CHAPTER 19 – THE WARDENS' UNION
As the weekend approached, Harry eagerly anticipated the opportunity to escape the confines of the castle and spend a day in the charming village of Hogsmeade. Despite the looming presence of Umbridge and the challenges posed by the lack of a suitable location for their Defense Against the Dark Arts club, Harry found solace in the progress of his studies and the camaraderie he shared with his fellow students. The prospect of a brief respite from the demands of school life was a welcome one.
The decision among the Gryffindor upper years to venture to Hogsmeade as a cohesive group was met with general agreement. Although they would likely disperse and pursue individual interests upon arrival, the camaraderie within the group was palpable. An interesting dynamic had emerged among the fifth and seventh years, fostered in part by the friendship between Fleur, the twins, Angelina, and Alicia. However, the sixth years, excluding Katie Bell, seemed to form a distinct subgroup, disconnected from the broader social circle.
For Harry, the relative isolation of the sixth years held little consequence. The size of their group was small, and beyond his acquaintance with Katie Bell through Quidditch, the only other sixth-year student he knew was Cormac McLaggen. Given Harry's aversion to arrogance, he had no qualms about disregarding McLaggen's existence entirely.
Following a satisfying breakfast, Harry retreated to his room to retrieve his winter attire, preparing for the chilly weather awaiting them in Hogsmeade. Returning to the common room, he awaited the arrival of his peers. Moments later, his fiancée, Fleur, descended the stairs, radiating an air of elegance and practicality. Her light blue jacket provided warmth, and her well-fitted jeans, unlike some he had seen in the Muggle world, were stylish without being overly snug. Soft leather boots adorned her feet, and her hair was gracefully pulled up in a French braid, concealed beneath a white woolen hat in the beret style, completing her chic ensemble.
Harry couldn't help but be captivated by Fleur's enchanting presence; she was truly a vision of beauty. With a sense of chivalry, he approached her, offering a slight bow before delicately taking her hand and bestowing a tender kiss upon it. "Hello, Fleur—you look absolutely beautiful this morning," he complimented with genuine admiration.
Fleur responded with a light giggle, leaning forward to affectionately kiss Harry's cheek. "Thank you, Harry. You're not looking too shabby yourself."
Hermione, grinning, descended the stairs behind Fleur and couldn't resist teasing Harry. "Smooth, Loverboy. Looks like there may be some hope for him after all," she remarked to Fleur.
Fleur, with a playful glint in her eyes, replied, "Oh, I think with the right guidance, Harry will work out just fine." She stepped to Harry's side, taking his arm in hers.
"Perhaps I am hopeless," Harry quipped with a pleasant smile. "But it doesn't take a genius to recognize beauty when it stares you in the face."
Fleur blushed lightly at his words, her fond smile revealing her pleasure. Harry retained his hold on Fleur's hand as they joined the rest of the group, making their way down towards the entrance hall, laughter and jokes exchanged along the way. Luna joined them, completing their gathering, before they finally strolled out of the entrance and descended toward the village.
The October morning was splendid, the air clear and crisp without the bite of cold that would come in the later months. Harry couldn't help but feel that it was a good day, surrounded by his closest friends. Fleur, his beautiful fiancée, walked beside him, their hands entwined, engaged in animated conversation with his dearest female friend, Hermione. The camaraderie and joy of the moment were palpable, creating a sense of contentment that Harry hadn't often experienced in the tumultuous world of Hogwarts.
The sight of Hermione and Fleur seamlessly conversing and sharing laughter brought an appreciative smile to Harry's face. Reflecting on Hermione's initial indifference toward Fleur the previous year, he marveled at the transformation of their relationship into one of such close friendship. The two girls had become confidantes, sharing secrets and, in Hermione's case, engaging in a level of gossip that Harry found surprising. Their protective instincts extended not only to each other but also to him, creating a sense of satisfaction at having two remarkable girls so genuinely concerned about his well-being. It was a comforting feeling, one that he relished.
As the group strolled, conversations ebbed and flowed, and the dynamics among them shifted naturally. Harry maintained his firm hold on Fleur's hand, while Hermione remained steadfastly at Fleur's side. Just as they left the familiar grounds of Hogwarts, Ginny fell into step beside Harry.
"Hey, Harry," Ginny greeted, a faint blush gracing her cheeks. "How's it going?"
Harry responded with a warm smile, conveying that all was well. For a few moments, they engaged in pleasant small talk, the kind that close friends often exchanged.
Ginny then steered the conversation toward the pressing matter of the Defense Club. "Have you found a place for the Defense Club yet?" she inquired, her tone shifting to a more serious note.
"Not yet," Harry admitted. "We've explored various options, but nothing that would shield us from Umbridge's prying eyes."
Ginny, after a thoughtful pause, suggested, "Have you considered asking someone else for help? Perhaps the professors or someone reliable?"
Harry raised an eyebrow at the idea. "We'd rather not involve the professors. If the club were ever discovered, they could honestly claim ignorance about its existence."
"Keep at it, Harry," Ginny encouraged. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. You can do anything you put your mind to."
With those encouraging words, Ginny swiftly moved ahead to join Luna, leaving Harry to watch her with a bemused smile. He noted Ginny's increased ease around him, appreciating her newfound confidence. Yet, her tendency to shower him with praise, express unwavering confidence in his abilities, and occasionally cast lingering glances his way made him wish for a more balanced interaction. While he recognized Ginny as a genuinely nice girl and acknowledged that, under different circumstances, he might have been interested in her, the complexities of his relationships with Fleur and Hermione prompted a sense of grateful but cautious distance.
Temporarily putting the subject of Ginny aside, Harry shifted his focus back to his two companions. However, he noticed an unexpected tension as Fleur cast a somewhat resentful gaze in Ginny's direction. An exchange of looks with Hermione on Fleur's other side only elicited a shrug and a reassuring smile from the latter. The fleeting moment of tension dissipated as Fleur redirected her attention to Harry and resumed her conversation with Hermione.
Perplexed, Harry couldn't help but dwell on the peculiar dynamics. While Fleur wasn't overtly antagonistic, there were instances when Harry sensed an undercurrent of unease regarding Ginny. It wasn't necessarily that Fleur disliked Ginny, but rather that she seemed to observe her with a level of wariness, akin to watching a potential threat. Fleur was evidently aware of Ginny's crush on Harry, a not-so-well-kept secret that occasionally manifested in blatant ways. It felt as if Fleur believed it necessary to caution Ginny against encroaching on what she perceived as her territory, making it clear that any affection shown to Harry should remain strictly friendly. Understandable, considering their quasi-engagement, but curiously, it was Ginny who bore the brunt of Fleur's scrutiny, not even sparing Hermione from such vigilance.
