Severus paced back and forth while Remus sat on the sofa. "We could shrink her and keep her in a jar in the storage room. Feed her one grape every day and poke her with something sharp."

"Tempting," Remus grinned. "But it could be foiled by the Marauder's Map."

"We could destroy the Map."

"We could destroy your life work," Remus glared.

"We can't use Unforgiveables, much as I'd like to," Severus continued pacing. "We can't kill her, and there can't be a magical signature. We have to be as Muggle as possible to fly under the radar."

*S*S*

"My Dad is leading a war council," Elizabeth stretched out on Fred's bed while he practiced carving an apple into various shapes with his wand.

"Good," he said, moving his wand in a little dance.

The curtains ruffled and George's head appeared. "Hey, Fred? What do you think of having the whole class doing Fainting Fancies in Defense tomorrow?" He looked at Elizabeth. "Hey, Evans."

"You knew I was here?"

George laughed. "Like Fred is the first person to sneak a girl up here?" He looked back at Fred. "Well? The Fainting Fancies?"

"Who's going to feed us the antidote?" Fred asked.

George looked thoughtful for a moment. "We'll have to plant someone in the hospital wing. Let me work on that." His disappeared, leaving swinging curtains in his wake.

Fred and Elizabeth looked at each other, then burst out laughing. "I guess we can forget the silencing spells," Fred grinned, vanishing the apple and leaning back. "Charms practical- successfully prepared for."

"You have to sculpt apples?"

"We have to manipulate form. The apple was just easy to practice on." Fred closed his eyes. "So… your dorm mates haven't noticed that you are never there anymore?"

"They think I'm downstairs. Dad thinks I'm in the dorm. And I am. Just not mine." Elizabeth laid her head on his shoulder. "Fred?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"Have you heard from Percy lately?"

Fred was quiet for a moment. "Been looking through my drawer, have you?"

"No." Elizabeth said automatically. Then, seeing him raise an eyebrow at her, "Yes."

Fred sighed. "Betsy."

"I wasn't snooping," Elizabeth said guiltily. "I was looking for your Quidditch Monthly."

"So you already know the answer to the question you asked," Fred said quietly. "Why don't you ask me what you really want to ask me?"

"Are you afraid to be with me?"

Fred rolled onto his side, propped himself up on his elbow, and looked at her critically. "Well, you are terrifying. However," he looked at her seriously, "Percy is a prat. He's been a prat since we were kids. When George and I were five, he told us that there was no Father Christmas. I'm still scarred."

"So…"

"So stop reading things written by idiot," Fred said calmly. "And forget about it. The only reason I kept the stupid thing was because I thought I should probably give it to the Order. They probably know all that stuff, but just in case, I thought I'd pass it on. Only thing is I didn't want to give it to my Mum, since her son is such an arse."

"I showed it to my dad," Elizabeth blurted out, looking even more guilty.

"Well," Fred flopped back on his back, "mission accomplished, I guess."

"Sorry," Elizabeth pushed herself up on her elbows. "I'll stop going through your stuff."

"You can go through anything of mine that you want," Fred pulled her down to lie on top of him. "But you can stop giving it to my Potions professor."

"Deal," Elizabeth kissed him.

"Kissing the Potion Master's daughter in my bed," Fred grinned. "It would be safer to go for a swim in the lake with the Giant Squid."

"It would be even more dangerous to do something else in your bed," Elizabeth grinned back.

"Merlin, Betsy," Fred groaned, rolling them over, pinning her under him. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"We might both die," Elizabeth kissed him again. "We might as well go out happy."

Fred laughed. "First, I'm pretty sure my silence-charm skills aren't good enough for that." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Second, your father has twenty-four ways to kill me that he's told me about. That's not counting the ones he's hiding. Third—

"You have three reasons not to have sex with me?"

"Third," Fred repeated, "Your grandfather is oddly unbalanced in a way that I'm pretty sure means he could give me a puppy that would kill me. Fourth, your grandmother's detentions are bad, so I'm pretty sure she has more tricks up her sleeve. Fifth—

"Okay, okay, I get it." Elizabeth flopped onto the pillow. "Want to transfer to Durmstrang with me? Far away from my family."

"We'll do the paperwork tomorrow," Fred smiled, then rolled off her onto his back.

Elizabeth curled up beside him, closing her eyes. There was a long moment of silence, only breathing. Then, "Fifth was going to be that my werewolf godfather could rip you to shreds, right?"

