"Morning," Harry said brightly to Ron and Hermione as he joined them at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall the following morning.
"What are you looking so pleased about?" said Ron, eyeing Harry in surprise.
"Erm, Quidditch later," said Harry happily, pulling a large platter of bacon and eggs towards him.
"Oh yeah," said Ron. He put down the piece of toast he was eating and took a large swig of pumpkin juice. Then he said, "Listen... you don't fancy going out a bit earlier with me, do you? Just to – er – give me some practice before training? So I can, you know, get my eye in a bit."
"Yeah, OK," said Harry.
"Look, I don't think you should," said Hermione earnestly. "You're both really behind on homework as it-"
But she broke off; the morning post was arriving, and, as usual, the Daily Prophet was soaring towards her in the beak of a screech owl, which landed perilously close to the sugar bowl and held out a leg. Hermione pushed a Knut into its leather pouch, took the newspaper, and scanned the front page critically as the owl took off.
"Anything interesting?" said Ron. She couldn't tell if he was genuinely interested or just trying to change the subject.
"No," she sighed, "just some guff about the bass player in the Weird Sisters getting married."
Hermione opened the paper and disappeared behind it. She started to scan each article, looking for her usual keywords. All of a sudden, a name caught her eye.
"Wait a moment," blurted Hermione. "Oh no... Sirius!"
"What's happened?" said Harry, snatching at the paper so violently it ripped down the middle, with him and Hermione each holding one half.
"'The Ministry of Magic has received a tip-off from a reliable source that Sirius Black, notorious mass murderer... blah blah blah... is currently hiding in London!'" Hermione read from her half in an anguished whisper.
"Lucius Malfoy, I'll bet anything," said Harry in a low, furious voice. "He did recognise Sirius on the platform…"
"What?" said Ron, looking alarmed. "You didn't say-"
"Shh!" said the other two.
"'...Ministry warns wizarding community that Black is very dangerous... killed thirteen people... broke out of Azkaban…' the usual rubbish," Hermione concluded, laying down her half of the paper and looking fearfully at Harry and Ron. "Well, he just won't be able to leave the house again, that's all," she whispered. "Dumbledore did warn him not to."
Harry looked (rightfully) guilty and let his eyes drop down to the half of the Prophet he still held in his hands.
"Hey!" he said, flattening it down so Hermione and Ron could see it. "Look at this!"
"I've got all the robes I want," said Ron, looking at the advertisement for Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, which was having a sale.
"No," said Harry. "Look... this little piece here…"
Ron and Hermione bent closer to read it; the item was barely an inch long and placed at the bottom of a column. It was headlined:
TRESPASS AT MINISTRY
Sturgis Podmore, 38, of number two, Laburnum Gardens, Clapham, has appeared in front of the Wizengamot charged with trespass and attempted robbery at the Ministry of Magic on 31st August. Podmore was arrested by Ministry of Magic watchwizard Eric Munch, who found him attempting to force his way through a top-security door at one o'clock in the morning. Podmore, who refused to speak in his own defence, was convicted on both charges and sentenced to six months in Azkaban.
"Sturgis Podmore?" said Ron slowly. "He's that bloke who looks like his head's been thatched, isn't he? He's one of the Ord-"
"Ron, shh!" said Hermione, casting a terrified look around them.
"Six months in Azkaban!" whispered Harry, shocked. "Just for trying to get through a door!"
"Don't be silly. It wasn't just for trying to get through a door. What on earth was he doing at the Ministry of Magic at one o'clock in the morning?" breathed Hermione, trying to make sense of it all.
"D'you reckon he was doing something for the Order?" Ron muttered.
"Wait a moment…" said Harry slowly. "Sturgis was supposed to come and see us off, remember?"
The other two looked at him. Hermione searched her memory as Harry continued.
"Yeah, he was supposed to be part of our guard going to King's Cross, remember? And Moody was all annoyed because he didn't turn up, so he couldn't have been on a job for them, could he?"
"Well, maybe they didn't expect him to get caught," said Hermione.
"It could be a frame-up!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. "No – listen!" he went on, dropping his voice dramatically at the threatening look on Hermione's face. "The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so – I dunno – they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they've just made something up to get him!"