Harry, feeling a sudden surge of embarrassment and the heat rising to his cheeks, had to avert his gaze. Reflecting on the events of the previous week, he remained perplexed. Fleur kissing him on the cheek was a routine display of affection that he had grown accustomed to since their betrothal. Hermione, too, had engaged in similar gestures occasionally. What confounded Harry was the simultaneous occurrence of both, without Fleur assuming her customary territorial and protective stance. While Ginny did occasionally experience the cold shoulder from Fleur, especially during awkward attempts at flirting, Hermione, whose displays of affection were overt and undeniable, somehow escaped the same scrutiny.
The complexities of these interactions left Harry in a state of contemplation, grappling with the intricate dynamics of his relationships with Fleur, Hermione, and the unexpected nuances of Ginny's affections.
The situation perplexed Harry. Admitting his cluelessness when it came to understanding the fairer sex, he would have expected Hermione's actions to trigger an instant defensive reaction from Fleur. Given Fleur's usual response, he was convinced that had Ginny pulled the same stunt, it would have been met with drawn wands and stern words at the very least. However, instead of any such response, Fleur had looked amused at Hermione's behavior, almost as if she had anticipated it and was pleased that it had finally occurred. The inconsistent rules for the two different girls baffled him. Considering his close friendship with Hermione over the past four years, he would have assumed she posed the greater threat, not Ginny, who had primarily been Ron's younger sister. But the dynamics appeared to be the opposite.
Determined to unravel the mystery, Harry knew better than to ask them directly. The mere mention of such inquiries would likely be met with laughter or cryptic responses about girls and their secrets. He resolved to keep a close eye on them and discern the nuances of their interactions for himself.
Putting these thoughts aside for the moment, Harry shifted his focus to Fleur. Her animated conversation with Hermione continued uninterrupted, and as Harry observed her, he couldn't help but feel fortunate. The morning sunlight bathed her in a soft glow, illuminating the pale gold of her hair and enhancing her already ethereal beauty. The chilly air had added a rosy hue to her cheeks and nose, leaving Harry momentarily breathless. Not even her descent down the stairs that morning or her appearance at the ball could match the enchantment of the image she presented now.
Yet, it wasn't just her appearance that captivated Harry. Fleur embodied kindness and consideration to everyone she knew, coupled with intelligence and competence. Beneath the veneer of haughtiness she used as a protective shield, she was highly personable and approachable. There was much to appreciate about her. If Harry had known her this well last year, he imagined becoming highly infatuated with her then. As a betrothed, he found himself uncertain. Infatuation was one thing, but in a marriage, he believed it wasn't enough—it would wear off sooner or later. While significant strides had been made in their friendship, and for the time being that was enough for Harry, he anticipated that more romantic feelings would develop naturally over time. Fleur was a wonderful person, and to some extent, Harry considered himself lucky to be her betrothed.
"Umm, Harry," a voice from slightly behind him broke him out of his reverie.
Filing his thoughts away for later, Harry turned and noticed Ron regarding him somewhat nervously.
"Hey Ron," Harry said cheerfully. "What's up?"
"Can I talk to you alone for a few seconds?"
Curious, Harry agreed, and, suspecting by Ron's nervousness and demeanor that the conversation was to be private, he dropped back, creating some space between themselves and the rest of their friends. He was not so insensible, however, that he did not recognize the knowing glances exchanged by Ginny and Hermione. Clearly, they had known something was up.
The redhead walked by his side for several moments, apparently trying to work up his courage to say whatever he had in mind. Harry was content to allow him the space he needed; this was Ron's show.
"Harry, I just wanted to talk to you for a moment," Ron finally began. "I think I owe you an apology for the way I've acted."
"There's no need, Ron," Harry interrupted. "I thought we were past all that."
"But we're not," Ron insisted. "Harry, I know you are generally quick to forgive people, and you're a good person for it. But sometimes apologies need to be made, not only to put the matter in the past but also to allow the person apologizing to make amends."
"Wow, Ron," said Harry with some amusement, "that's pretty deep for you."
"Oi, there's no need to be insulting," cried Ron. The good-natured smile on his face, however, belied his protestation.
"Okay then, Ron. Say what you need to say."
"Thanks, Harry," Ron replied before he became serious again. "I know I acted wrongly during the tournament last year, and I guess my only excuse is my jealousy. I've truly enjoyed being your friend, not to mention the adventures we've had, and I want you to know that I was never in it to get close to the Boy-Who-Lived."
"And I've never thought you were," Harry said.
"That's just because you are a good person, Harry. I know I've not always given you reason to believe that. Thanks for your faith in me.
"A few things have happened, though, and they've opened my eyes."
Harry regarded him curiously. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, I was… talking with Hermione, and she mentioned some things and got me thinking. Then, there is the fact that you are… different now."
"Different?" Harry asked, perplexed.
"Yeah. You are a lot more confident and at ease with others. I guess I have to put it all down to the fact that you have a loving and supportive family now."
As Ron continued, Harry couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and gratitude for Ron's honesty. The air between them seemed to shift, becoming lighter, as Ron unpacked his feelings with a sincerity that Harry hadn't anticipated.
"Look, Harry, I want to be a better friend. I want to be there for you like you've been there for me. I appreciate everything you've done, and I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry for any doubts or negativity I've thrown your way."
Harry nodded, genuinely touched by Ron's words. It was a moment of growth, not just for Ron but for their friendship as well. The weight of unspoken tensions seemed to lift, leaving room for a renewed understanding between them.
Ron was quiet for several moments, thinking about what he wanted to say, and his silence allowed Harry to consider the matter himself. Was he all that changed since the Delacours had come into his life? The answer was obvious, and he knew immediately that Ron definitely had a point. He did feel more confident now that he had a family's support, and that confidence extended not only to his schoolwork and his determination to do better, but also to his interactions with others. He liked it, he decided instantly, and he liked the direction his life was now going, with the exception, of course, of the continual thorn in his side that was Voldemort.
"I know that the Delacours support you far more than your relatives ever did, and I can see the good this has done you. I finally realized that though I was somewhat jealous of what you have, you have at times been equally jealous of what I have. It kind of put things in perspective, you know?"
"I do, Ron," replied Harry.
"I don't really have anything to be jealous over, so I've decided to try to see others the way they see themselves. Like walking in their shoes, I guess.
"That's why I wanted to apologize for my behavior last year and even to a certain extent this year."
