Chapter Twenty-Nine: Sunset Hours

Beth had done what she could for the Society. Now something equally pressing was on her doorstep: the N.E.W.T.s, just a week away.

Every class became a preparation for the tests. Every mealtime became a study session, every study session a cram session, and every cram session a marathon into the night. Beth had fewer tests to worry about than during fifth year, but the material was so much harder that that was little comfort.

The Guild of the Eagle offered their library tower to the Society for study, and the fifth- and seventh-years took great advantage of that. The tower was far less crowded than the library proper, and almost as well-stocked - particularly in the Dark Arts section, which they constantly had to pull Mervin out of to get him to focus.

Had Beth been given a moment to think, it may have occurred to her that these last, precious few days at Hogwarts would have been better used in the cheerful company of her friends, strolling the summer-green grounds or enjoying the castle soon to be left behind. But she had neither the time nor the thought; and so they labored apart, cloistered and frantic, or in groups without interaction. Those sunset hours were wasted with schooling. They almost always are.

-'-'-

"One more to go. One more to go. One more to go."

It was the afternoon of the second Thursday of tests; and up and down the common room, fifth years and seventh years shared the same frightening, ecstatic mantra.

"Just one more. Just one more."

But between those final words of encouragement buzzed chatter of a different sort. It started with the fifth-year Astronomy students and made its way around the school within hours. Rubeus Hagrid had finally been sacked.

"But the way they came after him!" said Blaise, delighted for once to be at the epicenter of a good story. "At least half a dozen of them, with Stunners and everything! And then when McGonagall came out and tried to stop them ... a house-elf told me that she was transferred to St. Mungo's this morning. They're surprised that she lived." She sighed in deep satisfaction. "It almost makes up for the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw game."

"Please," said Bruce, without looking up from the Daily Prophet. "Don't talk about that."

The Gryffindor Keeper had finally got hold of himself. Despite all their handicaps, and the very noticeable lack of Potter on the field, Gryffindor had taken the Quidditch cup for the second year running. After an entire year of being taunted, Weasley really was their king. Beth was glad she'd missed it.

She turned back to Blaise. "And this didn't bother anybody that it disrupted one of your O.W.L.s?" said Beth, with half a smile.

"Of course not. We've already decided to put in a class-action suit against the Ministry to have our grades bumped up across the board, for the distraction. Draco's idea, of course. But," she added, sighing, "I doubt we'll get to do that for History of Magic. I need to get back to studying. See you later," she said, and returned to her fifth-year classmates and the stacks of notes at their side.

Aaron Pucey watched her go with a look of deep satisfaction on his face. He had been gloating all morning.

"I told you so," he said to Beth, for the twentieth time that day. "I knew it was going to happen. Ever since he got inspected back in October, I knew what was coming."

Beth refrained from congratulating him, as he was doing such a good job of it himself. "So who won the Hagrid poll?"

"Some fourth-year called Oren Bergeron," said Aaron, expression drooping slightly. "I shouldn't have let him put money that it wouldn't happen until the last day of school. Everybody else figured it would've been done three weeks ago, and the school year's practically over. He got it on default."

Beth smiled. Oren was bright - assuming, of course, that he hadn't asked Audra to try and See the gamekeeper's arrest for him.

"Stop chattering!" Melissa broke in irritably, without taking her eyes from the textbook propped in front of her. "The Charms practical is in twenty minutes!"

"We know," said Beth. "You're out of time, Mel. Give it up."

"Not until the last moment," said Melissa through her teeth.

The last moment came quickly, however; at two o'clock that afternoon, the Great Hall was once more transferred into a testing center for the fifth-years, and the seventh-years were ushered out into the waiting room for their practical.

Beth was calm as she stood in line, idly playing with her wand. She was not particularly worried about this test. She was certain she had received an "Outstanding" in Potions, and her Arithmancy had gone well. She even expected to pass her Herbology N.E.W.T. - although, she conceded, it wouldn't be by much of a margin. No one was going to fault her for pulling an "A" or even "P" in something outside her area. That was the delightful part of finishing school, she thought with a grin. She would never again be asked to excel in eight subjects at once. From now on she could focus exclusively on the studies she loved.