There was a pause while Hermione considered this. "Do you know, I wouldn't be at all surprised if that were true," she said. It was certainly plausible.
Unfortunately, Hermione had recognised the familiar glimmer in Harry's eyes. She realised he was ready to discuss this ad nauseam and, almost certainly, make broad assumptions that would lead to reckless actions. Frankly, she did not have time for Harry's meddling right now. A random Order member getting arrested did not warrant any action yet. What was much more important was homework and making the boys realise they needed to start focusing on that.
She folded up her half of the newspaper thoughtfully. "Right, well, I think we should tackle that essay for Sprout on self-fertilising shrubs first, and if we're lucky, we'll be able to start McGonagall's Inanimatus Conjurus Spell before lunch…"
To no one's surprise (especially Hermione's), Ron and Harry went to Quidditch practice without doing a single word of homework. Hermione finished her breakfast and ran back to her room to get her books. Thankfully, she hadn't had a nightmare the night before, so she was refreshed and ready for some hard work.
She settled into her favourite chair in the common room and mentally noted the time. She planned to do two hours of work, knit one hat, patrol for Prefect duty for an hour, and then repeat. If she had time, she wanted to check out the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor.
She still had one more essay to finish for the Arithmancy OWL practice exam but was able to complete it quickly. She then moved on to Professor Sprout's essay about self-fertilising shrubs. The plant required regular watering and lots of fresh flesh to eat. As the plant fertilised itself, it required little care. It was not advised to put more than three of these plants next to each other, as they would most likely kill each other. The self-fertilising shrub was not easy to find, as it lived in the back of caves. This meant that when a spot was selected for the shrub, one had to find somewhere damp and dark. The self-fertilising shrub did not like other plants and would kill the other plants most of the time.
Hermione quickly met the twelve-inch requirement and extended it to fifteen before she was finished. She glanced at the clock and decided to start her hat before moving on to her Transfiguration homework. She was getting better at casting on and switching colours. Also, bobbles were quite simple to make and really enhanced the hat, in her opinion.
She surprised herself by finishing three hats in the hour she had set aside. Hermione was quite proud of how far she had come in such a short time. The hats resembled actual ones she would have no issue wearing (if they were, perhaps, more muted colours). She knitted much faster when she was wide awake and not recovering from a nightmare, and it was indeed a nice break between assignments.
Hermione took her hats and books to her dorm room and put on her robes. Pinning her Prefect badge never ceased to give her chills and fill her with a sense of responsibility and honour.
She had just crawled out of the portrait hole when she ran into Fred and George, who were covered in blood. "What the hell happened?" she exclaimed. "Is Ron-?"
"Katie had a nosebleed," Fred said.
"And we wanted to stop it," George added.
"So we gave her the Nosebleed Nougat antidote."
"Or so we thought."
"It was the Blood Blisterpod."
"So it just made it worse."
Hermione saw red. "Bloody hell! I TOLD YOU not to use those! How utterly IRRESPONSIBLE you are!"
"Aww, come on, Hermione!"
"No, there will be none of that! I'm done with it all! I'm done with you! Katie could have been seriously hurt."
Hermione turned on her heel, seething with anger, and had to seriously talk herself out of writing a letter to Mrs Weasley.
"How was practice?" Hermione asked rather coolly half an hour later as Harry and Ron climbed into the Gryffindor common room through the portrait hole. She was still fuming from her encounter with the twins.
"It was-" Harry began.
"Completely lousy," Ron interrupted in a hollow voice, sinking into a chair beside Hermione. She looked up at Ron, and her frostiness seemed to melt.
"Well, it was only your first one," she said consolingly. "It's bound to take time to-"
"Who said it was me who made it lousy?" snapped Ron.
"No one," said Hermione, looking taken aback. "I thought-"
"You thought I was bound to be rubbish?"
"No, of course I didn't! Look, you said it was lousy, so I just-"
"I'm going to get started on some homework," said Ron angrily. He stomped off to the staircase to the boys' dormitories and vanished from sight. Hermione turned to Harry.
"Was he lousy?"
"No," said Harry loyally.
