Chapter 26. Dancing with Imaginary Wolves

Tonight Jeanne did not go to sleep. She went to the Astronomy Tower, sat on the balcony near the telescope, and directed her gaze high into the sky. The magical, marvelous sky was adorned with bright colors of rare clouds. They had the most diverse shapes and barely covered the real sea of bright stars and galaxies that ignited the night sky. The sky was crossed by a silvery lunar disk. Like someone's huge eye, full of curiosity, it examined Jeanne sitting on the balcony. She looked in response, fully understanding that the full moon would not answer her. A fresh breeze blew, playing with Jeanne's silvery hair and rustling the leaves on the trees. From below, the singing of night birds, which had not yet flown south, could be heard. Several owls flew across the sky and hooted away. The nocturnal world lived its life, hardly noticeable and hardly understandable to all those who would never exchange it for a day full of sunny warmth and light.

She remembered that morning that turned into night when the light faded, and only bright sparks soared through the darkness of thick suffocating smoke. Tightly tied to a wooden pole, she stood in the middle of the burning flames, holding a small wooden cross to her chest and whispering prayer words with her last strength. She stood alone with the fiery predator, tears streaming down her face, while ravens screeched loudly overhead.

It seemed - just now she had captured Orleans, just dictated letters intended for kings and other important people. Just now she had verbally spat in the face of that pitiful Kothon, who couldn't even speak French properly, and now she stood in the midst of flames, unable to see the faces of her accusers. They all made it up, fabricated, but no one defended her, and there was no one left by her side whose face would inspire the slightest hope of a favorable outcome. The accusations' words resurfaced in her memory, one after another rising from the distant past. The crowd roared around, watching the cruel execution, and she continued to pray. She did not wish harm on anyone... She did not feel offended by betrayal, but in her head lived a single thought - someone needed to suffer for the people, and if she cherished the people of France, whom she had recently led into battle against the invaders, no one else would do it for her. How did it suddenly happen that she rose from the ashes, thirsting for revenge?

"Don't invade my mind!" Jeanne cried out with all her rage, straightening up abruptly on the balcony, and immediately realized: there was no other Jeanne here. No one annoyed her with moralizing, no one called her to change. With an expression of extreme bewilderment and horror, Jeanne looked around but found no one. On the lower observation levels of the tower, a cat meowed. Not wanting to run into Filch, Jeanne instantly vanished into the air.

Saturday crept up unnoticed and descended upon everyone with its burden of irresponsibility and a faint hope of rest. The burden was so overwhelming that Harry didn't feel like getting up. His right hand was aching, and once again he thought about telling his friends about this punishment. But why did he make a deal with Jeanne to keep quiet then? Besides, there were no traces left on her hand. He sat on the bed and pondered. Only five days, every evening he wrote lines for an hour with Umbridge. He wrote lines! The phrase echoed in his head, suddenly igniting a new ominous meaning. He sadly smiled. What will Umbridge come up with next time? Inviting students for tea and secretly adding Veritaserum to their cups? For a moment, he imagined the statements he would make in front of her. And then a question arose: would this Veritaserum have an effect on Jeanne? What stories will Umbridge hear from her if she starts revealing the whole truth about herself to her? Imagining a lengthy monologue about the Hundred Years' War and detailed descriptions of every battle and execution committed by Jeanne, he smiled grimly. He pictured Umbridge in a straitjacket. But she's probably not the kind of person who would be seriously impressed by such stories.

With these difficult thoughts, Harry descended into the Great Hall and sat down to have breakfast. Jeanne was sitting across from him. Her face this time was unusually pensive, and she awkwardly twirled a piece of fried potato in her hand, taking a single bite throughout her entire breakfast. Harry didn't know what she suddenly became so deeply engrossed in, and he didn't have time to think about it either when Hermione pushed a fresh newspaper under his nose.