She was called into the testing room with Aaron, Melissa, and a handful of others from the same part of the alphabet, and proceeded to one of the far desks. She could see Warrington and Antigone at the other side of the room, still going on with their tests. Warrington, by all appearances, was having a horrible time of it; the proximity of Antigone had clearly destroyed what little concentration he had, and the teapot he was supposed to be enlarging turned into tar and dripped all over the floor.

Beth turned away from him and focused on her testing proctor; but before she could even receive her instructions, there was a shriek and shattering noise from the center of the room.

Kenneth Towler and the wizard proctoring him were backing away from the desk where his teapot stood, as were the students around him. It had grown like Cinderella's pumpkin to six feet in diameter. More alarmingly, it had sprouted huge hairy arms and legs and there was red smoke pouring from its spout.

The monstrous thing leapt from its place on the table and barreled across the room, headed directly for Antigone von Dervish.

Patricia Stimpson fainted; Kenneth Towler shouted and stumbled backwards a few paces; Melissa, already absorbed in her examination, refused to pay it notice and went on with her enchantment. Antigone, frozen in the path of the creature, let out a shriek.

Warrington turned with his hand still on the doorknob. His usually-slow intellect grasped onto the situation at once. Without hesitation, he barreled across the room and put himself between the creature and Antigone, who finally had the sense to dart out of the way.

The monster hit him like a train.

That is, it hit like a train with the expectation of a clear track and not a brick wall. Warrington stayed on his feet, moving deftly backward to absorb the initial force of the impact. He moved only a few short feet before his sheer bulk had slowed the straining creature to a struggle; then he threw his arms around the monster and began to wrestle it back.

Angry scarlet steam tumbled from the malformed spout. The thing's brutish arms flailed to find purchase around Warrington's broad chest, but failed - step by step it was forced into the clear center of the room. Warrington had his shoulders low, like a man moving a boulder, his face red and tense against the twisted beast. The sinews in his neck bulged under the strain. The creature might have weighed hundreds of pounds - and yet it staggered under the awesome strength of the Slytherin Chaser.

At the center of the room, Warrington moved his grip and took hold of the tangled spout in both hands. With a massive heave, he hurled the monster to the ground.

One of the proctors darted forward at the chance, face white. He aimed at the creature, its legs kicking in the empty air.

"Finite Incantatum!"

With a final blast of red steam, the beast dwindled until a simple porcelain teapot lay spinning on the floor.

Warrington stood straight, staring down at his vanquished foe. His chest heaved; sweat ran down his face from the exertion. His fists clenched and unclenched as if of their own accord; his brain had not yet told them that the fight was over.

Antigone von Dervish hurtled across the room and into his arms.

The proctor cleared his throat. "Ah," he said, still sounding very much shell-shocked. "Ahem. Well done, then. I believe you have earned your N.E.W.T. in Charms, Mr. Warrington."

One of the other testers, this one very white-haired and wrinkled, came out from under her testing table and tottered up to them, still looking extremely shocked. "Mr. Warrington!" she said, looking him up and down with a wide-eyed awe that was almost improper. "Have you ever considered the training of trolls for a career?"

"No," said Warrington. His eyes rested softly on the top of Antigone's head, pressed against his chest.

"I shall put in an application," said the ancient woman. "Oh yes. And a recommendation as well. Do come with me, I shall arrange it right now - one moment, Miss Ollivander," she said to Melissa, who looked utterly appalled at having her test interrupted. She took Warrington's arm and tugged him over to her table. "Now I'll need a mailing address, full name, height and weight - oh me, this is very exciting!"

The tester who had performed the counterspell turned on Kenneth Towler. "And you! I expect you rubbed dragon's lard on your wand, is that it?"

"Um," said Kenneth Towler.

"That sort of magical enhancement can only be controlled by the most powerful wizards!" the tester chided. "It must not be attempted by amateurs, and furthermore, it is illegal for use during this examination! I'll be taking that," he said sternly, snatching Towler's wand from his hand. "I hope our tests show that you only used it this very morning, Mr. Towler. It would be a shame for this to affect all of your N.E.W.T.s."

"Um," said Towler again, as someone ushered the unhappy boy from the room.

"Well," said Beth's proctor, clearing her throat, "I suppose we can get back to the testing. Please enlarge this teapot, Miss Parson, to the dimensions I specify ... and no larger, please," she added, with a little nervous titter.