Hermione raised her eyebrows.
"Well, I suppose he could've played better," Harry muttered, "but it was only the first training session, like you said…"
"But he did so well at tryouts," Hermione said.
"I doubt the Slytherins were at tryouts making all kinds of comments to rattle Ron either."
"That's not fair!"
"Tell me about it," Harry said. He paused and looked oddly at Hermione. "Listen, I have to show you something, but I don't want to talk about it, and I don't want to hear how I need to go to Dumbledore or anything. All right? Promise?"
"I can't possibly promise-"
"You have to, Hermione. I don't want to make a big deal about it. I don't want to give Umbridge the satisfaction of knowing I am complaining."
There was something about Harry's voice that made Hermione agree to his terms. Whatever it was, it was serious. "Okay, I'll try."
Harry pulled up his sleeve and held out his hand. Hermione was confused at first, thinking he was handing her something… but then she saw the bloodied scabs on the back of his hand. She grabbed his hand and pulled it to her face to look at it more closely. To her horror, she could make out the words, "I must not tell lies."
"Bloody hell, Harry," she whispered. "Did she-"
"The quill she is making me use for lines does that."
"Harry, you have to-"
"No, you promised, Hermione. This is my fight. I will not let her think I am too weak. That's what she wants. She wants to break me. To hell with that."
"But-"
"Hermione, no. Let this go."
Hermione tried to swallow, but she found her mouth had gone dry. Her horror started to turn to a blinding white fury. The woman needed to be stopped at all costs. This was literal child abuse.
"Fine, Harry," she said through clenched teeth. "I won't make you do anything… but I can't guarantee I won't hex the hag."
Harry smirked. "That's fine with me! Maybe get Ginny in on it too!"
Hermione smiled weakly but soon found an excuse to leave Harry and return to her room. She ran to the loo and was sick. Things were escalating even more than she had thought.
If she could do that to the Boy Who Lived, what could she do to some random Muggle-born?
Hermione knew she needed to stop her head from snowballing into an abyss of anxiety and depression. She decided to put off some of her work and go to the Prefect's bathroom on the fifth floor to calm down and hopefully gather her wits about her and start coming up with a plan.
When she was sure she could walk through the castle without being sick, Hermione gathered her toiletries and went to the coveted bathroom. She stepped into the Prefect's bathroom, the soft glow of the enchanted candles casting a warm, comforting light. She looked around in wonder. On one side of the room, there were stalls with toilets inside. Opposite the toilets was a large, swimming pool-like tub sunken into the ground with bath taps surrounding it. The bath taps ran different-coloured bath water, soap bubbles, foam, towels, and bathrobes. Around a hundred golden bath taps surrounded the entire tub, each with a different jewel set in it. There were bath supplies on one side of the pool, such as soap, bath oil, bath powder, bath salts, shampoo, hair spray, and conditioner. Looking at the tub, one would imagine it would take quite some time to fill, but it had already started to fill as soon as Hermione had walked in.
The room seemed to resonate with tranquillity, starkly contrasting her inner turmoil. It would be the perfect place to calm herself enough to tackle the problem at hand.
As the soothing sound of bubbling water filled the air, Hermione approached the ornate pool, her fingers tracing patterns on the surface. The dance of the ripples moved across the pearly water towards the marble staircase, which seemed to be calling to Hermione. She quickly changed into a robe and walked over to the multitude of bath supplies to pick a few out.
The scent of lavender and chamomile lingered in the air, calming her nerves. Hermione entered the pool and immersed herself in the comforting warmth of the bath, hoping it would wash away not only the physical fatigue but also the emotional toll of the recent events. It was like being enveloped in a warm, calming hug. Hermione walked around the edge of the pool, loving the feeling of the lavender bubbles popping against her skin. Finally, she found a comfortable ledge and laid it in the water.
Submerged in the enchanted bubbles, Hermione allowed herself five minutes of absolute calm before her intrusive thoughts began to race. She couldn't shake the fear of what Umbridge's influence might mean for Muggle-borns like herself. The idea of corporal punishment being used as a means of discipline sent shivers down her spine. She was reminded of how terrified she was in her second year for being Muggle-born and the danger she faced from the Muggle-born hating Basilisk roaming the halls. This year, instead of a Basilisk, they had a power-hungry pink monstrosity trying to become a dictator and removing any chance they had to fight back.
