34. Death of the DA.
"Right," Harry said once a sizable group had turned up in the Room of Requirement. "Is everyone here?"
There were several murmurs of assent.
"Great. Now, I thought that this time we'd start something a bit more advanced, since you're all getting so good. Who wants to learn how to make a Patronus?" He asked them, grinning.
"Do you think we're ready?" Neville asked on behalf of the group.
"I think you're more than ready. You've all held your own in duels and you can all cast the other charms I've taught you, so I don't see why not. It's a really great feeling," he continued enthusiastically, "when you manage to do it."
"I wish I could do one," McCoy muttered.
"You have expressed no previous interest in performing magic," Spock pointed out.
"I know, but I just want to see what mine would look like. From a psychologist's point of view, of course," he said quickly.
"Of course."
"Oh, I think we all know what it'd be," Kirk chuckled. "Probably something Sick Bay related..."
McCoy scowled. "Test tubes can be threatening."
"Threatening enough to scare away a Dementor?" Kirk challenged, smiling playfully.
"So," Harry said loudly, hiding his amusement with difficulty, "has anyone ever seen a Patronus?"
A few people raised their hands.
"I've seen my Dad make one to send messages," one of them, a short blond girl, said.
"What did it look like?"
"Er..." Clearly she was embarrassed. "It was a penguin..."
Several people snorted and she turned bright pink.
"Well, that's good!" Harry said awkwardly. "Really good – so you've seen a real Patronus, that might give you a head start, since you already know when to use it...Has anyone actually produced one?"
The remaining hands went down.
"It's actually quite easy," Harry told them. "Well," he amended, "depending on the circumstances...obviously it's easier to conjure when a Dementor isn't too close..."
"How close have you been to one?" Someone asked.
"I was almost kissed," Harry said quietly. "I managed to drive it away, though – all you need is concentration and the right memory."
"How are you supposed to concentrate when something's about to suck out your soul?" Someone else scoffed.
"Well," Harry said, "er – there's not really any good way to practice that here without getting a Dementor-"
"Which we can't do," Hermione said firmly.
"-exactly," Harry continued, "so we'll have to compromise. We can't even use a boggart because not everyone's worst fear is a Dementor – so all we can really do is try to distract each other."
"Which we'll do," Kirk volunteered, "since we won't be able to practice the spell."
Harry nodded in approval. "Good. Right – Patronuses!" He announced, giving the audience an encompassing glance before carrying on. "As you probably know, a Patronus reflects a person's character and can be used in danger for protection, so-"
"Can they reflect memories?" The girl whose father had a penguin Patronus asked.
"What makes you say that?"
"Well," the girl explained, nervous at all the eyes on her, "if the memory used to fuel the Patronus was important – I mean, if it had a big influence on that person, so it defines their character..."
"Is that why your Dad's is a penguin?"
"Yeah," she replied, relieved that Harry understood. "He works with them – it's his first steady job after – well," she said quickly, her voice getting quieter, "that job helped him turn his life around."
"That could actually be true," Hermione said. "Your Patronus is a reflection of your father, Harry, and he had an impact on you..."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, looking surprised, "it could be true."
"It's definitely something to think about," McCoy added.
"So, yeah," Harry continued, "a Patronus is conjured from something readily available, so it's quick to appear in danger, like a recent memory or an image of a loved one."
"How do you cast it then?" Ginny asked, more for the benefit of the class than for herself, since she knew someone who could do it easily.
"You think of the happiest thing you can," Harry replied, "and focus on it, really concentrate, then you say 'expecto patronum' and it should happen."
"Are we trying it now?" Ginny asked eagerly.
"Why not? We'll see how you do casting it on your own, then for those who get the hang of it, a distraction will be thrown in-"
Kirk smoothed back his hair and grinned. "My time to shine."
The audience laughed while McCoy rolled his eyes. Soon afterwards everybody scrambled to their feet and began drifting off to other parts of the room, some standing in small groups while others remained alone, depending on their work preferences.
"This class is really coming along," Kirk commented as they watched silver puffs fly from wand tips. "It's strange to think that not long ago some of them couldn't even disarm a still opponent."
"Indeed, it has been a most intriguing process to witness."