The Dark Lord has returned

Last night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge hastily called a major press conference in his office and made a surprising admission: the downed Airbus A320 in June was the work of You-Know-Who. According to him, there were several accidental witnesses among Muggles, and their interviews unexpectedly appeared in Muggle newspapers. According to their accounts, they accidentally stumbled upon an abandoned graveyard. They witnessed the resurrected Dark Lord. The published descriptions completely match Cedric Diggory's testimony. Currently, Cornelius Fudge's political career is not threatened. Nevertheless, the Minister of Magic immediately established his personal security and called upon a few unnamed dark wizards for service. The Minister concluded his speech with the words, "We are facing a serious threat that cannot be ignored or underestimated. I regret not responding in a timely manner and being driven by emotions. We must unite as a community to fight this darkness. We will do everything in our power to protect our citizens and put an end to this new reign of terror that is rising again. Let us not lose hope, but together, with courage and determination, fight against this evil. The Ministry of Magic will, of course, keep the public informed of further developments."

Harry sighed. He had already begun to lose hope, but this political gesture from Fudge changed everything.

"Unbelievable!" Harry whispered. "Incredible! Who convinced him?"

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione replied. "But even if this stubborn man came to his senses... I think it's better for us not to know the reasons."

"Well, I think he didn't hire bodyguards for no reason," Dudley chimed in, devouring his salad with both cheeks while looking at the newspaper. "Something must have happened, and he got scared."

"You're onto something," Harry nodded in response, while his brain desperately considered all possible options.

"Maybe they pressured him to cooperate..." Jeanne muttered thoughtfully.

"Who would dare to threaten the Minister of Magic?" Neville asked.

"Neville! You speak as if the Minister of Magic isn't a person," Hermione reproached him. "But he's just as human as the rest of us."

"I bet You-Know-Who himself paid him a visit," Ron whispered in a worried tone. "Can you imagine how terrifying that would be?"

"That's a possibility," Harry replied. "This guy enjoys testing his conversation partners with all the Forbidden Curses in an obvious order. If he had come to greet Fudge, we would have had a new Minister today."

"And what do you think, Jeanne?" Dudley asked.

Looking at Jeanne, he caught the direction of her gaze. Turning around, he understood - Jeanne was staring straight at Ambrose, and she looked back at him with a look that didn't bode well.

"Don't get involved," he whispered to Jeanne. "You and Harry managed to burn the House points before classes even started."

"Annoy the disliked professor — minus ten points from Gryffindor, break the rules — minus fifty points from Gryffindor, tell the truth — priceless," she smirked cunningly in response.

"Are you calling us to rebel against her?" he didn't understand.

"She won't teach us anything, and her lessons are too boring for me. Even if she stops carrying the Ministerial agenda now, her educational program is unlikely to change."

"I don't get it," Dudley scratched his head.

"And I didn't understand anything either," Jeanne smiled. "But we have to do something about it."

With these words, she got up and left. Hermione watched her thoughtfully as she walked away.

Only a few days had passed. During these days, Jeanne had become even more contemplative and occasionally went deep into her thoughts, and Harry once again blurted out about Voldemort to Umbridge, telling the whole class about Professor Quirrell's secret. To his surprise, this time Umbridge only deducted points from Gryffindor and didn't push for further punishment, just quickly jotted something down in her notebook. On Tuesday evening in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione started a conversation with Harry and Ron in Dudley's presence:

- Jeanne is right.

- What are you talking about? - Ron asked.

- You know... I thought that maybe it's time for us to... to do it ourselves.

- Do what? - Harry asked suspiciously, examining the scars on his hand.

- Learn dark arts defense ourselves, Hermione replied.

- Oh, come on, - Ron whined. - We don't need more work. You understand that Harry and I are already behind on homework, and it's only the second week.

- But this is more important than homework! - Hermione said. Harry and Ron stared at her in disbelief.

- I thought nothing in the world was more important! - Ron said sarcastically.

- Nonsense. Of course, there is, - Hermione said, and Harry noticed with fear that her face lit up with the same passion she had when talking about liberating the house-elves. - Harry was right in the first lesson with Umbridge: we need to prepare for what awaits us beyond the school walls. We need to know how to protect ourselves. If we don't learn anything this year...

