Chapter Seven: A Right Shower

With not much else for it, the boys decided to head back up to Gryffindor Tower - hands in pockets and scuffling their feet as they went. Sirius was scowling. 'What's that all about anyway?' he asked. 'Not letting us in.'

'Their need for secrecy doesn't exactly fill me with confidence,' Remus said, 'but I wish we could hear what they were saying.'

James' face lit up. 'We could use the cloak!'

'They'd notice the door opening, even if they couldn't see us… anyway, it's nearly sunset. Who needs that berk Malidictus and his secret meeting? We've got our own secrets to be getting up to.'

'What's the incantation again? I always forget it.'

'God, Pete - it's four words. It's not hard!'

'Well I still forget it!' Peter scowled just as deeply as Sirius. They reached the common room, Sirius still in a dark mood about the meeting and Peter still in a dark mood with Sirius. When they had given the password to the Fat Lady they found the tower was completely deserted - everyone, except them, it seemed had signed the charter and gone to the meeting.

They went up to the dorm, where Sirius, James and Peter sat cross legged on their beds, closed their eyes and pointed their wand tips over their hearts ready to perform the incantation which would help them become animagi. Remus sat on his own bed and watched them, waves of guilt about his friends breaking the law just for him crashed over him, chased immediately by waves of affection and gratitude for friends who would break the law just for him.

'Amato,' Sirius and James intoned in unison.

'A-amato,' Peter stuttered a moment later, prying open one eye just a crack and sneaking a look at the other two. Remus pretended not to notice.

'Animo.'

'Animo,' - once again, Peter was a fraction behind.

'Animato, Animagus.'

'Animato, Ani - animagus.'

'You know,' Remus said, once they had finished and had their eyes open once again, 'according to the notes, if you carry this chanting on for long enough you'll start to feel a second heartbeat.'

'Is that bad?' Peter squeaked.

But Remus only shrugged. 'It says it's normal - it will feel strange but you're to keep on going.'

'Yeah - no freaking out, Pete.'

'I won't freak out!'

'If you say so.'

Peter opened his mouth to fire off another retort at Sirius, but James cut across him smoothly. 'I wonder what they're talking about in that meeting? It feels weird, being up here, like we're hiding, while everyone else is down there. We've known about Voldemort the longest, we're the ones who have actually seen him… but we're not taking direct action.'

But Sirius snorted derisively. ' They're not taking direct action. They're blowing a lot of hot air and writing pointless letters to the pointless Minister. We're better off out of it.'

But whether or not actual direct action was discussed in the meeting, the boys never found out, as it seemed that the secrecy extended beyond the meeting itself and - while those who had attended gathered in small groups and discussed matters in hushed whispers - they always fell silent whenever one of the boys came close. The silence was often accompanied by rather hostile stares. 'Is it me, or is everyone acting just a little bit mental?' Sirius asked, after they had been followed all the way down the corridor by dirty looks.

'It's not just you,' Remus told him. 'Everyone seems to be … well, they're rather het up about the whole thing.'

And it seemed they were not content to keep their disapproval limited to the odd scowl. As the four boys passed the wall where the charter was nailed up, Tobias Winchester in sixth year held out his wand and stopped them. 'Your names aren't on here,' he said (rather aggressively, it had to be noted).

'We know.'

'Don't you agree with our aims?'

'We don't understand all your aims,' Remus told him. 'And we're not signing up to anything that isn't clear.'

'What's not to understand?' Tobias asked belligerently.

But Sirius had lost patience and knocked Winchester's wand out of his way. 'We don't have to explain ourselves to berks like you,' he snorted.

But it seemed like they did have to - over and over. Bertha stopped them and told them it wasn't too late to sign; Linda Lively of Ravenclaw asked them if they did not want to stop the Dark Lord killing muggleborns ('He killed The Kneazles, you know?' she told them in a rather sniffy voice, 'blimey, she's changed her tune,' James whispered to the others) and Lucian Riffkind of Hufflepuff actually accused them of being too afraid to take a stand, and told them they ought to be ashamed of themselves (Sirius took a page out of James book and engorgioed Riffkind's rear as the seventh year walked away from them).

Remus found himself in the uncomfortable position of having to field questions from Petra and Mandy, during muggle studies, as to why he hadn't at least written to the Minister yet.

'We did it right away,' Petra said. 'I told her all about my uncle. I would have thought you would want to, Lupin - you've lost family to the Dark Lord as well.'

'I - er - I've met the Minister… we don't get along. She doesn't want a letter from me.'