"And what about Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Well, I'm not happy that she wouldn't go out with me—I won't lie about that," Ron said after taking in a shuddering breath. "But she has the right to choose, just the same as anyone else.
"I can still hope that she will change her mind, though," Ron said with a sudden grin.
Harry laughed. "I guess you can at that. She's only sixteen, after all."
"Exactly!" Ron then got a sly look on his face, and he adopted a pose of manly nonchalance, while brushing his fingernails on his coat. "I figure I just have to give her some time to realize what she's been missing out on," he said pompously. "After all, a strapping, handsome lad like me—I'm betting she can't resist!"
Harry laughed at his friend's antics, joined a moment later by Ron. "Seriously, though, Hermione's a big girl, and like I said, she has the right to choose. I'm not going to pine for her—I'd prefer to continue to be her friend."
"Good," said Harry. "I accept your apology, Ron, and I thank you for it. To be honest, I've always felt your biggest problem is your tendency to react without thinking."
"I know, and I've been working on that."
"Brilliant! Then, as far as I'm concerned, there is nothing else to say. Why don't we catch up with everyone?"
With a shared understanding and a sense of resolution, Harry and Ron rejoined their friends, leaving behind the weight of past misunderstandings and paving the way for a renewed and strengthened bond between them. The camaraderie of their group felt warmer, and as they continued their journey, Harry couldn't help but appreciate the growth and self-awareness that had emerged from this candid conversation with Ron.
Ron responded with a grin and quickened his pace until they had once again caught up with the group. Harry noticed a number of curious looks among those of their group who did not seem to be in the know about what had just happened, but when asked, Harry just told them, rather blandly, that it was guy talk and nothing serious.
Stepping into Hogsmeade for the first time was almost like stepping back into the eighteenth century. It was a quaint little village of steep thatched roofs and sharply canted eaves, with colorful signs of the different shops all the way up and down High Street, which was the main avenue running through the heart of the village. It was not large, perhaps housing less than one thousand souls altogether. However, as Fleur understood it, Hogsmeade was somewhat of an alternative to the busier—and likely pricier—Diagon Alley, and as such, High Street was usually bustling during the day at any time of the year. Of course, the biggest days of the year were reserved for Hogsmeade weekends, in which the students of the nearby school would descend upon the village in droves, eager to spend their parents' hard-earned money.
Fleur was enchanted immediately. The main shopping thoroughfare in Paris was similar to Diagon Alley, with a definite French flavor, of course, and though there were others scattered throughout France, none that Fleur had seen looked like they had appeared straight off the illustration on a Christmas card. The village was homey and welcoming, and Fleur immediately determined that she could spend several hours quite contentedly perusing the shops.
Of course, wandering through the village would have to wait as, once they arrived, Hermione immediately dragged Fleur off to Tomes and Scrolls, the local bookstore. Fleur's amused glance back at Harry showed that he was not in the least surprised at his best friend's antics, and after he exchanged a few words with the rest of the group, he followed along behind them. Fleur was certainly not unwilling; though she was not the same level of bibliophile as Hermione, she was happy to expand her personal library, and was more than willing to put up with the eccentricity of the other girl.
They spent some time in the bookstore—not that an outing with Hermione could have any other result—but that was not all. Harry and Hermione, with some help from their other friends, with whom they crossed paths several times—Ron and Neville, in particular, spent most of their time with the trio—showed her the highlights of the village. Their visits included Gladrag's Wizardwear—where Fleur was treated to the unlikely sight of several very smelly, screaming socks in the front window—Scrivenshafts, where Hermione purchased some extra quills, and Honeydukes, where they indulged in an assortment of the establishment's sweet and tasty treats. They even strolled down to the end of the street to gaze at the Shrieking Shack, Harry and Ron relating the events of their third year, and the confrontation with Sirius Black.
As they walked, Harry couldn't help but marvel at the blend of magical and historical charm that Hogsmeade exuded. The village seemed frozen in time, a haven of tradition amid the ever-changing landscape of the wizarding world. The laughter and chatter of fellow students filled the air, creating a festive atmosphere that permeated the cobblestone streets.
After exploring various shops and sharing anecdotes, they decided to settle into the Three Broomsticks for a drink. The warm, cozy atmosphere of the pub provided a welcome respite from the chilly December air. As they sat around a rustic wooden table, mugs of butterbeer in hand, the camaraderie among the group deepened.
Ron, who had been on a mission of goodwill since his conversation with Harry, made an effort to include everyone in the conversation. Laughter echoed through the pub as stories were exchanged, and Fleur found herself not just enjoying the charm of Hogsmeade but also the warmth of the friendships she was forming.
The day unfolded with a delightful mix of exploration, shared experiences, and laughter, cementing the bonds between the group members. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over Hogsmeade, Harry couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the friends who had become his second family. The village, with its timeless allure, had become a backdrop to cherished memories and the strengthening of friendships that transcended magical boundaries.
The return journey toward the Three Broomsticks—which was where Harry had agreed they would all meet—led them past Zonko's, where they found Lee Jordan and the twins, perhaps somewhat unsurprisingly, given what Fleur knew of their general proclivities. The group stopped in the shop and exchanged a few laughing remarks with the twins before Fleur, who did not intend to buy anything, stepped from the shop to escape the press of eager students. Finding a bench across the street from the shop, she sat and watched as her friends laughed and talked.
She had not been sitting long, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun, when she was joined by a smiling Roger Davies.
"Hello Fleur," he greeted her as he sat down on the bench. "How are you enjoying your first visit to Hogsmeade?"
"Very interesting," said Fleur with a smile. "We don't really have anything like this in France. I feel like I've stepped through time to come here."
"It's pretty different, all right," Roger said as he sat down beside her. "But then again, I suppose Hogwarts is a lot different from Beauxbatons."
"In some ways," Fleur confirmed. "But essentially it's still just a school, and an old one with many traditions much as Hogwarts."
"So the transition has been easy for you?"
"I don't know about easy," was Fleur's response. "The language and the different culture have been a bit of a problem at times, but it has been a new experience for me and for the most part an enjoyable one. I told you that things weren't always easy for me at Beauxbatons. The best part of being at Hogwarts is finding acceptance with a group of friends."
Roger paused a moment and shot a glance in the direction of the joke shop. Following his gaze, Fleur could see Harry and Hermione laughing with Ron through the shop window, looking like they had not a care in the world. A large part of that acceptance of which she had just spoken, she knew, was due to her connection with Harry and the fact that his friends had accepted her on his recommendation. However, she felt as though she was also liked for who she was, and this extended not only to Harry and his friends but to others as well—especially Angelina, Alicia, and Katie, all of whom treated her as though they had known her for years. It was a wonderful feeling to be part of the group.
