In the days coming up to the Hogsmeade Weekend, Chris was approached by Hermione in joining the Defence Group. He wasn't expecting this, and knew that a large amount of complaining about letting a Slytherin join would come up, especially from Ron Weasley.
He was told to go to the Hogs Head, and meet them along with the other kids who would be joining up. Chris agreed. When he got there, it was empty, so he sat down in the back and pulled his hood up over his head. This wouldn't be odd, as it seemed to be common for people to keep their faces hidden at the Hogs 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 windows; Chris might have thought them Dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. He could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.
After a bit, Chris noticed Harry, Hermione and Weasley turn up. He picked up a newspaper and pretended to read it. He was friendly with Hermione and Harry, but he didn't want to listen to Weasley's rubbish about all Slytherin's being evil.
"I don't know about this, Hermione," Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"
Hermione cast an appraising eye over the veiled figure.
"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 drily, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"
The barman sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard.
"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 on the bar.
"Six Sickles," he said.
Harry seemed to pay, and they took their drinks as far away from the bar as possible, which was conveniently near Chris' table.
"You know what?" Weasley murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. "We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try Firewhiskey…"
"You - are - a - prefect," snarled Hermione.
"Oh," said Ron, the smile fading from his face. "Yeah…"
Chris snorted, trying to cover his laughter, but Weasley seemed to pick up on it. He scowled at the hooded figure that was Chris, and looked like he wanted to start a fight.
"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 repeated, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards 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 (on her own and looking so dreamy she might 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, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait down her back whose name Chris did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Chris recognised vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team 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 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…"
Harry seemed to be watching this with some kind of horrified fascination, which he quickly shook his way out of and turned on Hermione.
"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 look 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 him.
Chris grinned slightly, realizing that no one had noticed him there. He decided to stay quiet until the end, and make his grand appearance.
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. 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."
'Yes, very awe-inspiring Hermione' Chris thought to himself, smirking under his hood.
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 wanted to study Defence 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 Defence Against the Dark Arts…" ("Hear, hear," said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened) "…Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, 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 in theory but doing the real spells…"
"You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.
"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because… because…" she took a great breath and finished, "because Lord Voldemort is 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 an 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 a rather aggressive voice.
"Well, Dumbledore believes it…" Hermione began.
"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," said the blond boy, nodding at Harry.
"Who are you?" said Weasley, 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, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about…"
"It's OK, Hermione," said Harry.
It had just dawned on him why there were so many people there. He thought 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.
"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 won'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. Chris had the impression that even the barman was listening. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag, making it 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, and 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. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive 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."
He cast an angry look in Hermione's direction. But none of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though 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 defence, 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 slightly defensively.
"A corporeal Patronus?"
"Er - you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" he 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 of 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. Chris was feeling quite impressed. He only had memories of the fifth book so far, so he didn't know about these achievements.
"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Philological Stone…"
"Philosopher'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 Acromantula and things..."
There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry seemed to be trying hopelessly not to grin like an idiot at Cho's praise.
"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…"
"And nobody helped you get rid of those Dementors this summer," said Susan Bones.
"No," said Harry, "no, OK, 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 Weasley loudly, before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth?"
Perhaps the word 'weasel' had affected Weasley 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.
"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" enquired 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 Fred'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 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, slightly impatiently, "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 OWLs 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 loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on 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 Defence 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. She thinks he'd mobilise 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, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information?
"Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths," said Luna solemnly.
"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione.
"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.
"Actually, they do" Chris said, deciding to make his appearance. He threw his cloak off, and revealed himself to the group. A lot of people gasped, and a few of them even pulled their wands out. Weasley was glaring at him in suspicion.
"What are you doing here, Slytherin?" spat Weasley. Chris blinked, and looked around the room blankly.
"This is the location of the top secret self-defence group run by Harry Potter isn't it?" he asked, acting oblivious. A few people nodded hesitantly. "Oh good! I was afraid I had come to the wrong place. You see, Ginger-vitis, I was invited to join, by our dear Miss Hermione Granger. Now. Put your wands away before you do something silly" Chris said. He was glad he had planned that little speech beforehand. Now was not the time to stutter and flounder. The students who had done so put their wands away sheepishly.
"Anyway, as I was saying, Heliopaths are real creatures. They live on the Pyros Planes, between the Aero Planes and the Terra Planes. They reproduce similar to single cell organisms, by splitting apart and regaining their mass. Since they possess no organs they cannot be called Beasts, and since they have a degree of sentience they are classified as Beings. Also, Luna, I'm afraid they wouldn't work for a worm like Fudge, they have too much pride to sink that low" Chris said kindly. Luna giggled slightly, shocking those around her.
"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 have defence lessons?"
"Yes," said Hermione at once, looking quite flushed that she had been proven wrong by Chris, "yes, we were, you're right, Ginny."
"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 is where 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 practising for the Tri wizard."
