn't — but none were Slytherins, and we received some rather curious looks from people being that we were the only snakes . . . or at least we were until two more blokes came in — a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin: Callum and Finn. I'd nearly forgotten about Callum, but I certainly didn't forget his older brother, who shot me another glare before sitting as far from me as he possibly could.
Speaking of glares, I expected one from Cho Chang when I accidentally locked eyes with her, but she actually gave me a small smile . . . a sad, understanding sort of smile. What kind of world was I living in where Cho Chang smiled at me and Finn Archer absolutely hated my guts, I wondered.
"Er," said Hermione when the chatter among the group died out. Her voice was slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well — er — hi. Well . . . erm . . . well, you know why you're here. Erm . . . Well, Harry here had the idea — I mean 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 suddenly became much stronger and more confident — "because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts" — "Hear, hear," said a bloke, 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 theory but the real spells —"
"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too though, I bet?" said another bloke.
"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because . . . because . . ." She took a great breath and finished, "Because Lord Voldemort's back."
The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped butterbeer down herself, a bloke gave a kind of involuntary twitch, Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville Longbottom gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. I was only surprised that Hermione had actually — and finally — said Voldemort's name.
"Well . . . that's the plan anyway," she continued. "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 a blond boy in a rather aggressive voice.
I rolled my eyes, unsure of how many more ignorant people I could handle.
"Well, Dumbledore believes it —" Hermione began.
"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," said the boy, nodding to Harry, "and . . . her." He spotted me in the crowd and pointed to me as well.
"Who are you?" said Ron rather rudely, although I couldn't say I blamed him.
"Zacharias Smith," said the bloke, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes them 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 before looking to me; I nodded and Harry turned back to look Zacharias straight in the face. "What makes us say You-Know-Who's back? We saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe us, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."
Zacharias said 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 —"
"You'd all like to know, eh?" I said loudly, though my voice was void of emotion. I really hadn't planned on saying anything, I didn't want to get involved, but this bloke was already working my last nerve. "Everyone's just dying to hear the details? If you want to hear exactly what happened to Cedric, you're sick, and not only that, but I'm afraid you're out of luck, because that's not something Harry and I like to discuss."
"And if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out," Harry added angrily.
No one left their seats, not even Zacharias.
"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "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 a girl with a long plait down her back, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"
There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.
"Yeah," said Harry slightly defensively.
"A corporeal Patronus?"
I looked to George who winked at me. I knew George could produce one as well.
"Er — you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" Harry asked the girl who 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 Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"
"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. I took it George hadn't told his twin that he could do the same. "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 another bloke. "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.
Everyone gave different reactions to display how impressed they were. I was rather impressed as well. Granted, I'd known Harry was a talented wizard, but I never heard about any of the great tasks he'd accomplished at Hogwarts.
"And in our first year," said Neville to the group, "he saved that Sorcerous Stone —"
"Sorcerer's," hissed Hermione.
"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.
"And that's not to mention," said Cho, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year — getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things . . ."
"Demetria did all of that too," Harry modestly reminded.
"Yeah, and I died," I said in jest; people laughed.
"That's right, she came back from the dead!" said a younger-looking bloke, eyes round as Galleons.
"Demetria, have you ever fought You-Know-Who?" asked Susan Bones.
"No —"
"You were the top student at Durmstrang, right?" inquired another boy.
"One of them, yeah, but this isn't about me," I insisted, looking to Hermione in hopes that she would get everyone back on track.
"Yes, well," she said hastily, understanding my nonverbal request, "moving on . . . the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"
"Why not Harry and Demetria?" Neville suggested.
There was a murmur of general agreement.
"What? No, I'm here to learn from Harry," I said quickly.
"Well if there's ever anything you'd like to add . . ." Hermione began hopefully, she and everyone else staring at me as though I possessed some sort of secret, Norwegian weapon to defeat Voldemort that hadn't been brought to the UK yet.