Fred snorted. "Fifth was going to be that there was no way in hell that Pomfrey would give you contraceptive potion without letting it slip to your father. And then we'd have to refer to the first reason. You know, the one about all the ways he could kill me." He was quiet for a minute. "Sixth was Lupin."

*S*S*

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM

DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER "HIGH INQUISITOR"

"High Inquisitor?" Elizabeth glared at the back of the Prophet as Hermione read.

"In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Hermione read. "This is not the first time in recent weeks Fudge has used new laws to effect improvements at the Wizarding school. As recently as August 30th Educational Decree Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person."

"And a crack job they'll do at that," Ron muttered.

"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the "falling standards" at Hogwarts. The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge accepted the position in addition to her own teaching post.

'I feel much easier in my mind now that I know that Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,' said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. 'Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and will be glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.'

Mr. Malfoy went on to say that the quality of teachers varies widely in his experience. 'My son has had highly competent professors in the past, including Potions Master Severus Snape. However, there are teachers that do not share our beliefs. Hopefully, Professor Umbridge can correct this imbalance so our children can have an appropriate education."

Elizabeth tuned out the rest of the reading, settling for glaring at her plate.

"I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," Ron pinched the leaves of his strawberries. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."

A green envelope appeared on the table beside her. Pulling it open, her father's spiky writing looked back at her.

You are having stomach pains. Go to the hospital wing and stay there.

Elizabeth looked at the head table, but Severus was resolutely looking at the Slytherin table.

"Ick," Elizabeth said, feeling stupid even as she said it. It was ridiculous to fake sickness in the Wizarding world. One wave of a wand told mediwitches and mediwizards and mothers and fathers that there was no pain in the complained area. Madam Pomfrey would send her back to class in two minutes.

"What?" Fred looked over his pumpkin juice at her.

"I," Elizabeth made a face that she hoped conveyed pain, "I don't feel very good." The green note disappeared.

"Are you okay? Do you want to go to the hospital wing?"

Merlin, they're easy, Elizabeth thought. Too bad Madam Pomprey won't be.

"Yeah," she said, forcing her voice to shake. "Just going to lie down for a little while," she stood up.

"I'll go with you," Fred stood up as well.

"I can make it," she said, handing him her bag. "Can you take this back to the Tower?" She looked at him, and he narrowed his eyes just a moment before they widened a bit in recognition.

"Sure." He set her bag next to his.

Elizabeth put her hand on her stomach for effect and walked out of the Great Hall, trying not to oversell it. You don't have appendicitis, she told herself. You have a parent-sanctioned fake stomachache. And she had no idea why.

*S*S*

"I gave my fifth year class to Professor Umbridge for the day," Snape said, leaning back in the armchair, tapping his index finger against the side of his glass. "The Potions curriculum given by Dumbledore is… lukewarm at best. They will be prepared for the OWLs, certainly, but for the world as it is changing? Doubtful. I might as well take the year off."

"I'd appreciate it if you would consider tutoring Draco privately," Lucius rolled his cane between his fingers. "Umbridge is a bit of a pawn really. Keeping everything settled at the school while we can move further into the plan. There may be some other personnel changes that need to happen soon." He took a sip of his drink. "A new headmaster, perhaps." Another drink. "The Ministry is afraid. Rightfully so, and that fear is making our changes occur more quickly than anticipated. Our Lord is pleased, of course."

"Draco hardly needs private tutoring for the current curriculum," Severus said. "However if you'd like a somewhat… differentiated curriculum to fit his current needs, that can be arranged."

Lucius nodded once, briskly. "I passed on the birth date of the Longbottom boy," he said. "Lord Voldemort believes that perhaps he may be a better candidate for the prophecy. Your assertion that Dumbledore has been using you and your daughter certainly sounds like the old man. However, my son says that Miss Snape has been particularly vocal about the Lord's return. While we appreciate the public relations, it would be best if you could get her under control."

Severus bristled at the discard of Lily's last name, but kept his features smooth. Lucius had always been terrible at reading people, so he didn't have to try very hard.

Lucius leaned forward a bit. "I want to help you protect her, Snape. But you have to get her be quiet."

Severus nodded. Not that he believed for a moment that Lucius didn't plan to stab him in the back at the very first opportunity. Severus knew very well that Lucius believed himself the successor of the Dark Lord. That he planned on leveling havoc upon the world even more gruesome and final than Voldemort had ever considered.

The Potion Master would just have to make sure that Lucius Malfoy's dream would never be realized.

*S*S*

"Here you go, Miss Evans," Madam Pomfrey handed her a glass of water. "Drink that and lie still."

Elizabeth took the glass and looked at the mediwitch oddly. "My stomach hurts."

