"And so you claim that you spent all evening in Gryffindor tower?" Umbridge asked.

"Yes," Harry said.

"You claim you had nothing to do with whatever happened to Mr Filch or the bathroom?"

"What happened to Filch?" Harry asked, frowning. "And what's a bathroom got to do with anything?"

Umbridge leaned back in her chair and breathed deeply through her nose. Harry kept his expression a mix of polite confusion and annoyance.

"Mr Runcorn has already provided testimony that he, Argus, and Mrs Norris were set upon by Peeves," Dumbledore said, glancing between Umbridge, Marlene, and Shacklebolt.

"Mr Filch had been stunned, not hit with a dungbomb," Umbridge said.

"Peeves has confessed," Dumbledore said. "And Madam Pomfrey has confirmed Mr Runcorn spent the evening in her care after their run-in."

"Runcorn was attacked?!" Harry asked.

"Not directly," Dumbledore said. "He tripped down the stairs while he was trying to evade Peeves, and broke several ribs and his nose." Harry grimaced.

"I myself am skeptical," Umbridge said. "The poltergeist is a nuisance, but not usually a danger."

"Accidents happen," Dumbledore said. "Though if I'm honest, I'm not surprised by a shift in Peeves' behaviour. Poltergeists are manifestations of students' emotions and mischief, and emotions have been high at Hogwarts of late."

"Then he ought to be removed," Umbridge said.

"You may try," Dumbledore said, with some amusement. "No one has in over a hundred years, because the last attempt ended so disastrously. Rest assured, however, that I have had words with Peeves this morning."

Dumbledore looked serene but his scent carried a faint tension.

"So… why am I here?" Harry asked.

"Because I believe there is more to all of this than what I'm being told," Umbridge said. "And that you are at the centre of it, Mr Potter. The Headmaster is simply covering for you again—"

"Involved in what?" Harry asked. Umbridge's eyes bored into his as intently as if she was trying to read his thoughts through them, but there was none of the mental pressure on his mind that usually suggested Legillimency. He held her gaze for several long seconds.

"I'm not clear on that either, if I'm honest," Shacklebolt said, giving Umbridge an apologetic look. Neither he or Marlene looked at Harry at all—which was probably for the best—but Umbridge never took her eyes off him. "You and Potter have both agreed he was heading up to Gryffindor tower after you met in the corridors. Based on my understanding of the evening's timelines it's entirely likely he'd have been there when the Headmaster called the lockdown. He's on the list of those present in Gryffindor tower when Professor McGonagall checked there, and his dormmate has attested to him being there throughout the night."

"You don't know him like I do," Umbridge said, finally dragging her eyes off Harry to look at Shacklebolt. "Something more has gone on here…I myself did not hear Black's missive, but those that did have said he said I don't know where he is—surely meaning Potter—"

"Ah, but you are missing the first part of that story," Dumbledore said. "Sirius and I had, in fact, corresponded earlier in the evening. He had business in Hogsmeade and while he was there stumbled across one of Lord Voldemort—" Umbridge was the only one in the room who twitched, but Marlene gave a little gasp that Harry was sure was purely for show, and Shacklebolt shot Dumbledore a sharp look. "—'s followers while he was there. Peter Pettigrew." Harry scowled but was privately amused that Dumbledore—and likely Padfoot—had chosen to frame Wormtail for this. "Naturally Sirius was concerned about his proximity to the school and alerted me. The message that arrived during dinner was then him declaring that he'd lost track of Pettigrew."

"If Peter Pettigrew had been sighted, the entire Auror Department would have been mobilised," Umbridge snapped. "A few years ago, there was that incident in Hogsmeade—"

"After which it became D.M.L.E. policy that Pettigrew is not to be approached or cornered in densely populated areas," Shacklebolt said. Harry had no idea if that was true or not, but Shacklebolt said it so calmly that it seemed believable. "Black did the right thing not escalating the situation. And fortunately, it seems to have been a false alarm; wherever Pettigrew went after Black lost sight of him, it wasn't here."

"Fortunate indeed," Dumbledore said.

"Fortunate," Umbridge scoffed. "I think it's very convenient that there's no way to verify this story. Black will say whatever you tell him to—" She looked sharply between Harry and Dumbledore. "—and obviously we can't ask Pettigrew."

"Unfortunately not," Shacklebolt said. "Though if you could somehow arrange that, Madam High Inquisitor, we in the D.M.L.E. would be forever in your debt." He smiled, small and rueful, and Umbridge actually looked a little flustered. Harry wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh or vomit.

"Indeed," she said, smoothing down her robes—lilac this morning. "In the meantime, however, the Auror Department will have to settle for my insistence that Black is disciplined—"

"For what?" Harry demanded.