"I have an idea" Chris spoke up. He decided to save some time and tell them about the Room.
"We don't want your ideas!" snarled Weasley. The Twins clipped him across the ears at the same time, "OW! What was that for!?"
"Thank you, Troublesome Twins" Chris said, grinning.
"You're welcome, Pranking Partner" They replied in unison, giving identical grins. This surprised everyone in the room.
"Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, I know about a Room in the castle known as the Come and Go Room. One of the House Elves told me about it during one of my visits. Apparently, the room changes to suit the needs of anyone who calls upon it. Filch unknowingly uses it for cleaning supplies, and a cheerful lad named Dobby has had to store his alcoholic lady friend during her… ahem… drinking sprees in there to rest" Chris explained. Harry perked up hearing about his elf friends' name, while Hermione looked interested in the nature of this room.
"Thank you for that, Chris. That should suit our needs. Do you know where it is?" Hermione asked.
"I'll tell you later in secret. We don't want any unwanted ears hearing it, do we?" asked Chris. Hermione nodded in agreement, and rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, rather as though she was steeling herself to say something.
"I - I think everybody should write their name down, just 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'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 wrote his signature, but Chris noticed at once that several people looked less than happy 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 yourself, if Umbridge finds out…"
"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.
"Oooh! Oooh!" Chris said, putting his hand up and bouncing in his seat. Several people sent him weird looks, and Harry called on him. "What if we charmed to parchment so that if anyone who hasn't signed the paper sees it, all they'll see is a list of insults directed at the Umbitch?"
Several people chuckled at the name, while Hermione sent him a disapproving look.
"Well, I suppose we could do that, but maybe without the insults…"
"No. It has to be with the insults. Nothing else" Chris said, crossing his arms and looking serious. Hermione looked at the Twins angrily.
"He was such a kind smart boy. You corrupted him!"
"No, he was a very good actor…" Fred said.
"… and we've revealed him!" finished the other.
"Alright… fine, I'll sign" said Ernie, taking the sheet and signing his name. Nobody raised objections after Ernie, though Chris saw Cho's friend give her a rather reproachful look before adding her own name. Chris was the last to sign, and he inscribed several runes on the bottom of the sheet and pressed his wand to them, charging them slightly. Hermione 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.
Chris left along with the Cho, and noticed that Ron was giving Hermione an earful about 'letting in that Slytherin Spy' and 'letting him booby trap the parchment'. Chris rolled his eyes.
"No matter how nice I try to be, people still judge me on my house…" he muttered frowning at the ground.
"I don't judge you on your house. I know that you are a nice person, even with the snake on your robes" Cho said. Chris jumped, forgetting that she was there for a second.
"Thanks Cho. Nice to see that others beside Harry and Hermione actually like me… and Draco, I suppose, but I think he's only friendly with me because we have to share a dorm." Chris said. Cho smiled back, while her friend glared mistrustfully at Chris.
Chris had decided to sleep in over the next day, and when he woke up he found quite a few people crowded around the notice board. He walked over and found out why, a grimace coming to his face. A large sign had been affixed to the Slytherin noticeboard, so large it covered everything else on it - the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training timetable, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog Cards for others, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends and the lost and found notices. The new sign 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 INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded.
An organisation, 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 organisation, 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 organisation, 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, High Inquisitor
"We'll be fine, the Slytherin team will be automatically approved. Father sent me a letter about it this morning." Draco drawled, looking at the small print at the bottom. Chris was worried however. He was a part of the defence group, so if he was caught being in it, he would be in big trouble. But, he did charm the parchment to insult anyone who didn't sign it, so he felt they were safe. Chris was very confident in his ability to draw runes.
During the walk from Arithmancy to Potions, Draco was telling the other Slytherins about his father getting the Slytherin Team passed by the Educational Degree, much louder then was really necessary. Chris decided he would have to find a way to separate Draco from the other Slytherins and get him to be a bit more… tolerable.
"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 are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"
Chris rolled his eyes at how loud and mocking Draco was being.
"I mean," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes glittering malevolently in Harry and Weasley'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 says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years… and 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."
Draco 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. Chris glared at his friend in disgust. That was going too far.
Suddenly, Neville Longbottom slammed into Harry's shoulder, charging wildly at Draco.
"Neville, no!" Harry yelled.
Harry leapt forward and seized the back of Neville's robes; Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Draco who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked.
"Help me!" Harry flung at Weasley, managing to get an arm around Neville's neck and dragging him backwards, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were flexing their arms as they stepped in front of Draco, ready for the fight. Weasley seized Neville's arms, and together he and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Nevilles 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 Weasley were wrestling with Neville.
"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape said in his cold, sneering voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."
As Chris took his seat beside Draco, he half wished he didn't know why Neville reacted so violently. Despite not being able to remember his family, he somehow knew the pain of losing someone close to you. The next few months were going to be very interesting, and a trial for all involved.