Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen - The Snitch and the Sneak

Draco's family name served him well with Umbridge. Apparently, his father had been lining the pockets of Ministry officials for years. Umbridge was either unaware of the change in his family circumstances, or Snape had given her a very convincing reference in Draco's favor. Whatever the case, he was among the first to be appointed to the new Inquisitorial Squad, and was even becoming something of a favorite with the High Inquisitor.

"I suppose it doesn't matter now, but you don't really need to rely on me," Draco whispered to Harry about a week after his induction into the Snitch Squad. They were in the library, pretending to browse the shelves as they covertly exchanged information. "Warrington and Montague have joined up as well. Apparently, they had the same idea."

Inwardly, Harry cursed himself for not considering this possibility sooner. It was only natural for a Slytherin to find a way to benefit from this situation. While most students sneered at the thought of allying themselves with Umbridge, there were plenty in the house of Salazar Slytherin who upheld the motto "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

In fact, the only students who had applied to join the Inquisitorial Squad were Slytherins. Unfortunately, not all of them were Marauders.

"There's Crabbe and Goyle, of course," Draco muttered, "Then there's Pansy and a sixth year, Griselda Stewrot. So far Umbridge has just had us going through everyone's mail, but there's word out that we can start deducting house points."

"Well, at least that means Slytherin's bound to win the house cup, eh?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes. "I'll talk with Warrington and Montague at the next Marauder's meeting. Just keep an eye on the others, for now."

Draco nodded his head, and Harry grabbed a book from the shelf in front of him at random before heading back to his table.

One of the perks of dating Hermione Granger was all the homework help. Although Harry had long ago abandoned the practice of swapping homework assignments with Blaise and Millie, preferring instead to do his own work, Hermione's guidance was a blessing now that their exams were only a few weeks away.

Blaise had scoffed when Hermione made study schedules for them, but Harry was immensely grateful. He didn't even mind spending the majority of his Easter holiday sitting with her in the library. Sure, he would have preferred a nice snogging session nestled between the bookshelves, but sitting quietly by her side, catching up on his assignments, was admittedly more productive.

"And those are the thirteen steps to becoming an animagus," Hermione concluded, "If you have any questions, I'd suggest asking Millie. But make sure you take detailed notes, because it will definitely be on the Transfiguration exam."

"Huh?" said Harry, who had been staring vacantly at the random textbook he'd brought back to the table.

Hermione directed a withering glance at him and said, "Harry, what's wrong? You've been distracted all afternoon! If you don't want to study with me…"

"No," Harry quickly interrupted, "It's not that… I was just... distracted by this book!"

"I can tell when you're lying."

"I'm not! You should read this, too. It's really interesting, it's about…" he glanced at the page that lay open before him. It contained nothing but an Escher-like drawing of stairs.

Hermione sighed and picked up the book, turning the cover toward Harry, "This is Hogwarts: A History. I've only been trying to get you to read it for ages, but you never listen."

The page Harry had been staring at was a diagram of the moving staircases. He hadn't even noticed. Harry hung his head in defeat. In truth, his mind had drifted from Draco and the Snitch Squad to the four original Marauders. He was still dwelling on what he had seen in Snape's memories.

For years, Harry had considered his father a source of inspiration. Whenever Sirius or anyone else compared him to James, he had swelled with pride. Now he felt cold and empty. Snape had admitted that James Potter improved as he got older, but what Harry had seen in that stone basin did little to encourage confidence in his father.

To make matters worse, Harry kept thinking of Sirius. Snape hadn't mentioned his name when they discussed his worst memory, but whenever the two of them met, they seemed to hate each other as much as ever. What had happened between them? Was it as simple as a childish rivalry that never stopped, or was there more to the story that still remained to be discovered?

Harry tried to take solace in the memory of his mother. She alone had been decent. She had tried to intervene. And yet she married James, in the end. Harry still didn't understand why.

As much as he wanted to confide his worries to Hermione, he felt a certain loyalty to Snape that hadn't existed before. He had promised not to tell, and so far, he had lived up to that promise. Not even Millie or Blaise knew about what he had seen in Snape's memories.

He was still struggling to find an excuse that would satisfy Hermione when they were unexpectedly addressed by Ron Weasley.

"Potter. Granger," he said by way of greeting, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?"

"Unfortunately, no," Hermione said with a glance at Harry, "Not that we haven't got any work to do, it's just that someone hasn't been paying attention."