"They're getting better at self defence too," Kirk added. "Much quicker than I expected."
"Yet I still can't do any of it," McCoy grumbled, "and I have two exercise enthusiasts standing right next to me."
"Your failure to master the skill lies only in your lack of motivation, Leonard."
"It's hard to be motivated when you're getting slapped repeatedly in the face by the floor every five seconds."
"If you were motivated though," Kirk retorted, "you wouldn't have that problem."
"Shut up."
"Relax, Bones, I'm sure you'll get it eventually, right Spock?"
Spock raised his eyebrow. "I believe the correct idiom would be 'do not hold your breath'."
"Thanks," McCoy muttered, "you really know how to reassure a man, you know that? They should never have given you that damn dictionary."
"I think it's good he's broadening his horizons a bit," Kirk defended. "It means he understands my cheesy pick up lines."
"'Sleazy' would be a better word," McCoy snorted.
"Jim," Spock said seriously, "on occasion, even the dictionary cannot aid in my unravelling your hormone influenced phrases."
"...I take it back," Kirk said, but with a smile on his face.
"I'm surprised you don't use the phrases more often."
"That would be inappropriate, Leonard."
"Not really," Kirk mused. "I'm sure that you'd get someone if you tried a pick up line."
Spock did not look convinced.
McCoy snorted. "Are you kidding? An answering phone would have more chance than him."
"Do Vulcan pick up lines actually exist?" Kirk asked suddenly.
"I am unaware of their existence," Spock said drily.
"Come on, Jim, they'd be stuff like 'do you frequent this area often' or 'I wish to further comprehend your biological structure'..."
"I'm sure they'd have better ones than that."
"Don't count on it."
"Would you ever use any, Spock?" Kirk asked.
"Negative."
Kirk looked faintly disappointed. "Not even to be funny?"
"Vulcans do not endeavour to induce humour."
"Funny," McCoy muttered, "the way you all talk I thought that's all you ever did..."
"Leonard, that remark is hardly insightful."
"It wasn't meant to be."
"When is it ever?" Kirk teased. "If you were the next Plato, I think we'd all be in trouble. You wouldn't be able to find your way out of the cave."
"Very funny, Jim."
"Isn't it?" Kirk grinned, knowing he'd well and truly wound McCoy up.
As if out of nowhere, a silver otter swam through the air and made a beeline for Spock's head, going round and round it like a living halo before finally perching itself on the immaculately styled hair.
Spock's eyebrows were doing press-ups. "Fascinating."
"Sorry!" Hermione exclaimed, bustling over to them. "I still can't control which way it goes – it has a mind of its own, I think..."
"It is of no consequence."
"You've made a Patronus already?" McCoy asked, not really surprised.
"It took a couple of attempts," Hermione replied, still trying to get the silver animal off Spock's head, "but I got it in the end."
"We can see that," McCoy chuckled, watching as the otter dived off Spock's head and gradually faded out.
"Did you feel it?" Kirk asked curiously.
"Negative."
"Not even a tingle of magic?"
"I encountered no unusual physical sensation."
"I'm sorry," Hermione apologised again before hurrying off, no doubt to practice some more.
Around the room, the rest of the DA could be seen muttering the incantation, a few doing elaborate swirls with their wands while a few stood stock still. No one else had achieved more than a wisp.
"Alright, stop!" Harry shouted over the murmur of voices. "Stop! That was a really good first attempt," he continued when he had everyone's attention, "but some of you are waving your wands too much. Remember, it's just like the other spells I've taught you – just because it has more power to it doesn't mean you need a different wand movement. Relax your arm, but not too much, okay? Let's try again, then."
This time, the activity was much more restrained as everyone seemed to lose their desperation to be perfect first time around. Instead, their focus was inwards, and there were less conversations in the background from frustrated DA members. Soon, the ceiling of the room was filled with creatures.
"Holy-" McCoy dived to the side as a Great White shark made a lunge for his head, closely followed by a sword fish who had aimed for his heart with a particularly hungry glint in its transparent eye.
"They're not real, Bones," Kirk reminded him.
"I know that – I acted on instinct."
"Whatever you say."