Beth raised her wand with a smile as Warrington and Antigone left the room, arm in arm. Something this year had ended up right after all.

-'-'-

Nobody saw either Warrington or Antigone until nearly dinnertime, to no one's surprise, and the N.E.W.T.s went on without further incident - unless you counted Harry Potter freaking out near the end of his History of Magic test, but Beth wasn't there to see it, and if you believed the Daily Prophet he'd had a breakdown like that coming for a long time.

"I can't believe it's finally over," said Melissa, as the four of them strolled through the halls. "All that work ... and it's over."

"And about time," said Mervin fervently.

There was a shout from behind them. Professor Umbridge, clutching a Secrecy Sensor in one hand, was trundling down the hall as fast as her little legs would take her. She barely paused on her way past; she merely tugged on Beth's elbow and shouted, "Come with me! I need you at once!"

Casting an alarmed look at Melissa, Beth hurried after Umbridge, with the others following behind.

"Invading my office-" puffed Umbridge, as they charged forward. "To speak with Dumbledore, no doubt-this army-" Her round face was highly flushed. "We will ferret them out," she promised, and her mean little face showed no mercy.

A small crowd had gathered at the end of the corridor to Umbridge's office. Luna Lovegood stood facing them all.

"Oh yes," she was saying dreamily, gesturing at the hallway, "simply filled with Garroting Gas. They say it's invisible, but really that's a lie set out by the manufacturer, it's really quite visible ... you've only to squint just so..."

Some of the crowd was squinting skeptically into the hallway, following her advice. Professor Umbridge shoved past them.

"Arrest her," she snapped to Beth, pointing a stubby finger at Luna. The two students looked at each other for a moment. Beth reached out and took Luna's upper arm firmly. The Ravenclaw made no move to run.

"Now," said Professor Umbridge nastily, stepping forward, "let us pay a visit to the intruders..."

"I shouldn't go in there if I were you," Luna spoke up. "Filled brimming with Garroting Gas, you know."

"Garroting gas?" Umbridge raised her eyebrows so high they almost disappeared into her hairline. "We shall see..." She cast about the assembled crowd and her eyes fell on Sally Bletchley. Grabbing hold of the first-year's arm, Umbridge hurled her into the hallway.

Sally staggered several yards into the hallway, eyes wide. She gazed around as if in shock, her breathing in fast gasps. The crowd closed in around the edge of the hallway, watching closely for any symptoms of the gas to appear.

There came a shout from deep in the multitude.

Bruce fought through the crowd, frantically muscling aside the mob. His expression was one of sheer terror.

"Sally!"

Elbowing past the final tier, he broke into the hall and sprinted to his sister.

He grabbed her arms, looking her up and down frantically for injury. She stared up at him, wide-eyed. "How do you feel? Can you breathe? Say something."

"She - she pushed me." Sally's usually steady voice was small and childlike. "She thought the hall was poisoned - and - she pushed me in..."

Bruce raised his head.

He stood straight; Sally turned around, pressing back against his legs. Bruce put a protective arm across her chest.

His arm securely around his sister, the two of them fixed their eyes on Professor Umbridge. The dumpy witch was darting around, screaming orders at her Inquisitorial Squad and pointing frantically in all directions-apparently, the conspirators had scattered. (Beth was grateful that she already had her captive in hand.) With the Squad mowing paths through the crowd and onlookers shuffling around craning for a view, the Bletchleys were starkly motionless among the action.

"You used my sister like a test animal."

"Do not bother me, Mr. Bletchley, I am exquisitely busy," Umbridge sang out, stalking past.

"You could have killed her."

"Mr. Bletchley, you are expelled."

Bruce was stunned into silence. His arms tightened around his sister.

Professor Umbridge did not pause. "Bring the criminals to my office," she ordered the Inquisitorial Squad. "I have a feeling," she added nastily, "that we're going to catch a few more." She stormed into the office.

Bruce started after her.

Beth gave a tug on Luna's arm and hurried after him. She grabbed his elbow with one hand even while keeping her hold on Luna.

"Bruce. Bruce, don't."

"I'm going to kill her," said Bruce flatly.

"Bruce, stop." She tugged on his arm uselessly - only when Sally joined in on the other side did Bruce slow down and come to a halt.