She returned her gaze to her companion, only to see him staring back at her with a look of intense concentration. "I'm glad you have found some acceptance here."
"Thank you," she replied.
"And how is it being on the arm of a celebrity?" Roger suddenly asked.
Surprised, Fleur paused for a moment. Roger had always avoided the topic of Harry in their past conversations, so his sudden desire to discuss the state of her relationship with him was a complete departure from his earlier behavior.
"It's not really like that," she finally said. "Harry is so unpretentious that he doesn't pay any attention to those things. He's happy just being Harry."
"So you're happy with him."
Fleur's smile grew more pronounced. "Yes, very much so. He's a wonderful person, and I feel fortunate to have him in my life."
Roger nodded thoughtfully, and for a moment, they both sat in companionable silence, watching the bustle of Hogsmeade around them.
"I'm glad you found someone who makes you happy, Fleur," Roger said sincerely.
"Thank you, Roger. It means a lot."
Though Fleur was not certain she wanted to discuss the exact state of her relationship with Harry—Roger was no more than a casual acquaintance, after all—it was not something she felt she needed to ignore either.
"I suppose I am," she replied, deciding to be honest, yet vague. "He's a good person—any girl would be lucky, I think."
"Well, I wish you the best," Roger said with what Fleur felt was a little forced jocularity. He stood and smiled. "Hopefully, you can train him—he often appears at sea with you." Roger then laughed. "Most of the time he doesn't even look like he understands that he's engaged to you. He only holds your hand, and even then he looks like he doesn't know what to do with it. In fact, he seems to be much more comfortable with that Granger girl than anyone else."
Roger smiled at her a final time and started walking up the street, Fleur looking on with some asperity. Why was he making those comments? It was not as if he actually knew Fleur—or Harry and Hermione for that matter—nor did he know of their relationship. Fleur was happy with where they were and the direction in which they were going, and trying to force a deeper bond before it developed naturally would not be healthy, in her opinion.
In particular, she found his comments about Hermione to be offensive. Their relationship predated Fleur's with Harry by years, and regardless of the state of their affection for one another or the exact state of their feelings, Fleur would never have dreamed of interfering with his friendship with her. If Roger thought he was upsetting her with comments about Harry and Hermione, he was in for a rude awakening if he ever learned that Fleur was pushing toward a closer relationship. Of course, Fleur wished she could have him all to herself, but she had thought of this at some length and determined it was for the best.
Her gaze followed Roger's retreating form, and as she turned her attention back to the lively scene of Hogsmeade, Fleur resolved to focus on the genuine connections she had with her friends, especially Harry and Hermione. The comments of casual acquaintances could not overshadow the joy and contentment she found in those relationships. With a determined smile, she stood up and headed back towards the Three Broomsticks, eager to join her friends and continue enjoying the enchanting day in Hogsmeade.
"Fleur," Harry's voice interrupted her contemplation, the warmth of his hand enveloping hers as he helped her rise to her feet, eliciting a genuine smile from her. Today, she couldn't help but notice that Harry seemed more attentive, his gaze lingering on her with a newfound intensity. While Fleur acknowledged the influence of her allure, she remained convinced that deeper emotions would blossom over time. Patience, she mused, was the key.
"Was that Roger?" he inquired, his eyes reflecting curiosity.
Fleur nodded in affirmation. "Yes, he engages in conversation with me occasionally."
Harry flashed a reassuring smile before guiding her along the bustling street towards the Three Broomsticks, where their group was set to convene. As they strolled, Fleur mulled over Roger's words, debating whether to share them with Harry. Eventually, she opted against it; Roger's comments hadn't crossed any boundaries, and disclosing them served no purpose. Perhaps Roger meant nothing by his words, and Fleur chose to remain vigilant of the seventh-year without burdening Harry. Their friendship and evolving emotions were progressing well, and she saw no need to disrupt the harmony.
Upon reaching the Three Broomsticks, the pub resonated with the lively chatter of Hogwarts students. They were promptly beckoned over to a cluster of tables arranged for their gathering. After a round of Butterbeers, the group found themselves immersed in animated conversations, punctuated by laughter and playful banter.
During a lull in the conversation, Ron leaned in, gesturing towards the far end of the pub. "Looks like Malfoy's not enjoying himself."
Indeed, Malfoy and a few Slytherins sat across the room, a stark contrast to the exuberant Gryffindor group. Fleur observed Malfoy, who sporadically glanced towards their table, wearing his signature sneer. Beside him, Pansy Parkinson attempted to capture his attention, but her efforts were in vain.
"He's probably upset that Snape's curbing his antics in Potions," Ron speculated.
Harry shrugged. "It won't last long, but any break is welcome."
The conversation shifted, delving into hushed discussions about the proposed Defense Club. While the group agreed on its basic structure, the unresolved issue of a meeting location loomed. Some criticized Harry's caution and stubbornness in finding a venue hidden from Umbridge's prying eyes, but he remained steadfast. Both Jean-Sebastian and Dumbledore stressed the importance of discretion, and Harry was determined to heed their advice. Fleur appreciated his foresight, yet a sense of urgency gnawed at her. She couldn't shake the feeling that the club and its training would be indispensable sooner rather than later.
"Harry, have you considered asking Sirius if he knows of a suitable place for us to meet?" Hermione inquired, her eyes glinting with curiosity.
Harry furrowed his brow in contemplation. "He's practically seen every location on the map, I'd assume."
Hermione persisted, "It's still worth asking. Sirius might have some ideas that we haven't considered."
Harry sighed, conceding, "I suppose I could always call him on the mirror."
Before further plans could be made, a grating, cultured drawl interrupted their conversation. "Well, well, look at what we have here. It's Potty's band of Mudbloods, misfits, and creatures—I really must speak with Madam Rosmerta about letting the riffraff in."
Casually, Harry set his bottle of butterbeer down and gazed up at Malfoy, reclining in his chair with crossed arms. "Ferret," he retorted, "those tired insults that always spew from that hole you call a mouth never change, do they? I guess all the inbreeding doesn't allow for any original thought."
Malfoy's nostrils flared, and he shot a contemptuous glare at Harry. "You'd better watch yourself, Potty. Or perhaps no one has ever taught you how to behave in the presence of your betters."
"If I was in the presence of my betters, maybe I would behave," snapped Harry. "Look, Ferret, I'm supposed to be relaxing on my day off, and I'd prefer not to have to take out the trash right now. Can we do this some other time?"