"Oh shut up," McCoy snapped. "Who's got the psychology degree here anyway?"
"Excellent!" Harry shouted out, looking proud. "Well done, everyone, really well done, that's advanced stuff..."
"What do we do now?" Ginny asked, lazily using her wand to make her Patronus perform mid-air tricks.
"Now," Harry said cheerfully, "you practice conjuring one while being distracted. It's getting late, so we really only have time for a few attempts each."
"Right!" Kirk said, clapping his hands together, "let's see what we can do..."
He immediately descended upon Ron Weasley, who had yet to cast his Patronus, while McCoy and Spock drifted to other ends of the room, searching for a victim.
"Hello, Ron."
Ron didn't answer, his face screwed up in concentration.
"You know, you're supposed to answer a greeting like that."
"...don't," Ron muttered, distracted. Only a wisp exited the end of his wand.
"I think you might have," Kirk said cheerfully. "So, how do you feel about Professor Trelawney's homework? Personally, I never remember any of my dreams..."
"Expecto patronum," Ron muttered.
"That's not much of an answer."
"You're distracting me," Ron accused.
"That's my job. Someone has to do it," Kirk babbled, shifting on his feet as much as he could in an effort to distract the student. "The pay is never good – in fact, there isn't any, but there's a lot of job satisfaction. Babbling is what I do best, actually, that's why I'm so good at getting politicians to agree with me – they just want me to shut up. Star Fleet loves it."
"Expecto Patronum," Ron said, slightly desperate.
"I love the sound of spells, actually, now I think of it," Kirk continued blithely. "I wonder if there are any that rhyme..."
"EXPECTO-"
"Then again," Kirk interrupted, throwing Ron completely off track, "they might not, that would just make it too easy and clichéd."
"...Patronum," Ron finished in a small voice, annoyed.
A small burst of silver.
"You need a bit more determination, I think. It's a lovely effect," Kirk babbled, "the silver. If there was some way of solidifying it, it would look great on a Christmas tree. Maybe it could even be fake snow for the nativity plays on the planet Navidad, the snow is silver there, you-"
"I can't bloody concentrate!" Ron shouted.
"That's the general idea."
"You're taking it too far!"
"Not at all. As I was saying," Kirk continued, ignoring Ron's growl, "the snow is silver but the rain is purple. It's really weird, actually, considering they're both forms of precipitation-"
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
A large weasel began scurrying around the room. Ron looked immensely relieved.
"You did it!" Kirk exclaimed, slapping the youth on the back. "Which memory did you use?"
"I didn't use a memory," Ron said smugly, "I imagined all the different ways I could shut you up."
"Well that wasn't very-"
"Harry Potter!" A high pitched voice squeaked, announcing the sudden arrival of Dobby. "Harry Potter, sir!"
The elf ran over to Harry immediately, his eyes wide with terror and his frame shaking so much that it was a wonder he could stand.
"What's wrong?"
"Harry Potter, sir...Harry Potter, sir..." the elf seemed to have to collect himself before he could carry on. "Dobby has come to warn you...but the house-elves have been warned not to tell..."
Then to everyone's horror he ran head first towards the wall, Harry lunged but missed him by centimetres. The many knitted hats he usually wore cushioned his blow and he bounced backwards, stumbling.
Harry physically restrained him. "What happened, Dobby?"
"Harry Potter...she...she..."
"Who's 'she', Dobby?"
"Umbridge," Kirk guessed when Dobby tried to wriggle free of Harry's grasp to punish himself.
"What about her?" Harry asked nervously. "Dobby – she hasn't found out about this – about us – about the DA?"
The house elf nodded.
"Is she coming?" Harry whispered.
"Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"
"Ok, everyone out!" Kirk commanded, sprinting to the door and holding it open.
No one moved.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Harry bellowed. "RUN!"
Suddenly, the silent and shocked crowd transformed into a shrieking stampede, each of them jostling everyone else out of their way in their attempt to escape.
"Quietly!" Kirk roared above the noise. "Quietly or you'll get caught!"
Without warning, two other doors appeared, the room perhaps having sensed their desperate need to escape. Parts of the main crowd broke off and began to use the extra doors. Their footsteps could be heard as they hurtled down the corridor, until only Harry was left.