"Right, sure," I said airily.
"Well, then, the next question is how often we do it," Hermione continued. "I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week —"
"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."
"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."
"Nor ours," added Zacharias.
"Nor ours," I said.
"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," said 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 Ernie Macmillan. "Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up! I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon 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."
Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except a blonde, dreamy-eyed girl, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."
"What?" said Harry at once.
"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths," said the girl solemnly.
"Luna Lovegood," Daphne whispered to me. "Known by many as Loony Lovegood."
"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, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of —"
"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione tartly.
Luna's nickname seemed rightly chosen.
"Oh yes they do!" she said angrily.
"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione.
"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you —"
"Hem, hem," said Ginny in such a good imitation of Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?"
"Yes," said Hermione at once, "yes, we were, you're right . . ."
"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee.
"As long as —" began Angelina.
"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 more difficult; the whole group fell silent.
"Library?" suggested Katie after a few moments.
"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.
I remembered that strict, old woman when my brothers and I had caused a bit of a disturbance in the library. No, that certainly wouldn't do.
"Maybe an unused classroom?" suggested Dean Thomas.
"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard . . ."
"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 names 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."
"Are you sure we can trust them, then?" said Zacharias, nodding to myself and my three Slytherin mates.
"Can we trust you?" I challenged.
Suddenly, Zacharias seemed rather hesitant. "Er . . ." he said slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass him. "Well . . . I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."
But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing too.
"I — well, we are prefects," Ernie 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'll 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," Ernie insisted, looking slightly less anxious. "I — yes, of course I'll sign."
Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though I noticed Cho's friend give her a rather reproachful look before adding her name. I signed my name after Zacharias, and as I was the last one to do so, Hermione took the parchment back afterwards and slipped it carefully into her bag.
"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."
"That time of the month, Fred?" I couldn't help but call out to him; some people chuckled.
But surprisingly, Fred didn't have a witty comeback to toss back at me. He, George, and Lee simply smirked and scurried out of the pub. Everyone else began taking their leave then as well, me and my Slytherin trio joining them, but we found someone waiting outside the Hog's Head for me.
"Demetria?"
It was Cho Chang.
"Er, yeah?" I said uneasily.
"I just wanted to make sure you didn't think I was . . . I dunno — What I said back there about Harry doing all those things in the Triwizard Tournament —"
"Oh, no, I wasn't insulted or anything," I assured her. "Everyone was discussing what Harry's done, not me."
"Okay yeah, 'cause I didn't mean anything by not mentioning you," Cho told me sheepishly.
"I didn't think you did," I said. "I mean, I know I haven't exactly been your favorite person —"
"Right, that . . ." she said, sounding even more embarrassed. "I also wanted to apologize for that. I was jealous of you and . . . C-Cedric, but I shouldn't have acted the way I did toward you. You didn't do anything wrong."
Cho really hadn't done much to me except send a few glares my way on occasion, but perhaps she'd done her fair share of talking badly about me behind my back . . . Either way, I was prepared to forgive her no matter what the reason.
"It's really all right," I said sincerely. "It's all in the past."
Cho relaxed upon hearing that.
"I'm glad," she said brightly. "And if you ever need someone to talk to . . . about anything, you can always come to me."
I knew she probably just wanted to hear about Cedric, but there was no one better to talk to about him than his not-so-secret admirer. I probably could've told Cho my reoccuring thoughts on Cedric about a thousand times and she would've never gotten tired of hearing it.
"I really appreciate that, Cho, thank you," I told her whole-heartedly. "I reckon I'll take you up on that offer sometime."
She gave me another smile and said, "Anytime, Demetria, I'll see you around," before walking off with her friend.
I returned to my own group of friends.
"What was that about?" Daphne asked.
"Probably Cedric, am I right?" said Tracey.
I nodded, and wondered if I'd ever be able to hear his name without my heart sinking in my chest.