Growling, Malfoy reached for his wand, but a voice intervened. "Mr. Malfoy, there will be no fighting in my establishment."
Madam Rosmerta gracefully appeared, asserting herself. "If you cannot leave my other customers alone, I will have to ask you to leave."
With a sneer and a glare, Malfoy stormed out of the room, trailed by his cronies. Harry nodded at the pub owner and raised his bottle in salute, a gesture reciprocated with a smile. Madam Rosmerta then returned to the bar, where a group of Hufflepuffs had just entered.
"Some of you Englishmen just never seem to learn," Fleur remarked. To her, it was astounding that Malfoy, a member of the supposedly cunning Slytherin house, lacked the slightest hint of subtlety in his entire being. "You would think that he would eventually get the idea that Harry always gets the better of him."
"Hey, don't pin Malfoy on us!" protested one of the twins.
"Malfoy's family originally came from France, you know," the other chimed in.
"Well, why do you think they are no longer in France?" Fleur replied with a saucy grin. "We couldn't stand them there, so we shipped them here."
General laughter filled the air, and the twins regarded Fleur with a mix of surprise and admiration.
"I think we've been had, Gred."
"Indeed, I believe you're right, Forge. She's good."
"And don't you forget it," Fleur added with a wink.
Later that evening, after returning from Hogsmeade, Harry retrieved his mirror and sought out an unused classroom with Hermione and Fleur. The common room wasn't precisely private enough for the conversation Harry wanted to have with his godfather, especially since most of the Gryffindors were already aware of the proposed club. Harry found himself musing that all this cloak-and-dagger activity concerning the club was becoming a bit habitual, but he preferred that to the alternative—keeping Umbridge in the dark about their activities.
Seated in the classroom, he carefully unwrapped the mirror, cradling the artifact with reverence. It was a plain hand mirror, lacking elaborate decoration but possessing the marvelous ability to contact someone over great distances—a relic his father had owned and had a hand in creating.
"Sirius Black," Harry intoned.
After a brief pause, the mirror illuminated, revealing Sirius.
"Hey, Pup, I'm glad you finally remembered you can contact me on these."
Harry smiled at his godfather's light-hearted tone. Sirius seemed to be transforming, resembling more closely the carefree boy his father had once known. The treatment he was receiving was evidently working wonders.
"Hi Padfoot. What's up?"
"I think I should be asking you that," replied Sirius with a smirk. "You're the one who called me."
"I see you have Hermione and Fleur with you. Well done! You're getting to be almost as smooth with the ladies as your old dogfather!"
The predictable rolling of eyes ensued, which, of course, didn't faze Sirius in the slightest. After the greetings and obligatory banter, they delved into the business at hand.
"We're searching for a place to hold secret meetings, and we were wondering if you knew of anywhere in the castle where we won't be discovered," Harry explained.
Sirius raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eyes, while Hermione and Fleur couldn't hold back their giggles. "A secret place, is it? I knew you were a fast worker, Harry, but this is amazing."
Blushing, Harry glared into the mirror, prompting his godfather to burst into laughter. "Don't get mad at me—you walked into that one!"
The girls' continued snickers indicated that Harry had no support from that end, so he chose the path of least resistance and ignored their childishness.
"If you could all be serious for a moment—don't say it!" he barked when an even larger smirk appeared on Sirius's face. "We have a problem that we'd like your help with. If you're just going to joke about it, maybe we should call Moony."
"That's fine, Pup," Sirius said with a snicker. "You've got my full attention. You say you need a secure location to hold some meeting. What do you need it for?"
When the three explained the situation at the school, Sirius leaned back, apparently deep in thought.
"Umbridge is making a nuisance of herself, is she?" he mused out loud. "I can see where you would be worried about your exams. Are you sure she'll last long?"
Though Harry found the question somewhat odd, Hermione answered almost immediately. "Dumbledore says that we can't move against her until she gives us a good reason to do so. We just have to assume that she'll be here for the long haul."
"Maybe… I think you won't have to worry about her too much longer—she's the kind of person who cannot help but jam her foot into her mouth repeatedly. But I agree that your idea of a Defense Club is good, for more than just getting around your resident toad.
"Luckily for you, I, of the padded foot, do happen to know of a place which will suit your needs," Sirius continued with aplomb. "In our seventh year, James and I discovered a room on the seventh floor which will give you anything you need. We wished we had discovered it earlier, or we would have had far fewer detentions, I can tell you!"
"What do you mean, 'it will give you whatever you need?'" asked Fleur.
"You have to walk in front of the entrance three times, thinking about what you need. The door then appears in the wall, and you can go inside. To top it off, whatever you wished for, you will find in the room. So, say you needed a replica of the Gryffindor common room. Walk past the door three times, and presto!—you get a replica of the common room."
The three exchanged glances, a shared understanding dawning upon them—Sirius's description of this mysterious room sounded remarkably like the perfect solution to their predicament.
"And where on the seventh floor is this room?" Hermione inquired.
"It's across from the painting of Barnabas the Barmy. You know—the one with the bloke trying to teach trolls to dance?" Sirius explained, amused at the teens' blank expressions. "Don't worry—you can't miss it. Just go up the grand staircase and down the corridor, and you will find it. The painting is… interesting, to say the least. It sticks out like a sore thumb."
"That's great—thanks, Sirius," Harry said, his sentiment echoed by the girls in unison.
"No problem, Harry," replied Sirius. "Now don't be using that room tonight for anything I wouldn't do." Sirius paused for a moment, his expression turning mischievous again. "For that matter, don't do some of the things I would do, either."
Rolling his eyes and wondering if Sirius would ever grow up, Harry expressed his gratitude to Sirius, conveniently ignoring his godfather's playful admonition. With a farewell, he deactivated the mirror.
"Shall we go have a look?" he asked his companions, noting the identical looks of eagerness on their faces. Their response was swift—each of them grabbed one of his hands, dragging him out of the room.
They ventured into the echoing halls of the school, making their way toward the grand staircase. At one point, they caught a glimpse of Umbridge in the distance. The woman did nothing more than cast them a haughty glare before turning up her nose and striding off in the opposite direction. Other than that encounter, they traversed the halls toward the seventh floor, encountering relatively few other students along the way.
As they progressed down the lavishly adorned corridor, their steps echoing softly in the dimly lit space, the trio meticulously examined each painting lining the walls. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the sheer variety of magical artwork that adorned the passageway. The scenes depicted were so vivid that one could almost feel the magic emanating from the canvases.
Finally arriving at the designated painting, Harry couldn't deny Sirius's wisdom – it was nearly impossible to overlook. The intricacies of the magical masterpiece were breathtaking, and it exuded an aura of importance that resonated with Harry.