As she soaked in the soothing waters, Hermione's thoughts turned to resistance. She mulled over the idea of forming a group, a secret society where students could learn and practice defensive magic. She could outsmart Umbridge with her brain, but she didn't have the defensive magic to tackle the rest of the Ministry and, inevitably, He Who Must Not Be Named. He was back, and they needed to be prepared to defend themselves.
She could use the practical aspect of the OWL exam to convince people like Parvati to join the cause and, of course, the prospect of working with the infamous Harry Potter for others. Regardless of whether or not they could successfully unseat Umbridge, the fact remained that if there were any year they needed to learn Defensive spells in class, it was this one.
The gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool echoed her thoughts. In the warmth of the Prefect's bathroom, Hermione imagined a space where students could come together, learn, and prepare for the challenges ahead. The camaraderie she experienced with Harry and Ron preparing for the Triwizard Tournament last year fueled her determination to create a united front against the looming threat of Umbridge, the Ministry, and You Know Who.
Hermione felt a renewed sense of purpose as she emerged from the bath. She didn't have any details yet, but the idea was there. She was going to fight back, and others would join her. For the first time since Professor Umbridge was introduced, Hermione felt a glimmer of hope.
Unsurprisingly, neither Harry nor Ron made much progress with their homework that night. Hermione refused to help them, choosing instead to make her Prefect rounds and work in the library rather than the common room with the boys. She needed time to percolate her ideas and let them grow.
They spent the whole of Sunday in the common room, buried in their books while the room around them filled up and then emptied. It was another clear, fine day, and most of their fellow Gryffindors spent the day out on the grounds, enjoying what might well be some of the last sunshine of the year.
Hermione easily finished Professor Sinistra's essay about Jupiter's moons, having studied them in their second year and feeling confident about the material. She was also far enough along with Professor McGonagall's essay on the Inanimatus Conjurus Spell that she felt comfortable taking a break to chat with Ginny and get some knitting done. She was now transitioning to socks and was very excited to see how they would turn out.
"So you survived the first week?" Ginny asked.
"I did," Hermione said. "It's all a matter of time management. How was your first week?"
"Not bad," Ginny said. "I have a ton of classes with Loony Lovegood. She's bloody brilliant in class but the oddest person I've ever met."
"Really? She doesn't necessarily strike me as, well, intelligent."
"Yeah, totally brilliant if you don't listen to the filler in between. She'll answer correctly and then go off on some tangent about Wrackspurts or Gnomes or whatnot."
"What an odd girl," Hermione remarked.
"Odd is an understatement. Hey, when is that Arithmancy Club thing happening?"
"Oh, I forgot to ask Sophie after class on Friday," Hermione said. "Let's tentatively say Wednesday afternoon – does that work with your schedule?"
"It should," Ginny said.
"Brilliant! Great! I'm so glad you want to come!"
"I have to check out this Sophie girl a bit more," Ginny grinned. "Gotta make sure she's actually a decent Slytherin and not just a plant."
"Oh, you'll see," Hermione said. "She's great."
"She looks it," Ginny smiled.
Hermione nodded but had absolutely no idea what Ginny meant.
She had dinner with Ginny and then got back to work. At half past eleven, Hermione finally finished and wandered over to Ron and Harry, yawning.
"Nearly done?"
"No," said Ron shortly.
"Jupiter's biggest moon is Ganymede, not Callisto," she said, pointing over Ron's shoulder at a line in his Astronomy essay, "and it's Io that's got the volcanoes."
"Thanks," snarled Ron, scratching out the offending sentences.
"Sorry, I only-"
"Yeah, well, if you've just come over here to criticise-"
"Ron-"
"I haven't got time to listen to a sermon, all right, Hermione, I'm up to my neck in it here-"
"No – look!"
Hermione was pointing to the nearest window. Harry and Ron both looked over. A handsome screech owl stood on the windowsill, gazing into the room at Ron.
"Isn't that Hermes?" said Hermione, recognising Percy's owl.
