Clouds were gathering over Hogwarts. Quite literally: they were encroaching on the school from all sides, darkening the approaches to the Astronomy Tower, over which they were twisting into one dense tangle, forming a viciously grinning giant skull.
"Fugly piece of crap!" Ron said angrily as the trio ran across the deserted yard, rushing to their first lesson.
They hurried rather out of habit: none of them relished Muggle Studies, now considered a compulsory subject. Besides, the Dark Mark was irrigating the surrounding territory of the castle with a black icy rain, one glance of which made the desire to get out of bed completely disappear. At first Ron had feared that the rain was also some sort of curse placed on Hogwarts, but sensible Hermione had convinced him that the black rain was pouring all day and all night long solely for increased deterrence: 'If the enemy wished to cast a jinx on you, Ronald, he would find a less labour-intensive method.' Nevertheless, because of the rain, or for other reasons, Ron was in a pretty rotten mood. In the old days he wouldn't've hesitated to complain about it to his friends, but now he was too embarrassed – after all, for them it was even worse.
Walking to Ron's right, Hermione nodded absent-mindedly in response to his fair comment about the artistic taste of the Dark Lord, but didn't even lift her head up to the sky. By all appearances, her thoughts were completely focused on Muggle Studies, the classes of which were only slightly less hideous than Defence Against the Dark Arts (the first two words could be easily crossed out from the title of the book). In the previous lesson Professor Alecto Carrow had utterly tortured Hermione with questions about the deprived-of-the-magical-power freaks. Needless to say, a Mudblood had to know about them more than a true wizard should. In the process the entire class had been reminded, of course, of who the Mudbloods were and why they were worse than Squibs.
The concept of impure blood was being heavily enforced – not yet in the form of a law, but already at the level of a school code. On the first day of classes, Filch, bursting with joy, had hung at every corner of the castle the new set of regulations, which he didn't forget to update on a daily basis, despite the fact that the sheets of parchment, until they'd been enchanted, were regularly burned and torn to shreds. Be that as it may, Hermione, from now on, sat alone at the back of the classes, having no right to start a conversation with pure-blood wizards (in any case, it would be a bad idea concerning the Slytherins), and she even had to sleep apart from the others.
With her characteristic reasonableness, Hermione had claimed that it wasn't a big deal, the fact that her friends were still with her was more than enough. Besides, sitting in the farthest corners of the classrooms, she didn't attract unnecessary attention, and half of the bedrooms in Gryffindor Tower were empty anyway, so her forced reclusion wasn't at all conspicuous. But who would believe in such statements from the former prefect? Especially since somewhere around the day after tomorrow the first lesson of the Dark Arts loomed. Junior years, who had already survived this nightmare, were talking about it with a shudder. They said that Amycus Carrow, in his classes, came close to committing torture, which primarily concerned the Gryffindors and especially the Mudbloods, who, according to him, were kept at school only for one reason – for others to practice on. What in this case could happen to a friend of escapee Harry Potter was not difficult, or rather pretty difficult to imagine. However, as Hermione herself had rightly pointed out, the business that awaited them at Hogwarts was far more important than her own comfort.
Ron personally thought the question was moot. Although the number of the students that would have normally returned to school was reduced by half, many of them continued to attend classes without the justification of helping Harry Potter seek the Horcruxes. And that, in Ron's opinion, was quite a feat. To be honest, he didn't understand why they did this, and he wasn't sure that, if he had a choice, he could persuade his feet to drag him into these sad walls to spend every day in front of Snape and his henchmen. This could please only those freaks who dreamt of joining the Death Eaters' ranks. Ron shivered with disgust.
Of course, many returned to school by pure inertia – no war was officially declared, and Hogwarts wasn't closed. In addition, the message to the wizarding community was crystal clear: the Ministry (and therefore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) was not interested in closing the school. Not everyone was ready to go against this unspoken directive. It was understandable that keeping children in one place was much more convenient in terms of monitoring the children themselves, and as a means of influencing their parents. If not every day, then every other day, reports of the disappearance of this or that wizard, and even a whole family, not to mention the regular loss of Muggles, appeared. However, a formal declaration of war hadn't been made.
