CHAPTER 33

I sit down next to Hermione in Arithmancy the day after Firenze joined the Hogwarts staff. As most of the Slytherins were not amused by Dumbledore's interaction with Umbridge yesterday, I've had to keep my joy to myself. Astoria and Daphne did not witness it, so they couldn't really revel in much of what was said/done, so taking a seat next to Hermione in class brings a smile to my face because I know she hates Umbridge too. "Did you see Umbridge's face when Dumbledore undermined her like that?" I ask quietly.

"Yes!" Hermione cheers, just as thrilled with Dumbledore cleverly triumphing over Umbridge as I am. No doubt she likely hates Umbridge much more than I do considering how terrible of a year Harry has had because of her. Hermione's voice becomes more serious. "But I'm afraid about what might happen though; she'll find a way to get revenge."

"You're probably right, but still, it was nice to see her put in her place. She doesn't have as much control over Hogwarts as she likes to believe."

"Whatever she does to avenge herself can't be too horrible though," Hermione says logically. "He's Albus Dumbledore. What can they do to him?"

Perhaps it's because Hermione is still the only student here at Hogwarts that knows the truth about me or maybe it's because she just has a quality about her that makes me feel safe to talk freely with her, the sudden urge to tell her about Sirius overwhelms me. "I'm going to meet another one of my cousins over the Easter holidays."

"Really? Who?" she asks, seemingly genuinely interested.

"Don't tell anyone," I say. "But it's Sirius Black. Now, I know what you must be thinking, but he's not guilty—"

"I know him," Hermione interrupts me. "He's Harry's godfather."

Dumbledore and Tonks both neglected to tell me that. "What's he like?"

"He's interesting."

Professor Vector quiets the class down before I have a chance to try getting any more information.

While walking to dinner where I'm supposed to be meeting Astoria and Daphne, I pass Fred on the shifting staircase. Though we make eye contact, he makes no move to stop or speak, and it's only a few seconds after we've passed each other that I stop and turn around to catch up with him. The staircase shifts behind me, so there's no turning back at this point. That's fine—this needs to be done anyway. I reach out quickly and grab Fred's elbow.

He glances over at me but doesn't stop walking, instead simply greeting me with a neutral, "Charlotte."

"Out searching for more students who will buy your Skiving Snackboxes?"

"Yeah, gotta keep our business up and running."

"Fred, can I talk to you?"

"Aren't we talking now?"

I smile to myself. "We are."

"I thought I was mistaken for a moment."

We turn down a corridor, and again I take him by the elbow. "Could we stop here for a moment?" He nods, and we walk toward the large windows to get out of the middle of the corridor. "Fred, I'm really sorry about . . . what I did. I need you to know that." This is the first time we've been alone since I kissed him, and I think it's time I finally apologize. Actually, I should have done this weeks ago, but here we are. Cowardly Charlotte putting off anything that might be uncomfortable. "I didn't—I shouldn't have—I'm sorry. I had a really good time with you at Hogsmeade, and you were so kind to me when you saw that I was upset, and I ruined it. I'm so sorry."

He looks at me curiously. "You didn't ruin anything."

"So you're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you? Why would I be mad?

"Because . . . because I kissed you and then abandoned you."

He laughs. "If anything, that made my day better!"

"But you changed after that, so I assumed it angered you. Not the kiss itself, but what happened after."

He shakes his head. "I'm not angry, Charlotte. I thought you needed space. You were still upset about Malfoy. I didn't want to smother you with unwanted advances, especially after the look on your face when Malfoy attacked us."

"Unwanted? They weren't unwanted, Fred." He smiles, and I quickly say, "At least . . . I don't think they were."

"If that's the case, care to walk to dinner with me? I can find customers later."

"I would like that very much."

Even though I've had some good moments since the Christmas holiday fiasco, creating a Patronus in the last D.A. meeting before Easter is completely out of the question. In the Room of Requirement, tons of Patronuses dash around me, lighting the room with a wonderful silver glow, but my Patronus is not among them because my wand refuses to conjure up one, no matter how hard I try. It's probably because when I think of a happy memory, Draco is sitting beside me. Then the memory goes from happy to sad without warning, and the silver light that had tried emerging from my wand dies out. And the memory of my first successful Conjuration is marred by my reasons for needing to learn Conjuration in the first place.

However, I'm not the only one who seems to be failing, which is the only somewhat positive thing I see at the moment. Lavender and Neville both struggle as well, and while Lavender's struggle makes me feel like less of a failure, Neville's struggle only makes it harder for me to create a Patronus. Had my mother not tortured his parents to the point of insanity, he would probably have more happy memories to use for his Patronus. He would have grown up with parents and probably would have had a good childhood. It's no secret that he's had a hard life, and it's all because of my mother.