"Yes, yes," Poppy waved at her hands dismissively. "Lie down and rest."

The odd look still on her face, Elizabeth gulped down the water and lay down. She stared at the ceiling. For a half hour. A whole hour. Two. Three.

"Madame Pomfrey?" She called from her bed. "I think I feel better now."

"No you don't," Poppy called back. "Lie still."

"Really—

"Elizabeth Evans, you will listen to medical professionals," Severus strode into the hospital wing. "I'm going to take her downstairs, Poppy. Thank you for looking after her."

"Take care of her, Severus," Poppy waved them out of the room.

"Dad," Elizabeth trotted next to him as they walked to the dungeons. "What—

"Not here," Severus said quietly, quickening his stride.

Elizabeth fell behind, sure that it wouldn't look right to have a sick child running down the hall. Severus, seeming to realize this, slowed until they were even again before putting a hand on her shoulder.

When they reached their chambers, he ushered her inside and closed the portrait firmly. "You did well this morning," he praised. "And that boyfriend of yours isn't as much of a dunderhead as he previously seemed."

"Why did I just lay in the hospital wing all morning?"

Severus smiled. "Because two doses of Umbridge in one day would be detrimental to both of us."

"Two?" Elizabeth made a face. "But I don't have Umbridge until later."

"She was good enough to cover my class today while I ran an errand." Severus crossed to the door of the lab. "Come with me. We'll brew the Strengthening Solution that you missed in class today and then we'll have lunch."

Elizabeth grimaced again. "But I'm sick," she said, trying to sound pitiful.

"And you will be sick throughout the day," Severus nodded. "However, you are going to brew and eat right now."

"Did you grade my Moonstone essay?" Elizabeth dropped her ploy at getting out of brewing and followed him down the steps.

"Acceptable," Severus nodded. "If you had explored the uses of the stone in powdered form more thoroughly, it would have been an E."

"It's almost impossible to powder it," Elizabeth countered, sitting on one of the stools and laying her wand on the lab table. "I decided that it wasn't worth much discussion when you needed to have access to ten other rare ingredients to even get it to that state."

Severus smiled and pulled off his outer robe. "See? And you say you don't have an ability for this?" He waved his wand at the blackboard to write directions. "The fact that it is so difficult makes it even more important. Perhaps if it were a first year essay, that would be one thing. But you are well on your way to determining if you are a NEWT student or not." He opened the ingredient cabinet. "Go ahead and begin," he pointed to the board. "It brews relatively quickly. I will order lunch."

*S*S*

"Have you thought about it?" Fred looked at the flashcards Hermione had just handed him with distaste and handed them back to her before turning his attention back to Elizabeth.

"You really should use them," Hermione said, looking at her cards. "George said you hardly made it to History of Magic your fifth year."

"So why would I want to go back now?" Fred shook his head. "Betsy?"

"I dunno," Elizabeth shrugged.

"It's a good idea," Ron said. "You're top of our class in Defense, not counting this year, which definitely doesn't count."

"I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against Voldemort… it doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people."

Elizabeth propped her feet up on the table and stared at her toes. It was the same conversation they'd been having for days. How to get around the fact that Umbridge wasn't teaching. Anything. They hadn't drawn a wand in Defense class since the year before. She was worse than a homicidal Death Eater as a teacher of Defense.

"I doubt anyone except you would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember? Princess is a liar."

"Well, I think you might be surprised by how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," Hermione said seriously. "Look," she leaned forward, "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 it outside school?" Ron asked.

"Because we have to stay away from Umbridge," Fred said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Ron. My gift for subterfuge must have skipped over you in the gene pool."

Elizabeth had been looking forward to the weekend trip into Hogsmeade, but there was one thing worrying her. Organizing a secret Defense class was exactly the opposite of "lie low". Severus had been only too glad to sign her Hogsmeade form, with much quill shaking and finger pointing during a lecture that assured her that it would be the first privilege yanked if she got into nearly the trouble she'd found in years past.

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright by 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.

"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." Hermione said as they walked down the main street past Zonko's Joke Shop. Fred waved from the tight circle he'd formed outside the shop door with George and Lee Jordan. "I think it's a bit dodgy, but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

They turned up a side street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sigh 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.

"You know what?" Ron murmured, as they entered, "We could order anything we like in here, I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try firewhisky—"

"You are a prefect!" Hermione growled.

"Yeah," Ron said wistfully.

"So who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Elizabeth asked, wrenching open the rusty top of a butterbeer and taking a swig.