Come to think of it, come to really think of it, there were still some positive moments in Hogwarts. For the time being, only half of the teachers were Death Eaters, or dreamt of becoming such. For the time being, with the help of Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Slughorn, there was still a chance to learn something useful for protection. For the time being, it was less scary being together then apart, sitting in the parents' homes, waiting every minute for an attack. For the time being, there was still a hope of coming up with something – to assemble the resistance, to kick the Death Eaters out of Hogwarts… They might have lost Dumbledore, but they were still together. If they separated, if the school closed, it would be even harder to get together again. Only this thought lightened Ron's heart and gave at least some sense to the absurd preparations for their NEWTs. Tonight, when all detentions have been accomplished, Dumbledore's Army was to be gathered in the Room of Requirement – for the first time after the death of the man in whose honour they were named. Perhaps after this meeting the future would not look so gloomy… Then again – the Horcruxes… Although the Horcruxes were rather bumming Ronald out: he had absolutely no idea how, and by what principle, they were supposed to find them, but hoped that Harry knew better where to start.
Harry, striding on Ron's left in a very non-Neville manner, wasn't actually sure he could find even one of Voldemort's Horcrux on his own. However, he would never admit it to his friends. Why then did they risk everything and return to Hogwarts, enduring the Death Eater's mistreatment and endangering Hermione? Harry was especially ashamed of himself because of Hermione. Of course, she hadn't had to be implored, and came to school voluntarily, though not because of her constant desire for knowledge. Yet, right in front of her, Ron and he had been vehemently discouraging Ginny from going to Hogwarts, and had managed to do exactly that. Ginny had yelled at Ron, stopped talking to Harry, but agreed to stay as a messenger between Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix. And Hermione went to school. And everyone knew why. Because without her intelligence it was pointless to try to solve the riddles of the Dark Lord. Because she was a powerful witch. Because... well, because she was always with them, and their trio always did everything better together. Because she was their Hermione.
After thinking about his friends, Harry smiled, but the smile immediately vanished from his face as they entered the arches of Hogwarts. Everything that was happening at school caused Harry a feeling that could easily fit into Ron's emotionally deep comment of the Dark Mark. While in the castle, Harry began to loathe the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters even more intensely than ever for forcing him to think so badly of Hogwarts. To hate Hogwarts was almost as unimaginable as hating Professor Dumbledore, but of the old school and its former headmaster there was practically nothing left. It was always almost empty in the corridors, and always very quiet. Even all the ghosts had hidden themselves away somewhere. There was no Quidditch, no weekend trips to Hogsmeade, and not even the Start-of-Term Feast to greet the first years. Senior years, on their own initiative, had had to welcome the nine new scared-to-death students in the common rooms and hand them gifts (remembralls and bags of sweets) from their own stockpiles. Stocks, by the way, were coming to an end – funny knick-knacks became impossible to get. The last outpost – the Weasley brothers' shop – had been burned down a month ago. But more importantly, there had not been the Sorting ceremony as such – the new headmaster had been absent ("No doubt made a side trip to Voldemort's heinous Sabbat," thought Harry gloomily), and both Carrows had resolved to enrol all newcomers in Slytherin. It had been later, in the dead of night, that Professor McGonagall had tracked down the confused kids and, with the help of the Sorting Hat, had brought them to their correct Houses. Fortunately, the Hat's decision was irreversible, so even the returned Snape couldn't've eliminated it. What dark, despondent days… Where are you, Professor Dumbledore?
Continuing to recall all the misadventures of the first week at school, 'Neville' walked into the classroom, followed by his friends. A dim, bleak room (hardly surprising, considering the eternal twilight outside) with half of the desks standing unoccupied. In the corner near the blackboard, towered a cabinet or a huge box, covered with a black cloth. Nothing else was waiting for them there. The last year of Hogwarts comprised only twenty-five people. Most of them were, of course, Slytherins, including gorilla-esque Crabbe and Goyle who served as henchmen to Draco Malfoy. Draco himself was listed in Hogwarts purely nominally as he was busy with the orders of the Dark Lord, although this didn't stop him from being titled as the school's Head Boy. From Gryffindor there were eight students, including the inseparable trio, Dean Thomas, who, being a Muggle-born, was also resettled in a separate bedroom, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. From Hufflepuff only Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley risked finishing their magical education, and from Ravenclaw — Terry Boot and Parvati's twin, Padma… Well, with so many people, they'd certainly kick Voldemort's butt, without a doubt!