"Harry, no," Dumbledore said, and so urgent was his tone that Harry snapped his mouth shut. No one else seemed to have heard Dumbledore, though; Umbridge was watching Harry triumphantly, Marlene was frowning but looked a little worried—like she wasn't far off telling him Harry, no herself—and Shacklebolt raised an eyebrow. He'd said it quietly, Harry realised, and frowned askance at Dumbledore, who watched him curiously back.

"For wasting time and resources with a false alarm," Umbridge said sweetly.

"I'm afraid you'll have to take that up with me," Dumbledore said, pulling his eyes off Harry.

"You?" Something brightened in her eyes. "Are you taking responsibility for Black's actions then, Headmaster? Suggesting he was there on your business, and not the D.M.L.E.'s'?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore said. "Merely pointing out that Sirius did not demand the school be locked down. I did." He did not smile, but there was a weary satisfaction in his scent. "As you've said, Sirius only communicated that he was unsure where Pettigrew had disappeared to. It was my decision to respond as I did."

"Poorly?" Umbridge suggested.

"You are entitled to your opinion, of course," Dumbledore said graciously. "I myself would prefer the term 'proactively'; Hogwarts has, after all, been breached by Death Eaters—if not Voldemort himself—every year for several years now. I have learned to take threats to my students' safety seriously and feel it is far better to over prepare than to be caught by surprise. Constant vigilance, as they say in the Auror Department."

Umbridge's smile had become rather fixed; Harry was sure she was trying to decide how best to rebut that, but seemed not to be able to come up with anything. Her eyes narrowed.

Dumbledore brought his hands together:

"And speaking of the Auror Department, I think it is high time we allowed you to return to it… or to your beds. Sleep was scarce at Hogwarts last night, I'm afraid."

"Indeed," Umbridge said, recovering. "Thank you for your service last night, Auror Shacklebolt, Auror McKinnon, unnecessary as it may have been."

"And pass our thanks to your trainees, as well," Dumbledore said. Marlene and Shacklebolt nodded and left without as much as a backwards glance. Dumbledore rose himself. "Now," he said, "I intend to have a few hours of rest since I have given us all the morning off, and would encourage you both to do the same."

The next morning's Prophet brought with it Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, which granted the Hogwarts High Inquisitor—Umbridge—the right to oversee all security matters at Hogwarts so as to minimise disruptions to students' education. Percy had sent a warning the night before, so it didn't come as a surprise—small wins, Harry supposed—but what did come as a surprise was Umbridge's additional announcement:

"I am pleased to announce the formation of a new extracurricular group," she said, coming to stand in front of the staff table, "which I shall be calling the 'Inquisitorial Squad'. First and foremost, the Inquisitorial Squad will provide a sample student population I can use to monitor the quality of education at Hogwarts on an ongoing basis. It will also generally provide insights into the mood and happenings at Hogwarts from a student perspective, which will inform future priorities for improvement. Members of the Inquisitorial Squad will be expected to assist in school patrols and curfew enforcement, as well as other disciplinary activities, both to alleviate the load on our current Prefects and Heads, and to provide other students the chance to take on some additional responsibility."

Umbridge smiled and clasped her hands before her.

"I already have some students in mind, who I believe have the right attitude and aptitude for a position in this prestigious group, but will also be accepting applications over the coming days from others who might be interested."

"We all agree that she just announced she's setting up her own personal spy and punishment team, right?" Ron asked as Umbridge sat and chatter resumed. Harry didn't answer and none of the others did either, but their grim faces must have been answer enough: "Thought so."

"I can't believe it," Hermione said. Ginny scoffed. "Not that she's trying something like this—that I can believe—but that Dumbledore isn't doing anything to stop her. She's undermining the Prefect system, and creating a divide between students and other students, not to mention students and teachers. It's so unhealthy!"

"He probably didn't have a say," Draco said, eyeing the Headmaster, who wore a slight frown.

"That hasn't stopped him before," Harry pointed out.

"No," Draco said, "but he's already used his weekly allocation of luck-pushing to stage a Death Eater invasion and whole-school-lockdown. He can't afford to rattle cages right now." The five of them drifted into unhappy silence and Harry took in the rest of the Hall. The majority of Slytherin looked gleeful, and Ravenclaw were all murmuring in low voices amongst each other; Harry's hearing was good enough that he could hear there seemed to be a fairly even split between intrigue, caution, and outright disapproval. Hufflepuff seemed generally troubled, and there was a flurry of activity around Cedric as—what appeared to be Prefects—flocked to him for answers. Gryffindor was unnaturally quiet on the matter, but Harry could smell the resentment and it was hard to miss the loaded glances passing between people.

He himself exchanged another look with the others, then picked up his spoon.

