Chapter Fourteen
Hermione did not ask Harry about giving Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons for two weeks since she last suggested it. Harry no longer had detentions with Umbridge, and Ron, from what she gathered from Harry and other members of the Quidditch team, was steadily improving. In Transfiguration she had not only managed to vanish her mouse but she had actually progressed to kittens. Meanwhile Harry and Ron had finally been able to vanish their mice. It was on a wild, blustery evening at the end of September, when all three of them were in the library looking up potion ingredients for Snape.
"I was wondering," Hermione said suddenly, "whether you'd thought any more about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry."
" 'Course I have," said Harry grumpily. "Can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us —"
"I mean the idea Ron and I had" — Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look; she frowned at him — "oh, all right, the idea I had, then — about you teaching us."
At first Harry didn't answer.
"Well," he started off slowly, "yeah, I — I've thought about it a bit."
"And?" said Hermione eagerly.
"I dunno," said Harry.
"I thought it was a good idea from the start," said Ron, who seemed keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure that Harry wasn't going to start shouting again.
Hermione watched as Harry shifted slightly in his seat.
"You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, did you?"
"Yes, Harry," said Hermione gently, "but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said —"
Ron looked around at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck; rubbing it, he said, "Yeah? What did Vicky say?"
"Ho ho," said Hermione in a bored voice. "He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang."
Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously.
"You're not still in contact with him, are you?"
"So what if I am?" said Hermione coolly, she felt herself blush a little. "I can have a pen pal if I —"
"He didn't only want to be your pen pal," said Ron accusingly.
Not wishing this branch of the conversation to continue any longer, she shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, "Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?
"Just you and Ron, yeah?"
"Well," said Hermione, slightly worried now. "Well… now, don't fly off the handle again, Harry, please… But I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against V-Voldemort — oh, don't be pathetic, Ron — it doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people."
Harry's eyes drifted off to one side and focused there, thinking, he then said, "Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?"
"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," said Hermione seriously.
"Look," she leaned toward Harry; Ron, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forward to listen too, "you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"
"Why do we have to do this outside of school?" said Ron.
"Because," said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, "I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to."
Hermione was looking forward to the Hogsmeade trip, though was slightly worried about Sirius turning up, but she didn't think Sirius would do something like that.
"Well, you can't blame him for wanting to get out and about," said Ron when Harry discussed his fears with her and Ron. "I mean, he's been on the run for over two years, hasn't he and I know that can't have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn't he? And now he's just shut up all the time with that lunatic elf."
Hermione scowled at Ron, but otherwise ignored the slight on Kreacher.
"The trouble is," she said to Harry, "until V-Voldemort—oh for heaven's sake Ron—comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realize Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one… I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing."
"I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up," said Ron bracingly. "Dumbledore'd go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears."
Harry continued to look worried so Hermione said, "Listen, Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Hogsmeade."
"Right," said Harry vaguely.
"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "You've got enough on your plate without Sirius too."
The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. After breakfast they queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village.
Hermione waited for Harry and Ron a few yards from where Filch was checking off students. As Harry and Ron walked to where she was standing she heard Ron say to Harry, "— Why was Filch sniffing you?"
The three of them set off at a brisk pace down the wide drive to the gates.
"I suppose he was checking me for the smell of Dungbombs," said Harry with a small laugh. "I forgot to tell you…"
And Harry began the story of sending a letter to Sirius and Filch bursting in seconds later, demanding to see the letter. Hermione found this very intriguing.
"He said he was tipped off you were ordering Dungbombs? But who had tipped him off?"
"I dunno," said Harry, shrugging. "Maybe Malfoy, he'd think it was a laugh."
They walked between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars and turned left onto the road into the village, the wind whipping their hair into their eyes.
"Malfoy?" said Hermione, very skeptically. "Well…yes… maybe…"
Hermione began going over every possible scenario of who would want Harry's mail read. And she remained in deep thought all the way into the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
"Where are we going anyway?" Harry asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"
"Oh — no," said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, "no, it's always packed an really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit… you know…dodgy… but students don't normally go there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."
They walked down the main street past Zonko's Joke Shop, where they were unsurprised to see Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, 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. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.
"Well, come on," said Hermione slightly nervously. Harry led the way 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. 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 Harry stepped onto it he realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.
Hermione looked over all the people sitting in the bar. There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty gray 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 windows speaking in strong Yorkshire accents; in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a think, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly. And near the bar on the side closest to the door were four people dressed in olive-drab suits. Three of them were men and one was a woman, all of them spoke with varying Southern American accents.
