Chapter 32: Educational Decree
October 6, 2002 – Sunday
Gryffindor Tower
Harry, Ron, and Dawn descended the winding staircase from their respective dormitories, the usual lively banter that typically filled their morning routine now muffled by the unsettling sight that awaited them on the house notice board. As they approached, a creeping sense of foreboding gripped them tightly, knotting their stomachs with worry as their eyes fell upon the imposing decree that loomed prominently for all to see:
BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded.
An organisation, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.
Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor
(Professor Umbridge).
No student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.
Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organisation, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree
Number Twenty-four.
Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor
Their hearts sank in unison as the weight of the decree settled upon their shoulders, casting a shadow over the once vibrant halls of Hogwarts. They exchanged worried glances, their expressions mirroring the concern etched upon the faces of nearby students, whose anxious murmurs filled the air like a chorus of distress.
"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" one of the second-years queried his friend, his voice tinged with fear and uncertainty.
Dawn exchanged glances with Harry and Ron, their faces reflecting the shared unease permeating the room. The weight of uncertainty hung heavily in the air, casting a pall over their usual camaraderie.
"I reckon you'll be okay with Gobstones," Ron muttered grimly, causing the nearby second-year to jump. "I don't think we're going to be as lucky, though, do you?" he added, directing his concern towards Harry as the younger students hurried away, their footsteps echoing nervously in the now tense atmosphere.
Harry, his brow furrowed with deep concentration, remained absorbed in the text of the notice, the gravity of its contents settling like a heavy shroud upon his shoulders.
Dawn, her disappointment palpable, let out an audible sigh. "This happens after you became Keeper, too. That's disappointing," she lamented, her voice tinged with frustration at the timing of the decree.
"This isn't a coincidence," Harry declared, his frustration boiling over as his hands clenched into tight fists. "She knows."
Dawn nodded solemnly in agreement, her mind racing with the possibility that Umbridge might have uncovered something more significant, perhaps even the existence of the clandestine Defense Against the Dark Arts club.
"She can't," Ron interjected firmly, his tone defensive. "Zacharias Smith! Or—I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look, too—"
Harry's gaze shifted to Dawn, his eyes delving into hers, searching for any subtle hint that Buffy might have inadvertently disclosed their clandestine activities. "Buffy wouldn't have told, would she?" he queried, his voice laced with concern.
Dawn shook her head with a wry smile, her reassurance palpable. "No. She's all for our little unofficial thing, remember? She just can't actively participate," she affirmed, her tone soothing the frayed edges of Harry's worry.
Harry's thoughts drifted to Hermione as he contemplated the potential ramifications of the newly announced decree. "I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet," he pondered aloud, his gaze flickering toward the door leading to the girls' dormitories.
"Let's go and tell her," Ron suggested eagerly, his enthusiasm propelling him forward, only to be abruptly halted by Dawn's intervention.
"Ron, you idiot. You can't go up in the girls' dormitory. There are charms in place to prevent boys from entering," Dawn scolded, a blend of exasperation and amusement tingeing her words. "I'll fetch her."
As Dawn hastened off toward her dormitory, Ron, momentarily flustered, attempted to argue, "But Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, so why—?"
"Well, it's an archaic rule," Hermione clarified, reappearing beside Dawn with a knowing smile. "But according to Hogwarts: A History, the founders believed boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, what's the urgency?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued as she turned her attention to Harry and Ron.
Dawn, fueled by a potent blend of frustration and urgency, firmly grasped Hermione's arm, guiding her towards the ominous notice board with determined intent. "Look at this!" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief as her eyes remained fixed on the damning decree that threatened to unravel the very foundation of their clandestine endeavors.
Hermione's gaze swiftly descended upon the notice, her initial curiosity giving way to a profound sense of gravity. The weight of the decree's implications settled heavily in her expression, a mixture of concern and unwavering determination reflected in her eyes. The unity they had painstakingly forged within their secret club now teetered on the brink of collapse under the oppressive authority of Umbridge's decree.
"Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron's voice resonated with anger, his words a visceral response to the perceived betrayal that loomed over their covert activities.
"They can't have done," Hermione countered, her voice low and resolute, her unwavering belief in their comrades' loyalty evident in her tone.
"You're so naive," Ron shot back, frustration seeping into his words. "You think just because you're all honorable and trustworthy—"
"No, they can't have done, because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," Hermione interjected firmly, her expression grim and determined. "Believe me, if anyone has run off and informed Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are, and they will deeply regret it."
"What'll happen to them?" Ron inquired eagerly, his curiosity tinged with both concern and a hint of morbid fascination, his mind already conjuring up vivid scenarios of punishment.
"Well, put it this way," Hermione replied with a sly grin playing on her lips, "it'll make Eloise Midgeon's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and gauge the reactions of others. I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses."
As the trio descended to the Great Hall for breakfast, the castle corridors hummed with a palpable tension. It was evident that news of Umbridge's decree had spread throughout the student body, casting a shadow over the usual morning bustle.
"Also, I want to talk to Buffy this evening about this," Hermione added with unwavering determination, her resolve shining through despite the uncertainty that hung in the air like a heavy fog.
Great Hall
It became immediately evident upon stepping foot into the Great Hall that the reach of Umbridge's authoritarian decree extended far beyond the confines of Gryffindor Tower. Harry, Ron, Dawn, and Hermione had scarcely settled into their seats when they were met with a gathering of concerned faces, their friends Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny descending upon them like a whirlwind of worry and uncertainty.
"Did you see it?" Ginny's voice trembled with apprehension as she sought confirmation from her peers.
"D'you reckon she knows?" Fred's question hung heavily in the air, the uncertainty palpable in his tone.
"What are we going to do?" Neville's voice wavered with a mixture of fear and determination, his eyes darting anxiously between his friends.
"We're going to do it anyway, of course," Harry's quiet resolve cut through the tension like a knife, his words carrying an unwavering determination that resonated with each member of their group.
"Knew you'd say that," George remarked with a grin.
"The prefects as well?" Fred's gaze lingered on Ron, his question probing for confirmation.
"Of course," Hermione replied with cool assurance, her demeanor unwavering in the face of Fred's scrutiny.
George nodded in understanding, his eyes shifting between Dawn and Hermione. "And Professor Summers' sisters?"
Dawn nodded in agreement, her expression mirroring Hermione's composure. "Of course," she affirmed, exchanging a knowing glance with Hermione. They both understood the delicate balance they needed to maintain regarding Buffy's involvement in their clandestine Defense Against the Dark Arts club. "As I mentioned at the meeting, Buffy is supportive, but due to certain undisclosed reasons, she can't openly endorse it."
"Does it have to do with…" Fred trailed off, alluding to the Order of the Phoenix without explicitly naming it.
Dawn nodded solemnly. "It does. She's involved in something for them that we can't discuss, especially in relation to... you know," she gestured discreetly toward Umbridge, her voice laden with implications.
"Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott," Ron interjected, his attention shifting to the approaching figures. "And those Ravenclaw students, and Smith... and no one looks particularly spotty."
Hermione's alarm was palpable as she scanned the Great Hall, her eyes widening with concern. "Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious — sit down!" she mouthed urgently to Ernie and Hannah, her gestures frantic as she implored them to return to the safety of the Hufflepuff table. "Later! We'll — talk — to — you — later!"
Ernie and Hannah, catching Hermione's urgent signals, exchanged confused glances before hastily retreating to their seats, bewildered but compliant.
"I'll tell Michael," Ginny declared impatiently, her frustration evident as she propelled herself off the bench with determined strides. "The fool, honestly…" With that, she hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table, her mission clear as she sought to prevent any further breaches of their carefully maintained secrecy.
