Lizzie's Redemption

Chapter Five

Neither Hermione, Ron, Lizzie, or Hayden made any mention of Harry giving Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons for the next two weeks after it was originally suggested. Both he and Lizzie had finished their detentions, and by this time, the nerve damage in Lizzie's hand had gotten so bad that she finally caved, and did tell Madame Pomfrey one Wednesday after lunch during her physical therapy, though she made Madame Pomfrey promise not to tell.

She then began Lizzie on additional physical therapy that included stretching and strengthening exercises, and introduced various spells that produced minor currents of electricity to Lizzie's hand in order to stimulate the nerves, much like a TENS unit.

Thankfully, that weekend, Lizzie had the promise of a Hogsmeade trip with Hayden to look forward to. So, on Saturday, the day before Halloween, Lizzie was up early as she got dressed in a nice red turtleneck jumper, jeans, and boots. She also pulled her long hair up into a high ponytail before heading down to breakfast.

She was just starting on her porridge – she was able to hold her spoon in her hand a bit better now – when an owl dropped a letter on her lap. Eagerly, she broke the wax seal with her knife and unfolded the parchment.

Lizzie,

I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall after breakfast so we can go to Hogsmeade. How does grabbing a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks sound? I would love to get to know you better. You can show me around and we can explore some of the shops too, if you want.

I want you to know that I'm proud of you for getting back to riding.

I feel so lucky to have met you and have you as a friend.

Hayden xxx

Lizzie smiled. She had only known Hayden for a few weeks, and yet he took the time out of his day to write her a note. It was very sweet.

Hermione was pouring herself some coffee when she noticed the smile on Lizzie's face. "What are you so happy about this morning?" she asked. Lizzie handed Hermione the note as she read it, and then smiled as well.

"That's really nice," she said. "Mm-hmm," said Lizzie. "You look happy," said Hermione. "I am," said Lizzie. "It's weird…When I wasn't riding, it felt like a part of me was missing, and now that I'm riding again, it's like I have it back. I feel better."

"Good," said Hermione.

By this point, word that Lizzie had gotten back into riding had spread around the school and people were constantly asking her about it.

Lizzie would always confirm the rumors – even when the questions weren't always nice.

Some people praised her and congratulated her, while others made snide remarks, saying things like, "Here's hoping you don't kill Flicka like you killed Raven," and things like that.

But by this point, Lizzie was on such a high from being back in the saddle again, that she was starting to become more and more indifferent to what people thought and said, which she had cared too much about before.

"They can think whatever they want to. I don't care anymore," said Lizzie as she and Hermione walked out of the Great Hall so Hermione could see Lizzie off to Hogsmeade. "Aren't you coming?" asked Lizzie. "I'll see you later in the Hog's Head," said Hermione. Lizzie frowned.

"The Hog's Head?" she asked. "Yeah," said Hermione. "For….." she looked around then leaned in to whisper to Lizzie. "Secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group, remember?" "How many people are coming?" Lizzie whispered. "Just a couple of people," said Hermione. "Hayden can come too, if he wants," she said as Lizzie nodded.

She saw Hayden standing near the giant hourglasses that recorded House points. Slytherin was in the lead.

"Hey," said Lizzie. "Hi," said Hayden. "I didn't see you at breakfast," said Lizzie. "Yeah, I was down at the barn – Jedi had colic this morning," said Hayden. "Is he okay?" asked Lizzie, looking and sounding worried. "Oh, yeah," said Hayden. "Professor Grubbly-Plank looked him over and gave him an anti-inflammatory potion to treat it, and I walked him around for a while, he'll be fine." Lizzie nodded. "Good," she said. "People keep asking me about riding – apparently everyone knows now."

"What did they say?" asked Hayden. "Some people were nice and supportive. Others like Malfoy, for instance, not so much," said Lizzie. "I'm surprised you're allowed back on a horse after what you did to Raven," said a snide, sneering voice as Lizzie and Hayden wheeled around to see Malfoy striding toward them, though this time, not flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, making him a little less intimidating.

"Ohh, speaking of, here comes trouble," Hayden groaned. "It's okay, Hayden, I've got this," said Lizzie as Malfoy walked up to them. Lizzie pulled herself up to her full height with her shoulders squared as she walked up to Malfoy and stared him down, her cerulean blue eyes burning with determination. She wasn't afraid of him anymore, and she wanted to let him know it.

"Okay, Malfoy, you know what? I am so sick of you pushing Raven's death in my face! And I'm sick of you being on my case, and treating me like I'm your own personal punching bag! You think I killed Raven? Fine, think what you want, I don't care anymore. I don't care who you are, who your father is, or whether or not you're a prefect. I may be disabled, but I'm not stupid, and I am still a human being so start treating me like one!"

Malfoy looked momentarily stunned that Lizzie was standing up to him, but composed himself almost at once.

"Why should I?" he demanded. "Because I'm gonna compete in the horse show at the end of the year," said Lizzie confidently. "And my guess is, considering your arrogant, pretentious attitude, I'm probably the only other rider at Hogwarts who is actually capable of kicking your arse – again. Now, what do you think you father's gonna say when he finds out that I beat you twice in the show ring? I don't think he'll be too pleased about that."

Malfoy said nothing and still looking somewhat stunned, walked out of the castle without saying another word to either her or Hayden.

When he was gone, Lizzie turned and faced Hayden, grinning. He looked just as stunned, if not more than Malfoy. "That felt good," said Lizzie grinning. "Wow," said Hayden, looking impressed. "That was…..amazing." Lizzie grinned as she watched Malfoy trail across the courtyard toward Hogsmeade. "He chose to mess with the wrong person," she growled. "He's gonna be really embarrassed when you win the Grand Prix," said Hayden. "Right?" said Lizzie. "How long did it take to come up with that speech?" asked Hayden. "About a minute," said Lizzie, shrugging.

Hayden laughed. "Shall we?" he asked. Lizzie nodded as they began to walk out of the castle, the only sound that could be heard was the metallic rattling from Lizzie's walker and the scuffing of her dragging her feet as she walked.

"How's physical therapy going?" asked Hayden as they walked across the courtyard. "Good, Madame Pomfrey thinks I should be ready to try longer distances beyond the hospital wing soon," said Lizzie. "Thanks for the note, by the way – that was really nice."

Hayden smiled and nodded, "By the way, you still carry that razor blade around?"

Lizzie had never actually told him what she had used to cut herself. Hayden had just made this assumption based on what the cuts on her arms looked like.

"No," said Lizzie. "I threw it away – that same day you stood up for me in front of Lavender…"

"So, when you were up in your dorm…" said Hayden. "I was thinking about how much I realized that cutting myself wasn't helping me as much as I thought and the promise I made to you. Then when I started riding again, I dunno, it's like – like it's freed me. I'm starting to feel like my old self again, and I don't need to do it anymore."

"I'm really proud of you, Lizzie," he said, pulling her into a tight hug.

The air got gradually colder as they trudged through the village of Hogsmeade, the streets packed with villagers and students from both Hogwarts and the Toronto Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Care for a tour?" asked Lizzie. "Sure," said Hayden as he followed Lizzie. They first stopped at a new tack store that had opened the previous year, Lizzie bought some horse treats for Flicka and Hayden, a bottle of leather cleaner.

Then Lizzie showed Hayden Honeyduke's – the sweet shop that was a favorite amongst the students. Hayden seemed mesmerized by the variety of sweets that lined the shelves in the room; Creamy chunks of nougat, shimmering pink squares of coconut ice, fat, honey-colored toffees; hundreds of different kinds of chocolate in neat rows; there was a large barrel of Every Flavor Beans, and another of Fizzing Whizbees, along yet another wall were 'Special Effects sweets: Droobles Best Blowing Gum (which filled a room with bluebell-colored bubbles that refused to pop for days), splintery Toothflossing Stringmints, tiny black Pepper Imps ('breathe fire for your friends!'), Ice Mice ('hear your teeth chatter and squeak!') peppermint creams shaped like toads ('hop realistically in the stomach!') fragile sugar-spun quills and exploding bonbons.

"Careful with those!" said Lizzie warningly as Hayden examined a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "Why?" asked Hayden. "Because when they say, 'every flavor,' they mean it literally," said Lizzie. "And stay away from the Acid Pops – they'll burn a hole right through your tongue…."

Hayden cringed. "Is there anything here that is actually edible?" he asked. "Oh, sure," said Lizzie brightly, pointing at the sugar quills. "You can eat these in class and it looks like you're trying to concentrate."

"Clever," said Hayden. "Then there's these – these are my favorite…" said Lizzie, showing him a box of chocolate cauldrons, which according to the description on the box, had peanut butter in the center. There were other varieties too. Some had mint in the center, others caramel, some were solid chocolate, and to Hayden's surprise, some even had firewhiskey in them.

Lizzie decide to splurge a bit and got herself a box of the peanut butter-filled chocolate cauldrons, while Hayden bought a handful of Chocolate Frogs – insisting he needed the cards for his collection. "How many do you have?" asked Lizzie when the left the shop ten minutes later.

"About four hundred," said Hayden. "Impressive," said Lizzie. "I have nine hundred – some are duplicates, but you know, four hundred is good too."

"I'll show it to you sometime," said Hayden. "Maybe you'll find some that you don't have and we can trade." "I'd like that," said Lizzie, smiling.

As they passed by Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, Hayden stopped and insisted he needed to pick something up. Assuming he needed a new quill, Lizzie waited patiently for him outside.

He emerged from the shop ten minutes later clutching something rectangular that was wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

After that, Lizzie showed him Zonko's Joke Shop – a favorite hangout of Fred and George's, the post office, Dervish and Bange's and a bunch of other shops besides.

When Lizzie had finished showing Hayden the whole of the village, even passing by a new and apparently very upscale restaurant, they made their way to the Three Broomsticks as they walked inside the tiny inn and sat down at a nearby table close to the door so that Lizzie wouldn't have to walk far.

After ordering their drinks, Hayden walked back to the table from the bar and sat down. He noticed that Lizzie's eyes were a lot brighter than they had been when he met her a month ago.

Now her eyes were full of life and vigor, like she had a new desire to enjoy life and the wonderful things it had to offer her.

"Tell me about your family," said Hayden. "I know you mentioned that your dad died of cancer when you were young." Lizzie nodded. "Mum raised me pretty much on her own," said Lizzie. "That's impressive," said Hayden. "Yeah, and then she started…..drinking a lot after dad died, and it sort of…..got out of control. She was never abusive or anything, but she…..wasn't always there for me when I needed her."

Hayden stared at her. He already knew that she had grown up in a single-parent household, but he had no idea her childhood was that difficult.