'And I spat at her once,' Sirius added, 'she really doesn't want to hear from me.'

'But don't you understand?' Mandy was incredulous. 'She's getting letters from everyone - it's not about who sends them, it's about sheer numbers. The more people who write the less she can ignore the truth.'

Remus shifted in his seat uncomfortably. 'Well, like I've said - I've actually met her - and believe me, she can ignore the truth for England. She isn't a very good Minister and she won't face up to something she doesn't want to acknowledge. No matter how many school children write to her.'

But it was Sirius who found himself most inundated with requests (which were more like demands - but made sickly sweetly) to sign up and join the league, by the numerous girls who had become his admirers since the summer. 'Don't you think it's important?' Bettina Bagshot asked when she stopped him outside the library, fluttering her eyelashes at him. 'We all know you don't stand for the same things your family stand for, your brother hasn't signed up - don't you want to show him?'

'My life does not revolve around what Regulus Bowel Movements is getting up to,' he replied from between clenched teeth.

'I would have thought it was just right up your alley,' Connie Bidwell said, joining him (without even asking) at the Gryffindor table one evening. 'Direct action - taking it to the Minister. Getting things done.'

'Yeah? What's changed since you wrote your letter?' He stabbed his fork into his mashed potato, and glowered, while Remus looked on sympathetically and James and Peter looked a little bit jealous at all the female attention Sirius received.

'It would just be really good to see you at the meetings,' Daisy Wilcock of Hufflepuff told him when she encountered the four of them on the way to the kitchens to steal some food. 'You're so well known around school - the Gryffindor Black, always in detention, always hexing the Slytherins … it would mean a lot to everyone to see you really getting involved in this.'

'Yeah? Aren't they afraid I'll push a suit of armour on top of them?'

'Everyone knows that was Regulus who did that to Stebbins, not you - you wouldn't do a thing like that.'

Sirius blinked at her. 'Yes I did. I did it to Morgana Murrows. Which is why Reg did it to Stebbins - to frame me. Keep up.' And he made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat and stalked off, totally forgetting that he was only in that corridor to steal cream cakes from the House Elves.

'Does it seem like we're the only ones in the castle who haven't signed up to this mental charter?' he asked that evening, after the sun had set and the four of them had hidden away in the dorm to complete the animagus incantation. 'Well,' he snorted, 'us and the mini Knights - Reg and Sniv and everyone like that.'

'It's not just us,' Peter told him. 'I spoke to Upwin and Pryce in Potions - they went to the first meeting, they even wrote to the Minister, but haven't signed the charter. They said it wasn't worth it - making a public declaration, like that - if all it was was writing letters. They have to share a dorm with Sniv and Avery and Mulciber, they'd be sleeping with one eye open from now until seventh year if they signed. They said Muriel and Zinnia were the same. Too risky.'

'So that's it then? Us and four not quite as evil as all the other evil bastards Slytherins?'

'There's a handful of older Ravenclaws too - and some Hufflepuffs. But I counted all the names this afternoon, checked them… we're the only Gryffindors not on there.'

'Well, that makes things awkward,' Remus said.

But James took a more passive view on the matter. 'So be it - what difference does it really make anyway? They're only writing letters.'

However, as the days went by, the veracity of James' statement was sorely tested and it seemed that - gradually - clause five and the second part of clause seven of the charter were being implemented more and more:

5) We will not stand by if we come across these dark views in our daily lives.

7) We will continue to petition the government to take the necessary action to stop the spread of this darkness, and take matters into our own hands where we can.

At first it was a bit of a laugh, and the boys were only sorry they had not been there to hex some of the Slytherins themselves. Mulciber had called Callum Brown a "filthy little mudblood" in front of some seventh years from The League, who had transfigured Mulciber into a warty toad and chucked him into the muddiest part of the lake. He was rescued a few hours later by a furious Slughorn, but no one would admit anything and Mulciber couldn't admit who had hexed him without telling Slughorn why.

Evan Rosier Jr, in sixth year, was found stunned and with whiskers and a kitten nose painted on his face after it was widely believed he was responsible for trapping Sandy Lewis in a broom cupboard, and poor Snivellus suffered the indignity of being hit with an engorgement charm in both the nose and rear all at once just because he was found near some "mudblood out" graffiti. (James had to swear blind that he had been at the library at the time and knew nothing about it 'You hex someone's bum one time - by mistake - and suddenly you're undesirable number one every time someone gets an engorgio in the arse,' he complained indignantly. 'You should try pushing a suit of armour on someone,' Sirius told him.)