October 7, 2002 – Monday
Potions Classroom
The weight of their worries heavy upon their shoulders, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dawn trudged wearily down the cold, stone steps leading to the dungeons for Potions class. As they reached the bottom of the steps, their thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable voice of Draco Malfoy, his tone dripping with smug superiority as he brandished an official-looking piece of parchment just outside Snape's classroom door.
"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway; I went to ask her first thing this morning," Malfoy boasted, his voice deliberately loud to ensure that Harry and his friends heard every word. "Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry... it'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"
Dawn glanced sympathetically at her friends, her mind racing with thoughts of potential solutions. She briefly considered asking Buffy to approach Umbridge regarding the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but quickly dismissed the idea. Umbridge might become suspicious of Buffy's motives, and it could jeopardize Buffy's own covert efforts.
"Don't rise," Hermione whispered urgently, her voice a warning against engaging with Malfoy's taunts.
"It's what he wants," Dawn replied quietly, her words laced with resignation as she resisted the urge to confront Malfoy's provocations.
"I mean," Malfoy continued, his smirk widening with each word, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance... from what my father said, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years... and as for Potter and Summers... my father said it's a matter of time before the Ministry has them both carted off to St Mungo's... apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."
Suddenly, without warning, Hermione launched herself towards Malfoy with a fierce determination that took everyone by surprise.
"Hermione, no!" Dawn's voice rang out in alarm, her instincts kicking in as she lunged forward and grabbed hold of the back of her sister's robes. Hermione struggled against Dawn's grip, her desperation evident as she thrashed about, her fists flailing in an attempt to reach Malfoy.
"Help me!" Dawn called out to Harry and Ron, her voice strained with the effort of restraining Hermione. With a determined effort, she managed to wrap an arm around Hermione's neck, pulling her backwards away from the Slytherins.
Harry and Ron rushed to their friend's aid, seizing Hermione's flailing arms and joining Dawn in their efforts to restrain her. Together, the three of them struggled against Hermione's resistance, gradually managing to drag her back into the safety of the Gryffindor line.
Dawn positioned herself in front of Hermione, locking eyes with her sister in a silent plea. "Let it go, Hermione," she urged softly. "You know as well as I do that Malfoy Sr. can't do a thing to me."
Before Hermione could respond, the dungeon door creaked open, and Snape's imposing figure emerged. His piercing black eyes swept over the scene, landing on the Gryffindor trio wrestling with Hermione.
"Fighting, Potter, Summers, Weasley, and Summers?" Snape's voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a whip. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Summers, Potter, and Weasley, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."
Harry and Ron reluctantly released their hold on Hermione, who stood before them with a mix of frustration and defiance in her gaze, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Dawn, still catching her breath from the scuffle, met Hermione's glare with a steady look of her own.
"I had to stop you," Dawn gasped, her voice strained with urgency. "It wasn't worth it, Hermione. Even you know Malfoy is blowing hot air. The Ministry won't touch me. Not as long as Buffy is alive. They wouldn't dare go up against the Slayer. It's a war they would lose."
Hermione nodded in reluctant agreement, acknowledging the truth in Dawn's words. Between Harry and Ron, Buffy and her friends, and possibly even the Watcher's Council—if Buffy sought their aid—they would indeed pose a formidable force against any threat.
With tensions momentarily eased, the group settled into their usual seats at the back of the Potions classroom, retrieving their parchment, quills, and textbooks. Snape's cold voice cut through the silence, drawing their attention to the front of the room.
"You will notice," Snape announced, his gaze sweeping over the class, "that we have a guest with us today." He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon, where Dawn and Hermione spotted Professor Umbridge sitting, clipboard in hand.
Hermione leaned towards Dawn, her voice barely above a whisper. "If she's here, does that mean Buffy is teaching solo?"
Dawn shrugged slightly, her brow furrowing in thought. "I guess so. Buffy must have gained her trust enough for Umbridge to allow it," she whispered back, her tone tinged with uncertainty.
"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; if correctly made, they should have matured well over the weekend — instructions on the board. Carry on," Snape instructed in his usual monotone, his dark eyes flickering across the classroom.