Ron grinned as he dropped a pile of books on the table. "Then you won't mind if I join you?"

He was still wearing his Quidditch uniform. Since Hufflepuff had lost their game against Ravenclaw, Gryffindor had a chance to make a comeback in the next match. Ron must have just returned from practice, and with the burden of fifth year exams hanging over him, he had immediately gone to the library.

Outside of Marauder's meetings, Harry hadn't spoken to any of the Weasley family since their Christmas holiday. Still wracked with guilt over the tragic death of Mr. Weasley, Harry had avoided any one-on-one conversations with his children at all costs. Ron's request was unusual, and the strangeness of the situation only grew as he slid a small parcel across the table toward Harry.

"Draco gave me a package yesterday. Seems he managed to smuggle it out before the rest of the Snitch Squad could get their paws on it. It was from mum. She said this one was for you."

Harry stared down at the box Ron had placed before him, wondering what it contained, or rather, why Mrs. Weasley would send him anything at all.

"It's a chocolate egg," Ron added helpfully when Harry continued to stare at the parcel without moving, "She sent one for Zabini and Bulstrode, too."

Harry felt a lump forming in his throat. He hadn't been able to save Mr. Weasley, and yet his widow went so far as to send him and his friends Easter chocolate.

"What is it, Harry?" Hermione asked, seeing the disconcerted look on his face.

"It's nothing," Harry replied shortly, unable to say more without his voice cracking. He knew that Ron must be hurting far worse than him, and yet here he was, strangely composed as he cracked open a textbook and began studying.

Harry tried to focus on his notes, as well, but it was impossible. There were too many thoughts running through his head. Mrs. Weasley, tirelessly caring for all her children, alone. Ron and his siblings, working hard with the Marauders. Draco, spying on Umbridge. His father and Sirius, lounging by the side of the lake, their attention turning toward a skinny boy with greasy black hair...

Suddenly, Harry had an idea.

"Can I ask you something?" he whispered to Ron once Hermione had finally given upon him, leaving their table in search of a particular book on Ancient Runes.

"So long as it's not about Divination," Ron grumbled, "I'm completely lost… Not saying Firenze doesn't know his stuff, but if he spent less time telling us that humans don't have the aptitude for reading the stars, and more time explaining what we were looking for..."

"It's not about Divination," Harry interrupted, "I was wondering… Why aren't we friends? I mean, we seemed to get along on the train, but after the sorting…"

To his relief, Ron didn't try to feign ignorance. He knew exactly what Harry was talking about. They had shared a compartment on their first ride to Hogwarts, but soon after that fateful journey, Harry was sent to Slytherin, while Ron followed in the footsteps of his older brothers. It wasn't long after that, during their first flying lesson, that Ron turned on Harry. The memory of that encounter still stung.

"At first, I was embarrassed," Ron admitted, "I said all that stuff about Slytherin, and then you were sorted… I guess I felt like an idiot."

Harry smiled. He could relate to the feeling. He'd pleaded so strongly to not be placed among a house seemingly filled with dark witches and wizards. When the Hat finally cried out "Slytherin!" he had been mortified.

"After that," Ron continued, "I sort of assumed you'd turn out like the rest of them."

"But that's not fair," said Harry, "There are good people in Slytherin, too. And plenty of bad people in the other houses."

He was thinking of Wormtail, quite possibly the most cowardly wizard to ever come from Gryffindor. He was sure there were other examples as well, even more egregious than the former Marauder.

"Well, sure. I know that now," Ron replied, "Even Draco isn't so bad once you get to know him."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that. He was a right git until his mum got him away from his dad."

"You think he's better now because he's not still hanging around bad people?" Ron asked thoughtfully, "I guess that's possible..."

Harry considered this point. He wondered how he would have turned out if he hadn't been sorted into Slytherin. If he had remained friends with Ron, instead of Millie and Blaise... Was that instinct to despise one another natural between Gryffindor and Slytherin? Could that explain why his father hated Snape?

"So what brought this on, anyway?" Ron finally asked.

"I just wish I could talk to Sirius," Harry admitted, "There's something I want to ask him... About why he and Snape hate each other so much."

"That's an easy one. It'll be because Sirius is cool and Snape's awful."

Harry tried to resist a smile. "Snape's not that bad."

Ron glanced at him dubiously. "See, that's the Slytherin in you."