"Hurry up, Mr Longbottom!" an irascible Alecto Carrow urged. "With you being so slow, we won't have time to study anything."
Total madness! Most recently, she had fought them on the stairs of the infamous Astronomy Tower, striving to kill as many students as she could, and now, as if none of that had ever happened, she was strolling around the class as a teacher… except she looked more like a gargoyle.
"As though there is something valuable to study," hissed Harry, plunking himself down on a bench next to Ron and not even bothering to take out any parchment to write on. Harry was also in a spectacularly foul mood – he was tormented by the senselessness of what was going on, had a crippling headache and his invisible scar was bursting with pain.
"Did you say something, Mr Longbottom?" Professor Carrow demanded eagerly. Harry shook his head in silence. And why did she choose to pick on him today? Though, better him, than Hermione…
"If you, Mr Longbottom, are no longer interested in the lesson, get up from your desk," the gargoyle continued insidiously.
Harry exchanged glances with Ron, but obediently rose to his feet.
"Now, with the help of Mr Longbottom, we'll try to understand the difference between how a simple spell affects a wizard and a Muggle," Alecto said. "We all know that Muggles are inherently weak and flawed creatures, unable to resist the simplest magical effect. We have already said that this is one of the reasons why they are doomed to extinction in this world. I can see that for you, Mr Longbottom, this simple concept is not yet sufficiently understood. This is hardly surprising – I noticed that you never write anything in my classes. I'm even starting to wonder if you actually know how to write –"
"I think Snape personally trained his minions how to teach," whispered Ron to an utterly bored Harry. Harry couldn't help but grin – after all the abominations that he had heard about himself over six years from Snape, there wasn't much that could shock him. However, his grin influenced Alecto in the most negative way: she stopped short her theoretical opening, which was carefully outlined by the flank of Slytherins, and changed her tone abruptly:
"Mr Longbottom, since you are not listening anyway, I suggest you walk to the front of the class right now."
Intrigued, Harry shrugged and got out from behind his desk. Was it a new type of punishment? Anyone who didn't want to study would have to stand in front of class for the whole lesson? Pure idiocy. Besides, Harry still didn't understand what he had done that made Professor Carrow set her sights on him at the first place. It turned out there was no punishment; the lesson simply went on its way.
"Now you, Hermione," the wicked teacher snapped. This was a current vogue too. Muggle-borns were now called simply by their first name. Luckily, Dean Thomas was also present in the class, because if Miss Granger were the only leper in the room, a simple 'Mudblood' would suffice.
Hermione was a little surprised as she was rarely asked these days even if she raised her hand, which she would never do in Muggle Studies anyway. The Slytherins typically brightened in anticipation for a new spectacle and as Gryffindor's Know-It-All passed them, walking from her back seat in the half-empty classroom, they complimented her with a few unflattering comments.
"Now we have a wizard who will cast the spell, and a witch who will try her best to protect herself," Alecto said. "All we need next is to find a Muggle for comparison. And here he is."
Professor Carrow waved her wand, removing the black cloth from the box, which turned out to be a cage in which sat a 12-year-old boy. His eyes were round with fear, but he sat very, very quietly. He must have been under the paralysing spell.
A deathly silence fell over the class. Harry was struck dumb with horror. Many evil species had been showed to them in this way, but a living human being? Hermione turned pale as chalk and clenched her fists so hard that her nails stuck into her palms.
"And now," continued Alecto, giving a glance around the enfolded-in-silence class, "Mr Longbottom will show us –"
"What happened to him, why is he in the cage?" squeaked Hermione.
But the witch didn't even turn to her.