"Dobby," Harry said, scooping up the tiny elf so they were at eye level, "this is an order – get back down to the kitchen with the other elves and, if she asks you whether you warned me, lie and say no!" He let the elf go. "And I forbid you to hurt yourself!"
"Thank you, Harry Potter!" Dobby was soon gone from sight.
"Harry, you need to go!" Kirk said, indicating the door with his head.
"Right..."
The teenager ran into the corridor, his feet almost a blur as Kirk shut the door behind him and willed the room back to normal. He was just about to make his way over to Spock and McCoy when he heard a shout of surprise.
Yanking the door back open, he fixed his best commanding glare on his friends. "Stay here."
"But-"
"That's an order, Bones! Stay here!"
Not even waiting to see McCoy's reaction, he sprinted in the direction he had last seen Harry take. He was soon rewarded with the sight of Harry struggling to stand up after a leg binding hex, glaring at a smug looking Malfoy.
He barely had time to take in the scene and begin to run forwards to try to disarm Malfoy when a second pair of footsteps stopped him, the voice sending a chill down his spine.
"Excellent, Draco, excellent," Umbridge panted, coming to a halt in front of them both. "Oh, very good – fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take care of them from here..."
She seized Harry's arm tightly and pointed her drawn wand at Kirk, eyes glittering with victory. Malfoy stood to the side, watching proudly.
"You hop along and see if you can round up anymore of them, Draco. Tell the others to look in the library – anybody out of breath – get Miss Parkinson to check the girls' bathrooms – off you go."
Malfoy ran off obediently, almost gleeful in his task, though Kirk could have sworn he saw a smirk slide into place when Umbridge wasn't watching.
"Now, you two – you can come with me to the Headmaster's office."
Grinning madly, Umbridge forced them through the silent corridors to the stone gargoyle, the journey shorter than ever in her determination. There was no sign of any other fights as DA members tried to escape; it was almost too quiet.
"Fizzing Whizzbee." Once upstairs she did not bother to even knock, but simply strode in as though she owned the office.
Dumbledore was sat behind his desk as always, his expression completely calm and unruffled despite the fact that Umbridge had brought with her what essentially were two prisoners. McGonagall on the other hand was extremely tense as she stood beside him, her mouth set into a rigid line that could not bode well for Umbridge. The Minister for Magic himself was bouncing on his toes, while a few Aurors stood around the room. A tall and wiry young man with bright red hair looked just as excited, his quill and parchment already out and ready for note taking.
Something striking him as familiar, Kirk stared at the man, wondering if he had met him before. It was only when he saw Harry giving the man the deepest look of disgust that he had ever seen from the boy did he realise. This man had the same hair, the same facial structure, as the rest of the Weasley family. And, judging by Harry's reaction to him, it had to be Percy Weasley, the one who had refused to visit on Christmas Day.
"Well," Fudge said, eying them both. "Well, well, well..."
Umbridge simpered triumphantly. "They were heading to Gryffindor Tower. The Malfoy boy cornered them."
"Did he, did he?" Fudge asked cheerfully. "I must remember to tell Lucius. Well, Potter...and whoever you are," he added, looking at Kirk.
"I'm Captain Kirk. Star Fleet officer."
Fudge seemed to be deciding whether or not to snort in disbelief or glance accusingly at Dumbledore. "Yes, well," he said finally, "we've all heard that story...now, I expect you know why you are here?"
They spoke at the same time.
Kirk, fully used to lying through his teeth in front of people of higher authority, remained calm. "No."
Harry, who had been halfway through his answer, glanced at him quickly. "Ye – no."
"I beg your pardon?" Fudge said.
"No," they both repeated firmly.
"You don't know why you are here?"
"No," Kirk replied, maintaining eye contact. "We don't."
"So you have no idea," Fudge said sarcastically, "why Professor Umbridge has brought you to this office? You are not aware you have broken any school rules?"
"School rules?" Harry repeated innocently. "No."
"Or Ministry Decrees?"
"Not that we know of," Kirk replied pointedly.
"So it's news to you, is it," Fudge said angrily, "that an illegal student organisation has been discovered in this school?"
"Yes," they replied together.
