It's night. Samuel Wright tosses and turns fitfully in the comfy room. Above him, Neville sleeps quietly, his face frowned with worry beyond his years. The howls of strange creatures do not reach this cellar, but an atmosphere of fear pervades in its stead. Samuel cannot stop thinking about his meeting with the headmaster. Even the greatest wizard of the age was helpless, though it was at least reassuring that the seemingly insane headmaster was... fully functioning? Was that the word? He could continue to ponder in silence, as the moon edged its way across the darkened sky.

The next morning, the Gryffindor table was still empty. A lone owl, clearly confused, dropped a scroll on the empty table, waited around for someone to give it a knut, then left, dejected. Sam picked it up.

THE DAILY PROPHET

Muggleborns ruled as legally distinct from Wizards - WIZENGAMOT NEWS

Why the Wizengamot ruling is the correct next step for our nation - OPINION

Call them what they are: Mudbloods - OPINION

Public opinion now in favour of separating Muggleborn and Wizarding children - PUBLIC AFFAIRS

Ministry accidentally releases pro-"Blood purity" statement - MINISTRY NEWS

And so it went on. Feeling dejected, Samuel turned to Neville, and stuffed the paper in his hands.

"What?"

"Just... look at it. In a few months, the badge may be the least of our problems."

"What can we even do?" Neville shot a look at the high table, where Umbridge, in the place of Dumbledore, was reading the same newspaper with something that seemed like a smile but lacked the requisite humanity. He hushed his voice. "She... SHE's already won. The common room is empty. I checked. Even the secret room is-"

And then it hit him.

"The war map!"

Standing up abruptly, Sam burshed aside Neville as he rushed towards the Ravenclaw table. Hermione, looking equally dejected, was picking at a pancake without much enthusiasm.

"I've got it!"

"What?"

"I know how to find the Gryffindors. But first, I need to find a way back into the war room thing in the common room. Did you memorise the timetable for all of the different entrances?"

"Well- well, yes, but.. How did you know?"

"You're Hermione. It seems like the sort of thing you'd do. We need to get back in." She blushed, but Sam was already somewhere else, even as his legs carried him out of the Great Hall.

Night

"I think it's here. It's Wednesday and the central staircase is missing the seventh step so..." Hermione, her face in shadow, pointed from the safety of a dark alcove at a seemingly blank stretch of wall. Next to her, Neville huddled in the corner, while Sam, pressed against the edge of the small alcove, peered out at the wall.

"Are you sure?"

"If the magic still works, then as long as our names are on the register, we can go in. The common room door should be for initiates only."

"Initiates?"

"New people, basically."

"Okay, I trust you. Let's go."

Surprisingly, Neville took the lead, ginerly pressing his hand against the wall. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He murmured under his breath, his skin pale in the spellbinding white light of the moon, peering through the windows, illuminating and exposing our heroes. Then the wall swung back, and the group stole into the abandoned war room.

The once bustling hall was empty, the parapets and hamocks unoccupied, the chairs scattered haphazardly. The bannisters had been torn down, the bookshelves scattered, the floor littered with scorch marks. The Gryffindors had not gone down easily.

"Someone must have tipped off Umbridge, somehow. A turncoat." Sam reasoned under his breath. But Neville was ahead of him.

"Uh oh."

"What?"

Neville was standing, next to a stricken Hermione, in front of the central table. Sam walked over. One of its corners had been cut off, and the edges were chipped and cracked from the scorch of curses and near misses. But most importantly, the map, the map which showed the locations of everyone at Hogwarts, was missing, pins scattered across the empty void in the middle of the table.

"They took it."

"Who took it?" Said a voice from behind them. Hermione gave a yelp, and Sam turned, wand ready. Next to him, he felt Neville shift as his wand came out as well.

"Show yourself! We're armed!" Sam shouted, with more confidence than he actually felt.

"Hold up, hold up! Don't fire!" From beneath one of the collapsed bookshelves, Sam saw a limping figure, robes tattered, pick himself out from a pile of books. He looked terrible- His face was streaked with grime, flaming hair made grey with dust, wand looking worse for wear- wait- red hair?

"...Ron?" Hermione was aghast.

For a long while, the stranger was silent. Then he nodded, before crumbling and collapsing onto the floor.