"– show us a difference –"
"Why is he in the cage?" Hermione shrieked.
Harry quickly grabbed his friend by her shoulders, feeling that she was about to attack the Death Eater with her bare hands. Fortunately, this time Professor Carrow vouchsafed her an answer.
"You dare to speak first?" she said coldly. "Minus fifty points from Gryffindor and a nightly laundry especially for you. You are, I heard, a lover of the house-elves? So help them out."
What the hell did she mean 'fifty points from Gryffindor'? Was there anyone who still cared about these stupid points? The madness grew rapidly. Ron returned to the situation in hand.
"Even if it's two hundred and fifty points from Gryffindor, or all points at once, I also want to know why he's in the cage?!" he bellowed, jumping to his feet.
What happened next was like an avalanche. Everyone leapt from their seats, vociferating loudly.
The Gryffindors bawled at Professor Carrow, and the Slytherins at the Gryffindors. Only the Muggle boy remained quite calm, sitting in his cage, which Alecto precautiously isolated from the agitated students with a magical field. Dean Thomas was the first who tried to leave the outrageous lesson, but, with a flick of her wand, Alecto slammed the door shut right in front of his nose. It certainly made an impression – everyone clammed up at once.
"We can attack her all together and take her wand away…" muttered Ron, who already was standing next to his friends. Unfortunately, this act would serve them no good.
Some separate remarks still flew around the class.
"If only my mum knew…"
"We have to report it to the headmaster…"
"Oh, yeah, to Snape?"
"Better go straight to the Ministry…"
"Yeah, sure, to the Ministry…"
"Do you think he's alive?"
"What else can he be?"
That was from one side. And from the other – from the side of Slytherin – was only a frightening silence.
"The Muggle is sitting in the cage because he's an experimental sample," Alecto gladly explained, as soon as she had managed to regain everyone's attention. "As I have already said, you need to understand the differences of the effect of magic on wizards and non-wizards. We've wasted a lot of time on this simple question. Let's revert to you, Mr Longbottom. Show us how the 'Incendio' spell works – first on the Mudblood example, and then on the Muggle – and we'll finish with a practical demonstration for today," with a quick motion of her wand, the witch removed the barrier from the cage.
Harry put his hands in his pockets and carefully squeezed his wand in one of them. Perhaps he would love to practice the Fire-Making charm during the DA training, but he didn't want to set the cage, or Hermione, on fire.
"But this spell shouldn't be used against humans," he said, not taking his eyes off the Death Eater. "In this case it's considered to be an offensive magic for duelling, and using duelling spells is strictly forbidden in the school grounds."
"It was forbidden, Mr Longbottom," Alecto corrected him, "until recently. Who wants to replace the indecisive Mr Longbottom?"
"Me!" Goyle quickly thrust his hand into the air and almost at the same time (as if he was afraid of being outraced) added: "Incendio!"
"Expelliarmus!" screeched Hermione.
"Depulso!" Harry supported her, snatching his wand out of his pocket.
Goyle's wand sprang out of his hand, and he himself was thrown across the class to Hermione's desk. His spell swept past the cage and hit the door, which immediately flared like a torch.
"Stop it!" Alecto angrily waved her wand at the cage, making it disappear with a slight pop. With a furiously distorted face, the witch turned to the unruly last years, holding her wand raised. However, the students never found out what kind of spell she was going to use against them as Professor Carrow suddenly yelped, spinning on the spot while shaking her left arm in the air, and disapparated.
The Gryffindors exchanged flabbergasted looks with the Slytherins.
The door was burning merrily, filling the classroom with a thick, acrid black smoke that had already caused everyone to start coughing. An injured Goyle slowly got up from the floor on which the black cloth, that had once covered the cage, remained lying, reminding them that they had not imagined this most enlightening lesson.
"А-guamenti," Ron mumbled automatically, directing a cascade of water onto the fire.
The flames hissed and began to diminish.
Slowly coming to their senses, the students began packing their bags. It looked like Professor Carrow wasn't going to return to give them their homework.
"I'll get you later," Goyle promised gloomily, pushing Hermione with his shoulder, and went to pick up his wand.