- How much can we do on our own? - Ron tiredly objected. - Fine, let's go to the library, look up some spells, try to practice them, and then what?

- No, I agree, we've already passed the stage where we can only learn from books, - Hermione said. - We need a real teacher who can show us how to use spells and correct us if we make mistakes.

- If you're talking about Lupin... - Harry started.

- No, no, not Lupin, - Hermione said. - He's busy with... - she paused with a look of awkwardness on her face, then quickly recovered. - He's busy, and we won't be able to see him often, only in Hogsmeade on weekends.

- Then who? - Harry said, frowning.

Hermione sighed deeply:

- Isn't it clear? You, Harry.

Silence fell. The night breeze rustled the windows behind Ron, and the fire in the fireplace flickered.

- Well, she's actually right, - Dudley commented. - He saved me from those monsters this summer!

Harry felt awkward and embarrassed. He had hoped until the last moment that his friends were joking, but they were speaking completely seriously and not smiling.

- Yeah, in the first year, you saved the Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who, Dudley added.

- I just got lucky, - Harry said, - it wasn't skill...

— In the second year, you killed the basilisk and destroyed Riddle.

— Yes, but if Fawkes hadn't shown up...

— In the third year, - Ron raised his voice, - you repelled a hundred Dementors...

— You know it was purely by chance, if it weren't for the Time-Turner...

— Last year, - Ron almost shouted, - you confronted You-Know-Who once again.

— Listen to me. - Harry started to get annoyed because Hermione was already smiling. - Can you listen? It all sounds very impressive, but I was just lucky—half the time I didn't even know what I was doing, I didn't plan anything, I acted blindly, and I was almost always helped. And in June, Jeanne delivered the final blow to Voldemort, not me.

— That doesn't matter, - Hermione replied. - The most important thing is that there are two students with us who looked Voldemort straight in the face. She struggled to say his name. Who fought and defeated him. And the third student is almost a Dark Wizard hunter and... he's being accepted into the Order of the Phoenix.

— Where? - Harry didn't understand.

— The Order of the Phoenix, - Hermione began. - Dumbledore founded it to fight against Voldemort. It includes Moody, McGonagall, Snape, and many others, even Sirius.

Harry was stunned.

— Why didn't anyone... say anything... - and suddenly Harry understood and smiled at his friends. - So that's why Sirius was with you! These were the people!

— We were accompanied by unfamiliar people to you, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sturgis Podmore, Mundungus Fletcher, and Tonks, - Hermione replied. - Wonderful people, they do everything for victory over the Dark Lord.

Harry laughed and then became sad.

— It's a shame I wasn't with you. I would have loved to spend even a few minutes with Sirius.

— Actually, the place wasn't very pleasant, - Ron began. - They organized the headquarters in his old house at Grimmauld Place in London, and there hangs a portrait of the nasty old hag Walburga Black who is constantly hysterical and curses everyone she sees.

— Lovely woman, - Harry said with a sad smile.

— And there's also the old grumpy house-elf Kreacher, who caused more trouble than help, but shortly before we left, they gave him some old locket that used to belong to Regulus Black, and he suddenly brightened up. He even threw a party for the world, cleaned every corner of the house to perfection, and started bowing to everyone.

— Come on, Ron! Obviously, Regulus was his loyal friend and treated him well! - Hermione reprimanded him.

But Harry wasn't listening anymore. He turned to the window, not wanting to hear their argument and looked at the gloomy autumn sky. He was radiant with happiness and couldn't imagine a happier moment. Even though his friends didn't tell him everything at once, kept the secret for a long time, now he knew that Sirius was safe, and he had reliable people around him whom he could fully trust. Even if the future remained uncertain, he could be sure—Sirius was safe. After standing in front of the window for a few seconds, Harry turned to his friends and said with enthusiasm in his voice:

— I agree. I will be your teacher, but please help me, because I can't do it alone.