As the students set to work on their potions, Umbridge busied herself in the corner, scribbling notes on her clipboard with a fervor that bordered on obsession.
But amidst the quiet hum of activity, a sudden collective groan erupted from Dawn and Hermione as they caught sight of Harry reaching for the wrong ingredient.
"Salamander blood!" they cried out in unison, their voices tinged with panic as they rushed to prevent a potentially disastrous mistake.
Hermione acted swiftly, grabbing Harry's wrist just as he was about to add the incorrect ingredient. "Not pomegranate juice!" she exclaimed urgently, her grip firm and determined.
"Right," Harry muttered distractedly, his attention momentarily diverted by Umbridge, who had just risen from her seat. "Ha," he added, a hint of sarcasm lacing his tone as he resumed his task.
Umbridge, oblivious to the brewing chaos around her, strode purposefully between the rows of desks towards Snape, her eyes fixed on the Potions Master as he bent over Dean Thomas's cauldron, completely unaware of the impending scrutiny.
"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," Umbridge remarked, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism as she surveyed the students' progress. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."
Snape, who had been meticulously monitoring the students' work, straightened up slowly at Umbridge's words, his expression unreadable as he turned to face her.
"Now... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" Umbridge inquired, her tone patronizing as she directed her attention towards the Potions Master.
"Fourteen years," Snape responded tersely, his voice betraying none of the resentment that simmered beneath the surface.
"You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Umbridge prodded further, her gaze unwavering as she sought to extract information from Snape.
"Yes," Snape admitted quietly, his response curt and devoid of emotion as he met Umbridge's probing gaze with a steely resolve.
"But you were unsuccessful?" Umbridge persisted, her tone laced with a hint of smugness as she probed Snape's past failures.
Snape's lip curled in a barely concealed sneer at Umbridge's insinuation. "Obviously," he retorted, his voice dripping with disdain as he refused to mask his contempt for her thinly veiled jabs.
Undeterred, Umbridge continued to scribble notes on her clipboard, her determination evident as she pressed on with her interrogation. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" she inquired, her gaze fixed intently on Snape.
Dawn glanced at Hermione, her brow furrowing in confusion as she whispered, "What's up with the 20 questions, I wonder?"
Hermione shrugged in response, equally puzzled by Umbridge's line of questioning.
"Yes," Snape replied quietly, his voice devoid of emotion as he confirmed Umbridge's assumption, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" Umbridge pressed, her tone dripping with thinly veiled accusation as she scrutinized Snape.
"I suggest you ask him," Snape retorted sharply, his voice tinged with bitterness as he bristled under Umbridge's scrutiny.
"Oh, I shall," Umbridge replied with a smug smile, clearly relishing the opportunity to wield her newfound authority.
Snape's lip curled in a sneer of contempt as he shot Umbridge a distrustful glare. "I suppose this is relevant?" he queried, his voice laced with thinly veiled sarcasm.
"Indeed, yes," Umbridge affirmed, nodding emphatically. "The Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' backgrounds."
Hermione exchanged a worried glance with her sister, her frown deepening as she pondered the implications of Umbridge's words. Did this scrutiny extend to Buffy as well? The thought left her feeling uneasy.
With a dismissive wave, Umbridge turned away from Snape, her attention shifting to Pansy Parkinson as she launched into a barrage of questions about the day's lesson.
Meanwhile, Snape seized the opportunity to redirect his attention to Harry, his malicious grin returning as he emptied Harry's cauldron with a flick of his wand. "No marks again, then, Potter," he sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"
"Yes," Harry responded through gritted teeth, his fury barely contained as he clenched his fists in frustration.
Courtyard
"Maybe I'll skive off Divination," Harry muttered gloomily, his words carried away by the gusts of wind whipping through the courtyard, tugging at the hems of their robes and the brims of their hats. "I'll pretend to be ill and do Snape's essay instead, then I won't have to stay up half the night."
"You can't skive off Divination," Hermione admonished sharply, her tone firm and uncompromising.