"Able to create a Patronus yet?" George asks me as he, Fred, and Lee walk over to me.

"Unfortunately, no," I say. "But I'll get it eventually, I'm sure."

"That's the spirit!" Lee says with a broad grin. "I haven't gotten it yet, either, so don't worry too much about it."

"Being like you probably won't make her feel much better," Fred comments.

"I'll never understand how Harry managed to do this in his third year," I say.

Fred shrugs. "Probably had something to do with our professor at the time—Remus Lupin. You heard much about him?"

"Only from Draco, so nothing good, I'm afraid."

George shakes his head. "Lupin was our greatest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"With how much Draco hated him, I'm sure he must have been. Draco seems to like the bad professors and hate the good ones. Which explains his fondness for Snape, really." My mood drops suddenly, and I realize that I desperately want to be alone, though I don't know why. No, I do know why. Since I found out about my Easter arrangements, I've wanted to be alone. Not the meeting Sirius plan, which part of me is immensely looking forward to, but the meeting Voldemort requiremnt, which is tainting everything else right now.

It's just exhausting being around people right now.

I tell the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan that I simply don't feel well before bidding them a good evening and leaving the Room of Requirement. Seeing as the Slytherin Dungeon will probably be even more crowded now than the Room of Requirement, I don't really want to be down there either, so instead, I wander to the third floor in silence, finally—wonderfully—alone. Sitting here without anyone else to bother me allows me to breathe more easily, and I relish it as I look out the window to take in the Hogwarts scenery. Perhaps if I find time to do this more regularly, it'll be easier being around others more. Just need to start dedicated solitary time for myself.

My relaxation is cut short not twenty minutes later by stomping footsteps nearby. Umbridge soon comes hustles around the corner and heads straight for the gargoyle statue guarding Dumbledore's office, Harry in her clutches. I dodge out of sight as she reaches the gargoyle where she says, her voice victorious, "Fizzing Whizbee!"

Once they've disappeared, I dash away in the direction of the Room of Requirement to find someone who can give me answers and stumble upon Fred. "Fred!" I call to him from the other side of the hall. He turns and comes toward me, obviously furious about something. "What's happened?"

"Someone's squealed about the D.A.! Harry was taken by Umbridge!"

Oh no.

"I saw her taking him to Dumbledore's office!" With some sort of unspoken agreement, we both head toward the gargoyle statue. "Do you trust me?"

"That point's up for debate at the moment," Fred answers with a smirk.

"Don't pull any punches," I say dryly. "I thought I was forgiven."

"Well, you are, but should I trust you?"

"I need you to trust me now." I take out my wand. "I spent years perfecting this spell, but I've never used it on another person before. But I want to see what's going on. Don't you?"

Fred smiles. "Mischief is one of my specialties. Give it a try." I take a deep breath and touch my wand to the top of his head, casting a Disillusionment Charm on him, and he jerks his hand to the place where my wand touched him. "What'd you put in my hair?" he asks suddenly. He stops when he looks down at himself. He slowly vanishes from the top down as the spell flows over him. "Brilliant!"

I take my wand and cast the charm over myself as if wrapping myself in rope, and I, too, begin to disappear. "I don't know how long this will last on you; we have to hurry."

I lead us to the gargoyle statue. "Fizzing Whizbee!" The statue moves aside. I find Fred's hand and lead him to the headmaster's office. "Keep quiet," I whisper.

When we reach the top of the stairs, Dumbledore's office door is still open. Inside are McGonagall, Dumbledore, Harry, and Umbridge, but none of them surprise me. The people that do surprise me are Cho's friend whose name I can't remember, the Minister of Magic (what the hell?), a rather brute-looking wizard, a gray-haired wizard, and a redheaded boy that looks so much like the other Weasleys that I must assume he is one.

We've missed part of the conversation, because I hear Dumbledore say, "Oh, can she tell us about six months' worth of meetings? I was under the impression that she was merely reporting a meeting tonight."

Umbridge says, "Miss Edgecombe"—that's her name: Marietta Edgecombe—"tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. You can simply nod or shake your head. I'm sure that won't make the spots worse." I don't see any spots on Marietta from this angle. "Have they been happening regularly over the last six months? Just nod or shake your head, dear. Come on, now, that won't activate the jinx further . . ."

Marietta shakes her head.

"I don't think you understood the question, did you, dear? I'm asking whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?"

She shakes her head.