His talk with Ron had improved his mood, though he continued to have doubts about what he saw in Snape's memories. When he finally decided to talk to Sirius, he questioned how to do it. With Umbridge and the Snitch Squad monitoring both the floo network and their mail, there was no way to communicate with Grimmauld Place securely…

Then he remembered. Sirius had given him something for exactly this purpose. The package he'd slipped to him just after the Christmas holiday.

"It's a way for us to talk without using the floo network," he had said, "If Snape tries to give you a hard time, use it to contact me…"

Harry had never opened the gift, and Snape wasn't being more difficult than usual, but Harry wouldn't rest until he had answers. He waited in his dormitory until it was empty. Crabbe, Goyle, and Draco were all gone, presumably performing their Inquisitorial duties. Blaise had asked Harry if he wanted to join another emergency study session with Millie and Nell, but Harry claimed he had wand-making homework. As it wasn't a class any of his friends took with him, he could pretend to be studying alone.

Alone at last, Harry began rifling through his trunk. He found the parcel Sirius had given him, still wrapped in brown paper, which he eagerly tore away. What he found was a small, square mirror. It looked old. The silver plating behind the glass was spotted with brown dots. Harry held it up to his face in expectation, but saw only his own green eyes staring back at him.

He turned it over. On the reverse side was a short note in Sirius's handwriting.

This is a two-way mirror. I've got the other.

If you need to speak to me, just say my name.

You'll appear in my mirror and I'll be able to talk in yours.

James and I used them when we were in separate detentions.

A brief smile flitted across Harry's face, only to be replaced with a frown. There was a time when the thought of his father's rule-breaking filled him with a fond, rebellious spirit of his own. But now the idea merely reminded him of that day by the lake. Why had his father and godfather been in detention so often? Had Snape been their only victim, or were they notorious bullies?

Crawling into bed, he waved his hand across his closed curtains, murmuring, "Muffliato." He could feel the magic hum around him and knew his spell had worked. He had doubled his practice of wandless magic after seeing how helpless the teenage Snape had become when he was disarmed. Harry would not suffer the same fate. Not if he mastered this skill.

Confident that he would not be overheard, even if one of his roommates returned unexpectedly, Harry sat cross-legged on his bed and looked into the mirror.

"Sirius…?" he said, tentatively at first. Then, with greater volume, "Sirius!"

His own face vanished, and suddenly he was gazing at the bottom of several bright copper pots. He realized he was staring up at the ceiling of the kitchen in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. From this vantage point, he could see very little, though he heard a light rustling sound just beyond the edge of his field of vision. Someone was in the room.

"Sirius!" Harry called again, "It's me! Answer your, er… mirror!"

The rustling stopped, but it was not his godfather's face that loomed into view. It was Remus.

"Harry?" he asked, sounding both surprised and worried, 'What are you… What's happened? Are you alright?"

"Remus!" Harry said loudly, pleased that the mirror had worked, "Yes, I'm fine! I just wanted… I mean, I thought we could have a chat…"

"I'll get Sirius…" Remus advised, carrying the mirror with him as he went to search the rest of the house.

Harry nearly forgot why he contacted them when he saw his godfather. Sirius looked terrible. The mark on his chest left by the cursed locket seemed to have spread. Harry could see graying and dried skin near the edge of Sirius's collar, though he had buttoned his shirt all the way up to his throat.

"Harry!" he said with a smile that seemed designed to forestall Harry's concerns, "It's good to see you! Remus said you wanted to chat?"

Harry didn't know how much time he would have, so he plunged into his story. Remus and Sirius already knew about the Occlumency lessons, so it was a simple matter to explain how Harry had managed to peer into Snape's past. He skipped some minor details, but he made it very clear that he had seen his father… And knew what head done.

When he finished, both Sirius and Remus were silent for a moment. It was Remus who first spoke.

"I wouldn't want you to judge your father on what you saw, Harry. He was only fifteen…"

"I'm fifteen!" Harry argued.

"Think of your most shameful act," Remus replied patiently, "Would you want someone to judge you for your worst moment, and that moment alone? Is that all you are, or will ever be?"

Harry sat in sullen silence, but he saw Remus's point. Even Snape had been forced to admit James did not always remain so terrible. But this still seemed a poor excuse for why he behaved this way in the first place.

"I know what you're trying to say," Harry insisted, "But what I really want to know is just... Why? Why did my father hate Snape so much?"

