(Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix—Chapter 17: The Lion and the Serpent)
"Come on, Verity." Fred grabbed her hand and tried to pull her toward the door.
"You can't get cold feet now." George took hold of her other hand.
"You promised," they said together.
"Fred!" Verity dug her feet into the ground. "George! I can't!" She was petrified by what might happen if Umbridge caught her in the midst of a secret Harry Potter rebel meeting. Equally concerning: asking her erstwhile enemies to trust her. "No one wants me. I carry Malfoy's books, for Merlin's sake! They'll think I'm a spy."
"Not the way you're complaining, they won't," Fred grumbled.
"You do want to go, don't you?" George asked.
"Of course. I'm just worried."
"It'll work out, I swear," Fred said. "If anyone gives you a hard time, I'll hex them."
"Now come on, or we'll be late," said George. Verity gave in, and they made their way to the seventh floor, meeting Lee Jordan on the way. They had to take a longer route when they almost ran into Draco near the Charms classroom, but the journey ended with no major troubles.
"It's only the second meeting anyways, we're all new; it's not like it's a long-standing group you're trying to get in on," George said as he pushed open the Room of Requirement door. "They might not even notice you..."
Everyone greeted Lee and the twins enthusiastically, but they fell silent at the sight of Verity, half-hidden behind Fred's shoulder. A quiet rumble of whispering came next, and she caught the word on everyone's lips. Slytherin. So much for not being noticed. She blushed vividly and tried to back out the door, but Fred pulled her out from behind him. "Harry, we brought a friend," he called across the room.
"That's great," Harry called back, setting a thick, leather-bound book on a nearby shelf. Verity smiled shyly as he walked over. "Sorry," he said, "I'm forgetting your name." In his favor, he only glanced at her Slytherin robes for a moment.
"Verity."
"Welcome to Dumbledore's Army, Verity," he said pleasantly. He shot a questioning glance at the twins.
"She's safe," said Fred. "We do background checks on all new friends wearing green." Verity giggled.
"We took her out to lunch," George clarified.
"And you might want to ask," Fred added, "how we've been able to cause so much mayhem for the Slytherins without a foot in their common room." He pointed to her, and she could tell Harry was impressed.
"Alright then, excellent," Harry said with a laugh, and he shook Verity's hand. "Welcome aboard."
Although she seemed to have Harry's trust, or at least the right to be on probation, she discovered the others were much harder to win. Fred and George's brother Ron kept eyeing her suspiciously, as though waiting for her to make a signal at which Malfoy and his cronies would burst in and arrest them all. The others were hardly better, and she knew the Ravenclaw boys were whispering behind her back.
When they partnered to work on Disarming, Verity (trying not to broadcast her relationship with the twins) floated about until Luna Lovegood offered, in her dreamy, unfocused way, to work with her. Grateful that someone, even Loony Lovegood, gave her a shot, she didn't complain about Luna's erratic spell-work, though she had to put out several books she set on fire.
By the time nine o'clock came around, Verity had Disarmed Luna multiple times, and though she wondered if Luna hadn't been paying attention the whole time, it was still an immense achievement. She could hardly wait for the next meeting.
(Chapter 24: Occlumency)
Surprisingly, Draco never noticed Verity leaving the common room at least one evening a week to keep attending D.A. meetings.
She improved every week in new jinxes and countercurses, but when they began Shield Charms, she hit a wall. The best she could ever do was shoot a thin stream of translucent fog out of her wand that protected against passing flies. The worst part was, she didn't have a place to practice. Her dormitory and common room were out of the question, and it would be tricky to explain, were she found anywhere else, where she learned the spell in the first place. It plagued her; not even further success in other spells brightened her mood.
The first meeting after Christmas, Fred noticed. He held her back after the rest of the D.A. left. "Something's bothering you," he said. "What's the matter? Don't you say nothing."
Verity remained silent a minute. "I still can't do the Shield Charm," she said bitterly. "Everyone else can do it. Longbottom is the best at it." Her unspoken question hung in the air: What's wrong with me?
Fred dropped onto the pile of Stunning practice cushions. "You are being melodramatic. I don't know why you have trouble with that one spell, but besides that you're a genius." Verity looked down, pink. "Snape took you for private lessons. You want to know how often he does that? I have no idea, because I don't pay attention, but I'd guess not often. So what if you can't do a Shield Charm? If you can make Polyjuice Potion and look like a Death Eater, they won't curse you in the first place and you'll be better off than the rest of us."
She giggled. "If I'm pretending to be a Death Eater, I'll have to hex you to make my act realistic." She pulled her wand out.
"You won't be able to do that," Fred said, grinning wickedly.
"And why not?"
"Because I can do a Shield Charm."
"Why, you—" Verity leapt forward, a hex on her lips, but she tripped on a cushion and collapsed face-first on top of Fred. They burst out laughing.
Ron walked in.
They froze. Ron's face flushed. Verity stumbled to her feet. "I—I'll see you next week," she said breathlessly, and she hurried out of the room without a backward glance.
She had half shut the door when Ron said, "The bloody hell was that?" She paused.
"What are you doing here?" Fred countered.
"When even George doesn't know where you've got to, something's fishy," Ron said. "What was that?"
"Little brother, that might not be your business."
"It might if you're messing around with her."
"She's my friend. We were talking," Fred said.
Verity could basically hear Ron rolling his eyes. "If I weren't a little pissed off, I'd be disgusted I walked in on that. You know who she is, don't you?"
"Total stranger," Fred said.