"Hark who's talking, you walked out of Divination, you hate Trelawney!" Ron interjected indignantly, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief at Hermione's double standard.
"I don't hate her," Hermione declared loftily, her chin lifted in defiance. "I just think she's an absolutely appalling teacher and a real old fraud. But Harry's already missed History of Magic, and I don't think he ought to miss anything else today!"
None of them dared bring up the fact that Trelawney had accurately predicted Dawn's capture at the hands of Voldemort and Glorificus. They all knew Hermione would likely dismiss it as mere coincidence, unwilling to entertain the notion of Divination's validity.
With a shared understanding, they parted ways moments later, Dawn and Hermione making their way towards Arithmancy while Harry and Ron trudged reluctantly towards Divination, resigned to endure another tedious lesson with Professor Trelawney.
Arithmancy Classroom
Dawn and Hermione entered the Arithmancy classroom, the air buzzing with a sense of focused anticipation. They took their seats side by side, their textbooks and parchment laid out neatly on the desks before them.
Professor Vector, the Arithmancy instructor, stood at the front of the room, her expression serious as she prepared to commence the day's lesson. Her sharp gaze swept over the class, ensuring that all students were present and attentive.
"Good afternoon, class," Professor Vector began, her voice crisp and authoritative. "Today, we will be delving into the principles of numerical divination. Please turn to page fifty-two in your textbooks and follow along as we explore the predictive power of numerical patterns."
Dawn eagerly flipped open her textbook, her eyes scanning the pages as she absorbed the complex equations and calculations laid out before her.
Defense of the Dark Arts Classroom
"You and Umbridge have got something in common," Harry whispered to Hermione as he and Ron reunited with Hermione and Dawn in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "She obviously reckons Trelawney's an old fraud, too . . . looks like she's put her on probation."
Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief at the news, her expression mirroring the shock that rippled through the group. The idea of Umbridge targeting Trelawney, despite her eccentricities, seemed particularly unjust to Hermione.
Umbridge entered the room just as Harry spoke, her presence casting a pall over the already somber atmosphere. Behind her followed Buffy, her expression unreadable as she took her place beside Umbridge, her stance rigid with tension.
"Good afternoon, class," Umbridge greeted in her sickly sweet tone, her voice grating against the ears of the students.
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge and Professor Summers," the students responded in monotone unison, their voices devoid of enthusiasm or warmth.
"Wands away, please," Umbridge commanded, expecting the usual flurry of movement as students complied with her instructions.
But to her surprise, there was no immediate response this time. The room remained eerily still as the students sat in silence, for nobody had taken out their wands.
"Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack. There will be—" Umbridge began, her voice dripping with authority as she issued her instructions to the class.
"—no need to talk," Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione muttered simultaneously, their voices barely audible under their breaths as they exchanged knowing glances.
Dawn, feeling a surge of determination, glanced towards Buffy, silently willing their plan into motion. Thankfully, she caught Buffy's eye without drawing Umbridge's attention. With a subtle nod, Dawn mouthed the word "tonight," conveying their shared understanding of the need of a covert meeting.
Buffy's expression remained impassive, but a flicker of determination shone in her eyes as she acknowledged Dawn's message.
Buffy's Suite
After dinner, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dawn convened in Buffy's suite, their faces etched with concern as they discussed the latest developments at Hogwarts. Ron, having been filled in on Buffy's clandestine activities, had finally been let in on the secret when his curiosity became too persistent to ignore.
"You wanted to see me?" Buffy inquired, her tone tinged with a hint of apprehension as she awaited their explanation.
Dawn nodded solemnly, her eyes meeting Buffy's with a mixture of urgency and trepidation. "Did you know the other professors are getting reviewed and questioned?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Buffy sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping in resignation as she acknowledged the grim reality. "Yes, I know," she admitted, her expression reflecting the weight of the burden she carried. "There was a staff meeting about it. Umbridge intends to try and weed out the professors she deems undesirable."