"Well, you've met him, haven't you?" Sirius said laconically. At a sharp look from Remus, however, he sighed, rubbed the back of his head, and tried again. "Listen, Harry. Some people… Some people just don't get along. Your father and Snape hated each other from the moment they first met. I always thought Snape was just jealous, you know? James was popular, he played Quidditch, he was a very talented wizard… And Snape was just this oddball who was obsessed with the Dark Arts. James always despised that sort of thing…"

"But didn't he attack first? He didn't seem to hate the Dark Arts when he was using it against Snape… And all because you said you were bored!"

Remus glanced sideways at Sirius, who winced at this reminder of his own fifteen-year-old self. He returned Remus's glance imploringly, and was spared when Remus replied, "James and Sirius let their popularity go to their heads. They got carried away. But I'm as much to blame. I never told them to lay off when they were out of line."

"That's not true!" Sirius argued, "You made us feel ashamed of ourselves, sometimes. It was enough to make us reform. Enough for me, at least…"

Remus shook his head, a melancholy smile on his lips. His admission had given Harry another idea, and he asked, "Didn't you say that you and Snape were once friends?"

Now it was Sirius's turn to glance sideways as Remus winced. "More like friendly acquaintances. Severus was not an easy person to get close to. Neither was I, at first. Any semblance of friendship was due entirely to Lily. She introduced us long before I started hanging around James and Sirius."

"What I want to know," interjected Sirius, "Is how Snape reacted when you saw all of this?"

Harry, still unsure about all the history between them, and knowing how much Sirius still disliked Snape, was hesitant to admit he had been surprisingly decent about the whole thing, as if this would be a betrayal toward his godfather.

"He said… He said James… my dad wasn't always so bad. Not after that, anyway. He said that's why my mum married him…"

Remus's brows rose in surprise. "I'm impressed. I don't think I've heard Severus say a kind word about James my entire life."

"Snape's always been unfair toward James," Sirius agreed, "But it's me he should blame. Not him."

"Blame for what?" Harry asked.

"Let's not discuss it now," Remus interrupted. "It's getting late, and you have class tomorrow, Harry."

He hated having to leave them, especially when Sirius had hinted at something very interesting, but he knew Remus was right. Already, he could hear footsteps coming up the stairs to his dorm. He had talked long enough already. Bidding goodbye to Sirius and Remus, he carefully stowed the mirror away. He still hardly knew what to think about his father as a boy, but he did feel better after talking to his old friends. He just wished he could feel as reassured about the mark that was still slowly growing on Sirius's chest…

His conversation with Sirius and Remus and been productive, but he hadn't had a chance to tell them everything that was happening at Hogwarts. He would have liked to tell them about the new Marauders, but then again, he wasn't sure Remus would approve.

The Marauders had gathered for another lesson after classes the next day, but the crowd seemed thinner than before. Harry scanned the faces in the crowd as Millie prepared everyone for practice. With a sense of foreboding, he realized that all of his spies on the Inquisitorial Squad were missing. He tried to catch Millie's eye, certain that something strange was happening, when a dragon soared into the Room of Requirement.

A few students screamed as the beast glided into the center of the room, but its silvery light and silent movement revealed it was a patronus almost immediately. It was not as large as the Hungarian Horntail Harry had once faced, but its great wings were broad enough to dominate the space until it folded them neatly at its sides. Turning its long neck to survey the waiting students, it seemed to be searching for someone. Harry stepped forward.

The dragon's blank, glowing eyes met his, and from the beast came the words...

"Run… She's coming…"

The voice had been harsh and echoing, but it was unmistakably Draco's. Harry turned to look at the horrified students as the ghostly dragon vanished.

"What are you waiting for?" he demanded, "Get out of here!"

The Marauders pelted toward the exit at once, bursting through the door en masse. Harry watched them sprint along the corridors in different directions, hoping they had the sense not to try for their dormitories. It was not yet after hours. If they sought shelter in the library or the Owlry, they would not be questioned.

"Harry, let's go!" shouted Millie. She had the prudence to wipe the room of any evidence of their regular meetings with a single spell, and was now headed out the door with Blaise, Hermione, and Neville. Harry glanced around the room, assuring himself that everyone else had made it out, before he too dashed out the door.

"Harry!" Hermione called as Blaise hurried her toward the library.

"Just go!" Harry shouted, "We should split up!"