"I don't know about this, Hermione," Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. His eyes settled on the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"
"Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she said quietly. "And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I've double- and triple-checked the school rules. We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of 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."
"No," said Harry dryly, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"
The barman sidled toward them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long gray hair and beard. He was tall and thin.
"What?" he grunted.
"Three butterbeers, please," said Hermione.
The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up three very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed to the bar.
"Six Sickles," he said.
"I'll get them," said Harry quickly, handing the barman the money.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione retreated to the farthest table from the bar. Except halfway there they passed the table where the four soldiers sat and one of them spotting Hermione said in a loud voice, "Captain Granger!"
Hermione spun around to face them, not quite sure how to respond. The soldier who had called out motioned for her to come closer. She turned and motioned for Harry and Ron to find them a table. When she got close to the table that the soldiers were sitting at the one that had called out her name leaned towards her and said, 'We might be off duty, but we've got all our gear next to us, so if anything goes down we'll be ready. And if anyone gives you any problem, you just signal to us and we'll take care of 'em for ya.'
"Erm… Thanks," said Hermione.
Hermione began to walk back to the table where Harry and Ron were sitting.
"What was that about Hermione?" Ron asked as Hermione sat down.
"I'll tell you later," said Hermione.
"So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his butterbeer and taking a swig.
"Just a couple of people," Hermione said, checking her watch and then 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 a 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 and Padma Patil with Cho and one of her usually giggling girlfriends, then 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 long plait down her back whose name Hermione wasn't sure of; Anthony Goldstien, Michael Corner, and Terry Boot; Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny boy with and upturned nose that Hermione didn't know, and bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.
"A couple of people?" said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. "A couple of people?"
"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 as though it had never been washed. Possibly he had never seen his pub so full.
"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly. "Could we have… twenty-five butterbeers please?"
The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in the something very important, he started passing up dusty butterbeers from under the bar.
"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these…."
Hermione watched as the large chattering group took up their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry turn to her. She turned to look at Harry.
"What have you been telling people?" he said in a low voice. "What are they expecting?"
"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say," said Hermione soothingly; but Harry continued to stare at her so furiously that she 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 opposite Harry.
Hermione sat there watching people take her seats, occasionally starring past them to look at the four soldiers watching all the people take their seats with neutral expressions. Cho smiled at Harry and sat down on Ron's right. Her friend, who had curly reddish-blonde hair, did not smile but shot Harry a look of contempt. Hermione began to try and think of what to say once all these people were seated.
In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron, and Hermione, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna Lovegood gazing dreamily into space (Hermione shook her head in amazement). When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry.
"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 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 want to study Defense Against the Dark Arts—and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us" — (Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) — "because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts" — "Hear, hear," said Anthony Goldstien, and Hermione felt heartened — "well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."
Hermione 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 though, I bet?" said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.
Behind them she saw the soldiers tense.
"Of course I do," said Hermione at one. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because… because…" Hermione breathed deeply and finished, "Because Lord Voldemort's back."
The reaction was immediate and predictable, Cho's friend shrieked and slopped butterbeer down herself, Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch, Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave a kind of odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, 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?" said the blond Hufflepuff player in an aggressive voice.
Behind them one of the soldiers raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side and looked at Hermione. Hermione barely shook her head no at to her.
"Well, Dumbledore believe it —" Hermione began.
"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," said the blond boy, nodded at Harry.
"Who are you?" said Ron rather rudely.
"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."
"Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly to prevent either a fight, or Harry loosing his temper, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about —"
"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry.
"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, 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. Hermione noticed that the barman had been wiping the same glass with the filthy rag; it was becoming steadily dirtier.
Zacharias said dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that 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 you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said, his eyes never leaving Zacharias's face. "I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."
Hermione ignored the look that Harry had given her, and since no one was leaving she began again.
"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "So… like I was saying… if you want to learn some defense, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where 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 in a defensive tone.
"A corporeal Patronus?"
"Er — you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" Harry asked.
The girl smiled.
"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So — is it really 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. The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.
"And did you kill 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…"
"Er — yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.
Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled, the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks, and Lavender Brown said "wow" softly.
"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Sorcerous Stone —"
"Sorcerer's," hissed Hermione.
"Yes, that, from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.
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 last year — getting past dragons and merpeople and acromantulas and things…"
There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table.
"Look," he said and everyone fell silent at once, "I…I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but… I had a lot of help with all that stuff…"
"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael Corner at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying…."