"Still here? Go on, run to Draco and don't forget to complain," Harry yelled at him.
"Neville –" Hermione sat down on the edge of the nearest desk. She was still shaking with adrenalin, but sanity rarely left Miss Granger.
"Hermione, he was going to burn you!" Harry said indignantly.
"Neville!" his friend persisted, holding an expressive pause. "I don't think you'll manage it if they call Malfoy."
"Draco? Come on, I –"
"And I think you can't do it, Neville!"
"Oh! You're right, perhaps," Harry finally realised what she was trying to say. Fortunately Goyle hadn't stopped to listen to their conversation, and the other classmates had already departed too. All that was now left from the lesson were flakes of ash floating in the ankle-high water. Ron seemed to have overdone it with his fire-fighting skills.
"A couple more classes like this and even You-Know-Who won't be scary to me," grumbled Weasley, settling himself on the nearest chair and starting to pour water out of his sneakers. "And that was just our first lesson today! She disapparated right from Hogwarts, did you see? It means they've already removed some of the castle's protective charms. Phew, it's a good thing that Snape doesn't teach us anymore. I bet the kid was real, not… experimental."
"Of course he was real!" Hermione responded sharply. "And that cow wanted us to burn him alive! Just imagine what they do to people who have fallen into their hands. Harry, can you imagine?"
"Neville…" Harry corrected her automatically. "Hermione, I don't have words to describe how terrible it all is, but we already knew that the Dark Lord is not the one to be trifled with. That's exactly why we should –"
"– find the Horcruxes, I know! But we've been here a week, and still haven't found anything. Life is too short to search the whole of Hogwarts! In the meantime, the Death Eaters will intimidate and torture anyone they catch… We must come up with something else, find out somehow where he could have hidden them."
Harry reflexively smoothed his hair, forgetting that Neville never needed to do it.
"Hermione, I can't penetrate Voldemort's thoughts so deeply," he said very quietly, "and I don't think there is another way to clarify the location of the Horcruxes. It's highly unlikely that he shared such an important secret with someone."
"Maybe if we get him drunk, he'll tell us?"
"Not funny, Ron," Hermione snapped. She was still taken aback by the Muggle Studies lesson. "Although, if you manage to get close enough to You-Know-Who, you may have a chance. The last one in your life."
"No, we can never hope to get that close to Voldemort," Harry said thoughtfully. "But you're right, Hermione, if only we could find out something else about him… I don't know, sort of where he's been, who he knew –"
"– what his hobbies were," Ron joined in sarcastically. "Maybe he did scuba diving, and one of his Horcruxes is not at Hogwarts but at the bottom of the ocean floor. Or he played Quidditch, and his Horcrux is sealed in his first-ever-caught Snitch. No wonder we can't get it. We can continue trying to guess for the rest of our lives! Such things can only be learnt if you live together in perfect harmony. But to live in perfect harmony with You-Know-Who –"
"Professor Snape might know," Hermione mused. "If anyone knows it must be him. He apparates almost every day to his Master as he's his Right Hand now."
"More likely his left foot," growled Harry. "Come on, Hermione, Snape would rather eat his own robes than confide with us. It would be easier to ask Lucius Malfoy, who, by the way, may also know something –"
"No, we're thinking the wrong way," Hermione tossed her bushy hair irritably, as she always did in those rare occasions when she couldn't find a solution to the problem. "You-Know-Who wouldn't tell Snape, Malfoy, or anyone else about the Horcruxes. Maybe there is some kind of spell that could help us identify them?"
Ron and Harry shook their heads doubtfully.
"Only if in the Restricted Section –" Potter mumbled very insecurely.
"I doubt even there," added Weasley.
"Well, not necessarily to identify the Horcruxes – just the objects containing dark magic. I think I should look it up," Hermione brightened, although it wasn't the safest idea to skulk into the Restricted Section right under the Death Eaters' noses.
"If such a spell existed, Professor Dumbledore would've known about it," Harry pointed out.
"Maybe he knew, but didn't have time to tell you!" exclaimed Hermione. "I actually think there are still a lot of things that he had no time to tell you about."