"I knew I was different from a very young age – and not just with my CP, mind you, but I always felt different. Mum knew it too. She saw that I had autistic traits before anyone else did, and went about the process of getting me assessed."

"Wait!" said Hayden. "You've been assessed for autism before?" "Actually," said Lizzie. "I've been assessed for autism twenty times." "Twenty?" asked Hayden in disbelief. "Mm-hmm," said Lizzie. "Why so many?" asked Hayden. "Because they kept saying I wasn't autistic for a whole host of stupid reasons," said Lizzie. "Stereotypes?" asked Hayden. "Yeah. First, it was 'She can talk – autistic people can't talk,' then it was 'She's too smart'….I lost track of all the pathetic excuses they gave….Finally after being denied a diagnosis for the twentieth time, with more stereotypes, Mum decided that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, so she stopped trying."

"How did you feel when you finally did get diagnosed?" asked Hayden. "Torn," said Lizzie. "Really?" asked Hayden. "I would have thought you would have been relieved." "I was," said Lizzie. "I was able to mask for a while so people didn't know for a bit until I got caught stimming in the library….."

Hayden looked down at Lizzie's hands and realized that they were shaking like they had been on the night that they talked about starting a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group.

He realized that Lizzie must flap her hands as a way of stimming, and the only reason it looked like her hands were shaking was because she was forcing herself not to.

"Don't fight it," said Hayden. "Sorry?" asked Lizzie. "You flap your hands as a way of stimming right?" asked Hayden. Lizzie nodded, although embarrassingly

"Go ahead and do it, it doesn't bother me," said Hayden. Lizzie looked around the room. "I don't want people to stare," she said.

"If you're that self conscious, put your hands under the table so no one can see," said Hayden.

Lizzie put her hands under the table and began flapping her hands. No one seemed to notice.

"What about you?" asked Lizzie. "Oh, not much to tell," said Hayden. "A mom, a dad, and three siblings – two sisters and a brother."

"And where in Canada did you grow up?" asked Lizzie. "Vancouver," said Hayden. "Oh," said Lizzie, sounding interested. "What part of England are you from?" asked Hayden. "London," said Lizzie. "And what does your mom do for a living?" asked Hayden. "Mum's a nurse for the National Health Service," said Lizzie. "What about your dad?" asked Hayden. "He was an orthopedic surgeon," said Lizzie. "In fact that was how they met. They were both working the graveyard shift and Dad asked Mum if he could buy her a coffee, and she said yes. Then he forgot his wallet, so Mum had to pay."

"Oh, no!" said Hayden as Lizzie laughed. "Not such a good first impression then eh?" "No," said Lizzie still giggling. "Mum still laughs about that."

"What's your favorite ice cream?" asked Hayden. "Chocolate or vanilla with chocolate syrup and caramel," said Lizzie. "Me too," said Hayden. "Would you say you're more of an introvert or an extrovert?" "Introverted extrovert," said Lizzie. "I don't mind socializing with people, but I need my alone time," said Lizzie. "I'm more on the introverted side," said Hayden. "I mean, I'm like you, I don't mind socializing but I do like my privacy."

"Would you rather find true love or be rich?" asked Lizzie. "I think I'd rather find true love," said Hayden. "Me too," said Lizzie. " 'Love over gold' as my Mum says. Are you a skeptical person?" "No, I'm pretty open minded," said Hayden. "Not everything has to have a logical reason behind it." "Tell that to Hermione," said Lizzie. "She's a skeptical person?" asked Hayden. "I think the concept that there might be things in this world can't be explained scares her," said Lizzie.

Hayden nodded. "What are you other special interests?" he asked. "I know you said you like the Titanic, but do you have any others?"

"Um – Riding horses, obviously, music, computers – I got my first laptop when I was thirteen and taught myself how to use it."

"How do you teach yourself this stuff?" asked Hayden. "YouTube," said Lizzie. "Ah," said Hayden. "I also like to paint," said Lizzie. "You paint?" asked Hayden. "Yeah, my Mum taught me over the summer and I fell in love with it." "Anything I can see?" asked Hayden. "Mm, no, not right now. I haven't really had time to paint this year, with my O.W.L.s coming…" Hayden nodded.

"What milestone are you working towards in your life?" asked Lizzie. "I want to get to Grand Prix level showjumping and dressage," said Hayden. "I want to walk completely unassisted," said Lizzie. "I've had that goal since I was a first year. I can walk without my walker for short distances, but I'd like to get rid of it for good."

"Do you have any sensitivities as an autistic person?" asked Hayden. "I don't like loud noises – I get startled super easily – And if you're going to touch me, give me a warning." "You don't like to be touched?" asked Hayden.
"I can tolerate it, if you warn me and let me know it's coming, but I don't like it when people touch me and don't tell me they're going to," said Lizzie. Hayden nodded.

"What's your favorite sport?" asked Lizzie "Ice hockey," said Hayden. "You?" "A tossup between Quidditch and horseback riding," said Lizzie. "What's your favorite team?" "Toronto Maple Leaves," said Hayden. "I used to play when I was younger." "Really?" asked Lizzie, now looking very interested. "Yeah," said Hayden. "I had to wear a mouthpiece when I played." "To keep your tongue from sticking out when you concentrate?" asked Lizzie, smiling.

"You saw that?" asked Hayden looking slightly flustered.

Lizzie nodded. "I didn't think anyone noticed," said Hayden. "Hey," said Lizzie as Hayden met her gaze. "Equestrians aren't exactly known for making the most flattering faces." Hayden laughed. "Yeah, that's true," he said. "Now that I think about it, I have photos of me at shows doing that while I ride Jedi."

Lizzie giggled. "You think it's funny?" asked Hayden, laughing too. "No," said Lizzie. "It's cute," she said. "Thanks," said Hayden.

"If you could chose between Quidditch, horseback riding or ice hockey what would you chose?" asked Lizzie. "Oh riding, every time," said Hayden. Lizzie looked slightly surprised. "Really? You'd chose riding over hockey and Quidditch?" "Absolutely," said Hayden. "Wow!" said Lizzie. "How old were you when you started riding?"

"I was ten," said Hayden. "Molly Cobb was having a lesson, and I saw her ride, it looked fun, so I thought I'd give it a try."

"And five years later, here you are," said Lizzie. "Here I am," said Hayden. "Do you have a Quidditch team at your school?" asked Lizzie. "Yeah we do," said Hayden. "My friends kept begging me to try out for the Seeker position, but I was already riding five days a week, and between that and homework, I didn't have the time."

After playing twenty questions for a while, they began talking about getting together Lizzie's lesson plan for her riding lessons. Hayden took a sheath of parchment as well as his quill and ink and held it suspended over the parchment. "How high were you jumping when Raven died?" he asked. "We were working towards five feet," said Lizzie. Hayden scribbled on the parchment for moment, making a note that strongly resembled Umbridge during one of her inspection.

"And can you remember your fastest cross-country time?" he asked. "Three minutes," said Lizzie. "But I've always wanted to beat that – safely of course," "Of course," said Hayden, writing on the parchment. "What were you learning in dressage? Did you ever learn how to do piaffe, passage, or canter pirouettes?"

"Uh, no not yet," said Lizzie. "I never got past the walk pirouette. I would like to learn though." Hayden smiled. "I can teach you how," he said. "Did you have any issues, or movements that you couldn't quite get the hang of?"

"Yeah," said Lizzie. "I could never quite get my walk-canter transitions perfect," "Mm-hmm," said Hayden, nodding. "I thought I would get Raven collected enough, then I would ask him to canter, and he would trot one or two steps before transitioning into canter.

"Jedi and I had the same problem," said Hayden. "How did you fix it?" asked Lizzie. "You collect the walk to the point where it feels like Flicka would trot if you asked, but don't let her, before you ask for the canter."

Lizzie nodded. "What level dressage do you ride at?" she asked, raising her butterbeer to her mouth (their drinks had arrived while they were talking). "Prix St. Georges," said Hayden.

Lizzie felt her butterbeer slide down the wrong tube as she choked and began coughing. When she finally stopped, she gasped, "That's – that's a level below Grand Prix!" she said. She knew that Hayden was good, but she never imagined that he was that good.

"So," said Hayden. "Let's get to the important stuff: What would you like to work on? What are the things you want to learn, and what are your goals for the year?"

Lizzie thought for a moment. She would really like to learn advanced dressage movements, like tempi changes, canter pirouettes, and of course, piaffe and passage. Raven had been fast on the cross-country course, but she had yet to test out Flicka, likewise with the showjumping, she had only jumped her during her first lesson with Hayden, but he hadn't put a stopwatch to them yet. She would also like to jump higher as well.

Lizzie voiced all of this to Hayden who made copious notes on the parchment in his hand. "I meant what I said to Malfoy back at the castle," she said. "I want to compete in the show at the end of the year." Hayden smiled. "Okay," he said. "We can make that happen." "Really?" asked Lizzie excitedly. "Sure, why not?" asked Hayden.

After talking for another half hour about Lizzie's goals – Lizzie insisted that there was no time limit put on them. She didn't want to run the risk of disappointing herself, should she not meet that deadline – they began to talk about how many times a week to have lessons. Lizzie still had a lot of homework to do, and the fact that she had her O.W.L.s in June, Hayden understood that studying was really important as well.

So, after discussing it, they decided to limit Lizzie's lessons to three times a week – Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays – then whenever Lizzie had any spare time to squeeze in an extra ride, she could.

"Uh, Hermione told me to meet her in the Hog's Head, wanna come?" asked Lizzie. "Secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group?" Hayden whispered. "Yeah," said Lizzie. "Sure," said Hayden.

They both finished their bottles of butterbeer and left the Three Broomsticks, talking animatedly with one another.

The Hog's Head was another pub in Hogsmeade, but unlike the Three Broomsticks, students rarely went in there, so it was highly unlikely that they would be overheard.

It was located on the main road, and Hermione regarded it as being a bit dodgy. Hayden held Lizzie's hand as they walked down the main street past Zonko's, past the post office from which owls issued at regular intervals and turned up a side street, at the top of which stood a small inn.

A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture upon it of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood onto the white cloth around it.

Hayden cringed, looking up at it as the sign creaked in the wind as they approached. The two of them hesitated outside the door. "Let's go," said Hayden, somewhat nervously as he led her inside.

It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised one small dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. Lizzie wrinkled her nose as they walked inside. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables.

The floor seemed at first glance to be earthy, though as Lizzie and Hayden stepped onto it, they realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

Lizzie remembered Hagrid saying something about this place when she was a first year: "Yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head," he had said, explaining how he had won a dragon egg from a hooded stranger there. At the time, Lizzie had wondered why Hagrid had not found it odd that the stranger had kept his face hidden throughout their encounter, now she saw that hiding ones face was somewhat of a fashion statement in the Hog's head.