But, as the days passed, the actions of The League seemed to grow more extreme and, when a large group of their fellow fourth year boys rounded on second year Matthew Caulfield and cast hexes at his feet, so he was forced to tap dance to avoid them, while they all jeered, because he had shoved a muggleborn student in the corridor, the boys started to worry that maybe things really weren't right.

'It's like they've all turned into Evans on power up potion,' James said.

'A terrifying thought,' Remus replied dryly.

'But … when Evans does it, it's funny - and she doesn't gang up on people.'

'And Stebbins' hair is nowhere near as shiny as hers,' Peter snickered. James cuffed him around the back of his head.

'I'm serious - it's like everyone's gone a little bit mad.' And he tried - without much success - to communicate this worry to Evans herself. 'Don't you think it was a bit much?' he asked her at lunch, 'all those fourth years against one teeny tiny second year?'

'I don't know what you're complaining about,' she replied rather coldly. 'You gang up on Sev all the time.'

'Not seven on one! And Sniv's the same age as us - and more than capable of holding his own. We don't bully Snivellus.'

'Don't you?'

He flushed. 'Well - he's been got by these Anti-Darkness goons too. Doesn't this put you on the opposite side to him?'

'Sev is free to make his own mind up, and is old enough to deal with the consequences of his own actions.'

'That's not what you say when I hex him! Look - Evans - can't you see this is going a bit far?'

But Lily wasn't interested. 'We're making a difference,' she told James rather fiercely. 'For too long now there have been ugly things written about people like me all over the castle. We're putting a stop to it - that's a good thing.' And she walked away with her nose in the air.

James stabbed his shepherd's pie with frustration. 'She's wrong,' he said to the others. 'I know she's right about all the "Mudblood out" stuff,' (he only mouthed the word "mudblood") 'and it does need to stop, and she shouldn't have to put up with it … but this isn't the right way to go about it.'

'She's wrong about them putting a stop to it too,' Peter said. He popped a rather large forkful of mince into his mouth, choked, spluttered, and the others had to wait for him to stop coughing before he spoke again. 'It's not making the mini-knights stop, it's riling them up. We're just going to end up with all out war in the corridors.'

'I just hope Evans doesn't get in over her head,' James said, frowning.

'And - er - why are you more bothered about Evans than anyone else?' Sirius asked him, unable to hide his smirk.

James' frown deepened. Well, I'm not, am I?' he snapped. And he continued to grumble as the other three laughed at him.

But for all their extra-curricular worries, classes still continued as normal and the daily life of school ground relentlessly on. They were making wit sharpening potions in Potions, were working on locomotion spells in Transfiguration and squeezing the pus out of bubotuber plants in Herbology (they needed to wear their dragonhide gloves for that one, as the effects of the pus could be quite nasty on bare skin).

In Ancient Runes, Remus was struggling with a translation of "The Warlock's Hairy Heart" by Beedle the Bard (due to its rather gruesome nature, it tended to be the tale most students were least familiar with - mothers not wanting to read something so dark to their precious children - and so Professor Babbling maintained it was the best story to translate, as everyone knew Babbity Rabbit off by heart and could therefore cheat. It also minimised the advantage students raised by wizards would have over muggleborns studying the subject, as Babbling herself knew only too well that muggles eschewed Beedle for Grimm). And in Care of Magical Creatures, Professor Kettleburn had introduced the class to Hippogriffs. 'The first thing to know about Hippogriffs,' he told the class as they stared at the strange creatures warily, 'is that they're proud. Look them in the eye, don't blink, and then bow.' Peter was skittish and afraid throughout the whole lesson, James declared he vastly preferred brooms for flying, but Sirius rather enjoyed the whole experience and spent a good fifteen minutes petting one Hippogriff's beak.

In Charms, Fitwick had moved them on from summoning and banishing charms and was now having them concentrate on water conjuring. 'It's a tricky little number', he told them - standing on top of his large pile of books so he could see over his desk, his wand held aloft. 'You have to get the wand movement right - thus ', he swirled his wand through the air, 'and then say - with some determination - "Aguamenti" .' A fountain of clear water shot out of the end of his wand. 'You see? Now - you try.'

Looking rather unconvinced, the class all raised their wands, swirled them through the air and said - with as much determination as they could muster - "Aguamenti". Not much happened. Only Muriel Gimlet produced anything - one great gush of water that drenched Zinnia Irving, and then petered out to a weak trickle which leaked onto her shoes.