"What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?" Umbridge is angry now, and that sets the hairs on the back of my neck on edge.

"I would have thought her meaning was quite clear," McGonagall says severely. "There have been no secret meetings for the past six months. Is that correct, Miss Edgecombe?"

She nods.

"But there was a meeting tonight!" Umbridge shouts. "There was a meeting, Miss Edgecombe, you told me about it, in the Room of Requirement! And Potter was the leader, was he not, Potter organized it, Potter—why are you shaking your head, girl?" Umbridge drops all false pretense of kindness, and I find myself gripping Fred's hand more tightly, almost fearing that she will attack everyone in the room.

"Well, usually when a person shakes their head"—McGonagall's voice is crueler than I have ever heard it before, and it makes me smile that she's taking that tone with Umbridge—"they mean 'no.' So unless Miss Edgecombe is using a form of sign language as yet unknown to humans—"

Umbridge grabs Marietta up and shakes her viciously. I tighten my hold on Fred's hand again. Dumbledore stands, casts a spell at Umbridge who in turn jumps back like her hands have been burned, and tells her that he will not tolerate her "manhandling" the students.

The brute wizard tells her to calm down. Umbridge gives a pathetic excuse of "having lost herself for a moment."

The Minister of Magic speaks for the first time since Fred and I have been watching. "Dolores, the meeting tonight—the one we know definitely happened—"

"Yes." Umbridge has returned to her normal self. She tells them about how Marietta had tipped her off and about how they had gone to the Room of Requirement. Marietta had gone inside and retrieved the list. My heart plummets as Umbridge hands it over to Cornelius Fudge.

"Excellent. Excellent, Dolores," he says. "And . . . by thunder . . ." He looks at Dumbledore. "See what they've named themselves. Dumbledore's Army."

Dumbledore takes the paper. "Well, the game is up," he says calmly. "Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius—or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"

Fred's hand tightens in mine this time. This can't be happening. Why would he act involved in this? Fudge pieces together the information presented to him, then stutters some things off, but I can't really hear him or focus on what he's saying because McGonagall and the brute wizard have just exchanged fearful looks that only serve to make me even more unsettled. But isn't he with the Minister? Why are he and McGonagall sharing looks?

"You recruited these students for—for your army?" he asks.

My mouth slowly falls open as Dumbledore continues, "Tonight was to be the first meeting, merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course."

"Then you have been plotting against me!"

"That's right," Dumbledore says cheerfully.

I bite my tongue to stop from rushing forward and arguing on Dumbledore's behalf. Harry takes that job, and while I don't listen to him, I can kind of guess what he's saying—Dumbledore had nothing to do with it, it was all me, please don't blame the headmaster. I'm too busy staring at Dumbledore to care what defense Harry tries to use. Because, let's face it, Umbridge and Fudge won't believe him either way now that Dumbledore has confessed. How could he willingly do this?

"You will be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged and then sent to Azkaban to await trial!" Fudge rejoices.

"I thought we might hit this snag."

"Snag? I see no snag, Dumbledore!"

"Well," comes Dumbledore's apologetic answer, "I'm afraid I do."

"Oh really?"

"Well—it's just that you seem to be laboring under the delusion that I am going to—what is the phrase? 'Come quietly.' I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent 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 I would rather be doing."

I have to suppress the urge to cheer for Dumbledore, much like I had to do when Umbridge had tried to get rid of Trelawney. But that feeling is quickly replaced by fear. Dumbledore can't leave Hogwarts. Who is supposed to rein in Snape? How am I supposed to survive when there is a Death Eater in the castle who can't be controlled by anyone but Dumbledore?

One of the wizards makes a move as if to apprehend Dumbledore but pulls up short when the headmaster says, "Don't be silly, Dawlish. I'm sure you are an excellent Auror, I seem to remember that you achieved 'Outstanding' in all your N.E.W.T.s, but if you attempt to—er—'bring me in' by force, I will have to hurt you."

"So, you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores, and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?" Fudge sneers.

"Merlin's beard, no. Not unless you are foolish enough to force me to."

"He will not be single-handed!" McGonagall announces, plunging her hand into her robes.

"Oh yes he will, Minerva! Hogwarts needs you!"

"Enough of this rubbish!" the Minister shouts. "Dawlish! Shacklebolt! Take him!"

There's a streak of silver light and a loud bang. Fred and I jerk behind the doorway as the chaos ensues. Fred pins me against the wall, covering me with his own body, trying to protect me from whatever is happening in the headmaster's office. When it calms down, we shift back to the doorway to see what happened. McGonagall has both Harry and Marietta forced to the floor to protect them, much like Fred had done to me moments ago. Dumbledore approaches them through the dust-filled room. "Are you all right?" he asks them.