There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth. Two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the window; Lizzie might have thought them dementors, if they hadn't been talking in strong Yorkshire accents; in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace, sat a witch with a thick black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," said Hayden. "I see what you did there," said Lizzie. "No, I mean it," said Hayden as they crossed the bar. He was staring at the heavily veiled witch. Lizzie in the direction he was staring, and immediately understood what he meant.

"Has it ever crossed your mind that Umbridge may be under that?" asked Lizzie. Hayden stared at the veiled figure and shrugged after a moment, looking slightly relieved. "Umbridge is shorter than that woman," he said.

"And anyways, even if she does come here, there's nothing she can do to stop us, Liz. Because I had Hermione double and triple check the school rules. We're not out of bounds; I even had her ask Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come into the Hog's Head, and he said 'yes,' but he did advice us to bring our own glasses if we chose to drink here. And I've done some research of my own about study groups and homework groups, and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing."

"Good point," said Lizzie. "Especially, as its not exactly a homework group, is it?"

The barman sidled toward them out of the back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin, and looked vaguely familiar to Lizzie. "What?" he grunted. "Er," Lizzie stammered. "Two butterbeers, please," said Hayden. The barman reached beneath the counter and pulled up two dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed onto the bar. "Six Sickles," he said.

"I'll get it, Liz," said Hayden as Lizzie reached inside her purse for her wallet. Hayden reached into his pocket and counted six silver coins before passing them over.

The barman stared at Hayden for a long moment before depositing the money in a large wooden till whose drawer slid automatically to receive it. Hayden and Lizzie retreated to the back of the bar and sat down at an empty table. "So, when did Hermione say she'd meet us?" asked Hayden.

Almost as if on cue, the door to the pub opened and Hermione walked in with Harry and Ron. Hayden waved them over as the three of them sat down. "How many others are meeting us?" asked Hayden, taking a drink of butterbeer. "Just a couple of people," said Hermione, checking her watch and looking anxiously toward the door. "I told them to be here about now, and I'm sure they all know where it is – oh, look, this might be them now…"

The door of the pub had opened, a thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for moment, and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Neville, with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati, Padma Patil with Cho Chang (who had been Lizzie's rival the previous year when Cedric had been giving her riding lessons. They were not friends, but they weren't enemies either), and one of her usually giggling girlfriends, and (on her own, and looking so dreamy that she may have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; Then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whom Lizzie didn't recognize; three Ravenclaw boys, Lizzie was relatively sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot, though she wasn't entirely sure.

Lizzie was terrible at remembering names, she was more inclined to remember faces, followed by Ginny who was followed by a skinny blonde boy with an upturned nose whom Harry recognized vaguely as a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and bringing up the rear, Fred, and George Weasley with Lee Jordan, and finally Molly Cobb, with a small crowd of Canadian classmates. She waved at Lizzie and Hayden who waved back.

"A couple of people?" asked Lizzie. "Lizzie's right," said Hayden. "This looks like way more than just a couple of people, Hermione."

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," said Hermione happily. "Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag, so filthy it looked like it had never been washed. Possibly he had never seen the pub so full.

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first, and counting his companions quickly – including Molly and her friends. "Could we have thirty-two butterbeers, please?"

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably, as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty butterbeers from under the counter.

"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone. I haven't got enough gold for all of these…"

"I've got it, Fred," said Lizzie as she took her wallet out of her purse and emptied a handful of gold into her palm – enough to pay for everyone's drinks – and handed it to Fred. "Wow, thanks, Liz," he said, looking slightly shocked that she carried that much gold around. "Don't worry about it," said Lizzie, smiling.

Harry gazed around numbly at everyone. He could not imagine what all these people had turned up for until the horrible thought occurred to him that they might be expecting some kind of speech, at which he rounded on Hermione.

"What have you been telling people?" he said in a low voice. "What are they expecting?"

"I've told you," said Hermione. "They just want to hear what you have to say." "Yeah, relax, Harry," said Lizzie soothingly, but Harry continued to look between her and Hermione furiously, then Hermione added quickly, "you don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first."

"Hi, Harry," said Neville, beaming and taking a seat near Lizzie and Hayden.

Harry tried to smile back, but did not speak; his mouth was exceptionally dry. Cho had just smiled at him and sat down on Ron's right. Her friend, who had curly, reddish-blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a thoroughly mistrustful look that told Harry plainly that given her way, she wouldn't be here at all.

In twos and threes, the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lizzie, and Hayden, some looking rather excited, other's curious. Lizzie noticed that Lavender despite having been harshly lectured by Hayden, still gave Lizzie icy looks. Luna stared dreamily into space. Molly was chatting animatedly with her friends, but half of them (mostly girls) were giving Hayden flirty looks and twirling their hair around their fingers, in an attempt to grab his attention. Clearly Hayden was very popular, and well liked by his peers.

When everyone had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry, including Molly's, her friends, and Hayden's.

"Er," said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well – er – hi."

The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry.

"Well…..erm….well, you know why you're all here. Erm….well, Harry here had the idea – I mean…." Harry had thrown her a sharp look. "I had the idea that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts – and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us….."

Lizzie glanced nervously over at the veiled witch at the bar. "Because no one could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione. "Hear, hear!" said Anthony Goldstein. "I hear that!" said Molly and Hermione looked heartened – "well, I thought it would be good if we took matters into our own hands."

She paused, looked sideways at Harry, and went on. "And by that, I mean, learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory, but the real spells…"

"you want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. too I bet," said Michael Corner.

"Of course she does!" said Lizzie. "So do I, but I want to do more than that! I want to be properly trained in Defense, because…..because….." she took a great breath and finished. "Because Lord Voldemort is back."

Hayden stared at her in somewhat disbelief. It was the first time he had ever heard Lizzie say Voldemort's name since she normally was one of many who refused to say it out of fear.

The reactions from everyone else was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked, and slopped butterbeer down herself, Terry Boot gave an involuntary twitch, Padma Patil shuddered and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough; Molly and her friends all flinched like they had been slapped. Hayden however didn't react at all. All of them, however, looked fixedly, evenly at Harry.

"Well…That's the plan, anyway," said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to…"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" asked the blonde Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive way. "Well, Dumbledore believes it," said Hermione. "You mean Dumbledore believes him," said the blonde boy, nodding at Harry.

Lizzie felt her face get hot as she felt anger build inside her stomach. "I'm sorry, but who are you?" she asked, somewhat coolly.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy. "And I think we've got a right to know what makes him say You-Know-Who's back." "Look," said Lizzie. "That's not what this meeting's supposed to be about….."

"It's okay, Liz," said Harry. Lizzie stared at him. It had just dawned on him why there were so many people there. He felt like Hermione should have seen this coming. Some of these people – maybe even most of them – had turned up in the hopes of hearing Harry's story firsthand. The only one in the group to have heard it was Lizzie. Almost immediately after returning from the graveyard, and when the emotion had dialed down a bit, Harry told her everything that had happened. Lizzie had even drawn a sketch of Voldemort based on the description that Harry gave her, and it was scary how accurate it was.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he asked, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year and if you don't believe him, then you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. He even had the impression the barman was listening in. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag and was becoming steadily dirtier.

Zacharias sat dismissively. "All Dumbledore told us last year was the Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered. I think we'd all like to know…"

"If Harry doesn't want to talk about it, you can't make him," said Lizzie, who was suddenly on her feet as the attention of the group turned to her. "I was talking to him, not to you!" snapped Smith. "And anyway, why should I listen to someone who killed her own horse?"

Lizzie felt her chest constrict. Though she wasn't entirely surprised by this remark. It seemed it wasn't just Lavender that thought that Raven's death was no accident.

Molly and her friends exchanged baffled glances. "What is he talking about?" Molly whispered.

"When are you people going to understand?" said Hayden getting to his feet. "That wasn't what happened! It was an accident!" "How do you know?" Smith demanded. "You weren't even there!" "Lizzie told me everything," said Hayden, his tone becoming icy cold and his blue eyes flickered. In the short time that he had gotten to know Lizzie, he had become very protective of her. "We all saw it happen!" said Smith. "She made her horse take a jump when he didn't want to! You do realize she's on mental medication right? I'm surprised you're taking her word for it. Mad people don't make reliable witnesses. You should think twice before believing anything she says."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hayden snapped. He looked over at Lizzie who refused to meet his gaze, though she looked positively mortified that Smith had brought this up.

"Everyone knows, Lizzie!" said Cho. "Oh, my God!" Lizzie moaned, putting her face in her hands.

Harry, seeing how distraught Lizzie was, rounded on Smith.

"If you want to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone, I can't help you," he said, Smith's scathing word to Lizzie ringing in his ears. He had known for years that Lizzie was mentally ill and took medication to manage her symptoms, but she rarely talked about it with anyone. Not even Hayden, apparently.

Harry didn't take his eyes off Zacharias Smith's aggressive face. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? Especially in front of Lizzie, they were really close. So if that's why you're here, you may as well clear out now."

He cast an angry look in Hermione's direction. This was, he felt, all her fault, she had decided to display him like some kind of freak. Now he understood and appreciated how Lizzie felt on a daily basis.

And of course, they had all turned up to see just how wild his story was…

But none of them left their seats – not even Molly and her friends, who were gazing at Lizzie with looks of sympathy, and casting hard looks at Smith as though his treatment of her was way below the belt.

Hayden too, remained seated with his arm wrapped protectively around Lizzie's shoulder. Lizzie still had her face in her hands. Not even Zacharias Smith moved, although he continued to gaze intently at Harry.

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "So…..like I was saying….If you want to learn some defense, then we may need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and when we're going to…"

"Is it true," interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry. "That you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah," said Harry, somewhat defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

The phrase stirred something in Harry's memory. "Er…..You don't know Madame Bones, do you?"

Madame Bones had been a Ministry official that had questioned Harry during a hearing over the summer when dementors made their way into the neighborhood in which Harry resided with his aunt and uncle. Harry had cast a Patronus purely in self-defense, but was expelled from school, and later his expulsion was suspended, pending a hearing. The charges of underage magic were eventually dropped.

The girl smiled. "She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So – is it true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry," said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!" "Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry and a couple people laughed, including Lizzie, Hayden, Molly, and her group of friends. The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And you killed a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office!" demanded Terry Boot. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year….." "What sword?" Hayden whispered to Lizzie. "Godric Gryffindor's, said Lizzie. "Ahh," said Hayden.

"Er, yeah," said Harry. "I did, yeah."

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled, the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks, and Lavender Brown said 'wow' softly. Lizzie made a derisive little noise that she managed to pass off as a sneeze. So, Lavender would believe Harry, but not her?