Dumbledore, who had been watching the exchange, gave them the tiniest of winks before his expression went blank again.
"I think, Minister," Umbridge said sweetly, "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant."
"Yes, yes, do so."
Umbridge left the room as Fudge turned to Dumbledore.
"There's nothing like a good witness, is there, Dumbledore?"
Dumbledore inclined his head politely. "Nothing at all."
Looking at the older wizard, Kirk suddenly found himself wondering which house he had been in. He certainly bent the rules and mislead people like a Slytherin, but he was a genius – true Ravenclaw material. Given their current situation, he knew he probably wouldn't be in the castle long enough to find out. He could only hope that McCoy and Spock had followed his orders and remained hidden.
A few minutes later, Umbridge opened the door and moved into the room, her arm draped around a DA member's shoulders. Kirk recognised her as Cho's friend, Marietta, who had been originally reluctant to join. She had her face hidden in her hands.
"Don't be scared, dear, don't be frightened," Umbridge cooed, patting her back. "It's quite alright, now. You have done the right thing. The Minister is very pleased with you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been. Marietta's mother, Minister," she added, "is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation, Floo Network office – she's been helping us with the Hogwarts fires, you know."
Fudge looked beside himself. "Jolly good, jolly good!" He chirped enthusiastically. "Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well, come on, now, dear, look up, don't be shy. Let's hear what you've got to – galloping gargoyles!"
"That's a new one," Kirk muttered as Fudge jumped backwards into the fire in shock, staring at Marietta, before jumping back forwards with a curse and stomping on his smoking robes.
Marietta, with a wail, pulled the collar of her robe over her eyes, but too late. Everyone had already seen the disfiguring spots, the spelled out the word 'SNEAK' on her nose and cheeks.
"Never mind the spots now, dear," Umbridge said, "just take your robes away from your mouth and tell the Minister-"
The robes shook frantically as Marietta wailed in protest.
"Oh, very well, you silly girl, I'll tell him," Umbridge snapped, losing her patience. "Well, Minister," she simpered, a dramatic change in mood, "Miss Edgecombe here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She told me that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately, at that point this hex," she indicated the hidden face, "came into operation and upon catching sight of her face in my mirror the girl became too distressed to tell me anymore."
"Well, now," Fudge said softly, "it is very brave of you, my dear, coming to tell Professor Umbridge. You did exactly the right thing. Now, will you tell me what happened at this meeting? What was its purpose? Who was there?"
Marietta shook her head.
"Haven't we got a counter-jinx for this?" Fudge demanded. "So she can speak freely?"
"I have not yet managed to find one," Umbridge admitted. "But it doesn't matter if she won't speak, I can take up the story from here.
"You will remember, Minister," she continued, "that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Hog's Head at Hogsmeade-"
"And what is your evidence for that?" McGonagall demanded sharply.
"I have testimony from Willy Widdershins, Minerva, who happened to be in the bar at the time. He was heavily bandaged, it is true, but his hearing was unimpaired. He overheard every word Potter said and hastened straight to the school to report to me-"
"Oh," snapped McGonagall, "so that's why he wasn't prosecuted for setting up all those regurgitating toilets! What an interesting insight into our justice system!"
"Blatant corruption!" A portrait roared. "The Ministry did not cut deals with petty criminals in my day, no sir, they did not!"
"Thank you, Fortescue, that will do," Dumbledore said mildly.
"The purpose of Potter's meeting with the students," Professor Umbridge continued, "was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school-age-"
"I think," Dumbledore interrupted calmly, "you'll find you're wrong there, Dolores."
"Oho!" Fudge was bouncing up and down again. "Yes, do let's hear the latest cock-and-bull story designed to pull Potter out of trouble! Go on, then, Dumbledore, go on – Willy Widdershins was lying, was he? Or was it Potter's identical twin in the Hogs's Head that day? I heard Professor Snape was in Hogsmeade at the time, we could bring him up and ask him – we haven't done so yet – I'm sure he'd love to offer us his opinion-"
Dumbledore smiled. "Cornelius, I do not deny – and nor, I am sure, does Harry – that he was in the Hog's Head that day, nor that he was trying to recruit students to a Defence Against the Dark Arts group. I am merely pointing out that Dolores is quite wrong to suggest that such a group was, at the time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry Decree banning all student societies was not put into effect until two days after the first meeting, so he was not breaking any rules at the Hog's Head."