"It seems we've reached our destination," Harry remarked, his eyes fixed on the elaborate frame.
Hermione, ever the voice of reason, turned to Harry with a wry smile. "Shall we proceed with the grand entrance, Harry?"
With a nonchalant shrug, Harry took the lead, pacing thoughtfully in front of the wall. The third pass revealed the manifestation of a tall, ornate door that seemed to materialize out of thin air. An unspoken agreement passed between the three, and Harry pulled the door open.
Beyond the threshold lay a sprawling, vaulted chamber, a sanctuary for magical pursuits. A dueling platform dominated the far end, inviting wizards to hone their skills. Training dummies lined the right wall, patiently awaiting the next magical assault. Bookcases stood tall, crammed with volumes of magical knowledge, neatly arranged and beckoning exploration. On the left, a podium stood proudly alongside rows of meticulously arranged chairs, promising a space for learning and collaboration.
Eager to explore their newfound sanctuary, the trio stepped inside, cautious not to disturb the sanctity of the hidden room. The door closed behind them with a muted thud, sealing them in their magical haven.
Turning to face Harry and Fleur, Hermione's curiosity sparked a new idea. "I'd like to put Sirius's theory to the test about the door disappearing. Give me a moment."
Without waiting for objections, Hermione gracefully exited the room. The trio exchanged glances, anticipation mounting. After what seemed like an eternity, the door creaked open once more, and Hermione reentered.
"Sirius was right!" she exclaimed, her excitement tempered only slightly by the experiment. "The door vanished when I left, but with a bit of effort, I managed to make it reappear and gain entry."
Fleur, ever the inquisitive one, added, "What if you tried making a different room appear?"
The question hung in the air, setting the stage for new possibilities within the hidden confines of their magical refuge.
Contemplation etched across her features, Hermione gracefully stepped out of the room once more, leaving Fleur and Harry to exchange curious glances. The anticipation hung in the air as they waited patiently, the passage of time stretching into a tangible suspense. Finally, the door creaked open, and Hermione reappeared.
"I tried to make another room appear, like a copy of the Three Broomsticks, but it wouldn't cooperate," she explained, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "So, I imagined this room again, and the door showed up."
Harry furrowed his brow, a thoughtful expression on his face. "That's a bit of a limitation, isn't it? If someone knows we're in here and has a general idea of what we're doing, they could potentially get in."
The trio mulled over the predicament, searching for a solution to the newfound vulnerability. Hermione, the beacon of intellect, broke the silence with a suggestion. "Well, the room is supposed to give you whatever you want, right?"
Harry and Fleur nodded in agreement.
"So," Hermione continued, her eyes sparkling with inspiration, "what if you tell it not to allow anyone else? Or perhaps specify that only certain individuals or those with particular intentions are granted access?"
A smile crept onto Harry's face as he caught Hermione in a one-armed hug. "You're a genius, Hermione."
"I'll take care of it this time," Harry declared. "You two let the room know that you don't want me to find you. Give me a minute, and then open the door again if I haven't managed to get in."
The plan agreed upon, Harry ventured into the corridor, watching as the door seamlessly vanished behind him. A few moments of pacing preceded his attempts to conjure the room. He requested the space Hermione and Fleur currently occupied, and when that failed, he tried envisioning it as a potential location for the Defense Club. However, the door remained elusive.
"It didn't work?" Hermione inquired eagerly as the door opened once more.
"No," Harry admitted, a grin playing on his lips. "I couldn't get the door to open, no matter what I tried."
The trio exchanged triumphant glances. "So, whoever has the room controls it, and no one can get in unless that person allows it," Harry concluded, reveling in the newfound security of their magical haven.
Harry's eyes sparkled with excitement. "That's perfect!"
Fleur, ever the contemplative one, pondered aloud, "I wonder if you can change the room once you're already inside."
"Why don't we try?" suggested Hermione, her curiosity leading the way. "Harry, since you were the one who made the room appear, try summoning a fireplace or something."
At her prompt, a crackling fireplace materialized on one of the walls, flames dancing merrily in its grate. The trio approached cautiously, confirming that the fire was indeed real. Harry, with a simple request, conjured a stack of neatly arranged wood next to the fireplace. Attempting to discern the fate of the smoke, they found themselves thwarted by the heat, leading Hermione to speculate that the room either transfigured or simply made the smoke vanish.
In a short span, they realized the room could provide almost anything they needed. Moreover, the person inside could make requests; it wasn't limited to the original requester.
Harry pondered aloud, "I'm guessing we can't get food from the room, though?"
"Assuming Gamp's law holds, that would seem to make sense," Fleur concurred.
Hermione nodded in agreement. "I suppose there's nothing left but to make our final preparations."
With a smile, Harry directed the two girls out of the room. Plans were to be made now that they had a secure location.
The journey back to the common room proceeded without incident. However, Hermione's usually active mind seemed unusually silent, in stark contrast to Fleur's animated chatter. As they approached the entrance to the common room, Hermione abruptly halted and fixed her gaze on Harry.
"What is it, Hermione?" Harry inquired.
"Umm… Harry…" she stammered, a flush coloring her cheeks.
Amused, Harry regarded her with a playful grin. Hermione, known for her unwavering confidence, rarely found herself at a loss for words, especially with him.
"Yes, Hermione?" he prodded, gesturing for her to continue. In response to his teasing, Hermione playfully swatted him.
"I was just wondering," she began, her smile fading, "you don't think Fleur and I were… pushy about this Defense Club, do you?"
Harry raised an eyebrow at her question. "It's a little bit late to be worrying about that, isn't it?"
Hermione blushed once again, and Harry, sensing the sincerity in her concern, immediately became serious. "Hermione, what brought this on now?"
"It's just that you were so adamant. And then you suddenly gave in…" Hermione trailed off, her voice and demeanor uncertain.
Fleur, breaking her silence for the first time, added, "Hermione's right. We've talked about it and agreed that we did not handle the situation very well, especially when you told us repeatedly that you did not want to do it. Instead of pestering you about it, we should have sat down from the beginning and discussed it."
"We just don't want you to think we didn't care about your concerns or that we think we know better than you," Hermione rushed to explain.
Choosing honesty, Harry looked directly at Hermione and replied, "I was annoyed with you, Hermione. With you both, actually." He shifted his gaze to Fleur, who was watching him carefully. "I'm sure that comes as no great shock to either of you. But you know me," he continued, focusing on his best friend once more. "I can be just as stubborn as you are. If I really hadn't wanted to do this, I wouldn't have agreed to it, no matter what you said."
