27th February

More visions, adding to the Grim. I saw a prophecy, shattering over and over again, and the impact sent reverberations through my brain. I still can't walk straight from the shock. I saw a venomous scorpion, crushed by a proud hoof, only to re-appear unscathed. I would not know to whom it referred, were the scorpion not pink.

I have not tried to warn Sirius since. The humiliation of being kicked out of 's has made me a scalded cat still. He noticed my diary filling up, and gave me a shiny red notebook with a watercolour of a cow on the front.

"A portrait of your dear mama?" I said. "I can't handle her, even in miniature."

"Indeed." He said back, unsmiling.

I can only wait, in hopelessness.

9th March

Sturgis has been released. He has returned back to the Order, shaken and sheepish. I don't think he'll find much Order work anymore.

13th April 1996

So much to tell you! My mind reels with the sheer weight of it all. My emotions are all jumbled up. I feel a bizarre sense of elation, contradicted by a stronger prudence of fear and worry.

Harry's little Defence Group has been snitched to Umbridge. I thought it would be an internal matter, but Kingsley, the hairy thing (sorry, meant Dawlish!) and I were summoned to escort the Minister himself! I was wary throughout the journey. Meetings between the Ministry and Dumbledore ne'er go well for me. If a man cannot truly serve two masters, how much harder is it going to be for a child?

I feel as stiff as my formal robes, worn only for special occasions, far too formal for back office. I remain that way as we stride through Hogwarts, en route to the Headmaster's Office. Once inside, I position myself behind the Headmaster's chair, as though to keep an eye on him and Minerva. The other two stand by the door. Fudge nods approvingly at our formation: we have the whole room covered.

Fudge is triumphant but the portraits all around the walls seem to be mirroring pretty much what I'm thinking.

"Well, Potter, I expect you know why you are here?"

Harry looks in two minds as how to respond to this stupid question. So he decides to pretend not to know, and this enrages Fudge. Under my set face anxiety burns. Where is Neville? I could not bear to see him in trouble, knowing that I can only stand and watch, motionless, unable to stop undeniable events.

I must confess, when Umbridge insists on bringing the "informant" that it is Marietta Edgecombe, face in hands. I feel a wave of pity as Umbridge fusses over her and tries to coax her further. Why can't she leave a poor girl alone? Why can't she leave anyone alone?

And then she shows her face; and this overwhelms me, and I am puzzled into confusion. I need to asp but I know that if I do so, I might be sick.

Purple pustules. All over her ashamed face, spelling one word.

Sneak.

The Minister asks for a counter jinx, but Umbridge knows of none. I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. I can think of six possible options.

So Umbridge continues her boast, in fact she enjoys it. According to her, they found about the meeting in the Hog's Head. I know Dung was the veiled witch (a fine woman he does make) so who was Mr Bandages?

Willy Widdershins. Of course. When I next meet him I shall greet him in the traditional Muggle fashion- a punch in the face. Out of courtesy, of course.

Dumbledore tries to talk Harry out of it, but I cannot see how. I know these meetings well. I even helped out once or twice, in the early days before Harry got the hang of it.

Percy Weasley makes some stupid comment and I want to cuff him one too.

So, if the Hog's Head meeting was before the groups were illegal, what about the meetings since?

What about me.

I can remain still no longer. I cannot remain observant but as cold and dispassionate as a caryatid. I look up at Kingsley and we know what to do.

I wipe Marietta's memory, wandlessly and without a sound, while Kingsley confounds her. And not a soul notices. And it works. She is shaking her head. Despite their best but futile efforts, she denies what they say.

But relief does not last. And a list is produced before I have a chance to destroy it or forge a blameless copy. A list of names.

Dumbledore's Army. Oh ****.

Albus has one option left, or everything sinks beneath our feet and I can only tread water for so long. And when Umbridge comes back to work at the Ministry, I will spit in her coffee when she forces me to make it for her. This is all revenge for me, for all her spite because she didn't get her way with Trelawney.

Albus admits, quite cheerfully, to whatever Fudge says and I can see where he is going with this. I can only hope that his plan will succeed, as it always has done.

And it does. The patient readily swallows the medicine like the fish tries to make off with the bait. All we need is to stand back and await the drug's effects.

But even so my anger itches when Fudge speaks of sedition. Sedition? A fig for sedition! I am more seditious than he. But if it [sedition] is a sharp distaste to Fudge then I shall gladly be so, come what may.

I wrote down what Dumbledore said next, because it intrigued me.

"You seem to be labouring under the illusion that I will- the phrase? - Come quietly. I am afraid that I will not come quietly at all Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of going to Azkaban. I could break out, of course, but what a waste of time and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things that I would rather be doing."

He continues.

"Don't be silly, Dawlish. I am sure you are an excellent Auror (No Albus he isn't) but I will have to hurt you. "

I feel a bit sorry for Dawlish. There. I said it. You can throw the book in frustration at the wall now, if you like.

Or mayhap out of the window. In that case all I can say is watch out for pigeons.

"So," Fudge says "You intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Popyngcart, Dolores and myself single-handedly?"

Yes Fudge he will. It's not hard, especially with you involved.

I brace myself for a wham. Just before the inevitable though, Albus gives me a shadow of a wink.

And then I drop. Due to not inconsiderable experience in acrobatics, I fall without pain. But I was expecting this, and the others were not. They are out cold, a state I find Umbridge much more pleasing in. I scramble up; Minerva, Marietta and Harry already up. Harry looks almost surprised to see conscious. Albus must leave now, or he'll be in s*** for this. Albus instructs us as to what to do next, and then I am returned to the cold floor.

I lie in a state of feigned isolation, until I can sense stirrings around me, at which I blink my eyes open, gingerly raise myself as though wary, and look around. Fudge is back, and on full throttle too.

"Where is he?" He screams. I guess that this must be my cue to look bewildered and dazed. I give an innocent look around the room as though to say "Anyone see where he went?"

Perhaps words would be better.

"What in Merlin's name-"

Kingsley looks quickly at me and I give him a knowing glance. He catches on and I return to sheepish stupidity. I almost want to laugh when Dawlish hurries for the stairs. Honestly. Maybe I should have just clocked him one when he was out cold. Never mind.