'Never mind,' Flitwick said. 'Like I told you, it's a tricky one. Practice is the key - keep going and we should see results by the end of the lesson.'

Lily was the next to achieve something and then, much to his surprise, Remus managed a clear stream which fell in an elegant arc through the air ('Merlin - it's like one of our competitions,' Sirius muttered, watching Remus conjure longer and longer ribbons of water).

One by one they all managed to get something - from a few drops by Peter to an uncontrolled waterfall from Snivellus - everyone that is, apart from Sirius who, when the ninety minutes were up, still had a resolutely dry wand tip. 'I don't understand what I'm doing wrong,' he said in bemusement. 'Even Pete's managed it.'

'Oi! What's that supposed to mean?'

Sirius ignored him. 'This must be what it feels like to be you in Potions, Remus.'

'We all have to fail at something,' Remus said mildly.

'Yeah… but it's not normally me that fails,' he looked mutinous, and his glower only grew darker when Flitwick gave him extra reading to do to help him catch up.

'You may have just developed a bit of block for it, Mr. Black - it happens to the best wizards. Practice will see you through. Just research the theory before the next lesson and you will be fine.'

'You don't have to look so gloomy, mate,' James said to him bracingly at tea. 'It's only a bit of extra homework. If you try to get one less detention than normal this week that'll be a whole extra evening for you to do it in.'

'I'm not in control of whether or not I get detention,' Sirius snapped. 'And anyway - I wanted to spend the weekend doing Moony's Muggle Studies essay for Professor Humdrum - it's the full moon at the end of next week.'

'Keep your voice down,' Remus hissed. He shot a nervous glance in every direction, but no one seemed to be paying close attention to them (some girls on other house tables were staring rather longingly at Sirius, truth be told, but they were too far away to hear what he was saying). 'Anyway, don't fuss. I can do my own essay.'

'Don't be a martyr.'

'I'm not the one being a martyr!'

'Well I didn't mean to get extra homework!'

And, grumbling and out of sorts, they all made their way back to the common room.

Their mood was not improved on Saturday evening, when they received the late edition of the paper and saw the headline:

Goblin Gotcha!

Bugnug the Bloody Arrested for Mable's Murder!

Despite their best efforts to cover their tracks, following the shocking murder of Daily Prophet Journalist extraordinaire, Mable Grable, last month, suspicion soon swung towards the Gringotts Goblins. Mable was found dead beneath the so-called "Dark Mark" - which was first seen in our skies after the murder of the musical group, The Kneazles, earlier this year.

However, intelligence Wizards at the Ministry soon realised that the use of this symbol was simply a cunning ruse to throw investigators off the track of the real perpetrators. After all, this mark has so far only been used against muggleborns and Mable Grable, 38, was a halfblood descended from a Sacred 28 family through her maternal grandmother (who was, herself, of the Fawley clan).

Following the realisation that this was simply a copycat killing, the Aurors switched the focus of their investigation and instead started looking into who might have it in for the muckraking Mable.

'Mable had been making life difficult for the goblins for some months,' Rufus Scrimgeour, 42, of the Aurors office told the Prophet earlier today. 'And she had been baiting Bugnug - the Gringotts spokesgoblin - in particular. The trail led straight back to him.'

'This whole affair has Bugnug's long fingered prints all over it,' Chariton Nott of the Wizengamot told us. 'He is currently being held in Azkaban prison and will stand trial in the new year. Justice will be served.'

However, Endeavour Enderby - Undersecretary to Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Harold Minchum - has told reporters that 'this is errant nonsense - and a hideous miscarriage of justice. Goblins did not kill Mable, goblins do not carry wands, they cannot fire that mark in the sky nor use the killing curse. This amounts to a Ministry cover up - trying to hide the truth from the people, and using poor Bugnug to do it. The fact of the matter is there is a violent group of dissidents living among us and they are responsible for all the acts of terror we have seen in recent months, and if the Minister is too afraid or too incapable to deal with the reality of this problem then perhaps it is time she steps aside and lets someone else have a crack at it.'

Minister Jenkins was not available for comments but her own Senior Undersecretary spoke to The Prophet saying 'Endeavour Enderby is a dunderheaded old duffer who doesn't know what he's talking about. Now please leave us alone, the Minister is very busy.'

'The - er - the letter writing campaign doesn't seem to be going too well,' Remus said, smiling wryly as he finished the article. 'And Jenkins hasn't been seen or heard of in weeks now; it's always that Undersecretary and they're always too busy … it's starting to feel like the bristles are coming off the broom.'