"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved the Sorcerus Stone….."

"Sorcerer's," said Lizzie, smiling at Neville. Neville's ears turned pink. "Yeah, that, from You-Know-Who," he finished. Hannah Abbott's eyes were as round as Galleons.

"And that's not to mention," said Cho, "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament. Getting past dragons, and merpeople, and acromantulas and things….." "When was this?" asked Hayden. "Last year," Lizzie hissed.

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Molly and her friends stared captivated at Harry.

"Look," said Harry, and everyone fell silent. "I…..I don't want to sound like I'm being modest or anything, but I had a lot of help doing that stuff….."

"Not with the dragons you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying…" "Yeah, well….." said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree. "And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Susan Bones. "No," said Harry, "no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is…."

"Are you trying to weasel you ray out of teaching us this stuff?" asked Zacharias Smith. "Here's an idea," said Ron loudly before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"

Lizzie felt a mixture of satisfaction and gratitude toward Ron. The moment Smith mentioned her mental health struggles for the whole group to hear, she instantly took a dislike to him. Now it was like Ron was saying what she was to afraid to say.

Although it was perhaps the word 'weasel' that had affected Ron particularly strongly; in any case, he was now looking at Smith as though he would like nothing better than to thump him.

Smith flushed. "Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't do really any of it."

"That's not what he's saying!" said Lizzie. "How would you know?" asked Smith. "I thought retarded people weren't smart enough to understand intellectual conversations." "Hey!" said Hayden, standing up so fast, he nearly knocked over his bottle of butterbeer. It was clear to him, Lizzie, and everyone else that Smith was taking potshots at Lizzie's autism diagnosis. What's more, he seemed to believe all the stereotypes and no actual facts. Hayden walked right up to Smith and stared him down. He looked ready to rip him a new one.

"I don't know where you're getting your information on autism, but it's all crap! Lizzie is one of the brightest, kindest, most intelligent people I have ever met – no offense, Hermione," he added quickly in Hermione's direction. "None taken," she said, smiling. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with Lizzie intellectually. She just thinks differently than everyone else," said Hayden.

"Really?" sneered Smith. "Does she take medication for that too?"

He laughed disparagingly as though he expected the room at large to join in. But no one did. Rather, everyone glared at him with extreme loathing. Even Lavender looked uncomfortable. "Why is he being so mean to her?" Molly whispered. Hayden's face turned pink and his face hardened as he clenched his fists, looking over at Lizzie who looked like she was about to burst into tears. What no one saw however was how she had put her hands in her lap and started stimming by flapping them.

"Lizzie," said Hayden, turning towards her as she stopped stimming to look at him. "When Madame Pomfrey assessed you, where did she measure your IQ at?" asked Hayden. Lizzie shrugged. "Dunno…..somewhere in the 120-range I s'pose….."

"See?" said Hayden, turning back to Smith, his eyes continuing to flicker. "120 range…That is above average! If Lizzie was 'retarded' as you say, her IQ would be seventy or lower!"

"Retarded is a medical term," said Lavender. "Not anymore it isn't!" snapped Hayden. "They've stopped using it to describe intellectually disabled people and Lizzie is not intellectually disabled! And he was using as an insult! Not a medical term!"

He continued to glare at Smith who had suddenly gone quiet, the smirk gone from his aggressive face. "Either do some research or keep your yap shut and don't talk about things you don't understand!" He turned and sat back in his chair, though his icy blue eyes remained transfixed on Smith, as though waiting, and daring him to say something else about Lizzie.

"Would you like us to clean your ears for you?" inquired George, pulling a long, lethal-looking instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy about where we stick this," said Fred.

"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily, "moving on…the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry."

"Why can't he do it?" asked Lavender dreamily, nodding at Hayden. Molly, and her friends gazed hopefully at Hayden as well. "Harry has more experience than I do, by far," said Hayden as he raised his hand. "I'm in," he said. "Me too!" said Lizzie, likewise, raising her hand. There was a murmur of general agreement. Smith folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in George's hand.

"Right," said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week….."

"Hang on," said Angelina. "We need to make sur this doesn't interfere with our Quidditch practices."

"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."

"Not ours," added Zacharias Smith.

"Thank God I don't play," muttered Hayden. "I think you'd make a great Quidditch player," said Lizzie fondly. "Thanks, Liz," said Hayden. "But I also don't want it to interfere with our riding lessons," Lizzie added. "We'll make it work," said Hayden.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," said Hermione, slightly impatiently, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters…."

"What are Death Eaters?" asked Hayden, frowning. "They're Voldemort's Stormtroopers," said Lizzie. "Aha!" said Hayden. "Gotcha!" "

"Well said!" barked Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry and Lizzie both had been expecting to speak long before this. "Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than

anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!"

"More important than Nationals?" Lizzie whispered to Hayden.

Ernie looked around impressively as though waiting for people to cry, "Surely not!" When nobody spoke, he went on. "I personally am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period….."

"Can I get an 'amen'?" said Lizzie. Everybody laughed. "Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells….." said Hermione.

"I've actually got a theory about that," said Lizzie, and everyone turned their heads in her direction. Even Zacharias Smith turned his head away from the instrument in George's hand.

"I suspect," said Lizzie slowly, sounding slightly nervous about what people may think of her theory. "That the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts, is that she's got some – some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as some kind of…..private army. She thinks he'd – he'd mobilize us against the Ministry.

It wasn't the reaction Lizzie was expecting. No one laughed at her for once, but no one looked remotely stunned at this revelation either. No one except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense," she said. "After all, Cornelius Fudge has his own private army."

"Does he?" asked Lizzie. "I didn't know that!" "Oh, yes," said Luna, nodding. "Yes, he has his own army of heliopaths."

"Don't listen to her, Lizzie," said Hermione. "Why not?" demanded Lizzie. "I'm interested!" "Because Cornelius Fudge doesn't have an army of heliopaths," said Hermione. "Yes, he has," said Luna. "No, he hasn't!" said Hermione.

"Sorry, but what are heliopaths?" asked Lizzie. "They're spirits of fire," said Luna, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever. "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of…."

"They don't exist, Lizzie," said Hermione tartly.

"Oh, yes, they do!" said Luna angrily.

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione. Lizzie thought Hermione was being a bit close-minded and not very respectful. Hermione didn't ridicule Lizzie for her Christian faith, so why was she ridiculing Luna for her beliefs? It didn't seem fair.

"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded, you have to have everything shoved under your nose before you…"

"Hem, hem!" said Lizzie in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people, including Hayden, looked around in alarm, then laughed.

"But weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and get Defense lessons?" "Yes," said Hermione at once. "Yes, we were, Lizzie, you're right."

"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee Jordan. "As long as….." began Angelina.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," said Hermione impatiently.

"And…" Lizzie began. "And riding lessons, I know Lizzie," said Hermione. "Well, the other thing is to decide where we're going to meet…"

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

"Library?" suggested Katie Bell after a moment. "I can't see Madame Pince being to chuffed us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.

Lizzie nodded in agreement. The library didn't seem practical, nor feasible.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" asked Dean. "Yeah," said Ron. "McGonagall might let you have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard….."

Lizzie bit her lip. She was relatively sure that McGonagall would not be so accommodating this time around.

For all that both Hermione and Hayden had said and researched about study and homework groups being allowed, she had a feeling that this one might seem a bit rebellious.

"Right, well we'll try to find somewhere," said Hermione. "We'll sent a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting." She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and quill then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something.

"I-I think everybody should write their names down, jus so we know who was here. But I also think," she took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we are doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge – or anyone else - what we're up to."

Lizzie eagerly pulled the parchment toward her and signed her name with a slight flourish on the end and passed it to Hayden who signed his name too.

Harry noticed as Fred signed his name that people looked less happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.

"Hermione?' asked Lizzie as the parchment was passed around to everyone in the group added their names. "Yeah, Lizzie?" asked Hermione. "We need a name for our group," said Lizzie. "Every organization needs a name!" "I agree with Lizzie," said Hayden. "I also think we should elect a leader of the group…"

"You could do it," said Lizzie brightly, as she saw Parvati and Lavender look up hopefully. Hayden smiled. "That's very flattering, Lizzie, but I think Harry's a much better choice," he said. Lavender and Parvati sighed as they gazed at each other, looking disappointed.

"All in favor of Harry as leader?" said Hermione bossily.

Everyone put up their hands – even Zacharias Smith, though somewhat halfheartedly. "Er – right, thanks," said Harry. "What about a name for our group like Lizzie suggested?" asked Molly. "I agree," said Hermione. It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"

There was a murmur of agreement from the group. "Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" asked Angelina hopefully. Lizzie and Hayden exchanged amused glances. "Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?" suggested Fred.

"I think it should be something less conspicuous," said Lizzie. "Something we can safely refer to outside of meetings without people finding out." "I agree," said Hermione. "The Defense Association," said Molly. "The D.A. for short, so no one knows what we're talking about."

"Yeah, the D.A. sounds good," said Hayden. "Only I think we should call ourselves Dumbledore's Army, Lizzie said that's the Ministry's worst fear, right?"

Everyone looked around at each other looking really impressed. "Dumbledore's Army…" said Hermione thoughtfully. "I like it! It fits!" "Well done, Hayden," said Lizzie. Hayden smiled. Lavender and Parvati were starting at Hayden with looks of tremendous admiration.

Once everybody had added their names to the list, and a name for the group had been chosen, everyone slowly began to make their way from the pub. Lizzie and Hayden were two of the last to leave.

For a while they walked along the streets. Hayden said nothing to Lizzie. He kept thinking about Zacharias Smith's jabs at her autism, and the comment about her being on psychiatric medication, and wondering why she hadn't mentioned it before, nor had anyone else. But it made sense though. Her friends had described to him, sort of Jekyll-and-Hyde situations where Lizzie would be happy one moment, then crying the next, or she would get angry for no apparent reason and lash out at people, sometimes without provocation, other times she would be almost hyper with a ton of energy like the Tasmanian Devil, to being lethargic and so depressed that she could barely get out of bed in the morning. These symptoms would worsen every month around the time of her period.

"Lizzie," said Hayden finally, choosing how he wanted to ask the question carefully. "What did Zacharias Smith mean when he said you were on medication?"

"I was diagnosed with manic depression when I was thirteen," said Lizzie. "You mean, bipolar disorder?" asked Hayden. Lizzie nodded. "Yeah, after I tried killing myself," she added. Hayden stopped walking abruptly and stared at her.

"Why?" he asked. "Malfoy said that Hogwarts would be a better place without me, and that I should just kill myself because no one liked me or wanted me here."