Hermione's brow furrowed in concern as she sought clarification. "Does that include you?" she inquired, her voice laced with worry.
Buffy shook her head, her expression hardening with determination. "Not yet," she assured them, her tone resolute despite the underlying tension. "Despite refusing to spy on you guys in Hogsmeade. Right now, I'm actually her favorite because I'm all yes, ma'am. She thinks she has a loyal lapdog. And she needs to think that so I can gather information for the Order."
With a shared understanding of the precarious situation they faced, the group exchanged a silent nod of solidarity before turning to leave Buffy's suite.
Gryffindor Common Room
"No Quidditch practice," Angelina announced in hollow tones as Dawn, Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the common room, her voice heavy with disappointment and frustration.
"But I kept my temper!" protested Harry, his frustration evident as he defended his actions. "I didn't say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I—"
"I know, I know," Angelina interjected miserably, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "She just said she needed a bit of time to consider."
"Consider what?" Ron interjected angrily, his frustration boiling over at the unfair treatment they were receiving. "She's given the Slytherins permission, why not us?"
"Well," Hermione interjected, her voice attempting to inject a semblance of optimism into the gloomy atmosphere, "look on the bright side — at least now you'll have time to do Snape's essay!"
"That's a bright side, is it?" Harry retorted, his frustration palpable as he resisted the urge to lash out in anger.
Dawn shook her head in disbelief, her expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "You stepped in it this time, 'Mione," she remarked with a wry smile.
"No Quidditch practice, and extra Potions?" Harry muttered in frustration, his disappointment evident as he slumped into a nearby chair. With a resigned sigh, he retrieved his Potions essay from his bag and begrudgingly set to work. Meanwhile, Hermione and Dawn busied themselves with their own homework, their expressions reflecting the shared annoyance at the disruption of their plans.
The atmosphere in the common room was far from conducive to studying, however, as a cacophony of noise filled the air. Fred and George had evidently perfected one type of Skiving Snackbox, their raucous laughter echoing throughout the room as they indulged in their latest invention.
"Just go and stop them, then!" Ron exclaimed irritably, his patience wearing thin as he attempted to focus on his own work amidst the chaos.
"I can't, they're not technically doing anything wrong," Hermione replied through gritted teeth, her frustration evident as she struggled to concentrate.
Dawn nodded in agreement, her lips pressed into a thin line of annoyance. "They're quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves," she remarked, her tone tinged with exasperation.
"And I can't find a rule that says the other idiots aren't entitled to buy them, not unless they're proven to be dangerous in some way, and it doesn't look as though they are..." Hermione's voice trailed off as the group watched in disbelief as George projectile-vomited into a nearby bucket, followed by the unmistakable sound of him gulping down the rest of the chew. Despite his ordeal, George straightened up, beaming proudly with his arms wide, basking in the prolonged applause from the crowd.
As the commotion settled, Harry couldn't help but express his admiration for Fred and George's ingenuity. "You know, I don't get why Fred and George only got three O.W.L.s each," he remarked incredulously. "They really know their stuff..."
Hermione, however, was quick to dismiss their achievements, her tone tinged with condescension. "Oh, they only know flashy stuff that's no real use to anyone," she remarked disparagingly.
"No real use?" Ron interjected, his voice strained with frustration. "Hermione, they've got about twenty-six Galleons already..." he pointed out, gesturing towards Fred, George, and Lee as they collected gold from the eager crowd.
October 8, 2002 – Tuesday
Gryffindor Common Room
It was well past midnight when the crowd around the Weasleys finally dispersed, leaving Fred, Lee, and George to count their takings late into the night. By the time they had finished, the common room was deserted, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally had some peace and quiet to themselves.
As Fred ostentatiously closed the doorway to the boys' dormitories behind him, rattling his box of Galleons, Hermione scowled in disapproval. Harry, realizing he was making little progress on his Potions essay, decided to call it a night. He began putting away his books, while Ron, who had been dozing lightly in an armchair, suddenly stirred.