'I wonder what they'll say about this in their next League meeting,' Peter said.

'Why wonder?' James asked. 'If we set off early enough we can get in under my dad's old cloak.'

So it was decided, the next League meeting was on Wednesday evening, and the boys were going to sneak in under the invisibility cloak. When the time came, James took the cloak down to tea with him and then, once they were done eating, they lurked in the cupboard Sniv had locked James in until they heard everyone starting to arrive. Then, they donned the cloak, sneaked out of the cupboard and followed Lily and the other girls into the Hall. They walked straight past Bertha, and her list of League members, and she had no idea she had just allowed interlopers to pass the threshold.

They milled around once inside, invisible in the middle of the throng, and tried not to get bumped into. They could hear snippets of conversation from among the general buzz: '...Jinxed three Slytherins today,', '...So I hexed his pants around his ears and left him to it, '...Well there were five of us and only one of him, so it wasn't too bad.'

The doors opened, Malidictus walked in - his pointy shoes tap tapping away - and a hush descended on the Great Hall. He took his place on the dais and cleared his throat. 'Welcome, my anti-darkness fighters, and thank you for attending this evening. As always, it is a pleasure to see so many of you here and ready to make a difference.

'And we are making a difference. The number of muggleborns being attacked is down over the past seven days, as are incidents of fresh graffiti from our Knights of Walpurgis supporting friends. Meanwhile The League has the pureblood supremacists running for the hills.'

There was an outbreak of whooping and applause. Malidictus smiled indulgently and waited patiently for it to die down.

'Yes, indeed, you should feel proud of yourselves. You are standing up to those who oppose you, standing up for what you believe in and making it clear that you will not tolerate a rise in darkness within the castle. For ones so young, to make so definite a stand, is impressive and admirable.'

His eyes scanned the room. 'I wish all your peers were as admirable as you. Sadly, we do not have a completely full Hall tonight and - worse! - we are missing more than those who believe in blood supremacy.'

Hidden beneath the invisibility cloak, the four boys glanced at each other uncomfortably.

'For there are those in our school who do not align themselves with the Dark Lord but have not yet seen fit to join our cause. Instead they stay quiet, stand small, are happy to stand by while you take on all the risks and they reap the benefits of your work.'

Angry murmurs broke out across the Hall. Once again, Malidictus waited until he had quiet before he spoke again.

'More than being mere cowards though…'

(James spluttered in rage)

'...They are complicit in the work of those who persecute muggleborns. For they do nothing. They say nothing. These bystanders are letting the darkness spread with their inaction, and it is why we must begin to recognise the bystander to be as much our enemy as the blood supremacist. If they are not with us, then they are against us.

'And these bystanders, they are not only in the castle, but they are in the Ministry and at the Daily Prophet as well.' He wielded a copy of the newspaper high in the air. 'I am sure you have all read what the Prophet reported on Saturday: That Bugnug, the Gringotts spokesgoblin, has been arrested for the murder of Mable Grable. That, far from simply pretending not to know who is behind these crimes, the Ministry is actively persecuting innocents so that they may continue to ignore the truth in peace. The Ministry would rather let the real murderers walk free than prosecute purebloods of high standing and tell the truth to the public. And this is not simply a miscarriage of justice for poor Bugnug - though we extend our fullest sympathy to him and his family - but this is, like the bystanders within our own walls, wilfully allowing the darkness to take hold of our world. It is standing back and letting it happen. It is being complicit in these killings. And the paper is letting them get away with it!'

There were more outraged murmurings among the crowd, but they quickly settled back down into a sullen silence.

'It is my worry,' Malidictus told the now quiet masses,'that while the Ministry buries its head in the sand, the dark forces are gathering strength, building factions and amassing allies from those whose ultimate aim has always been to seek to harm us. That, while Minister Jenkins persecutes harmless goblins, these political friendships - forged in black magic - are being struck; link by link, they form the chains that will bind us; behind our backs they create an army of nightmares to unleash upon us.'

He took a deep breath. 'Two nights from now will be the next full moon,' he said, portentously.

The boys, still hidden under the cloak, looked even more uneasy at his words.

'Two nights from now a battalion of monsters will creep through this land. By day they wear the faces of men, but under the light of the moon they show their true form, their true darkness - and they will gladly kill or infect every man, woman or child who crosses their path. They are a menace, a plague, a stain on our society… and I do not doubt that the Dark Lord will use the threat of them to force his opponents into compliance. I am talking, of course, of the werewolves.'