An aura of general unease seemed to hang over the castle in the days that followed; the Prophet had been quick to drag Dumbledore's name through the mud after the lockdown on the full moon, and it was clear some people were starting to doubt him. It wasn't helped any by the fact that the likes of Hydrus and Daphne were taking every possible opportunity to brag about being hand-chosen for Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, and expected their first order of business would be to see him removed from the school.

"Father's never been able to manage it," Draco said, in a clear attempt to be comforting, "not even with the entire school Board behind him. There's no way Hydrus does."

But none of them had had much to say to that, because it felt different this time; in their second year, it had been a rather rushed decision to remove Dumbledore from the school. This… this was calculated, and had the entirety of the Ministry—expect perhaps the Auror Division—behind it.

At least, Harry assumed Scrimgeour was still against Umbridge… he and Padfoot hadn't been able to speak properly since the full moon; Umbridge had refused to give him his mirror back, and when he'd tried to Floo Padfoot, he'd barely stopped spinning in the grate before a stubby, ringed hand appeared in the fire, grabbing at him. They'd not tried again since.

And, if Umbridge was policing the fireplaces, he could only assume she'd be policing the post, too, so hadn't bothered to write a letter, though Ginny had sent one to Percy with a carefully worded warning about their suspicions.

Harry didn't think he'd ever gone so long without talking to Padfoot, and certainly not when there was so much to discuss. He'd never felt so cut off, so restricted; he was biting his tongue for hours each day, lest he snap back at Umbridge or Filch—who was following him almost everywhere—or Hydrus and the other prospective Inquisitorial Squad members. Dumbledore might be top of the list of people they were trying to get rid of, but Harry was sure he himself was a close second and wasn't going to give them the opportunity if he could help it.

Quidditch trainings had been a welcome reprieve—Umbridge and Filch couldn't follow him or hear him when he was up there—and a solid excuse to talk with Katie, Alicia, and Angelina; Harry had been keeping a little bit of distance between himself and everyone that wasn't Ron, Hermione, Draco, Ginny, or the twins since Umbridge's announcement about the Inquisitorial Squad, lest he put as much of a target on their backs as he'd managed to put on his own.

And, none of them seemed to mind the distance; where everyone had become friendly in the corridors in the couple of weeks since Eihwaz formed, they were now aloof.

Harry hoped it was just to keep a low profile and not because of any newfound mistrust or doubt…

As such, he was nervous—probably more nervous than he had been before the first meeting—when Thursday evening rolled around.

"Ron should be up there by now," Harry muttered; Ron had left dinner early to go and wait in the Room with the Map. He'd open a door in the boy's dorm for Harry to join him through; they'd all agreed that—closely as he was being watched—Harry shouldn't be seen anywhere near the Room's actual entrance. "I'll see you both later."

"No, I'll walk with you," Hermione said. "At least until we get to the fourth floor." She'd be situated in the library for the next half hour or so, until Harry or Ron created a doorway to her and whoever else from Eihwaz joined her.

"Good luck," Ginny murmured, standing as well, though she didn't join them in leaving; Harry watched as she went—long, red ponytail swinging—with her half-finished bowl of fruit salad over to Ravenclaw's table, and settled herself between Luna and Michael Corner. When they finished, she would return to Ravenclaw with them and oversee traffic through the door Harry or Ron would have appear in Ravenclaw tower.

Cedric—who was walking into the Hall as Harry and Hermione made to leave—would handle things in Hufflepuff, Draco—who'd skipped dinner to meet with Snape—would meet their few Slytherin members in the dungeons, and the twins would handle the Gryffindors.

"I keep thinking we're being ridiculous and paranoid," Hermione muttered, glancing over her shoulder as they left the Hall, "but then I'm reminded that we're really not—" Harry glanced back too and found Umbridge frowning at them over the rim of her goblet. He turned back around. "—and that she's the ridiculous one for forcing us to go to these lengths just to study. When I get my Defence O.W.L., I'm going to make it very clear she had nothing to do with it."

"I don't think the Ministry'll care much, honestly," Harry said, grimacing.

"They should," Hermione sniffed.

They parted ways a few minutes later, and she'd barely headed around the corner toward the library when quick, light footsteps came up behind Harry:

"You're insane." It was Runcorn, speaking so low he was hissing, and Harry was rather taken aback by the vehemence in his voice.

Then he caught Runcorn's scent and the gratitude in it—it was rich and neither sweet nor savoury, but somehow both, and made Harry feel warm and a bit embarrassed.

"Draco often says so," Harry said, offering him a small smile.

"I don't remember… much," Runcorn said frowning. "The wolf was pretty strong that night, but going in— I thought I was going to be loose in the school, that you wouldn't get me away in time. And then when I told you to run and you didn't… I could have killed you or Weasley—or both—"

"You didn't," Harry said firmly.