"She walks with Malfoy every day. She rides the train with him, she sits by him in class. You don't find that the least bit suspicious? She lives with our biggest enemy and all of a sudden wants to join the D.A. and spend time with you? Come on!"
"What are you saying?"
"Your new girlfriend—"
"She's not my girlfriend."
"I'll say she's not! She's Malfoy's! She's using you! Fred, she's pretty and plays shy, so you roll over because you're too thick to realize..."
Verity didn't want to hear any more. She ran, her face hot, and she didn't stop until she'd thrown herself onto her bed. She pulled the hangings around herself and lay there, sick to her stomach. She didn't fall asleep until dawn.
When she dragged herself upstairs for breakfast, it was nine, but the Great Hall was still crowded. The twins were at the Gryffindor table, but she didn't glance over and made sure to sit far from Draco. Something hit her in the back of the head. A crumpled ball of paper floated at eye level. She grabbed it and flattened it on the table.
Sorry about Ron, it said. He didn't mean all that, but I told him he's a nasty git and doesn't know anything. Still, let's make sure there aren't any cushions next time we're talking, eh? Or better yet, let's make sure there are cushions, but no Rons. Oh, and could you give me a hand? I'd like a few Skiving Snackboxes to find their way into Crabbe and Goyle's hands, but not the half that will stop them puking. Just the half that will start them off. I'll give them to you at lunch. Love Fred
Verity glanced over at the Gryffindor table and caught Fred's eye. He grinned sheepishly, and she returned the smile.
(Chapter 27: The Centaur and the Sneak)
"We should keep working on Patronuses today." Easter holidays were almost upon them. Verity and the twins had become distant in public, though in reality they were closer than ever. Ron tolerated her now she stayed away from his brother, but he was never friendly. "Okay, well, you know the incantation, you know you need a really happy memory, I guess we should all try it," Harry said. "Remember, expecto patronum."
Verity reached for a good memory, landing on the day her Hogwarts letter came. Concentrating on the giddiness when she saw the coat of arms on the envelope, she shouted, along with twenty other voices, "Expecto patronum!" A jet of silver mist shot from her wand. She gasped. Many had managed the mist like hers, stronger and weaker, and some people even achieved animal Patronuses. Luna Lovegood's was a hare, which made all kinds of sense.
Harry walked around the room, viewing their results with pride. "What we need is a boggart or something," he said, "that's how I learned, I had to conjure a Patronus while the boggart pretended to be a dementor..."
Verity thought she'd rather hold off on actual monsters until she had an actual Patronus. The next few times she tried, she saw shapes in the mist, but they evaporated. Fred and George laughed triumphantly from the other side of the room as thick jets of mist erupted from their wands.
The door swung open, and a house-elf rushed into the room. Harry hurried over to him. Verity did a double take. Was that Dobby? She'd hoped he was okay; he'd been awfully nice to her whenever their paths crossed at the manor. What on earth was he wearing?
Harry's tone grew more and more worried. Finally he said, "Is she coming?"
"Yes, Harry Potter, yes!" the elf cried.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Harry bellowed, standing. "RUN!"
Since Verity was nearest the door, she wasn't caught in the mob, and she made it halfway down the corridor before Fred fought his way through. His voice brought her to a halt.
"You'll never get back to your dormitories in time. You'll be caught."
"So you slow me down?" she whispered.
"No, listen," he said urgently. "Catch me. Take me to Umbridge. If anyone asks, you were a spy."
"Are you sure?"
"I won't let you get me all the way to her," he whispered back. "Just far enough Malfoy sees you doing your duty."
"Make it look good," said Verity. Fred broke into a full-tilt run. She gave him a second's head start before bolting after him. "Get back here, Weasley!" She he kept after him despite the stitch in her side, down the corridor and up the stairs.
"Petrificus totalus!" she cried. She'd aimed over his head, but she accidentally hit him, and he toppled over, frozen. "Bother!" she whispered. She grabbed him under the arms and dragged him toward Umbridge's office, hoping someone would interfere.
"Oi! Let go of him!" Ron's voice echoed up the stairs with his pounding footsteps. Verity rephrased her frantic wish. She hoped someone would interfere—besides Ron. "You sneak!" He ran at her. Verity tripped. Her hands hit the stone step. Ron stood over her, breathing heavily, wand out. "What, you tipped off Umbridge and thought you'd help more? You're sick."
"This isn't what it looks like," Verity said, panicked. "But if Umbridge finds you and Fred..."
Ron grumbled and stepped away from her. "You stay away from us!" he called after her as she leapt to her feet and rushed down the stairs.
In the entrance hall she ran into Pansy Parkinson. "Why are you out here, MacLaren?" she said.
"I—nothing," she panted, but Pansy caught her shoulder and stopped her.
"Did you hear about that meeting of Potter's?" she asked.
"I was up there. I almost caught one of those Weasleys, but his brother stopped me. I put the Body-Bind Curse on him, though. You're better at dueling than I am." Flattery helped. "If you hurry you can catch them. Professor Umbridge would reward you for it," she said suavely. "Imagine if Slytherin got the House Cup back because of points you earned."
Pansy decided her wish to be rewarded by Umbridge surpassed her wish to interrogate her classmate. She rushed away while Verity continued back to the dormitories, hoping none of the other Army members would be caught.
At the door of her dormitory, she stopped dead. There couldn't be any more meetings. The thought depressed her. They had been so good for her. She'd learned more in those lessons than she had in all her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes this year. Non-retaliation, honestly! She could have written that chapter herself, though she'd noticed a remarkable lack of information on how to keep out of trouble during scoldings. Maybe, she thought, she'd write to Mr. Slinkhard and offer to add a section for the revised edition.