"Blimey, it is!" said Ron quietly, throwing down his quill and getting to his feet. "What's Percy writing to me for?"
He crossed to the window and opened it; Hermes flew inside, landed on Ron's essay, and held out a leg to which a letter was attached. Ron took the letter off it, and the owl departed at once, leaving inky footprints across Ron's drawing of the moon Io.
"That's definitely Percy's handwriting," said Ron, sinking back into his chair and staring at the words outside the scroll: Ronald Weasley, Gryffindor House, Hogwarts. He looked up at the other two. "What d'you reckon?"
"Open it!" said Hermione eagerly, and Harry nodded.
Ron unrolled the scroll and began to read. The further down the parchment his eyes travelled, the more pronounced his scowl became. When he had finished reading, he looked disgusted. He thrust the letter at Harry and Hermione, who leaned towards each other to read it together:
Dear Ron,
I have only just heard (from no less a person than the Minister for Magic himself, who has it from your new teacher, Professor Umbridge) that you have become a Hogwarts prefect.
I was most pleasantly surprised when I heard this news and must firstly offer my congratulations. I must admit that I have always been afraid that you would take what we might call the 'Fred and George' route, rather than following in my footsteps, so you can imagine my feelings on hearing you have stopped flouting authority and have decided to shoulder some real responsibility.
But I want to give you more than congratulations, Ron. I want to give you some advice, which is why I am sending this tonight rather than by the usual morning post. Hopefully, you will be able to read this away from prying eyes and avoid awkward questions.
From something the Minister let slip when telling me you are now a prefect, I gather that you are still seeing a lot of Harry Potter. I must tell you, Ron, that nothing could put you in danger of losing your badge more than continued fraternisation with that boy. Yes, I am sure you are surprised to hear this – no doubt you will say that Potter has always been Dumbledore's favourite – but I feel bound to tell you that Dumbledore may not be in charge at Hogwarts much longer, and the people who count have a very different – and probably more accurate – view of Potter's behaviour. I shall say no more here, but if you look at the Daily Prophet tomorrow, you will get a good idea of the way the wind is blowing – and see if you can spot yours truly!
Seriously, Ron, you do not want to be tarred with the same brush as Potter, it could be very damaging to your future prospects, and I am talking here about life after school, too. As you must be aware, given that our father escorted him to court, Potter had a disciplinary hearing this summer in front of the whole Wizengamot, and he did not come out of it looking too good. He got off on a mere technicality, if you ask me, and many of the people I've spoken to remain convinced of his guilt.
It may be that you are afraid to sever ties with Potter – I know that he can be unbalanced and, for all I know, violent – but if you have any worries about this, or have spotted anything else in Potter's behaviour that is troubling you, I urge you to speak to Dolores Umbridge, a truly delightful woman who I know will be only too happy to advise you.
This leads me to my other bit of advice. As I have hinted above, Dumbledore's regime at Hogwarts may soon be over. Your loyalty, Ron, should be not to him but to the school and the Ministry. I am very sorry to hear that, so far, Professor Umbridge is encountering very little cooperation from staff as she strives to make those necessary changes within Hogwarts that the Ministry so ardently desires (although she should find this easier from next week – again, see the Daily Prophet tomorrow!). I shall say only this – a student who shows himself willing to help Professor Umbridge now may be very well-placed for Head Boyship in a couple of years!
I am sorry that I was unable to see more of you over the summer. It pains me to criticise our parents, but I am afraid I can no longer live under their roof while they remain mixed up with the dangerous crowd around Dumbledore. (If you are writing to Mother at any point, you might tell her that a certain Sturgis Podmore, who is a great friend of Dumbledore's, has recently been sent to Azkaban for trespass at the Ministry. Perhaps that will open their eyes to the kind of petty criminals with whom they are currently rubbing shoulders.) I count myself very lucky to have escaped the stigma of association with such people – the Minister really could not be more gracious to me – and I do hope, Ron, that you will not allow family ties to blind you to the misguided nature of our parents' beliefs and actions, either. I sincerely hope that, in time, they will realise how mistaken they were, and I shall, of course, be ready to accept a full apology when that day comes.