"A lot of things?" Ron's eyes widened. "I hope not. The current secrets alone are already doing my head in! Okay, shall we go for lunch? Since we didn't find any Horcruxes today, we have two more classes to attend. At this rate we'll make it to the NEWTs for sure," he mumbled, rising from his chair. "So, should we clean up or let that Carrow-witch be in trouble for it?"
"And she'll be reprimanded by whom exactly?" Harry grinned, pulling his wand out to finally tidy the classroom.
"Yes, if we don't hurry, the Death Eaters will rip the whole of Hogwarts to pieces," Ron let out a heavy sigh.
Without a charred door, dirty water on the floor and a broken desk, the room looked much nicer, although it was generally not very pleasant.
"And the worst part is," Hermione said in a dead voice, "that now I have to do the laundry all night long. Under the Dementors' watch and, most likely, without any magic."
XXX
After the two remaining lessons – Transfiguration and Herbology, both of which had been fairy tales in comparison to the delirious Muggle Studies – the inseparable trio temporarily split up, so they could sneak into the Room of Requirement from different directions. They were anxious to get there for two reasons: firstly, it was the only place in school where they could communicate with friends safely, and secondly, they were intrigued by something Hagrid had told them.
Technically, since the regime in Hogwarts had changed, the groundskeeper was forbidden to enter the castle. But today he really longed to come and even promised to bring with him some marvellous magical animal that 'ought ter kind of 'elp them in the fight'. All the way to the forking of the corridors, where they parted, the friends wondered what sort of a creature it might be – they seemed to have already met all the imaginable dangerous beasts possible at Hagrid's. However, what they saw exceeded all their expectations. Harry came last, and when he stepped into the Room of Requirement the others were studying the gift of the generous half-giant. Hagrid, looking quite pleased, sat there too, wiping sweat from his forehead in relief. Apparently, sneaking into the castle while carrying a pet wasn't an easy task. Before approaching the closed circle that Dumbledore's Army formed around the creature, Harry made his first impression of the animal.
"He looks more like a dragon…" – Parvati.
"No, he's too fluffy for a dragon…" – Dean.
"And the wings are too small…" – Hannah.
"Though, he has a tail with feathers. I think, he's actually a bird…" – Terry.
"He can't be a bird, look at his hooves…" – Justin.
"My grandfather wrote about these animals, but he died before he managed to publish the article…" – Luna.
"Do you think he'll make a good photo?" – Colin.
"And I still think he's a carnivore – look at his teeth…" – Padma.
"And if you count his legs, he's more of a spider…" – Hermione.
"Please, not a spider!" – Ron.
Harry stood next to the others silently, and honestly tried to figure out what kind of beast Hagrid had brought them.
"Oh! Hello, Harry!" Luna, next to whom he had stationed himself, gave a friendly shake of her carrot earrings and stared back at the creature, which she obviously found even more interesting than Potter.
Harry nodded at first, then turned white and looked into the mirrored front of the chest of drawers that stood there by the door – no, everything seemed to be fine...
"What are you talking about, Luna?" he asked in a suddenly hoarse voice. "I'm Neville…"
"Oh. I'm sorry," the girl smiled again. "And what did I call you?"
No, Lovegood was not the measure of accuracy. Harry swallowed, repressing a noise in his ears.
"He's very affectionate an' trustin'," the gamekeeper praised his monster as always. "A very rare type he is, yes, an' almost extinct. It's called…" what exactly the beast was called neither Hagrid managed to pronounce, nor the students to catch.
"Dumbledore entrusted 'im ter me, yes, jus' before he… well, yeh understan'. Righ' before he was…" Hagrid continued, wiping with his sleeve not sweat but tears this time. "I kept 'im in the forest at first, in a clearin'… But now such times 'ave come, I'm afraid they migh' take 'im away. The beast is rare an' useful in combat magic. Dumbledore told me so 'imself!"