"Sirius!" Ron exclaimed, his voice muffled from sleep, as he gazed blearily into the fire.
Harry spun around, his heart pounding with excitement as he saw Sirius's untidy dark head once again appearing in the flames. "Hi," Sirius greeted with a grin.
"Hi," Harry, Dawn, Ron, and Hermione chorused in unison, all four of them dropping to their knees upon the hearthrug. Crookshanks, sensing the excitement, purred loudly and approached the fire, only to be scooped up by Dawn and placed in her lap as she began to stroke him affectionately.
"How're things?" Sirius inquired, his expression serious as he addressed Harry.
"Not that good," Harry replied with a sigh. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams—"
"—or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?" Sirius interjected, his tone filled with concern.
There was a brief pause as Harry, Dawn, Hermione, and Ron exchanged wary glances, the weight of Sirius's revelation sinking in.
"How did you know about that?" Harry demanded, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and concern.
Sirius's grin widened, his amusement evident as he responded, "You want to choose your meeting places more carefully. The Hog's Head, I ask you..."
"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" Hermione interjected defensively as she sought to justify their choice.
"That's always packed with people—" Dawn added, her voice trailing off as she realized the flaw in their plan.
"—which means you'd have been harder to overhear," Sirius remarked, his tone tinged with admonishment. "You've both got a lot to learn, Dawn, Hermione."
Feeling a sense of unease settling over them, Harry pressed on with his questioning. "Who overheard us?" he demanded, his gaze fixed intently on Sirius as he awaited an answer.
"Mundungus, of course," Sirius explained, and when they all looked puzzled, he chuckled softly. "He was the witch under the veil."
"That was Mundungus?" Harry exclaimed, his astonishment evident. "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"
"What do you think he was doing?" Sirius replied impatiently. "Keeping an eye on you, of course."
"I'm still being followed?" Harry demanded angrily, his frustration mounting.
"Yeah, you are," Sirius confirmed, his tone serious. "And just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organizing an illegal defense group." Despite the gravity of the situation, Sirius couldn't hide a hint of pride in his expression as he looked at Harry.
"Why was Dung hiding from us?" Ron interjected, sounding disappointed. "We'd've liked to've seen him."
"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago," Sirius explained, his tone grave, "and that barman's got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately... anyway... first of all, Ron — I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."
Ron's apprehension was palpable as he awaited Sirius's message. "Oh yeah?" he responded cautiously.
"She said on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group," Sirius relayed, his expression serious. "She said you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She said there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also advises Harry, Dawn, and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. Though she has half a mind to contact Buffy about the club; Hermione, Dawn."
Dawn couldn't help but smile. "Buffy knows about the club, Sirius," she interjected. "She's actually for it. Not officially, of course, because of having to, you know..."
Sirius's curiosity was piqued. "She told you lot about her spying on..." he trailed off, seeking confirmation.
Dawn nodded in affirmation. "Yes, she did. Well, Hermione figured it out and then she and I approached Buffy, and she told us so we wouldn't ruin her cover. Then Harry and finally Ron started to ask questions, and we had to inform them also so they wouldn't blow her cover."
"Okay, just be careful. If Umbridge found out..." Sirius warned, his tone grave as he emphasized the potential consequences. They all nodded in understanding, fully aware of the risks involved in revealing what Buffy was doing.
There was a poignant pause, filled only by the gentle mewing of Crookshanks as he rubbed against Dawn's hand, and the soft sound of Ron fiddling with a hole in the hearthrug.
"So, you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the Defense group?" Harry muttered, his tone uncertain.
"Me? Certainly not!" Sirius exclaimed, his surprise evident in his expression. "I think it's an excellent idea! Especially if Buffy is unofficially backing it."
Harry's heart lifted at Sirius's words. "You do?" he echoed, a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes.
"Of course I do!" Sirius affirmed, his voice firm with conviction. "Do you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?"
"But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —" Harry began, still trying to reconcile Sirius's current stance with his previous caution.
"Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!" Sirius interjected impatiently. "This year, we know there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea! The same goes for you, Dawn. The Order believes someone is out for you now also. It's why you've been in the Daily Prophet almost as much as Harry now."
"And if we do get expelled?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed in concern as she sought clarification.
"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" Dawn exclaimed, her gaze fixed on her twin, a mixture of surprise and exasperation in her eyes.
"Actually, Dawn, it was yours and my idea," Hermione corrected gently, a small smile playing on her lips. "Anyways, I just wondered what Sirius thought," she added, shrugging, attempting to steer the conversation back to its original point.
"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue," Sirius chimed in, his tone matter-of-fact. "Especially with whom Buffy is. Think about it, Hermione. If you couldn't protect yourself, you would be a target for anyone trying to take out the Slayer."
Dawn let out a resigned sigh, realizing the weight of Sirius's words. "He has a point, Hermione," she interjected softly. "Since you and I are Buffy's sisters, we are targets for any vampire or demon to use against her. I can't tell you how many times I've been kidnapped to get at Buffy. In fact, Buffy kind of made it a running joke. Any time I was kidnapped, she said it had to have been a Tuesday, since that seemed to be the day I was being targeted by a vampire or a demon to get at her."
Hermione's expression softened as the gravity of Dawn's words sank in. "I hadn't quite thought of it that way," she admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her tone.
"So," Sirius mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "how are you organizing this group? Where are you meeting?"
Harry sighed, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. "That's a bit of a problem now," he admitted, furrowing his brow in contemplation. "Don't know where we're going to be able to go."
Sirius's eyes lit up with an idea. "How about the Shrieking Shack?" he suggested, a note of excitement in his voice.
"Hey, that's an idea!" Ron exclaimed eagerly, his face brightening at the prospect. But Hermione and Dawn exchanged skeptical glances, causing Harry, Ron, and Sirius to turn their attention to the twins, Sirius's head turning amidst the flickering flames.
"Well, Sirius, it's just that there were only four of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school," Hermione explained, her tone measured. "And all of you could transform into animals. I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you'd wanted to. But there are twenty-nine of us, and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee—"
"Fair point," Sirius conceded, his expression slightly deflated. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor; you might have enough space to practice jinxes in there."
"Fred and George told me it's blocked," Harry added, shaking his head with a sigh. "Caved in or something."
"Oh…" Sirius's frown deepened as he seemed to ponder the situation. "Well, I'll have a think and get back to—" Suddenly, his expression shifted, his face tightening with alarm.
"Sirius?" Harry's voice trembled with concern.
But before Sirius could respond, his image vanished from the flames, leaving Harry, Ron, Dawn, and Hermione staring at the now-empty fireplace in confusion.
"Why did he—" Harry began, his question trailing off as he turned to look at his friends for answers.
Before anyone could offer a response, Dawn's eyes widened in horror, and she sprang to her feet, her heart pounding in her chest. Without a word, she dropped Crookshanks onto the floor, her gaze fixed on the fire with a mixture of dread and realization.
A hand had materialized amidst the flames, its fingers stretching out as if searching for something to grasp onto. The hand was stubby and adorned with garish, outdated rings, a chilling sight against the backdrop of the flickering fire.
"Umbridge," Dawn whispered, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames.
The urgency of the situation propelled them forward, their hearts pounding with the weight of what they had just witnessed. As they reached the door to the boys' dormitory, Dawn halted them with a determined gesture.
"I'm going to talk to Buffy tomorrow night," Dawn declared, her voice tinged with a sense of resolve. "We need to make sure Umbridge didn't overhear anything. If she's monitoring the Floo network, we may not be able to reach Sirius again."
Her words hung heavy in the air, the gravity of the situation sinking in as they all exchanged solemn nods of agreement. With a sense of purpose, the boys slipped into their dormitory, leaving Dawn and Hermione to descend the stairs in silence, their minds racing with the implications of Umbridge's intrusion.