Hermione looked visibly relieved. "Thanks, Harry. I just didn't want you to agree just to shut us up."
Chuckling, Harry wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "I know what I said, Hermione, but it was just a joke. I agreed to do it because you were right, not because I didn't want to hear about it anymore."
"We should take it as a lesson," Fleur interjected, reaching out to grasp Harry's free hand. "We must make sure to talk everything out and come to an agreement, rather than allowing our disagreements to turn into arguments."
Smiling, Harry squeezed her hand and did the same with Hermione. With the issue settled, they made their way back to the common room and their friends.
In the days leading up to the first Defense Club meeting, the trio introduced all their friends to the room, showcasing its incredible ability to provide anything they needed. The unanimous agreement was that the room was the perfect venue for their meetings. They swiftly swung into action, ensuring that everyone on the list received an invitation.
It was Neville, ever perceptive, who unraveled another crucial capability of the room, resolving yet another concern. The entrance to the room on the seventh floor was located in the middle of a spacious yet generally unused hallway. Given the potential influx of students joining the Defense Club, there was a legitimate risk of someone noticing students disappearing on the seventh floor, especially since individuals like Harry, under close scrutiny, were closely observed, particularly by the ever-watchful Professor Umbridge. The best strategy they had devised involved students heading up to the room in staggered groups to minimize the appearance of a large gathering.
Neville's ingenious idea elegantly addressed this issue. Upon witnessing the room's wonders, Neville proposed the possibility of it creating an alternative access. Through experimentation, they discovered that the room could conjure a passageway to anywhere within the castle. This revelation allowed them to create an entrance in an unused—and more crucially, inconspicuous—classroom. This became the initial gathering point for club members before using the passageway to reach the room seamlessly. Building on Hermione's suggestion to distribute the groups and have them arrive from locations near their own common rooms, they instructed the room to provide three distinct entrances from areas close to the common rooms of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff, ensuring discreet arrivals for each group.
As the first club meeting approached on a Wednesday night, anticipation buzzed through the trio. Their meticulous planning had spanned some time, and the prospect of finally putting their ideas into motion filled them with excitement. While Harry harbored some anxiety about leading the club, the collective enthusiasm among their friends overshadowed any individual concerns. The club, viewed as an opportunity to put Moody's teachings to the test, was also seen as a chance to defy Voldemort and his followers. Although the club wouldn't engage in direct combat with them, its mere existence and purpose served as a defiant gesture against the dark forces they opposed.
On that Wednesday evening, the intricate web of their scheming finally bore fruit, and precisely at seven o'clock, Harry found himself standing at the forefront of a diverse assembly. Surveying the faces of those present for the meeting, he noted the familiar figures of Gryffindor fifth and seventh years, including the perpetual presence of Katie, whose frequent association with Angelina and Alicia often blurred her actual year. Alongside them stood Ginny, the Creevey brothers, and a handful of others. From Ravenclaw, Luna and Cho Chang graced the gathering, accompanied by Marietta Edgecombe, Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, Roger Davies, and several more. Hufflepuff contributed members like Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch-Fletchley, with the entire seventh-year contingent in tow. The turnout, all in all, proved to be quite commendable.
Abandoning the formality of the lectern, which seemed incongruent with the casual spirit he envisioned for the club, Harry positioned himself in front of the assembly and initiated the discourse.
"Let's begin, everyone."
As murmurs quieted, Harry became the focal point of the room. Seeking encouragement from Hermione's supportive presence by his side, he addressed the assembly.
"Thank you all for joining us. Given the state of Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, those of us facing OWLs or NEWTs are understandably concerned about the adequacy of our preparation. That's precisely why we've convened today."
Roger Davies, ever vocal, interjected, "What about Umbridge? Her constant harping about the Ministry's aversion to dangerous spells—aren't we risking exposure by gathering like this? Won't she shut us down once she learns about the club?"
Wearing a smirk, Harry responded, "That's why we intend to keep this group a secret from her."
"How?" queried Justin.
"Take a moment to observe your surroundings," Harry urged, gesturing around the room. "Each of you was led here through concealed passageways near your common rooms. Can any of you confidently pinpoint our current location?"
A subtle hum resonated among the gathered individuals, prompting many to cast fleeting glances around the room. It was evident that the question of their location had been occupying the thoughts of numerous attendees.
"This is an extraordinary space capable of providing us with anything we desire or require, and Umbridge will be utterly unable to track us here. She won't even succeed in pursuing you through the concealed passages," Harry explained, his announcement met with a series of perplexed expressions, the most vocal of which came from Padma Patil. "What do you mean, Harry?"
"After you enter your designated passage and seal the door behind you, it becomes impervious to anyone attempting to follow. In fact, take a moment to glance at the wall you entered through—can any of you even spot the door you used?" Harry pointed out, drawing attention to the unnoticed absence of doors. A sense of astonishment rippled through the group.
Seizing the opportunity to further elucidate the room's capabilities, Harry smiled at the assembly. "Essentially, this room can materialize almost anything you desire. For instance, I need a long table in the center of the room."
The murmurs escalated into animated discussions as the requested table materialized precisely where Harry had envisioned. This prompted an extended session wherein the group was briefed on the room's functionalities and the rationale behind their confidence in evading Umbridge's interference, provided they exercised caution. To say that the students were impressed would be a gross understatement.
Yet, Harry remained tight-lipped about the entrance's location for security reasons. As of now, the club members could only access the room through the designated passages, ensuring that the room's whereabouts remained a closely guarded secret, intentionally withheld to preserve the sanctuary they had discovered.
Following the comprehensive demonstration and elucidation, Harry shifted the focus back to the purpose of the club. "Now that we've delved into the intricacies of the room and acknowledged the woefully inadequate state of Defense this year, let's delve into the perhaps more crucial aspect of this club: equipping ourselves against the threat of Death Eaters."
A hush descended upon the room as Harry broached the topic, recognizing that while none present openly aligned with Voldemort, lingering skepticism lingered regarding the events of the previous year. The air was pregnant with unspoken questions about what transpired at the end of the preceding term, and though skeptics abounded, none seemed eager to voice their doubts regarding the alleged return of the dark wizard.
"Maybe we should discuss what occurred last year," suggested Harry, understanding the necessity of addressing this matter head-on.
"I'm not certain it's necessary, Harry," Hermione interjected.
Harry, however, shook his head. "It's a valid concern, Hermione. There's been an abundance of discourse in the Daily Prophet, statements from the Minister, and other sources. I recognize that there's widespread confusion about the events of the night of the third task."