"Yeah, well —" said Harry.
"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 out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias Smith.
"Here's an idea," said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"
Perhaps the word "weasel" had affected Ron particularly strongly; in any case, he was now looking at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed.
"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him, and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," he said.
"That's not what he said," snarled Fred Weasley.
"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" inquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.
"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy 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?"
There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias 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, relieved that they had finally settled something at last. "Well, then, the next question is how often do 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 sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."
"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."
"Nor ours," added Zacharias Smith.
"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," said Hermione, feeling slightly impatient, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters —"
"Well said!" barked Ernie Macmillan, "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!"
He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry, "Surely not!" When nobody spoke, he went on, "I personally, am at a lose to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. 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 —"
"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, "is that she's got some… some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army (Hermione looked past the group to the table full of soldiers from Dumbledore's Army when she said this). She thinks he'd mobilize us against the Ministry."
Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."
"What?" said Harry.
"Yes, he's got an army of heliopaths," said Luna solemnly.
"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione thoroughly annoyed.
"Yes, he has," said Luna.
"What are heliopaths?" asked Neville, looking blank.
"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, Neville," said Hermione tartly.
"Oh yes they do!" said Luna angrily.
"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione.
"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you —"
"Hem, Hem," said Ginny in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm and then laughed. "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, 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 in a tense voice. "Well, the other thing to decide how often we're going to meet…."
This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.
"Library?" suggested Katie Bell after a few moments.
"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.
"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.
"Yeah," said Ron, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard…."
"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Hermione. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and place for the first meeting."
Bending down she began to rummage through her bag and produced parchment and a quill; she paused for a second and then began to speak.
"I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think," Hermione took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge — or anybody else — what we're up to."
Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully put down his signature, but Hermione saw that several of the others looked less than happy about at the prospect of putting their names on the list.
"Er…" said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass to him. "Well… I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."
But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.
"I — well, we are prefects," Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found… well, I mean to say… you said it yourself, if Umbridge finds out…"
"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.
"I — yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it's just…"
"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione testily.
Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though Cho's friend gave a reproachful look before adding her name. When the last person — Zacharias — had signed, she took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though they had just signed some kind of contract.
"Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. "George, Lee, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."
In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave too. Cho made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forward to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry.
Hermione relaxed a little in her seat once everyone had left except for Ron and Harry. She sat there with a feeling of relief and satisfaction. Relieved that it was over with, and satisfied that this was official.
"Well, I think that went quite well," said Hermione happily as they walked out of the Hog's Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later, Harry and Ron still clutching their bottles of butterbeer.
"That Zacharias bloke's a wart," said Ron, who was glowering after the figure of Smith just discernible in the distance.
"I don't like him much either," admitted Hermione, "but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really — I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if he hadn't been going out with Ginny —"
Ron, who had been draining the last few drops from his butterbeer bottle, gagged and sprayed butterbeer down his front.
"He's WHAT?" said Ron, outraged, his ears now resembled curls of raw beef. "She's going out with — my sister's going — what d'you mean, Michael Corner?"
"Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think — well, they're obviously interested in learning defense, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on —"
"When did this — when did she —?"
"They met at the Yule Ball and they got together at the end of last year," said Hermione composedly. They had turned into the High Street and she stopped outside of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant-feather quills in the window.
"Hmm… I could do with a new quill."
Hermione turned and entered the shop. Harry and Ron followed behind.
"Which one was Michael Corner?" Ron demanded furiously.
"The dark one," said Hermione.
"I didn't like him," said Ron at once.
"Big surprise," said Hermione under her breath.
"But," said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, "I thought Ginny fancied Harry!"
Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head.
"Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn't like you of course," she added kindly to Harry whilst she examined a long black-and-gold quill.
"So that's why she talks now?" Harry asked Hermione. "She never used to talk in front of me."
"Exactly," said Hermione. "Yes, I think I'll have this one…."
She went up to the counter and handed over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts, Ron still breathing down her neck.
"Ron," she said severely as she turned and trod on his feet, "this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on it for heaven's sake."
"What d'you mean, who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything…"
Ron continued to chunter under his breath all the way down the street. Hermione rolled her eyes to Harry and then said in an undertone, while Ron was muttering imprecations about Michael Corner, "And talking about Michael and Ginny… what about Cho and you?"
"What d'you mean?" said Harry quickly, though he was unable to stop from blushing slightly.
"Well," said Hermione, smiling slightly, "she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?"
Harry didn't respond.