"And you believed him?" asked Hayden "If you tell a lie big enough, and tell it often enough, people will eventually come to believe it," said Lizzie. Hayden nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "I didn't want you to think I was….." "Crazy?" asked Hayden. "You're not crazy, Lizzie, you have an illness. It's like diabetes or migraine headaches – you take medication, and you get better." "Yeah, but people treat you differently, and I get made fun of enough as it is."

"Smith had no right to bring that up in front of everyone and embarrass you like that," said Hayden. "You heard what he said, He thinks because I'm autistic, that means that I'm slow, and he thinks that I killed Raven!" "He's kind of a jerk," said Hayden. "Thanks for sticking up for me, that really means a lot," said Lizzie. "I'll always have your back," said Hayden.

They made it back to the castle forty-five minutes later and went straight up to Gryffindor Tower. Lizzie opened the box of chocolate cauldrons that she had bought earlier that day and began snacking on one as she started on homework. She had allowed herself to fall behind and had gotten a rather harsh scolding from Hermione.

Lizzie had retaliated by saying that Hermione sounded just like her mother, though she had to admit to herself that her mom would have given her the exact same lecture. After all, they had a deal; schoolwork would always come before riding or anything else and given that she was going to have her O.W.L.s soon, she couldn't afford to fall behind anymore.

Hayden had his own homework to catch up on, and though neither of them could consider this enjoyable, having each other for company made it, at the very least, tolerable.

"Let's go down by the lake," Hayden suggested. "At least we can get some fresh air."

"And bring our homework with us?" asked Lizzie. "Sure, why not?" asked Hayden.

So, the two of them gathered their work, and made their way out of the common room, out of the castle and down by the lake as they lounged on the shores, spreading their homework across the rocks.

The knowledge that they were doing something to resist Umbridge and the Ministry and that Hayden and his friends were now willing participants in the rebellion, despite not being a Hogwarts student, gave the two of them a feeling of immense satisfaction.

Lizzie thought about how Hayden had stood up for her in the Hog's Head. It had been the first time someone had really stood up for her like that, and defended her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had tried numerous times, but they were laughed at right along with her. No one had ever looked past her limitations and accepted her for being herself on the level that Hayden had.

All she had ever wanted from the moment she arrived at Hogwarts was to be accepted and appreciated, and in Hayden she had gotten that on a much deeper level than anyone ever had.

It was like a fifty-pound weight had been lifted from her chest. She didn't have to 'mask' or hide her autistic traits around him, and he wasn't bothered by any of it at all, he had proven that to her when he interviewed her in the Three Broomsticks and had watched her stim, and was unaffected by it.

He hadn't judged her for her mental illness, or when she was cutting herself (the cuts on her arms were almost fully healed now), he hung out with her because he wanted to, and that meant a lot.

For the first time in four years, she was really and truly happy.

The high lasted long after the weekend ended and Monday arrived. Even the idea of Umbridge's class later or physical therapy after lunch, didn't dampen her spirits.

Not until she met Hayden in the common room after descending the stairs to and from the girls' dormitory, who was staring at a large sign on the Gryffindor notice board, so large that it covered everything on there – the list of second-hand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch and equestrian team schedules, offers to barter Chocolate Frog cards for others, the Weasley's new advertisement for testers on their Skiving Snackboxes, the dates for the Hogsmeade weekends, and the lost-and-found notices.

The new notice was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature

BY ORDER OF

THE HIGH INQUISTOR OF HOGWARTS

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.

An Organization, Society, Team, Group or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).

No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge

Lizzie and Hayden read the notice over the heads of some anxious-looking second years. "Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" one of them asked a friend.

Gobstones was a game similar to marbles, where the stones would squirt a rather foul-smelling liquid into a player's face when they lose a point.

"I think you'll be okay with Gobstones," said Lizzie darkly, her gaze darting toward Hayden who was also exchanging an uneasy look. The happiness she had felt down by the lake that weekend was slowly trickling away, and a feeling of dread was slowly building inside her. Her insides were pulsing with disbelief and rage. Hayden seemed to sense what she was thinking.

"This is not a coincidence," he said, clapping his palms together and holding his hands in front of his face.. "She knows!" "How could she?" asked Lizzie. "There were people listening in the pub," said Hayden. "Someone could have tipped her off."

Lizzie thought back to the veiled witch that she had become convinced was Umbridge. "And let's face it," Hayden continued. "We don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust…..Any of them could have run off and told Umbridge….."

And Lizzie had thought that they had believed Harry, thought they even admired him…..

"I bet it was Zacharias Smith!" said Hayden. "Michael Corner had a bit of an odd look to him too….
"I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?" asked Lizzie, looking toward the door to the girls' dormitory. "Let's go and tell her!" said Hayden, bounding forward, and starting up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. "Wait, Hayden!" said Lizzie. "You can't…."

He was on the sixth step when it happened. There was a loud wailing klaxonlike sound, and the steps melted together to make a long smooth stone slide. There was a brief moment when Hayden tried to keep running, as athletic as he was, he toppled over backward and shot down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Lizzie's feet, breathing heavily. Lizzie offered her hand to him, but Hayden managed to get to his feet by himself – possibly because he didn't want to pull Lizzie down with him.

"Er – I don't think boys are allowed in the girls' dorm," he said. "I could have told you that," said Lizzie, who couldn't help but smile with amusement.

Two fourth year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide. "Oooh, who tried to get upstairs?" they giggled happily, leaping to their feet, staring around, and resting their eyes on Hayden. "Me," said Hayden, whose curly dark blonde hair was rather disheveled. "I didn't know that was going to happen."

The girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. "Isn't Hermione allowed in the boy's dorm?" asked Hayden to Lizzie. "Yeah, she told me about a couple of times that she's been in there. I've been in there too," said Lizzie.

"Well, then, how come…..?"

"It's an old fashioned rule," said Hermione who had just slid neatly onto the rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, "but it says in Hogwarts; A History that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls."

"That explains the Shield Charm in our dormitory," said Hayden. "What?" asked Lizzie. "Girls and boys sides of the dorm are separated by a Shield Charm in our dormitory. They stay on their side, we stay on ours," said Hayden.

"Why were you trying to get in there anyway?" asked Hermione. "To see you," said Lizzie, "look at this!" She dragged Hermione over to the notice board. Hermione's eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony. "Someone must've told!" said. Lizzie. "They can't have done!" said Hermione. "Oh, really?" asked Hayden. "How do you figure?" "Because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Hermione. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."

"What'll happen to them?" asked Hayden curiously. "Well, put it this way," said Hermione. "It will make Eloise Midgen's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's go down to breakfast and see what the others think…I wonder whether this has been put up in all Houses?"

It was immediately apparent as they entered the Great Hall, even amongst the Canadian students, that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables, conferring on what they had read.

Lizzie, Hayden, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny descended upon them.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon she knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure that there were no teachers near them. "We're going to do it anyway, of course," he said quietly. Lizzie looked uneasy as she gazed down at the words, I must not tell lies, that had turned into a scar by now, standing out stark white against her skin.

"Knew you'd say that," said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm. "The prefects as well?" asked Fred, looking quizzically at Ron, Hermione, and Hayden. "Of course!" said Hermione coolly. "Wouldn't miss it!" said Hayden.

"Here come Ernie, and Hannah Abbott," said Ron, looking over his shoulder, "and those two Ravenclaw blokes and Smith…and no one looks very spotty."

"Neither does Molly or anyone else," said Hayden, glancing down the Gryffindor Table.

"Never mind spots, they can't come over here now, or it'll look really suspicious – sit down!" she mouthed at Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. Hayden likewise was shaking his hand frantically at Molly as she and her friends approached. "Later! We'll – talk – to – you – later!"

"I'd better tell everyone else," said Hayden, swinging his leg over the bench and walking along the Gryffindor table to everyone in navy blue robes, whispering in their ears. Several girls giggled and blushed as he passed by.

Lizzie had to be grateful that Umbridge's notice wasn't giving Hayden second thoughts. But the full repercussions were not felt until they were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic.

"Harry, Ron!"
"Oh, dear….." said Lizzie who was walking beside Hayden. It was Angelina, and she was hurrying toward them looking perfectly desperate. "It's okay," said Harry quietly when she was near enough to hear him.

"You realize she's including Quidditch in this too?" Angelina said over him. "We have to go and ask permission to reform the team. Same with the equestrian teams too," she added in Hayden and Lizzie's direction. "Even yours, Hayden."

Hayden was floored. Umbridge was disbanding the equestrian team from his school? How could she possibly have the authority to do that? "She can't do that!" said Hayden automatically. "I don't even go to school here! She has no authority!" "Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four says she does," said Angelina, turning her attention to Harry. "Listen, Harry, I am saying this for the last time…Please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again, or she may not let us play anymore!"

"Okay, okay," said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears.

"Don't worry, I'll behave myself…"

"And I don't want you sticking up for Harry anymore either," said Hayden sternly to Lizzie. "Why not?" asked Lizzie. "He's my best friend!"

"I spoke to Madame Pomfrey about your hand," said Hayden. "She said that while you are improving, the nerve damage is quite severe. If it gets any worse, the paralysis could become permanent, and you will lose the use of your hand completely."

Now it was Hayden that looked like he was on the verge of tears. "Okay," said Lizzie. "Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic," said Ron grimly as they were off for Binns' lesson. "She hasn't inspected Binns yet…bet you anything she's in there…."

But he was wrong. The only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual, and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. Harry nor Lizzie even attempted to follow along with what he was saying today; as the both of them doodled idly on their parchment, ignoring Hermione's frequent glared and nudges until a particularly painful poke from Lizzie made Harry look up angrily.

Lizzie pointed to the window, Harry looked around. Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing through the thick glass at him, a letter tied to her leg. Harry could not understand it; they had just had breakfast, why on earth hadn't she delivered the letter then, as usual?

Many of his classmates were pointing out Hedwig to each other too.

"Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful," Harry heard Lavender sigh to Parvati. Lizzie slid off her desk and crawled on all fours over to the window, bracing herself against the wall as she slid the catch and opened the window ever so slowly.

She expected Hedwig to hold out her leg so that Lizzie could removed the letter, then fly off to the Owlry, but the moment the window was opened wide enough, she hopped inside, hooting dolefully.

"What is it, girl?" Lizzie whispered, glancing anxiously at Professor Binns as she gathered Hedwig in her arms, crouching low and making her way back to her desk, and passing Hedwig to Harry.

It was only then, that. Lizzie realized that Hedwig's feathers were oddly ruffled, some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle.

"She's hurt!" Harry whispered, bending his head low over her. Hermione, Ron, and Lizzie leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill. "Look – something's wrong with her wing….."