"That's all very fine, Headmaster," Umbridge simpered, the first to recover from the blow, "but we are now nearly six months from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since most certainly are."
"Well," Dumbledore replied calmly, "they certainly would be, if they had continued after the Decree came into effect. Do you have any evidence that any such meetings continued?"
Kirk stared at Dumbledore with a mixture of admiration and amusement. Harry simply blinked.
"Evidence?" Repeated Umbridge. "Have you not been listening, Dumbledore? Why do you think Miss Edgecombe is here?"
Dumbledore continued to smile. "Oh, can she tell us about six months' worth of meetings? I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight."
"Miss Edgecombe," Umbridge ordered, "tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. You can simply nod or shake your head, I'm sure that won't make the spots worse. Have they been happening regularly over the last six months?"
Marietta's eyes, which were now peeking over her collar, were strangely blank.
"Just nod or shake your head, dear," Umbridge said, "come on, now, that won't re-activate the jinx."
Marietta shook her head.
Umbridge was clearly beginning to panic. "I don't think you understood the question, did you, dear? I'm asking you whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?"
Marietta shook her head.
Umbridge was now glancing between everyone in the room. "What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?"
"I would have thought the meaning was quite clear," McGonagall snapped. "There have been no secret meeting for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?"
Marietta nodded.
As Umbridge quivered with fury, Kirk idly wondered how she had failed to notice what had happened.
"But there was a meeting tonight! There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not, Kirk helped organise it – why are you shaking your head, girl?"
"Well," McGonagall said scornfully, "usually when a person shakes their head, they mean 'no'. So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to humans-"
Umbridge began shaking Marietta furiously and Dumbledore sprang to his feet, wand in hand, expression stormy. Umbridge backed away immediately.
"I cannot allow you to manhandle my students, Dolores."
"You want to calm yourself, Madam Umbridge," an Auror Kirk didn't recognise advised. "You don't want to get yourself into trouble, now."
"No...I mean, yes –you're right, Shacklebolt – I – I forgot myself."
Kirk glanced to the side and saw, to his approval, that Harry's eyes were wide with understanding as he stared at Marietta.
"Dolores," Fudge said, "the meeting tonight – the one we know definitely happened-"
"Yes," Umbridge interrupted, composing herself with effort. "Yes...well, Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by certain trustworthy students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears that they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here, Miss Parkinson ran into the Room of Requirement for me to see if they had left anything behind. We needed evidence and the room provided."
Kirk's heart stopped. Casting his mind back, he searched desperately for the memory where he changed the room back to normal, realising as he did so that he had missed something important-
Umbridge held up the list of members with a flourish.
"The moment I saw Potter's name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with."
"Excellent!" Fudge exclaimed happily. "Excellent, Dolores. And...by thunder..."
He glanced up at Dumbledore with an air of surprised triumph.
"See what they've named themselves? Dumbledore's Army."
For the briefest instance, shock flickered across Dumbledore's face before it was masked with a smile. "Well, the game is up. Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius – or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"
The portraits began to murmur.
"Statement?" Fudge asked blankly. "What – I don't-"
"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius. Not Potter's Army. Dumbledore's Army."
"But – but-"
Fudge took a step backwards and then forwards again, stamping out smoking robes once more. It was as though he was inventing a bizarre new form of the Hokey Cokey.
"You?" He whispered finally.
"That's right," Dumbledore replied calmly.
"You organised this?"
"I did."
"You recruited these students for – for your army?"
Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling. "Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting. Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course."
Marietta nodded vaguely and Kirk gave an internal groan of despair, but knew better than to interrupt. Harry looked horrified.
"Then you have been plotting against me!" Fudge yelped.
"That's right."
"NO!" Harry bellowed before Kirk could stop him. "NO – Professor Dumbledore - !"
"Be quiet, Harry, or I am afraid you will have to leave my office."