He paused for a moment, as if expecting another outbreak of whispers, but instead the silence hung thick on the air, and all eyes were glued to him. But Remus, hidden as he was, felt like a bright light had just been shone down on him, he felt the familiar hot flush of panic tinged with shame and wished he was as invisible to his friends as he was to everyone else. He could feel Peter's eyes on him, and wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

'No one will stand against the Dark Lord if he threatens their family with a visit from his pet wolves, if he threatens death or infection from these inhuman monsters. In the werewolves, the Dark Lord has the perfect weapon which will allow him to sweep away any opposition.

'And yet - there is hope,' his voice became lighter, as he said this. 'For werewolves are vulnerable in a way the Knights of Walpurgis are not. The Knights are respectable, well to do. Jenkins does not wish to cross them as she does not want to cross the upper echelons of society - to admit to the rot festering there. But the werewolves are pariahs…'

(Remus cringed in shame, and once again wished the others could not see him.)

'They are mistrusted, unwanted, recognised as the dangerous and dirty animals they are. Jenkins may not want to act against the Knights, but she could - perhaps - be persuaded to act against the werewolves. We can cut away the Dark Lord's most fearsome weapon, his darkest allies, if only we can convince the Minister to clamp down even further on them. Many lives can be saved this way. This is honourable work, I ask you to do. Write to the Minister once more - tell her she must curtail werewolf rights, tell her you wish for her to make life more difficult for these creatures. This she may be more inclined to listen to, as it is news she will want to hear.

'We must be cunning in our approach to the Dark Lord - as surely as he is cunning. If those in power will not face him head on, we must outflank him. And so I bid you to leave here, write your letters, and persuade Jenkins to cut him off from his werewolf army. And together we will sweep away the bystanders, protect the innocent and reverse the spread of darkness. Thank you.'

There was widespread thunderous applause, Malidictus left and then - chatting excitedly and making plans to write to Minister Jenkins right away - the crowd started to push and shove their way towards the doors.

The boys waited until everyone else had gone, before they pulled off the cloak and made their own solemn and sombre way back to their dorm.

'It might not achieve anything,' James said, once they were all safely sequestered back in their dorm, the door shut tightly and the curtains pulled to. 'It's not like Jenkins has listened to anything else The League has written to her.' He frowned at Sirius, who was sitting cross legged on his bed, only half listening and muttering 'Aguamenti' under his breath. Nothing was happening.

Remus sighed. 'She hates werewolves though. Malidictus is right. It's smart to suggest this to her as it's something she will want to do anyway. And then…' he shrugged, and sighed again, 'who knows what these new laws will mean for me?'

'Aguamenti.'

Nothing happened.

'There's no proof werewolves are even involved, though,' Peter said. He too frowned at Sirius, who paid him no mind. 'So why is Malidictus making such a big song and dance about them being the main problem?'

'Because he hates them… Us . Always has. He's written most of the strictest anti-werewolf laws there are, according to my dad.'

'What's he hate them for? More than anyone else - I mean.'

'Dunno.'

'But … they won't really bring in laws that will make your life harder, will they?'

'Of course they won't, Pete,' Sirius said distractedly. 'Haven't I always told you - no matter what, I'll use my poncy pureblood name to make sure Moony is OK. Aguamenti! ' A few splashes of water dribbled from the end of his wand. 'Did you see that?' He looked up at the others delighted. 'I did it, I actually did it! I think I've got it. Here - Aguamenti! ' He swirled his wand and barked out the spell with some force.

Nothing happened.

There was a moment of stillness.

And then - there was a shrieking sound and water began to pour from the dormitory sprinklers, tumbling down from the ceiling in a continuous, cold shower.

The boys screamed - and swore - and, pulling their robes over their heads, hotfooted to the door, which they crashed through and then lurked outside on the staircase while it continued to pour inside their room.

'How do we make it stop?'

'How did you make it start?'

'It wasn't me!'

'Don't be soft! No one else was conjuring water.'

After about ten minutes, the sprinklers finally shut off and the downpour petered out. They crept back inside. Their bed clothes and curtains were sodden, there was a couple of inches of standing water on the floor, the flame from their stove was well and truly doused and the three feet of parchment, which had been James' essay on Bowtruckle husbandry and had been lying on his bedside table, was now a pulpy and unreadable mush.

James stared around at the destruction, and started a slow hand clap. 'Oh, well done, Sirius,' he said sarcastically.