Well, if Dumbledore had… Yet, looking at the marvellous creature of rare magical power, Harry couldn't shake off a feeling of mild distrust. The beast looked very boring. Not externally – from this side, on the contrary, he was quite…memorable. But all the time, while he was being discussed, and carefully stroked, and boldly squeezed, the beast, which was about the size of eight Harrys, showed no activity whatsoever. He lay, opening and closing his eyes melancholically and grinding something slowly with his heavy jaws. Maybe he could demoralise the enemy simply with his appearance, or perhaps he had a switch?
"Erm, Hagrid? And how does he sw… what's his magic feature?" Harry asked cautiously, having been wondering for a long time how to defeat Voldemort.
The gamekeeper looked at him thoughtfully, scratched the back of his head with a huge hairy hand and sighed dejectedly.
"Who knows it now? The beast is rare –"
Ok, a rare beast – they understood that much so far…
"I thought perhaps we could keep 'im here fer now, at the Room o' Requirement," continued Hagrid. "He surely can't be taken away from 'ere – who would think of askin' the Room fer somethin' like that –"
A fair point.
"Does he eat a lot? And what exactly does he eat?" Hermione asked anxiously. She had already realised that even the house-elves couldn't be told such a secret, which meant the DA members would have to deliver food for the 'weapon' themselves. In turns.
"He eats everythin'!" Hagrid answered delightedly. "Whatever I gave 'im, he ate it! A portion is about a bucketful. But once in two days."
Thank goodness for that then!
"He's ill, though, a little… Feathers are moltin' out of his tail, an' his fur got dull, see…" complained the gamekeeper. "I think he caught a cold – the wind was quite strong las' week, an' I didn' stable 'im at the shelter. Not that I 'ave such a big shelter anyway. He'll recover, nuthin' ter worry about…"
"And what's his name?" Harry asked curiously.
"I call 'im Spooky. He seems ter answer ter this name," Hagrid said a bit embarrassedly.
It seemed that he was, as always, sorry to part with his pet. But a long goodbye only meant extra tears. So the gamekeeper kissed Spooky on the top of his head for the last time, instructed the DA to cherish the beast like the apples of their eyes, and dragged himself back to his hut. The malicious headmaster still occasionally paid him a visit in the evenings to check if everything was under control.
Dumbledore's Army carefully stepped away from the dozing Spooky. This time, perhaps, under the influence of Hagrid, the Room of Requirement had taken the form of a cosy hut, and everybody settled themselves on benches along the walls. A lot of things needed to be discussed – help for the first years, resisting the new vile teachers, especially the new headmaster, communications with the Order of the Phoenix and help in the war against the Dark Lord. And now the maintenance of Spooky as well. As for the youngsters, they sorted that out quite quickly – they'd need to help them out to avoid detentions, teach some defensive magic and arrange at least some small celebrations in order to preserve the atmosphere of the former Hogwarts. As for the Death Eaters, they managed even faster: to do everything possible to drive them out of the school. It would be especially good to eradicate Snape. For no matter what one might have thought, it was pretty obvious, that they would never get a bigger scoundrel over them than Snape.
Discussion of the further questions, however, faced some complications. The Dark Mark above the castle seemed to always be on the alert, and therefore connections to the house at Grimmauld Place couldn't be arranged. The vicious artefact dissipated all the magical effects from the outside, and the Death Eaters never got tired of double-checking the fireplaces and the post owls.
As for the fight against the Dark Lord, the plan looked unrealisable indeed. Primarily due to the fact that Voldemort wasn't going to go to any fight yet. Instead, he harassed wizards and non-wizards without any apparent regularity, ran his long white fingers into the Ministry of Magic and looked for the Chosen Boy. In other words, he occupied himself with everything except Hogwarts' last years. Perhaps, quite fortunately for them.
Then they talked about what could be expected by the end of the year. Anything could. About the Dark Lord – but what was there new to be said about him? About Harry – he must be doing well: hidden and protected by the Order, no obligation to go to school and to come up with any resistance plans, he just had to sit and wait for the right moment. Ron tried to mention that he had recently contacted Potter by secret means, and pointed out that Harry had his own important things to do, but all of that sounded very abstract.