A general murmur of agreement permeated the room, prompting Harry to draw his wand. "I, Harry Potter, hereby swear on my magic that everything I have shared about the night of the third task and the resurgence of Voldemort is undeniably true."
With this solemn declaration, Harry sought to quell any lingering doubts, underscoring his commitment to transparency and dispelling the uncertainties that had cast a shadow over the minds of those assembled.
The radiant burst of light that sealed the oath intermingled with the swift Lumos he immediately cast, providing concrete evidence of the authenticity of his declaration. Harry swept his gaze across the assembled group, making a concerted effort to engage each pair of eyes with his own penetrating stare.
"I have spoken the truth. Cedric met his demise at the hands of a Death Eater, subsequently facilitating the resurrection of Voldemort through a dark and malevolent ritual," Harry asserted with unwavering conviction.
An almost collective flinch rippled through the audience at the mere mention of the dark wizard's name, prompting a visible scowl to form on Harry's countenance. "Oh, for heaven's sake—don't cower at the mention of his name!" he exclaimed sharply. "It's a fabricated alias borne out of his disdain for his Muggle heritage. If uttering 'Voldemort' is too daunting," he continued, noting a few gasps and winces, "then at least refer to him by his true name—Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle."
The ensuing silence in the room bordered on the comical, exacerbated by the revelation that Harry not only claimed knowledge of Voldemort's true identity but also displayed open disdain for the dark wizard.
"You know who he was?" a shocked Roger Davies finally managed to articulate.
Maintaining his composure, Harry extended his wand before him, elegantly inscribing the name "Tom Marvolo Riddle" in the air—a gesture reminiscent of the dark lord's manifestation more than two years prior. With a flick of his wand, the words transformed into the chilling proclamation, "I am Lord Voldemort."
"The feared antagonist is, in fact, a Half-blood," Harry revealed, closely observing the reactions of the captivated audience. "Born to a Pureblood witch ensnared by a love potion and a Muggle who departed when the love potions ceased, leaving his mother to perish shortly after giving birth. Orphaned and subjected to bullying in the orphanage, he emerged as the bully himself. This is the individual the entire wizarding world has feared for decades."
"How do you know?" Cho Chang inquired, her curiosity evident.
Shrugging nonchalantly, Harry responded, "Dumbledore informed me. As the Transfiguration Professor during Riddle's school years, he believed it was crucial for me to understand the adversary I'm facing, given Riddle's apparent focus on me."
Harry observed the assembled club members as they absorbed the information he had just shared, a grim smile playing on his lips. It was high time to dismantle the formidable legend of Lord Voldemort, replacing it with nothing more than unadorned truth. These students, he believed, would be the trailblazers in disseminating that truth. Harry couldn't help but anticipate the moment when Malfoy would first hear of it—imagining the arrogant individual crying and screaming over what he would undoubtedly label as "lies" about his master. The prospect promised to be rather amusing.
"So, are you suggesting that this… Riddle guy is a charlatan?" demanded Anthony Goldstein. "It seems like you're dismissing him rather lightly."
"I'm not saying that at all," Harry denied. "Voldemort was and is a formidable wizard—there's no denying that. I just want you all to remember that he's a man, and nothing more. Fearing to utter his made-up name is just absurd."
"I agree with Harry," Neville spoke up in a voice that struck Harry as more confident than ever before. He observed Neville closely, noting the visible build-up of courage. "Not being able to say Voldemort," he pronounced the word with credible composure, "only adds to his mystique. We need to strip away that weapon and portray him as more human, rather than the demon most perceive him to be."
A soft rumble of agreement circulated through the group, and Harry sensed that he had made a significant impact.
"Now, about the club," Harry continued as the chatter began to subside. "We've mentioned that we're organizing this to help with our upcoming tests, given that Umbridge's class is nothing short of useless. The Ministry is deliberately holding us back because Fudge refuses to acknowledge Voldemort's return. If we don't take action, we risk performing poorly on our Defense OWLs and NEWTs."
A pointed glare from a Ravenclaw caught his attention, prompting Harry to invite her to speak.
"You think the Ministry is intentionally hindering our education?" she demanded. "What nonsense are you spouting?"
A swift survey of the room revealed a diverse array of expressions, ranging from disbelief and skepticism to outright disgust. While Harry's own sentiments aligned with the repulsion mirrored on most Gryffindors' faces, he suppressed his emotions and regarded the girl before him with a calm demeanor. Before he could respond, however, the voice of his newly betrothed intervened.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe I know you...?" Fleur Delacour inquired.
"Marietta Edgecombe," the girl identified herself.
"Ah, Marietta," Fleur replied, her tone firm. "You cannot possibly believe Minister Fudge has our best interests at heart. He has maligned Harry and Headmaster Dumbledore in any way he can, and he hasn't bothered to investigate Harry's claims. Does that sound like a benevolent protector to you?"
Marietta flushed, though the majority of the room seemed to nod in agreement with Fleur's statements, prompting her to simply shake her head.
"The fact is that Umbridge isn't going to teach us anything, and I suspect that's by design and on orders from the Minister. Whether anyone else at the Ministry is involved, we don't know. What we do know is that we have to fend for ourselves if we're to learn anything this term."
Marietta seemed to relent somewhat, acknowledging her agreement in a somewhat grudging manner. The meeting continued, with Harry once again taking the lead in the narrative.
"Okay then, we all know what's happening and what we want to accomplish. Let's discuss the specifics of our plans."
Harry proceeded to outline the group's activities over the summer and the instructions received from Moody. He explained that they possessed several books providing genuine sixth-year Defense instruction and that they would extract spells from these texts, focusing on those likely to appear on their OWL and NEWT exams.
"Right," he concluded once the explanations were complete. "Now, we all know we need to keep this from Umbridge. Hermione will explain how the membership in the club works."
Hermione retrieved a parchment from a nearby table and displayed it to the group. "Everyone who wants to be a member of the club will be required to sign this parchment. By signing, you agree not to betray our secrets to Umbridge or anyone outside the club."
"And what if someone breaks that promise?" Michael Corner inquired.
"Let's just say the consequences would be... unpleasant, not to mention quite enduring."
Hermione's declaration prompted wide eyes and shifting feet, with several students appearing nervous about signing the parchment.
"Look, everyone, there's really nothing to it. We want to learn, but we need to keep it from Umbridge so she won't have any ammunition against us. If anyone has a problem with me or what I've said about Voldemort's return, you're more than welcome to leave."
Despite lingering apprehension, no one took him up on the offer. Harry glanced back at Fleur and Hermione, nodding.
"All right then, let's do this."
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