Beth leapt on the chance. "Bruce, it's not worth it, she's mad, she'll do anything right now," she said, getting in front of him (pulling Luna along as she went). "Let it go, she's crazy. Talk to Snape. He'll be able to do something - anyway what does it matter? You've got your N.E.W.T.s."

"Please, Bruce," came Sally's voice from below. She sounded close to tears. "I'm okay, really. Please don't make it worse."

"She would have killed you." Bruce's voice still had that hard, flat quality that frightened Beth more than the outright fury she had seen him display in the past.

"But I'm all right." Sally dug in her heels. "Come-" she tugged his sleeve forcefully. "Come on, Bruce. Let her go and be horrible to someone else. Come on, I'll show you our common room. They have Dad's name on the wall..."

Bruce's expression cleared slightly; he looked down at his sister for the first time in long minutes. "They do?"

"On the old Quidditch rosters," said Sally miserably. "I never told you ... I want to show you. Let's go. I want to get out of this hall."

At last, Bruce's face relaxed; the tension went out of his shoulders, the color left his brow. "All right." Beth caught his eye; she thought he looked drained. With great effort, he gave her a little smile. "See you later, Beth."

Beth realized that she still had a job to do; Luna hadn't budged and in fact had watched the whole proceedings with faint interest. "Don't go packing your bags yet," she ordered Bruce. "I'll see you soon."

Bruce nodded and allowed his sister to tug him down the hall toward the Gryffindor tower.

"I never did have a brother," said Luna dreamily, looking at a portrait on the wall.

"They're nothing but trouble," said Beth forcefully, pulling her toward Umbridge's office.

"Oy, Beth," came a gasping voice behind them. Jeanne had the Weasley girl in a headlock and was struggling to get her into the office. "Get the door for us-ow, bugger it-"

Jeanne was not the only one with a struggling captive: the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad was staggering toward the office with varying degrees of difficulty, each with a gagged Gryffindor in hand. Pansy Parkinson didn't have a captive, but she had a bunch of wands in her hand. Beth looked Luna over, extracted the girl's wand from behind her ear, and handed it to Pansy. She opened the door for the Squad and waited until they had all squeezed inside; then she followed them (with Luna, docile as a sheep) and closed the door.

Inside the office, Millicent Bulstrode had Hermione Granger already against the wall; Harry Potter was near the desk, looking as battered as his co-conspirators.

"Got 'em all," said Warrington proudly. His booming voice reverberated around the office. "That one tried to stop me taking her so I brought him along too."

Beth thought it might have been the longest string of words Warrington had ever assembled in his life.

"Good, good. Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?"

Draco laughed. It must have been his dreams come true.

Professor Umbridge smiled at him and settled into her armchair, her wide face fixed on Harry Potter.

"So, Potter," she said. "You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon -" She indicated the Weasley, and Draco laughed again. "- to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes, Mr. Filch having just informed me so. Clearly, it was very important for you to talk to somebody." She leaned forward slightly. "Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone..."

A couple of the younger Slytherins sniggered.

Potter, red-faced, was nearly shaking. "It's none of your business who I talk to."

"Very well," said Umbridge, in her treacherously casual tone. "Very well, Mr. Potter ... I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco - fetch Professor Snape."

Draco, who didn't have a captive himself, pocketed his wand and left. For long minutes the only sounds were the heavy breathing and struggles of the captured students. Beth glanced down at Luna to make sure she wasn't trying anything funny; the blonde girl stared out the window, idly watching a bird that had landed on the sill. Beth rolled her eyes and shot a half-smile at Jeanne, who was having her feet stomped on by the Weasley girl. Jeanne returned a long-suffering grin.

When Draco returned, he had the cool black figure of Professor Snape behind him.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" said Professor Snape, in a tone of utmost unconcern.

"Ah, Professor Snape." Umbridge had on her best simper. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please?"

Snape's tone was cool and polite. "You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter. Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umbridge looked embarrassed. "You can make some more, can't you?" she said, her cheeks turning pink. She sounded less wheedling than furious.

"Certainly," said Snape. Now his voice held a hint of disdain. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

Beth froze.

"A month?" cried Professor Umbridge, her rage momentarily focused away from Potter. "A month? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!"

Beth stared at the floor, her mind whirling. It didn't take a moon cycle to mature Veritaserum, it took a quarter of a moon cycle - just a week. With Professor Snape's knowledge of Alchemy he should have been able to come up with a quick-and-dirty version within a few hours. She didn't think he would simply forget his own abilities. But why would he lie to Professor Umbridge, especially when only Potter could benefit...?