He didn't wait to hear her objection, but darted to the right. There was a boy's lavatory just down the corridor. If he could reach it, he could pretend he'd been there the whole time…

Something invisible caught him around the ankles. He came crashing to the ground, scraping his hands as he caught himself. He heard a harsh laugh over his cry of shock and pain. Turning, he saw Goyle stalking toward him, wand in hand and angled threateningly toward him.

"Trip jinx," he said gloatingly, "Hey, Professor! I've got him!"

Umbridge came bustling around the far corner, breathless but wearing a delighted smile. Behind her was Draco, who looked uneasy. He directed a repentant glance at Harry, who tried to convey with a look that there were no hard feelings. His message had been received. Even if Harry had been caught, at least the others had gotten away. No one else had to be punished if Harry could think of a good story…

But Umbridge must have been tipped off. There was no way she could have known about their meeting, otherwise. Draco seemed unchanged, but where were Warrington and Montague? Who among the Marauders was the rat?

"Draco! Run along and see if you can't find a few more!" Umbridge ordered, "Look for anyone out of breath. They can't have gone far…"

Draco turned away obediently and ran down the hall, his wand drawn. Harry knew this prompt response was all an act. He wouldn't turn anyone else over. If anything, that wand would be used against Crabbe or Pansy if he happened to meet them in the hall.

While these thoughts were still spinning through Harry's mind, Umbridge had ordered Goyle to force Harry to his feet. Gripping his arm tightly and digging her own wand into his side, she began directing him to Dumbledore's office.

"Fizzing Whizbee!" she practically cheered. The stone goyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's office sprang to life, instantly revealing the spiral staircase slowly curling its way upward. Umbridge didn't even bother knocking on the polished wooden door, but strode right in, dragging Harry along behind her.

The office was already full of people. Dumbledore sat behind his desk, his expression serene, as if he were throwing a tea party with several of his closest friends. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, looked tense as she stood by his side. Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic and Umbridge's personal idol, stood with his hands behind his back, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet and looking immensely pleased with himself. Harry felt a thrill of recognition when he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt, but he wisely refrained from showing any sign of acknowledgement toward the Auror. He assumed the gray-haired wizard guarding the other side of the door was one of Kingsley's colleagues, though Harry had never seen the man before. Lastly, Percy Weasley hovered nearby, a quill and heavy scroll of parchment in his hands, as if poised to take notes. He gave a short, almost imperceptible nod to Harry, and looked very much like he didn't want to be there.

The portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses were not pretending to sleep in this instance. They were wide awake and staring down at the scene with alert interest.

"We found him, Minister," Umbridge said, still breathless from the speed with which she had dragged Harry to the office. "He was exactly where we were told he would be."

"Well done, Dolores," said Fudge, "Well, well… Harry Potter… I suppose you know why you are here?"

Harry made his green eyes as wide as possible and assumed an air of proper submission, as if he were confused and intimidated by this sudden interrogation.

"I-I have no idea, s-sir!" he stammered, hoping he wasn't laying it on too thick, "I-I was just on my way to the bathroom when Goyle… That's Gregory Goyle, sir… He tripped me! The next thing I knew, Professor Umbridge had brought me here!"

He risked a glance at Dumbledore, thinking it would only be natural for a student in this situation to look at his headmaster for guidance. He saw a faint smile on Dumbledore's lips. He gave Harry the tiniest of nods and the shadow of a wink. Harry was on the right track.

"I beg your pardon? You expect me to believe this?" Fudge demanded, "You mean to tell me that you are not aware that you have broken any school rules?"

"It's against school rules to use the toilet?!" Harry gasped.

Fudge's face was growing red. "You know very well that I was not speaking of the toilet! I am speaking of an illegal student organization, discovered within this school!"

Harry judged it best to remain silent now. He continued to stare at Fudge with wide-eyed astonishment, glancing first from one professor, then the next, with mock confusion.

"I think we would make better progress if I fetched our informant, Minister," said Umbridge silkily.

Without waiting for Fudge's agreement, she jerked her head at Kingsley and the unknown Auror. The pair swept out of the room, only to return a moment later, each gripping Cedric Diggory by one of his arms.

Harry gasped. He was not the only one. Fudge had leapt backward in shock, nearly colliding with Percy Weasley, whose mouth was hanging agape.

Cedric's usually handsome face had been horribly disfigured by a series of close pustules that spread across his nose and cheeks. The bright purple dots spelled out a single word: SNEAK.

Cedric alone did not appear disturbed by the results of Millie's hex. He took one look at Harry and promptly cried, "Harry! It's not what you think! She drugged me!"