"Yes!" McGonagall says, pulling herself and the two students to their feet.

Dumbledore has completely destroyed his office, and all those in the room from the Ministry are sprawled, unconscious, on the floor except for Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the two students she shoved to the floor. They continue speaking, but I miss what is said ebcause Fred has now turned to me, putting both hands on the sides of my face. "Are you all right?" he whispers.

I nod. "Y-yes, I think so." I add with a smile even though he can't see it, "Thanks to you, I'm guessing. Are you all right?"

"Never better."

We turn our attention back to the office.

"Where will you go, Dumbledore?" McGonagall asks. "Grimmauld Place?"

"Oh no," he says with a grimace. "I am not leaving to go into hiding. Fudge will soon wish he'd never dislodged me from Hogwarts, I promise you . . ."

"Let's get out of here," Fred whispers. As he says it, I realize that Dumbledore knows we're here. He looks right us as the phoenix bird circles the office and flies low to him, taking him in a flash of fire. Fred and I dodge away, exiting the gargoyle statue but not slowing. We don't stop until we've made it to the fifth floor, at which point I finally I take the charm off us. "Dumbledore . . ."

"Umbridge . . . she'll have free reign now . . ." I say solemnly.

We stand in silence for almost three minutes. "We have to tell everyone what happened. How Dumbledore took out two Aurors, the Minister, Umbridge, and Percy. Everyone has to know!" Fred says.

"Who's Percy?" I ask him quietly.

"My git of a brother. We don't speak of him." His face breaks into a smile. "You've got to teach me that charm!"

"Maybe," I tell him. I bite my lip and add, "I feel like I should apologize again—about what happened."

He shakes his head. "No need."

"It's just . . . the way I left—it was wrong of me—"

Smiling but offering no warning, Fred presses his lips against mine, pulling away a short moment later. "We're even now, yeah?" I nod, breathless.

"So," I say after pullnig myself together, "you think everyone should know what happened back there?"

"Definitely. Umbridge'll take the headmaster's post now." We both shudder at the thought. "And everyone needs to know what happened, what led up to it. Everyone."

"Marietta certainly won't speak of it anymore, ever."

"And I don't think Harry'll have much of a chance before tomorrow. But we need to start spreading it now."

"How do you suggest we do that?" We're silent for a moment, and then I begin to smile. "Do you know where the other common rooms are located?"

He nods. "Of course I do."

"Then let's get going."

"We'll start with Ravenclaw. Come on." Fred takes my hand, and together we run through the castle.

A growing monster of jealousy springs up in my chest as I begin to realize that we are headed towards a spiral staircase leading up. And I want to hit something when we stop in front of the entrance to the Ravenclaw Tower. If all the Houses but Slytherin have common rooms in towers, I am going to burn this place to the ground. Again I wonder why I am stuck in Slytherin. No, I guess I was Sorted into Slytherin because the Sorting Hat probably realized, long before anyone else, who and what I am.

"Do you know how to get in there?"

"Not a clue."

Unsure of our next move, we stare blanky at the door, which has no doorknob and no keyhole but has a large brass knocker. There is only a large, brass knocker. "I'm assuming we knock on this? Will it just let us in?"

"One way to find out." Fred reaches for the knocker, but the door swings open before he even has the chance to try it. "Michael!"

Another D.A. member, Michael Corner, steps out of the common room. He watches up curiously for a moment. "Fred?"

"We just heard the news and thought we should make sure Ravenclaw hears."

"Go on."

Fred and I tell Michael Corner everything that has just happened in Dumbledore's office. His face lights up. "Do what you want with that information," I finish. Then Fred and I rush away, this time going to the Hufflepuff common room.

Instead of a tower again, Fred leads me to the basement, and I feel my bitterness fade slightly. At least I'm not in the only House without a tower. A group of third-years open the door to their common room as we approach. "Hey!" I call after them. "Hey! We need to tell you something!"

They only look slightly terrified, but that terror becomes joy by the time we finish telling them the story of Dumbledore escaping the Ministry. "Tell your whole House!" Fred commands as we run away again. "You probably shouldn't tell your House though." We stop at the stairs going to the dungeons. "I don't think it's safe."

"I can tell a few of them, but not many."

"Just . . . be careful."

"I will."

Fred smiles before kissing my cheek and dashing away, presumably going to the Gryffindor Tower. I make my way to the Slytherin Dungeons. The Greengrass sisters will surely love to hear about what happened.