Hedwig was quivering when Harry made to touch her wing, she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she were inflating herself and gazed at him reproachfully.

"I think it might be broken," said Lizzie. "Professor Binns," said Harry loudly and everyone in the class turned to look at him. "I'm not feeling well."

Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, looking amazed, as always to find the room in front of him full of people.

"Not feeling well?" he repeated hazily. "Not at all well," said Harry firmly, getting to his feet, while carefully concealing Hedwig behind his back. "So I think I need to go to the hospital wing." "And I need to take my medication," Lizzie piped up. "Yes, yes," said Professor Binns, clearly very much wrong-footed. "Yes, hospital wing, well, off you go, then," he said, nodding at Lizzie too.

Once outside, she caught sight of Hayden at the end of the corridor, who for whatever reason, wasn't in class.

Lizzie came running up to Hayden with Harry close behind her. "Lizzie, what's going on? Why aren't you in class?" asked Hayden. "It's Hedwig – Harry's owl, she's hurt," said Lizzie. Harry presented Hedwig to Hayden who looked her over.

"Her wing looks a bit…" he said, gently manipulating the wing. But even then, Hedwig gave Hayden the same reproachful look.

"I think I saw Professor Grubbly-Plank go into the staffroom, you could check there," said Hayden. "Thank you!" said Harry as he and Lizzie walked off.

Two stone gargoyles flanked the staffroom door. As Harry and Lizzie approached, one of the croaked, "You two should be in class,"

"This is urgent," said Harry curtly.

"Oooh, urgent, is it?" said the other gargoyle in a high-pitched voice. "Well, that puts us in our place, hasn't it?" "He said that it was urgent, now let us through!" said Lizzie angrily. Harry knocked; he heard footsteps and then the door opened, and he found himself face-to-face with Professor McGonagall. "You haven't been given another detention?" she said at once, her square spectacles flashing alarmingly. "No, Professor," said Harry hastily. "And you?" asked McGonagall, turning toward Lizzie who shook her head.

"Well, then why are the both of you out of class?" "It's urgent apparently," said the second gargoyle snidely. Lizzie glared at the gargoyle. "I'm looking for Professor Grubbly-Plank," said Harry. "It's my owl, she's injured."

"Injured owl, did you say?"

Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared as Professor McGonagall's shoulder, smoking a pipe, and holding a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Yes," said Harry, gently handing over Hedwig. "She turned up after the other post owls and her wing's all funny, look….."

"I thought it might be broken," Lizzie volunteered. "Hmmm," said Professor Grubbly-Plank, her pipe waggling slightly as she talked. "Looks like something's attacked her. Can't think what could have done it, though…..Thestrals will sometimes go for birds, of course, but Hagrid's got the Hogwarts thestrals well trained not to touch owls.

"Thestrals?" Lizzie murmured. Harry neither knew nor cared what thestrals were, he just wanted to know that Hedwig would be okay. Professor McGonagall however, looked sharply at Harry and said, "Do you know how far this owl has traveled, Potter?"

"Er," said Harry. "From London, I think."

He met her eyes briefly, and knew that she understood 'London' to mean 'number twelve, Grimmauld Place,' which was the residence of Harry's godfather Sirius Black, whom Harry had been in constant contact with. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place also served as headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.

Professor Grubbly-Plank pulled a monocle out of the inside of her robes and screwed it into her eye to examine Hedwig's wing closely. "I should be able to sort this out if you leave her with me, Potter," she said. "She shouldn't be flying long distances for a few days in any case."

"Er – right – thanks," said Harry, just as the bell rang for break. Lizzie was looking relieved too. "No problem," said Professor Grubbly-Plank gruffly, turning back to the staffroom.

"Just a moment, Wilhelmina!" said Professor McGonagall. "Potter's letter!" "Oh, yeah!" said Harry who had momentarily forgotten the scroll tied to Hedwig's leg, who was staring at Harry as though she was unable to believe he would give her away like this. "She'll be okay," said Lizzie soothingly. "Grubbly-Plank will take good care of her, you'll see. A few days, and she'll be good as new….."

Feeling slightly guilty, he turned to go, but Professor McGonagall called both of them back. "Yes, Professor?" asked Lizzie. Professor McGonagall glanced up and down the corridors, there were students coming from both directions. "Bear in mind," she said quickly, and quietly, her eyes on the scroll in Harry's hand, "that the channels of communication in and out of Hogwarts may be being watched, won't you?"

Harry and Lizzie already knew this. Both Lizzie and Hayden had letters to their families returned to them with the words RETURN TO SENDER stamped on the envelopes.

"I….." said Harry, but the flood of students rolling along the corridor was almost upon them.

Professor McGonagall gave them both a curt nod and retreated into the staffroom, leaving both Harry and Lizzie to be swept out into the courtyard with the crowd.

Lizzie saw Hayden standing in a sheltered corner, his cloak collar turned up and his hair whipping around in the wind.

"How's Hedwig?" he asked as Lizzie approached. "She's going to be okay, I think," said Lizzie. "We ran into Professor McGonagall outside the staff room…..get this…."

She told him about what McGonagall had said about the mail being monitored, but to her surprise, Hayden didn't seem the least bit shocked. On the contrary, he gave her a significant look. "What?" asked Lizzie, staring intensely at him, her cerulean eyes meeting his icy blues. "It just occurred to me," said Hayden. "What if someone tried intercepting Hedwig? I mean, she's never been hurt on a flight before, has she?"

"I don't think so," said Lizzie, seeing what Hayden was saying. "Who was the letter from anyway?" asked Hayden. "A friend," said Lizzie. Hayden knew nothing about Sirius. She had never mentioned him.

Now that Lizzie got to thinking about it, when she and Hayden had gotten their messages to their families sent back, it appeared that the letters had been opened, read, and resealed before being sent back.

Now, Lizzie felt angry. How could one person have this much power? Professor Umbridge had almost become goddess-like with her power and authority she was being permitted to have by the Ministry.

Lizzie trudged down the stone steps for Potions with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all four of them lost in thought, but as they reached the bottom of the stairs they were recalled to themselves by the voice of Draco Malfoy who was standing just outside Snape's classroom door, waving around an official-looking piece of parchment, and talking much louder than was necessary so the four of them could hear his every word.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry…..It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor is allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Don't – you – dare!" Lizzie hissed in Harry's ear. Ron looked like he was ready to pounce as well. "It's what he wants…" said Lizzie through clenched teeth, although her face was steadily becoming redder.

"I mean," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes glittering malevolently in Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lizzie's direction. "If it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance…From what my father's says, they've been looking for an excuse too sack Arthur Weasley for years…as for Potter…my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's…apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic….."

Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open, and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter, Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee.

Something collided with Lizzie's shoulder so hard, it nearly knocked her off her feet. A split second later, she realized that Neville had just charged past her, heading straight for Malfoy.

"Neville, no!" Lizzie yelled as Harry leapt forward, seizing the back of Neville's robes;

Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Malfoy, who looked, only for a moment, completely shocked.

"Help me!" Harry flung at Ron, managing to get an arm around Neville's neck and dragging him backward away from the Slytherins.

Crabbe and Goyle were now flexing their arms, closing in front of Malfoy, ready for the fight. Ron hurried forward and seized Neville's arms; together he and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Neville's face was scarlet; the pressure Harry was exerting on his throat rendered him quite incomprehensible, but odd words spluttered from his mouth.

"Not…..funny…..don't…..Mungo's…show…him…"

The dungeon door opened. Snape appeared there. His black eyes swept up the Gryffindor line to the point where Harry and Ron were wrestling with Neville.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, Miss Brooks?" asked Snape, eyeing Lizzie. "No, sir," said Lizzie. "Ten points from Gryffindor," said Snape in his cold sneering voice. "Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside all of you."

Harry let go of Neville who stood up, panting, and glaring at him. "You okay?" asked Lizzie gently, putting a hand on Neville's shoulder. Neville said nothing and continued to pant heavily as he snatched his bag and stalked off into the dungeons.

"What in the world was that about?" Lizzie murmured to Harry. Harry said nothing. He had learned the previous year from Dumbledore that the reason the very mention of those who were in St. Mungo's hospital due to magical damage was distressing to Neville, was because Neville's parents, Frank and Alice Longbottom had been severely tortured by a Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange. She had tortured them for information using the Cruciatus Curse, but they never gave in, until both of them went insane. They didn't even recognize Neville whenever he would go and visit them.

Harry had sworn to Dumbledore that he would not tell anyone Neville's secret. Even Neville didn't know that Harry knew.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lizzie took their usual seats at the back of the class and pulled out parchment, quills, and their copies of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. The class around them was whispering about what Neville had just done, but when Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang, everybody fell silent immediately.

"You will notice," said Snape in his low, sneering voice, "that we have a guest with us today."

He gestured toward the dim corner of the dungeon, and Harry and Lizzie saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. They glanced sideways at Ron, and Hermione, both of their eyebrows raised.

Snape and Umbridge, the two teachers that the both of them hated the most…It was hard to decide which they wanted to triumph over the other.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made, they should have matured well over the weekend – instructions….." he waved his wand again, "on the board. Carry on."

Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. Both Harry and Lizzie were very interested in hearing her question Snape, so interested, that Lizzie was becoming careless with her ingredients.

"Salamander blood, Lizzie!" Hermione moaned, grabbing her wrist to stop her from adding the wrong ingredient for the third time. "Not pomegranate juice!" "Right. Thanks," said Lizzie, setting down the bottle, as she continued to watch the corner.

Umbridge had just gotten to her feet. "Ha," said Lizzie softly as Umbridge strode between the two lines of desks toward Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas' cauldron.

"Well, this class seems fairly advances for their level," she said briskly to Snape's back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer if that were removed from the syllabus."

Snape straightened up and turned to her.

"Now…how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill pointed over the clipboard.

"Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. Lizzie kept her eyes on Snape, and not realizing what she was doing, added a few drops to her potion as it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange.

"You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe," Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

"Yes," said Snape quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

Snape's lip curled.

"Obviously."

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily. "Oh, I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Oh, yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of a teacher's – er – backgrounds….."

She turned away, walking over to Pansy Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked around and Lizzie, and their eyes met for a second and Lizzie quickly dropped her gaze on her potion, which was now congealing foully, and giving off a strong smell of burnt rubber. "No marks again, Miss Brooks," said Snape maliciously, emptying Lizzie's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Lizzie, not looking at him, though inside, she was fuming. Snape had already given them homework, and she had physical therapy that afternoon, then a riding lesson with Hayden that evening. This would mean another couple of sleepless nights just to catch up. It didn't seem possible that she had woken up that morning feeling the happiest she had felt in a long time.

All she wanted now was for the day to end as soon as possible so she could go down to the stables and see Flicka.