Harry didn't dare to acknowledge this unfortunate outcry, but he hoped his eyes conveyed both his understanding, and a warning to keep quiet. He knew that Cedric was no rat. But he also knew that Umbridge was more than capable of administering Veritaserum to one of her students. Cedric, unfortunately, must have taken the bait.

The truth potion seemed to be wearing off by this time, however, for Cedric struggled against his captors' grasp, and when Fudge approached him, he stared back with a defiant glare.

"Now, now… Let's not make this more difficult than it has to be Cedric… Diggory, isn't it?" Yes, I remember your father, Amos. From the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, isn't he? He was quite proud when you were made Hogwarts Champion last year... And I'm sure he'll be even more proud when I tell him what you've done for the Ministry, coming to Umbridge as you did…"

"I didn't! She called me into her office. Said she had important business for the Head Boy and Girl!"

"And I did," said Umbridge, a wicked smile plastered across her face, "What could be more important than denouncing an illegal meeting held in a secret room on the seventh floor? You can see to what lengths the miscreants would go to keep their nefarious activities private. Why, as soon as Mr. Diggory told me what I needed to know, those hideous pimples appeared on his face!"

"Well, now…" said Fudge, looking at Cedric with what he imagined was a kind and fatherly look, "That was very brave of you, Cedric! You have fulfilled your duties as Head Boy admirably! Now, will you tell us what happens at these meetings? Who was there? Who is their leader?"

Then Cedric did something Harry never expected of him. He spat on the carpet at Fudge's feet, nearly spattering his highly polished shoes with saliva.

"I'll never tell you another thing!" he snarled, "Is this what the Ministry has become? A den of corruption that silences its best professors and places an evil, conniving witch in charge of children!"

Harry was deeply impressed. Cedric was risking everything to protect the Marauders. It was not merely his Head Boy status at stake. He could be expelled. His father could lose his job. And yet he stood there, dignified and loyal. His only mistake had been accepting a drink from Umbridge.

"Haven't we got any more Veritaserum?" Fudge asked Umbridge, "It might… encourage him to speak more freely."

"I think that speech was free enough, wouldn't you say?" Professor McGonagall cut in, her voice shaking with outrage.

"It doesn't matter," said Umbridge sharply, "We already have the testimony of Willy Widdershins, who will state that Potter and his friends met a large number of Hogwarts students in the Hog's Head in October. The purpose of this meeting was to recruit students for an illegal society, intent on learning spells and curses the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for…"

"I think you are mistaken, Dolores," said Dumbledore. It was the first time he had opened his mouth since Harry had entered the room. Though he had spoken quietly, all eyes turned toward him in an instant.

"Oh, is that so, Dumbledore?" Fudge asked with an ironic smirk, "Yes, let's hear it. What's the story this time?"

"Cornelius, I do not attempt to deny, nor do I believe Harry and his friends would deny, that they met in the Hog's Head that day. But I think you will find that the Ministry decree banning such student organizations was not put in effect until after this meeting, so in fact, no rules were broken."

Umbridge recovered faster than Fudge, who seemed thunderstruck by this argument. She smiled sweetly and replied, "That may be so, Headmaster. But it has been nearly six months since the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty Four. The first meeting may not have been illegal, but as Mr. Diggory has informed me, all subsequent meetings most certainly are."

"That certainly would be the case, if there had been any meetings after that. Do you have any evidence that these meetings continued?"

"Evidence? Why, Headmaster! Haven't you been listening? Do you not understand that this is why I have brought Cedric Diggory here?"

"Is Mr. Diggory prepared to tell us about six months' worth of meetings? I was under the impression that he was here to tell us about one happening tonight. And as yet, I see only two students here. Hardly what you would call a criminal organization."

"We will find more," Umbridge said, grinding her teeth. "A group of certain, trustworthy students accompanied me to the seventh floor this evening. Someone must have tipped them off, however, because they were seen running in several directions… But we'll get them. And when we have more, they will be questioned. Soon, we'll know everything…"

For several seconds, Harry had been watching Cedric's face. He could see resolve on his features, underneath the ugly purple welts. To his shock and horror, Cedric suddenly cried, "It was me! I'm the leader!"

"No!" Harry cried. Millie and Hermione had been the real masterminds behind their meetings, but if need be, Harry would throw himself on the sword to defend them. He did not expect the same sacrifice from Cedric. He would not allow him to take the blame.