"Just a couple of people," Hermione checked her watch and looked toward the door. "Look, this might be them now."

First came Neville with Dean and Lavender (Elizabeth had to keep herself from looking away), who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with Cho and a girl Elizabeth didn't recognize. Then Luna Lovegood, Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and a Hugglepuff girl Elizabeth had seen but didn't really know. Last in were three Ravenclaw boys, a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team that Elizabeth vaguely recognized, and finally, Fred, George, and Lee, carrying their large Zonko's bags.

"A couple of people?" Elizabeth hissed at Hermione. "A couple of people?"

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

"Hi," Fred said, reaching the bar first. "Could we have… twenty-five butterbeers, please?" The barman glared at him for a moment before passing dusty butterbeers from under the bar. "Cheers," Fred said, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these. Even my girl bought her own," he grinned at Elizabeth who rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"What have you been telling people?" She asked Hermione out of the side of her mouth. "What are they expecting?"

"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say," Hermione soothed; but Elizabeth continued to glare. "You don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first."

"Hi, Elizabeth," said Neville, sitting opposite Elizabeth.

Elizabeth tried to smile back, but the butterflies in her stomach had become rabid dogs.

Slowly, people sat down around them, falling quiet. When everyone was looking at them expectantly, Hermione took a deep breath and began. "Well… you know why you're here. I had the idea… that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defense Against the Dark Arts… and I mean, really study it, no the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us… because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts… well, I thought it would be good if we… took matters into our own hands… and by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells—

"You want to pass your Defense OWL too, though, I bet?" Michael Corner said from the group.

"Of course I do," Hermione answered. "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defense because…" She took another deep breath. "Because Lord Voldemort is back."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Shrieks and coughing ensured, however it ended with all looking fixedly at Elizabeth.

"What's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said the Hufflepuff Quidditch player.

"Well, Dumbledore believe it—" Hermione began.

"You mean, Dumbledore believe her," the Hufflepuff nodded to Elizabeth.

"Who are you?" Fred snapped.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes her say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," Hermione said swiftly, "That's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—"

"It's okay, Hermione," Elizabeth said quietly. She should have seen this coming. She looked Zacharias straight in the face, thinking vaguely about how different he looked without a Quidditch helmet. "What makes me say Voldemort is back?" She felt her face almost twist into a Snape sneer. "I saw him. But if you've come to quench your thirst for the morbid details of last year, I can't help you. If you've come so that you can head exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone, you can clear out now. I can guarantee, if we continue on our current path, you will see him in action."

"So," Hermione broke in, as a uncomfortable silence fell again, "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—

"It is true," a girl asked from the back of the group, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

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

"Yeah," said Elizabeth, not sure where this was leading.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

Elizabeth looked at the girl again, recognizing something in her face. "You don't know Madam Bones, do you?"

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. Is it true? You make a basilisk Patronus?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said quietly. She looked over into the corner, watching a veiled witch sitting alone. There was something… off about the woman, but Elizabeth's attention was quickly pulled back to the group.

"And did you kill a basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Terry Boot demanded. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year."

"Um… yeah," Elizabeth answered.

"Snake girl," Lavender Brown whispered to the girl next to her. Elizabeth pretended like she didn't hear.

"And in our first year," Neville spoke up, "she saved that Stone—

"Look," Elizabeth said, causing everyone to fall silence. "I had a lot of help with that stuff—

"Not with the dragon during the Tournament last year," Michael said instantly.

"Not with the dementors this summer," Susan added.

"No," Elizabeth said uncomfortably. "I know I did bits of it without help—

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" Zacharias challenged.

"You want me to bounce this guy?" Fred looked at Elizabeth. He pulled a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside his Zonko bag. "I think it would be painful to stick this just about anywhere."

"Listen," Hermione moved the conversation as Elizabeth put her hand firmly on Fred's arm, shaking her head. "We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense is that she's got some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army."

"Once a week," Lee said out of no where. Everyone turned to look at him. "Once a week. Just in case we really do need to form an army."

"Where?" Someone called out.

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

"I think everyone should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think," she looked around, "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."

"So it begins," Fred leaned over and whispered in her ear. Then, standing and scrawling his name on the parchment, twice the size of his normal signature, he addressed the crowd. "There. I guess the Ministry will be able to read that." He grinned at Elizabeth, "Time's ticking on, and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase. George? Lee?"

The two other pranksters signed their names, followed by a steady stream, some looking less sure than others, and lastly, Zacharias.

Elizabeth watched everyone file out, a mixed sense of dread and dedication swirling in her stomach.