"Maybe I'll skive off Divination," said Lizzie glumly as Hayden walked with her to the hospital wing after lunch for her physical therapy. "I can pretend my appendix ruptured or something and do Snape's essay instead, then I won't have to stay up half the night."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Liz," said Hayden. "Hermione walked out of Divination our third year," said Lizzie. "She hates Trelawney. Thinks she a right old fraud." "Still," said Hayden. "You want to pass your O.W.L.s, don't you?"

Lizzie had to admit that Hayden had a point. Even though she hated the class, she knew that she would regret it if she skipped out, if she wanted to pass her O.W.L.

They made their way to the hospital wing where Lizzie began her therapy with a massage, and stretching her legs. Then. Madame Pomfrey made the declaration that they would be doing the walking portion of her therapy in the Great Hall.

This surprised Lizzie as they walked down to the now empty Great hall. As they stood in the doorway, Madame Pomfrey turned to Lizzie. "All right, I want you to walk all the way to the podium steps and back by yourself. I won't help you this time," she said.

Lizzie swallowed hard. The distance between the door to and from the Great Hall and to the podium steps that also led to the staff table was a very long way to walk, and Lizzie had never walked that far before - let alone by herself.

"That's – that's a very long way to walk," she said nervously. "By myself."

"You're ready for it," said Madame Pomfrey encouragingly. "I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't think you could."

Lizzie nodded as she faced the podium, but didn't immediately move. "I'm scared," she said. "Hey," said Hayden as Lizzie turned to him. "I'll catch you if you fall, I promise," he said.

Lizzie smiled and nodded as she turned back towards the podium once more and sighed. "Okay," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "I can do this."

She slowly moved her right leg forward, then her left, then her right again.

Lizzie had practiced walking during the summer, so her pace wasn't as slow as it had been when she first began walking independently, though her footfalls were still heavy and she still put her hands out in front of her in order to brace herself, should she lose her balance and fall.

Even though her legs were aching with protest less than halfway there, she kept going. "Try engaging your core like when you ride," Hayden suggested. "That should help your balance."

Lizzie tried, and it did help. About two more minutes, she reached the podium steps and sat down to give her legs a rest, and Hayden noticed she had tears in her eyes. "What's up?" he asked, sitting beside her, and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "It's just….." said Lizzie, wiping her tears away with her sleeve. "When I was born, the doctors told my mum I would never walk – they said it was impossible," she said.

"You sure proved them wrong," said Hayden, grinning. Lizzie smiled. "I've wanted to walk by myself since I first arrived here, and there was a point when I didn't think I would ever…"

Happy tears continued to flow from her eyes as she sniffled and wiped them from beneath her glasses again. "Sorry about that," she said. "Don't be," said Hayden. "You're doing really well." "I agree," said Madame Pomfrey. "Riding horses has definitely helped you, and I can see the difference."

"I can too," said Hayden. "Ready to go back the other way?"

"Yeah," said Lizzie, smiling as Hayden offered his hand to her, as she took it, stood up, and began walking down the long aisle that divided the four House tables.

About halfway there, Lizzie dragged her left foot across the stone floor, and tripped. She would have fallen if Hayden hadn't caught her. "Easy, I've got you," he said, holding onto Lizzie as he helped her to stand straight again. "You good?" he asked, once Lizzie had found her balance again. Lizzie nodded as she continued on until she reached the door of the Great Hall. "Well done," said Madame Pomfrey. "It's obvious you've been practicing, I'm impressed."

Hayden was looking impressed as well. "I'm very proud of you, Lizzie," he said. Lizzie beamed as she made her way back up to the hospital wing with Madame Pomfrey and Hayden.

Half an hour later, Lizzie took her seat in the hot, over-perfumed atmosphere of the Divination classroom, feeling a strong sense of pride and accomplishment as Professor Trelawney handed out copies of The Dream Oracle, yet again; Lizzie usually did well during this class, despite her dislike for the practice, but she couldn't help but be reminded that she still had that punishment essay she needed to do for Snape on top of everything else, and her good mood quickly vanished.

Since she got back into riding, her dreams involving Raven had become less and less frequent.

Nowadays, her dreams all seemed to involve Hayden in some way or another, and she couldn't discern the meaning of the dreams or why she was dreaming about someone who was just a friend….

She immediately thought of the prediction that Trelawney had made at the beginning of the year.

Somehow her mind kept coming back to it. She couldn't help but suspect that the 'handsome stranger' Trelawney mentioned could be Hayden, not just because his name began with 'H', but he had started to become very important her, and she regarded him as a close friend. But this could all just be coincidence. She really had no solid proof that it was him.

It seemed, however that Lizzie wasn't the only one in a mood. Professor Trelawney slammed a copy of the Oracle down on the table between Harry and Lizzie, startling her. Lizzie sighed and put her head on the table, her heart thumping madly against her chest.

Professor Trelawney threw the next copy of the Oracle at Seamus and Dean, narrowly avoiding Seamus' head, and threw the final one into Neville's chest with such force that he slipped off his pouf.

"Well, carry on!" said Professor Trelawney loudly, her voice very high-pitched and somewhat hysterical. "You know what to do! Or am I such a substandard teacher that you have not learned how to open a book?"

Everyone glanced around at each other. Lizzie, however thought she knew what the matter was. As Professor Trelawney flounced back to the high-backed teacher's chair, her magnified eyes full of angry tears, she leaned her head close to Harry's and muttered, "I think she got the results of her inspection back."

"Professor?" said Parvati Patil in a hushed voice (she and Lavender had always rather admired Professor Trelawney). "Professor, is there anything – er – wrong?"

"Wrong?" cried Professor Trelawney in a voice throbbing with emotion. "Certainly not! I have been insulted, certainly….Insinuations have been made against me…..unfounded accusations levelled….but no, there is nothing wrong, certainly not…"

She took a great shuddering breath and looked away from Parvati, angry tears spilling from under her glasses. "I say nothing," she choked, "of sixteen years' devoted service…..It has passed, apparently unnoticed…but I shall not be insulted, no, I shall not!"

"But Professor," said Lizzie timidly. "Who's insulted you?"

"The establishment!" said Professor Trelawney in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice.

"Yes, those with eyes too clouded by the mundane to See as I See, to Know as I Know…..Of course, we Seers have always been feared, always persecuted….It is – alas – our fate…."

Lizzie nodded as Professor Trelawney gulped, dabbing at her wet cheeks with the end of her shawl, and pulled a small embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve into which she blew her nose very hard with a sound like Peeves blowing a raspberry. Ron sniggered and Lizzie glared at him.

Lizzie never thought Professor Trelawney was very credible with her supposed talents as a Seer, yet despite being autistic, Lizzie had more empathy than she knew what to do with, and would feel bad for people who were struggling or hurting and try and help them. This was no different.

"Professor," Lizzie continued, "do you mean…..is it something Professor Umbridge….."

"Do not speak to me about that woman!" cried Professor Trelawney, leaping to her feet, her bead rattling and her spectacles flashing. "Kindly continue with your work!"

And she spent the rest of the lesson striding among them, tears still leaking from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath.

"…..may as well choose to leave….the indignity of it…..on probation…..we shall see…how she dare…."

"Looks like Hermione and Umbridge have something in common," said Lizzie when Hayden met her outside the classroom to walk her to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "She obviously reckons Trelawney's an old fraud too…..Looks like she's been put on probation….."

"You're kidding!" asked Hayden, looking slightly surprised. "That bad, eh?"

Lizzie and Hayden hugged before he watched as Lizzie walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She sat down just as Umbridge entered, wearing her black velvet bow and an expression of great smugness.

"Good afternoon, class,"

"Good afternoon Professor Umbridge," they chanted drearily.

"Wands away, please….."

But there was no answering flurry of movement this time; nobody – not even Lizzie – had bothered to take out their wands.

"Please turn to page thirty-five of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter entitled, 'The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack.' There will be…"

" – no need to talk," Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lizzie said together under their breaths.

Lizzie changed into her riding clothes after Defense Against the Dark Arts making her way down to the stables and meeting Hayden near Jedi's stall. Flicka who was two stalls down, saw Lizzie and nickered happily. "Hey, girl," said Lizzie, walking up to Flicka and reaching out, petting her jet-black face.

"Ready to get started?" asked Hayden, walking up to her. "Ready as I'll ever be!" said Lizzie excitedly. "What's on the docket?" "I thought we could do some of the usual – walk, trot, canter, some jumps, then do some dressage," said Hayden. "Sounds good," said Lizzie, smiling.

She didn't immediately move as Hayden smiled. "Well, don't stand there looking at me, let's go," he said. "Okay," said Lizzie, laughing as she took a halter from a hook beside the stall, and unlatched the drop latch on the door and walked inside as she threw the lead rope around Flicka's neck, and put the halter on her face, and buckled it as she walked her out of the stall.

The wash bays were located on the far left wall of the stable block, near the tack room as Lizzie walked Flicka into one and clipped the ropes on either side of her halter before walking to the tack room to fetch Flicka's things.

Her balance looked much better, Hayden thought as he watched her gather Flicka's saddle in her arms. It was very heavy, and for a moment, Hayden saw her knees buckle, and thought her legs may give out. But they did not as Lizzie engaged her core muscles, which helped her to find her balance again.

She set the saddle, pad, and Ogilvy on the wall dividing the cross ties from one another as she took a curry comb from the little green grooming tote and began rubbing it in circular motions on Flicka's coat. Flicka had begun to grow her winter coat now; it was becoming much fuzzier, making her look like a living, breathing stuffed toy.

After using the curry comb, Lizzie used a soft and hard body brush on Flicka's coat, then picked out her hooves, and brushed her mane and tail.

She grabbed the saddle pad and Ogilvy – spongy support pads made in Canada that cost roughly two hundred dollars – on Flicka's back, covering her withers before lifting the saddle off the wall with one arm, and still maintaining balance as she gently lowered it onto Flicka's back.

Lizzie liked to store her saddle with the left end of the girth still buckled to the girth straps and the other side unbuckled, and flipped over the saddle seat. Once she had the saddle positioned just right on Flicka's back, she dropped the unbuckled end of the girth off the saddle seat and reached underneath Flicka's belly to grab it, and buckled it to the girth straps.

Because horses hold their breath during the initial tightening of the girth, and exhale as they go from the cross ties to the arena, Lizzie was only able to tighten the girth to the second hole.

After that, she put on Flicka's breastplate, the her brushing and bell boots, and her bridle before putting on her helmet and gloves and taking up her crop, unclipping Flicka's halter from around her neck and leading her out of the arena.

They walked inside, up to a mounting block and because Lizzie couldn't climb up without support, she climbed it on all fours – it was slightly embarrassing.