But Cedric's voice drowned out his protests, "I started a study group because I wanted to prepare for my NEWTs! I was Head Boy, so I thought I could order others to follow me! But when they realized I wasn't coming, they must have run!"

"That is quite enough, Cedric," Dumbledore said calmly, "You have done well, but I think we all know who is really responsible…"

He turned to Fudge with a cheerful smile. "Would you like a written confession, Cornelius, or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"

Harry and Cedric exchanged confused glances. There was fear on McGonagall's face, but no one else seemed to understand what was going on. Fudge was no exception.

"Statement?" he repeated, "What? I don't…"

"I appointed Cedric as Head Boy, myself. I chose him because I knew he would be loyal and obedient. I asked him to lead the everyday activities of the group, but I assure you, the idea for a student army was all my own."

"NO!" Harry and Cedric cried in unison, but McGonagall shot them both a warning look. From Dumbledore, they received a mere shake of the head.

"There's no use denying it, boys. I convinced Harry to give an interview to the Quibbler when the Prophet failed to report the story I preferred, and I ordered Cedric to gather a group of talented students who would be able to defend Hogwarts at a moment's notice."

"Then you… You were plotting against me!" yelled Fudge.

"That isn't true!" Harry protested. Allowing Cedric to take the blame would have been bad enough, but this was infinitely worse.

"Silence, Harry, or I am afraid you will heave to leave my office."

"But, Headmaster!"

"The same goes for you, Cedric."

Fudge rounded on Percy, a strange combination of anger and excitement coloring his voice as he said, "Did you get all of that? Have you copied everything that was said? His confession? Everything?"

Percy continued to look confused and troubled, though he managed to stammer that he thought he had.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Make a duplicate of those notes, then send a copy to the Daily Prophet! I want a notice published immediately!"

Percy directed a frightened glance at Dumbledore. Fudge and Umbridge, whose eyes were fixed on the junior secretary, didn't notice the slight nod Dumbledore gave him. Percy no longer hesitated. He rushed out of the office to perform his dubious task.

Fudge turned back to Dumbledore and announced, "You will be escorted to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged with fomenting an uprising to destabilize our government, then sent to Azkaban to await trial!"

"Ah," said Dumbledore, still in a pleasant, almost cheerful tone, "I thought we might hit that little snag. You seem to be under the impression that I will… What is the phrase? Come quietly?"

Fudge looked befuddled by this response, while Umbridge's face had turned a bright red. She signaled to the gray-haired Auror, who released one of Cedric's arms and began moving forward slowly, his hand drifting toward his pocket.

"Don't be silly, Dawlish," Dumbledore warned, "I don't want to hurt you."

To Dawlish's credit, he checked the movement. But Umbridge screamed, "Get him!" The next moment, there was a flash of light, the sound of several heavy items being overturned at once. Suddenly, Harry was thrown to the ground. Someone's arm was wrapped around his neck.

When the dust settled, Harry saw Fudge, Umbridge, Dawlish, and Kingsley lying unconscious on the floor. It was Professor McGonagall who had grabbed both Cedric and Harry, pulling them down and out of harm's way. Dumbledore's desk had been overturned, as well as the little tables with all his silver instruments. They lay scattered across the carpet in glittering pieces. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, soared over their heads, singing a soft song.

"It's alright Minerva, you can stand," said Dumbledore's calm voice. "I had to knock out Kingsley as well, I'm afraid. Had to make it look convincing…"

Harry scrambled to his feet while Cedric gallantly helped Professor McGonagall to stand. Simultaneously, the boys tried to apologize to Dumbledore for the trouble they both felt responsible for causing, but Dumbledore waved their words away.

"Not to worry," he said in the same chipper tone as before, "I had been searching for an excuse to take a short holiday, and this is as good as any. I will be more effective outside of Hogwarts, at the moment."

Dumbledore turned to Harry, looking at him fully for the first time. In that moment, Harry felt a flash of anger that he was sure was not his own. He felt as if he could have killed the headmaster. Wrapped himself around the old man's neck and strangled him, or else sank his fangs into his flesh…

The feeling passed as quickly as it came. As if he had read Harry's thoughts, Dumbledore said to him somberly, "Continue your lessons with Professor Snape, Harry. You must not fail in this."

And with that, he grabbed the tail feathers of Fawkes as he circled over his head, and the pair of them vanished in a flash of flame.