"It's understandable that Potter is better staying away from Hogwarts," Justin Finch-Fletchley expressed a shared opinion. "You-Know-Who is looking for him everywhere, and here he'll find him straight away. Potter is afraid of this, and he can't be blamed for it, really."
"As if You-Know-Who couldn't kill us for other reasons than Harry," Hannah remarked in a low voice, and added even quieter, "but since we have all decided to fight, better to do it together, don't you think?"
'Neville' shifted uncomfortably in his seat and wanted to thrust in a word but was interrupted by Dean.
"I agree. Potter is the Chosen One, right? Then why does he need to hide? What is he waiting for? When You-Know-Who accumulates more power?"
"Maybe the right moment hasn't come yet," 'Longbottom' managed to interject finally.
"What moment? We are tortured here, and don't get any news from outside. How long should we wait for the right moment? Maybe better to act now, without that 'moment'?"
"You think so?" Hermione said acidly. "Then why don't you go and fight the Death Eaters and Voldemort yourself? If we are told to wait, then we should do so. Dumbledore explained everything to Harry. He told him what to do and when."
"Dumbledore was murdered by Snape, who holds us under his authority now," Terry disagreed.
"In slavery!" Parvati corrected him.
"What if Potter won't be able to do it?"
"What if he changed his mind?"
"'What if, what if'… If we're going to quarrel, we might as well call it a day," Ron cut off the dissenters. "Until the next time, I mean. Harry is my friend, by the way. Do you think it's hard only for you now? Don't we have anything better to do than to tear Potter to pieces behind his back? Let's topple Snape instead. That would be a real help!"
Even Hermione was amazed by Ron's ability to put the situation in its proper perspective. The idea of disposing Snape immediately diverted everyone from thinking about Harry and united the team. All of them were quite pleased and encouraged leaving the Room of Requirement, and planned to hold the meeting again sometime next week. Another ten minutes or so the corridors of Hogwarts were filled with their muffled voices.
"Use Cruciatus on him…"
"Better Imperius…"
"He might resist it…"
"Throw a dungbomb into his office…"
"But where can you buy one now?"
"Set fire to all the papers on his desk …"
"Smash his lab…"
"Smash the lab and set it on fire…"
"Now, this is too much, don't you think?"
"And how he punished me in the first year for the burnt cauldron wasn't too much?"
"Huh, the cauldron. I once spilled a Laugh-inducing Potion on his robes… I thought he'd kill me… For that he made me laugh for two hours…"
"Remember how he kept us from practicing before the Quidditch match final?"
"Or how he took points from our House and we were forbidden to go to Hogsmeade?"
"And that slick git works for the Dark Lord…"
"And he killed Dumbledore…"
"I think the Cruciatus seems more appropriate after all…"
And only Neville was miserable. Ron and Hermione tried their best to cheer him up, but Neville didn't even want to talk about his especially fondly-beloved subject of revenge on Snape.
"It sucks when you're considered a coward and a traitor," he explained morosely as they approached the Fat Lady.
"The password is 'The Dark Lord'," said Hermione, wincing, and they walked into the common room through the portrait hole. "Don't be ridiculous, we know you're nothing like that."
"And the others do too," Ron joined in, "they're just in despair. A pity, we can't tell them the truth."
Harry wanted to respond he was also in despair, but instead he just nodded. Why upset his friends once again? Everything sucked. They had no Horcruxes. Not even one. The locket he had found with Dumbledore turned out to be a fake. He wasn't a coward or a traitor, he was worse: a loser. Dumbledore abandoned him without any explanation of how to deal with Voldemort. Surely all this was not news to Ron and Hermione. But it wasn't the last of his problems… Harry suddenly felt a chill inside him, and his legs begun to falter. He stopped so abruptly and turned pale so rapidly that it was impossible not to notice. Hermione and Ron stared at him in confusion.
"What's the matter with you?" Ronald asked in a whisper, although they were alone in the common room. "Is the Polyjuice Potion wearing off?"
"Is your scar hurting again?" said Hermione alarmed.
"Worse…" Harry looked up at his friends with terrified eyes. "Does anyone know where my toad is?"