"No," Runcorn said. "But it was a near thing, wasn't it? I remember going for you once right at the start… and then you weren't there. I thought maybe Sirius came to me when we couldn't get to him, but I don't think it was him… it was a wolf not a dog…" He squinted at Harry but looked suddenly hesitant. "I'm not imagining that, right?"

"No," Harry said carefully. "You're not."

"It was you." Runcorn said it, but there was a question in there too, like he wasn't quite sure. "You're… like me?"

"More like P— Sirius," Harry said.

"I'd figured," Runcorn said, but there was something like awe on his face now. It disappeared behind a wry expression Harry would normally associate with Moony or Matt. "That, or you were the calmest, least affected, most controlled one of us I'd ever come across." Harry grinned but Runcorn sobered quickly. "And Weasley… I— he's all right, isn't he? He's seemed it when I've seen him around the last few days, but I've not been able to risk asking—"

"He's fine," Harry said.

"Mental," Runcorn said faintly. He shook his head and caught Harry's arm, making Harry face him properly. "Thank you." He was so sincerely grateful that Harry could only nod.

"I'm sorry it didn't work out the way we'd planned it," Harry said. "I knew Umbridge—" Runcorn bared his teeth at the mention of her name. "—was out to get me, but I hadn't realised quite how closely she was watching. Next time we'll have Ron make a doorway into Hufflepuff and have Cedric help you through."

"We've got a month to figure it out," Runcorn said. "I— it's hazy, but I remember an orange wall… I didn't know there was anything that could keep us out when we're like that." He seemed both troubled and curious.

"It's a Shield Dome spell," Harry said. "I used them in the Tournament last year… a couple of times, actually. And like Ron said—not that you probably remember it—if it can keep out a dragon…"

"Could you teach me? Or can Weasley?"

"Sure," Harry said, a little surprised. Runcorn obviously smelled it because his own scent turned cautious and considering:

"Things are… complicated," he said at last. "With my…ah… family."

"Right," Harry said, and assumed he meant the werewolf pack.

"Lupin might have told you—"

"Not really, actually," Harry said. "I know you left—" He glanced around quickly. "—home when he and Matt did, and that you've come back to Hogwarts but the other one—whoever they were—didn't… Or, at least I assume so, because otherwise I'd probably have been trying to get two of you out the other night." Runcorn gave a curt nod. "Beyond that, I don't know specifics…" Harry shrugged. "Remus is pretty big on not sharing secrets that he doesn't think are his."

"Apparently," Runcorn said, and smelled a little heartened by that.

"About the shield spell," Harry said. He dropped his voice low enough that only Runcorn—with better than normal hearing—would be able to understand. "There are actually a few of us who get together and practice that sort of thing. Defensive spells, I mean." Harry glanced over at the other boy. "Practical ones, which actually work. If you want to learn, that might be a good place to do it." Runcorn frowned. "If you're interested, anyway."

"The few of you who get together… does that include Matt and Lupin?"

"No," Harry said. "This group's just for people here, at Hogwarts. Although some of us are involved in the other one too…"

"So you're recruiting," Runcorn said. His scent was resigned and a little nervous. "I've told Dumbledore already—I'm not sure I want to pick a side in all this."

"It's not about that," Harry said. Runcorn eyed him, suspicious, but not unfriendly. "It's about making sure people can defend themselves—"

"Yeah, but I don't imagine you're making this offer to just anyone."

"No," Harry conceded, letting out a breath. "We're not, but—"

"So why would you trust me?" Runcorn asked. "I have parents, but I don't remember them because I've spent almost my entire life with my adoptive family. I was raised differently. I think differently. And if I had to pick between my family or someone else… I don't know what I'd pick. Who I'd pick, if it came to it."

"Do you think anyone else is any different?" Harry asked.

"Other people aren't quite as dangerous as I can be," Runcorn muttered. "Look, you're decent—Matt likes you—and I really, really appreciate what you and Weasley did for me the other night, and I want to learn, if you're willing to let me tag along to whatever it is you've got happening, but I don't— You can't have expectations, or— or conditions, because I can't promise to be able to meet them. I'd rather stay completely clear of it than get involved and end up letting everyone down."

"There are two conditions," Harry said. Runcorn's mouth turned down. "The first is that you have to sign yourself to secrecy—there's a contract." Runcorn shrugged at that.

"And then second?"

"Should go without saying, but basically, you can't like Umbridge," Harry said. As he'd hoped, it lightened the mood immediately; Runcorn snorted a laugh:

"Yeah, no risk of that," he said. He sobered a moment later but his scent was hopeful. "There's nothing else?"

"Nope," Harry said.

"All right," Runcorn said. "Then I suppose I'm in."