"- I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!" came Umbridge's angry voice.

"I have already told you," said Snape smoothly, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum." Veritaserum isn't the only truth elixir in the world, Beth thought, increasingly baffled. What are you playing at, Snape? "Unless you wish to poison Potter - and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did - I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling..."

That was complete bunk and Beth knew it. She watched Snape closely, keeping a grip on Luna's upper arm (which the airheaded girl barely seemed to notice). Clearly, Snape had no intention of giving Umbridge any help whatsoever. Unfortunately, Beth wasn't the only one who noticed.

"You are on probation!"

Snape raised an eyebrow and Beth almost laughed out loud. Finals were over; there were no classes left for Umbridge to sit in on.

"You are being deliberately unhelpful!" cried Umbridge, red with anger. "I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Snape bowed obligingly, a faint smile on his lips, and turned to leave. His hand was on the doorknob when Potter yelled:

"He's got Padfoot!"

Snape rotated slowly to look at him. His face was a mask.

"He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!" Potter repeated frantically.

Professor Umbridge's eyes lit up. "Padfoot?" she repeated eagerly, staring up into Snape's face. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

Professor Snape's cold gaze never left Potter's face. "I have no idea," he said shortly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job."

With that, Professor Snape whisked away and closed the door behind him.

There was a beat of heavy stillness. Umbridge was breathing heavily now, from exertion or from fury. She turned back to Potter and pulled out her wand.

"Very well." Something madder than usual gleamed in her eyes. "Very well ... I am left with no alternative... This is more than a matter of school discipline... This is an issue of Ministry security... Yes ... yes..."

Something nasty was going on beneath her great pink hair bow. Her face showed plainly the workings of a twisted mind bent past breaking by frustration and desire.

"You are forcing me, Potter... I do not want to, but sometimes circumstances justify the use ... I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice..." She was nervous, excited. "The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue."

Draco's eyes lit up.

Hermione Granger shrieked, "No! Professor Umbridge - it's illegal -" Umbridge, raising her wand in Potter's direction, paid no attention. "The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!"

"What Cornelius doesn't know won't hurt him." Her naked desire to inflict pain transformed her from a malicious but faintly ridiculous old woman into a horrible being if uncontrollable evil. "He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same..."

"It was you?" Potter broke in with a gasp. "You sent the dementors after me?"

Beth hadn't heard anything about that since the Death Eater meeting over the summer, but she was almost too enraptured by the absurd conversation to care.

"Somebody had to act. They were all bleating about silencing you somehow - discrediting you - but I was the one who actually did something about it..." She had decided on Potter's head as a target and was advancing with raised wand. "Only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you, Potter? Not today, though, not now... Cruc-"

"NO!"

It was Hermione Granger. Fighting Millicent's grip all the while, she shouted, "No - Harry - Harry, we'll have to tell her!"

"No way!" Potter snarled, clearly preferring painful death.

"We'll have to, Harry, she'll force it out of you anyway, what's ... what's the point...?"

She began to cry.

Nothing, save the chance to try out her Crucio on the Potter boy, could have delighted the Hogwarts High Inquisitor more. "Well, well, well!" cried Umbridge. "Little Miss Question-All is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!"

The Weasley boy choked out something past his gag: it might have been her name.

"I'm - I'm sorry, everyone. But - I can't stand it -" She was sobbing into her hands now.

Umbridge grabbed the girl by the shoulders and practically threw her into a chair. "That's right, that's right, girl! Now then ... with whom was Potter communicating just now?"

"Well," sniffed Granger, her face still buried in her hands, "well, he was trying to speak to Professor Dumbledore..."

The Weasley girl froze with her foot halfway to her captor's toes; her brother abruptly broke off struggling. Beth shot a glance at Luna. The girl was wearing an expression of mild surprise. On a less vacant face, that would have been astonishment. Apparently Snape wasn't the only one in the office telling untruths.

There followed an interrogation.

Did they know where Dumbledore was? No, but they had tried at a string of pubs. They needed to tell him something important. What? That it was ready.

"What's ready? What's ready, girl?"

"The ... the weapon."