"Yes," Fudge crowed, "shut up, Potter! Well, well, well – I came here tonight expecting to expel these two and instead-"
"Instead you get to arrest me," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "It's like losing a Knut and finding a Galleon, isn't it?"
Fudge was almost jumping in the air now. "Weasley! Weasley, have you written it all down, everything he's said, his confession, have you got it?"
"Yes, sir, I think so, sir!"
"The bit about how he's been trying to build up an army against the Ministry, how he's been working to destabilise me?"
"Yes, sir, I've got it, yes!"
"Very well, then, duplicate your notes, Weasley, and send a copy to the Daily Prophet at once. If we send a fast owl we should make the morning edition!"
Percy slammed enthusiastically out of the room.
Fudge turned back to Dumbledore. "You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged, then sent back to Azkaban to await trial!"
"Ah," said Dumbledore gently, "yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag."
"Snag?" Fudge demanded. "I see no snag, Dumbledore!"
"Well, I'm afraid I do."
"Oh, really?"
"Well – it's just that you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to – what is the phrase? – come quietly. I am afraid that I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course – but that would be a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing."
Kirk resisted the urge to chuckle appreciatively. One of the Aurors casually began trying to get his wand from his pocket.
"Don't be silly, Dawlish," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure you are an excellent Auror – I seem to remember you achieved 'Outstanding' in all your NEWTs – but if you attempt to – er – bring me in by force, I will have to hurt you."
Dawlish blinked.
"So," Fudge sneered, "you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?"
"Merlin's beard, no. Not unless you are foolish enough to force me to."
"He will not be single-handed!" McGonagall declared.
"Oh yes he will, Minerva," Dumbledore contradicted. "Hogwarts needs you!"
"Enough of this rubbish!" Fudge shouted. "Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!"
With a single streak of silver, the room was plunged into total pandemonium. Reacting on instinct, Kirk pulled both himself and Harry to the floor, dust blurring his vision.
After several crashes and groans, silence descended upon the room once more.
"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes," everyone replied at once.
Dumbledore's desk lay overturned, objects strewn across the floor. Everyone who worked for the Ministry lay side by side, unmoving, while Fawkes circled the room in the air, singing.
"Unfortunately, I had to hex Kingsley too, or it would have looked suspicious. He was remarkably quick on the uptake, modifying Miss Edgecombe's memory like that while everyone was looking the other way – thank him for me, won't you, Minerva?"
"He doesn't work for Fudge?" Kirk asked in surprise.
"Oh dear me, no, not really, he's a member of the Order. Now, they will all awake very soon," Dumbledore explained, "and it will be best if they did not know that we had time to communicate – you must act as though no time has passed, as though they were merely knocked to the ground, they will not remember-"
"Where will you go, Dumbledore?" McGonagall asked quietly. "Grimmauld Place?"
"Oh no, I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish he'd never dislodged me from Hogwarts, I promise you."
He turned to look at Kirk and Harry, addressing Harry first. "Listen to me, Harry. You must study Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand me? You might not be able to see Spock, so do everything Professor Snape tells you, and practice it particularly every night before sleeping so that you close your mind to bad dreams – you will understand soon enough, but you must promise me-"
Dawlish stirred and groaned.
"-remember – close your mind. James," he said, turning to Kirk, "I believe that the Minister shall attempt to remove you, Leonard and Spock from Hogwarts grounds-"
Fawkes swooped towards Dumbledore and waited patiently.
"-you must not fight it. Again, you will understand soon."
He grasped the phoenix's long golden tail and disappeared in a flash of fire.
"Where is he?" Fudge yelled, bouncing to his feet. "Where is he?"
"I don't know!" Kingsley shouted, glancing around wildly.
"Well, he can't have Disapparated," Umbridge cried frantically, "you can't do it from inside this school-"
"The stairs!" Dawlish yelled. Everyone but Fudge clattered out of sight.
"Well, Minerva," Fudge growled, "I think this is the end of your friend Dumbledore."
"You think so, do you?"
Fudge steadfastedly refused to acknowledge the rude hand gestures originating from the portraits. "You'd better get those three out of the office and back to their dormitories."
As McGonagall escorted them from the room, Kirk couldn't help but wonder exactly what Fudge would have in store for them.