"I really need a mounting block with handrails," she muttered, more to herself, than to Hayden as she let down the stirrups and tightened the girth before Hayden helped her climb aboard.

"Okay, so, Lizzie," said Hayden, a sly smile creeping across his handsome face. "It's the first of November, so guess what your warmup's gonna be?"

Lizzie thought for a moment, then it hit her: No-Stirrup November, where equestrians ride the entire month without stirrups.

She groaned. "Stirrups?" she asked. Hayden nodded, still smiling. "Go ahead and drop 'em," he said. Lizzie sighed and took her feet out of the stirrups. "Oh, I hate you," she sighed, crossing the stirrups over the front of her saddle. Hayden's grin widened. "I'm sorry, but if you're going to say that you hate me, you need to say it like this: I hate you!"

Lizzie stared at him. He sounded just like Anakin at the end of Episode III after his epic battle with Obi-Wan Kenobi on Mustafar. Exactly like him. It was both incredible and sort of creepy.

Lizzie laughed. "Wow, you sounded just like him," she said, sounding impressed. Hayden beamed. "Okay, go walk Flicka around and stretch your legs," he said. Lizzie nodded as she made a clucking sound with her tongue and squeezed Flicka's sides with her legs as she began to walk. As they walked, Lizzie rose up and down out of the saddle like she would when she was trotting, as she felt her psoas muscles in both legs stretch.

"Good, Lizzie," said Hayden as he watched Lizzie rise up and down as she walked. After a few minutes, she felt her legs begin to burn.

She cringed. "Go ahead and pick up your trot," said Hayden. "Without stirrups?" asked Lizzie. "Yep!" said Hayden. Lizzie squeezed Flicka's sides with her legs as Flicka picked up her trot.

It was a lot harder to rise the trot without stirrups. She could really feel her legs burning now.

"Check your diagonal," said Hayden. Lizzie looked down at Flicka's shoulders and sat twice before rising again.

They trotted a few laps around the arena before Flicka began to lose momentum in her trot.

"Why is she slowing down?" asked Hayden. "Get her going! If your legs aren't burning, you're not learning! Let's go!"

Lizzie squeezed Flicka's sides as she went more forward. "Okay, go ahead and walk," said Hayden after what seemed like forever. "You've earned a break." Lizzie was panting as they slowed down.

"You can put your feet back in the stirrups too," said Hayden. "Here….." He walked over to her and helped her put her feet back in the stirrups. "Thanks," said Lizzie. "Tired?" asked Hayden. "A bit," said Lizzie, still panting.

Hayden smiled. "Okay, go ahead and have a walk break, then we can get going on some cantering," he said. Lizzie beamed as she walked Flicka around the arena for two laps.

"All right, go ahead and pick up your left lead canter, only I don't want you to use your crop or your voice," said Hayden. "Use your legs.

Lizzie stared at him. Had he gone completely mad? Up until this point, she would use her seat, or her voice or her crop – but only if Flicka simply refused to listen to her – to ask for a canter transition, or sometimes a combination of her voice and her seat. But she had never been asked to used her legs before.

She wasn't entirely sure if she could do it, but obviously Hayden thought she could.

"Okay, I'll try," said Lizzie, somewhat halfheartedly. "Try not, do, or do not. There is no try," said Hayden simply. Lizzie smiled. "I see what you did there," she said Hayden winked at her, making her blush. What was it with him and his ability to get her to do just about anything he asked just by quoting Star Wars?

"Do you want me to walk her before asking for the canter?" asked Lizzie. "Sure, why not?" asked Hayden, "you did say that you hadn't done a walk-canter transition on Flicka before. Let's see what she's got!"

Lizzie nodded as she held both reins in her hands and squeezed Flicka's sides with her legs as Flicka began to walk a bit quicker. "Yeah, see that?" said Hayden. "You put your legs on her, and she walked a little bit quicker. But we don't want her to walk quicker, we want her to walk higher," said Hayden.

Lizzie held the reins firmer in her hands and applied more pressure with her legs as Flicka began to collect her walk more.

"'Yeah, just like that! Higher," said Hayden. "She should feel like she wants to trot. But don't let her trot – don't let her trot, Lizzie! Keep it, keep it, keep it, keep it!"

Lizzie continued to keep her leg on while holding Flicka back with the reins, until she felt like Flicka would trot off if she asked. "Good," said Hayden. "Now you're going to put your inside leg on the girth, outside leg back, weight in your inside seatbone, and off you go!"

Lizzie did just that, and Flicka cantered off perfectly.

"Nicely done, Lizzie!" said Hayden grinning broadly. "That was beautiful! Keep your hands down, sit back!" He watched her canter a twenty-meter circle around the right corner of the arena. "Good, go ahead and walk for me again," said Hayden as Lizzie put weight in her seat and Flicka slowed to a walk.

"Now, I want you to ask her to canter again, but this time. I don't want you to do all the prep work that you did before – just ask her to canter from where you're at," said Hayden. Lizzie thought that this was a bit of an odd request, but she did as she was told, and this time, Flicka didn't canter at all, she just trotted off. "Awesome!" said Hayden as he began laughing "Oh, I had my fingers crossed that that would happen!"

Lizzie couldn't help but smile, despite having no clue what she just did.

"That was brilliant, Lizzie, good job!" said Hayden. "I have….absolutely no clue what I just did," said Lizzie, laughing. "You wanted to know if Flicka could do a walk-canter transition or not?" asked Hayden. Lizzie nodded. "The success of the transition depends on how well you prepare the horse," said Hayden. "Aha," said Lizzie. "I wanted you to see and feel the difference between the result that you get from preparing Flicka, as opposed to the result you get when you don't prepare," said Hayden.

"Which is pretty much no result," said Lizzie. "Because the second time she didn't even canter, she just trotted."

"Exactly," said Hayden. "When Jedi and I were working on our walk-canter transitions, I would do what you just did – ask him to canter from a free walk, and I would get a trot instead of a canter and I would be so confused because I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong!"

Lizzie smiled. For the longest time, she thought that Hayden was a perfect rider, now she was only just realizing that he was still learning just as she was.

"All right, pick up that left lead canter again, and I want you to go over those jumps that we went over last time." "Can we go higher?" asked Lizzie hopefully. "Maybe," said Hayden, smiling. "Maybe?" asked Lizzie. "Impress me," said Hayden. Lizzie smiled awkwardly. Was he flirting with her? She wasn't entirely sure.

Nevertheless, she turned Flicka so that she was tracking right and picked up her trot and sat deep in the saddle, scooping with her inside seatbone as Flicka picked up her canter. "Good, keep your eyes up!" said Hayden as Lizzie cantered along the right long side before putting her inside leg on, and opening up her outside rein as Flicka rounded the corner. "Nice ride into the corners, Lizzie!" said Hayden, watching Lizzie approach the first jump – a cross rail, rising up into a two-point as Flicka's front feet took off from the ground as she went over the jump and cantered to the next one – an oxer, on and on over each jump before coming to the last one – a two bar.

When she was done, she cantered across the diagonal and changed leads before repeating the same pattern of jumps in the opposite direction.

Hayden sighed and shook his head in somewhat disbelief. Even though he had seen Lizzie ride before, he couldn't help but notice that her balance was so much better in the saddle than when she was standing or walking.

There was also a part of him that couldn't believe she was at the level of riding she was after only riding for two years. That was incredible.

Hayden smiled as Lizzie trotted to a halt in front of him. "How was that?" she asked. "Really good!" said Hayden as he walked over to the jumps and rose them all a good inch or so higher and added an extra rail on top of the cross rail.

Lizzie's heart leapt at the thought of jumping higher as she coaxed Flicka into a canter once more and cleared all the jumps like they weren't even there. Hayden looked like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Are you sure you've only been riding for two years?" he asked, knowing that he had already called Lizzie 'a natural,' but it was still so incredible to watch her. Lizzie laughed.

After jumping a few more rounds, they worked more on walk-canter transitions, collected canter, (which was a requirement for Grand Prix level dressage tests) and Hayden helped her to refine her walk pirouette.

When the lesson ended ten minutes later, Lizzie was tired, but happy as she led Flicka out of the arena and hooked her up to the cross ties to untack her. All the while she couldn't stop smiling. Hayden couldn't take his eyes off her, remembering something that Neville had told him in passing before he and Lizzie had officially met: She's the most beautiful girl in the entire school, but no one will give her a chance because she's….you know…

He was right, Hayden thought. It wasn't just her looks that he was beginning to find attractive, but he was also attracted to the vulnerable side of her and felt protective of her pretty much from the day they met. Lizzie was brushing Flicka as she turned to Hayden. "She worked really hard today," she said, smiling as she ran the brush through Flicka's coat. "So did you," said Hayden. "You look a lot happier." "I am," said Lizzie. She stopped brushing Flicka. "I can't thank you enough," she said. "You don't have to," said Hayden.

"By the way," Hayden reached into the inner pocket of his robes and pulled out a handsome leather bound journal with gold edges on the paper. "I got this for you when we went to Hogsmeade." "Was this what you were getting at Scrivenshaft's?" asked Lizzie. "Mm-hmm," said Hayden. "Thank you," said Lizzie, taking it. "It's beautiful!" "I also put a charm on it so no one can read it except you," said Hayden. "What happens if people try to read it?" asked Lizzie curiously.

"It would just look like a blank, empty notebook," said Hayden. Lizzie smiled. "That is so clever!" "Whatever you put in that journal will stay completely private," said Hayden. "Thank you so much," said Lizzie. "I love it!" Hayden smiled as he hugged her.

After Lizzie finished grooming Flicka, and putting away her tack, she put Flicka back in her stall and walked out of the stables with Hayden.

They made their way back up to Gryffindor Tower where Hayden offered to help her with her Potions essay for Snape.

"You don't have to do that," said Lizzie. "I know I don't have to," said Hayden. "But I want to." They settled in front of the fire and Lizzie took out her homework, quill, and ink and spread it out across the table. "Why did Snape give you this essay anyway?" asked Hayden, opening One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.

"Umbridge was inspecting the class, and I got distracted," said Lizzie honestly. Hayden smiled with amusement. "God! I hate them both so much, I couldn't decide who to cheer for!" Hayden chuckled. Umbridge had already inspected his Potions class, so he understood how Lizzie felt.

Lizzie winced. Her muscles felt sore after a long workout with no stirrups. Good thing the pain was only temporary, and it was making her legs stronger. She needed that if she was going to walk completely by herself one day….

After midnight, both of them decided to call it a night as they said their good-nights and hugged before Hayden climbed through the portrait hole, and Lizzie crossed the common room and up the stairs to the girls dormitory.