By now everyone in the room was focused on the girl's story. At the word "weapon," Professor Umbridge's face lit up with a frantic excitement. What sort of weapon? A method of resistance to be used against the Ministry. What kind? They didn't understand, they were only following Dumbledore's instructions.

Professor Umbridge was triumphant.

"Lead me to the weapon."

Granger peeked through her fingers at the Inquisitorial Squad. "I'm not showing ... them."

"It is not for you to set conditions," Umbridge snapped.

The Granger girl switched tactics with impressive speed. "Fine, fine, let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you'd invite loads and loads of people to come and see! Th-that would serve you right - oh, I'd love it if the wh-whole school knew where it was, and how to u-use it, and then if you annoy any of them they'll be able to sort you out!"

Umbridge seemed to realize what position that would put her in.

"All right, dear," she said, her voice softening at once, "let's make it just you and me ... and we'll take Potter too, shall we? Get up, now -"

"Professor," said Draco eagerly, "Professor Umbridge, I think some of the squad should come with you to look after -"

"I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone?" Umbridge snapped back, for once failing to offer respect to the boy with the powerful father. "In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something that schoolchildren should see. You will remain here until I return and make sure none of these - escape."

"All right," said Draco. He did not sound pleased.

"And you two can go ahead of me and show me the way. Lead on..."

Her wand held at Potter's back, Professor Umbridge marched the two Gryffindors out of her office and closed the door.

For a moment the captives stopped struggling and the Squad could relax their grips; Professor Umbridge was a terrible force in her anger, there seemed almost to be a vacuum of energy behind the desk which she had left behind.

Draco Malfoy turned slowly toward the captives. He was smiling.

"Well well," he breathed, putting his hands on his slender hips and surveying the captives lined up against the wall, who (save Luna) began to struggle again. "It looks like Professor Umbridge has left me in charge of the interrogation."

How Draco had determined that was a mystery to Beth, but she knew better than to speak up.

"In fact, I think she had quite the right idea," he went on, strolling from one end of the room to the other, letting his eyes roam idly along the faces of the prisoners. "Just before Granger lost her nerve. Someone here must know something about Dumbledore's weapon. You can't work on something and not know what it does."

"You bloody idiot," snarled Ginny Weasley, around Jeanne's forearm, "that was a trick."

Draco smirked. "Nice try, Weasley." He fingered his wand, letting his eyes linger on her face. "No, you won't talk. But your brother might-" he jerked his head toward Ron Weasley, still held firmly in place by Warrington "-if he saw what the Cruciatus curse could do to you."

Beth's jaw dropped. Crabbe and Goyle, not even to mention a thrilled-looking Pansy Parkinson, had greedy little smirks on their faces, but Warrington - who always preferred to inflict pain by hand - looked a little uneasy. Jeanne stared at the slim blonde boy as if unable to believe what she had heard. "Hold on there, Draco..." she began, but in her moment of distraction her grip must have loosened just a little. Ginny Weasley pulled back and ran her elbow as hard as she could into Jeanne's stomach.

Jeanne doubled over, clutching her midsection, and Ginny Weasely wrenched free from her grip. Pansy let out a yell and lunged for her, but the redhead had launched for her at the same time - and the collection of wands in her hand. She hit Pansy like a cannonball. The Slytherin went sprawling, and the wands scattered out of her grasp.

Draco had finally gotten his wits back and had his wand pointed at the girl's back, but it was too late. The office had erupted into chaos. Before Beth could even blink, there were Stunners going back and forth, fistfights, both curses and curse words filling the air. Dumbledore's Army had finally risen to its first battle.

Beth looked down at Luna, who gazed back with watery, slightly unfocused eyes. Somewhere nearby, Draco shrieked something about bats. In one wild, ludicrous moment, Beth realized just how little she cared whether these students were kept in captivity or let free. That she was even involved was simply absurd. Well, she had no intention of being wounded in a battle for a cause which she did not believe in. She made a decision.

"You got me," she told Luna, and raised both hands in surrender.

Luna nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you," she said somberly. "Though I think I'd better make sure, hadn't I? Stupefy."

There came a strange sensation, like being hit in the middle of the chest with a heavy pillow. Beth thought later that it felt like falling asleep very, very fast ... but at the moment, she had no time for thought at all before an all-encompassing blackness overwhelmed her mind and sent her drifting out of her senses.