Please think over what I have said most carefully, particularly the bit about Harry Potter, and congratulations again on becoming prefect.
Your brother,
Percy
"Well," Harry said, trying to sound as though he found the whole thing a joke, "if you want to – er – what is it?" – he checked Percy's letter, but Hermione suspected he didn't even need to look – "Oh yeah – 'sever ties' with me, I swear I won't get violent."
"Give it back," said Ron, holding out his hand. "He is-" Ron said jerkily, tearing Percy's letter in half, "the world's –" he tore it into quarters, "biggest –" he tore it into eighths, "git." He threw the pieces into the fire. "Come on, we've got to get this finished sometime before dawn," he said briskly to Harry, pulling Professor Sinistra's essay back towards him.
Ron's face broke her heart. He looked like he had when he realised Scabbers was actually the murderer of Harry's parents. He looked so embarrassed and betrayed. This was also all on top of his dismal performance at Quidditch practice (Hermione had heard precisely how bad it was from others). She made a snap decision.
"Oh, give them here," she said abruptly.
"What?" said Ron.
"Give them to me; I'll look through them and correct them," she said.
"Are you serious? Ah, Hermione, you're a lifesaver," said Ron. "What can I-?"
"What you can say is, 'We promise we'll never leave our homework this late again,'" she said, holding out both hands for their essays, though she looked slightly amused all the same.
"Thanks a million, Hermione," said Harry.
It was now past midnight, and the common room was deserted but for the three of them and Crookshanks. The only sound was that of Hermione's quill scratching out sentences here and there on their essays and the rustle of pages as she checked various facts in the reference books strewn across the table.
"OK, write that down," Hermione said to Ron, pushing his essay and a sheet covered in her own writing back to him, "then add this conclusion I've written for you."
"Hermione, you are honestly the most wonderful person I've ever met," said Ron, looking at her in a way that made her heart race, "and if I'm ever rude to you again-"
"- I'll know you're back to normal," said Hermione. "Harry, yours is OK except for this bit at the end. I think you must have misheard Professor Sinistra; Europa's covered in ice, not mice – Harry?"
Harry had slid off his chair onto his knees and was now crouching on the singed and threadbare hearthrug, gazing into the flames.
"Er – Harry?" said Ron uncertainly. "Why are you down there?"
"Because I've just seen Sirius's head in the fire," said Harry in an odd, calm voice.
"Sirius's head?" Hermione repeated. "You mean like when he wanted to talk to you during the Triwizard Tournament? But he wouldn't do that now; it would be too – Sirius!"
She gasped, gazing at the fire; Ron dropped his quill. There, in the middle of the dancing flames, sat Sirius's head, long dark hair falling around his grinning face.
"I was starting to think you'd go to bed before everyone else had disappeared," he said. "I've been checking every hour."
"You've been popping into the fire every hour?" Harry said, half-laughing.
"Just for a few seconds to check if the coast was clear."
"But what if you'd been seen?" said Hermione anxiously.
"Well, I think a girl – first-year, by the look of her – might've got a glimpse of me earlier, but don't worry," Sirius said hastily as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth. "I was gone the moment she looked back at me, and I'll bet she just thought I was an oddly shaped log or something."
"But, Sirius, this is taking an awful risk-" Hermione began.
"You sound like Molly," said Sirius. "This was the only way I could come up with of answering Harry's letter without resorting to a code – and codes are breakable."
At the mention of Harry's letter, Hermione and Ron both turned to stare at him.
"You didn't say you'd written to Sirius!" said Hermione accusingly.
"I forgot," said Harry unconvincingly. "Don't look at me like that, Hermione, there was no way anyone would have got secret information out of it, was there, Sirius?"
"No, it was very good," said Sirius, smiling. "Anyway, we'd better be quick, just in case we're disturbed – your scar."
"What about-?" Ron began, but Hermione interrupted him. She didn't want Sirius to be there any longer than he had to be.
"We'll tell you afterwards. Go on, Sirius."
"Well, I know it can't be fun when it hurts, but we don't think it's anything to really worry about. It kept aching all last year, didn't it?"
"Yeah, and Dumbledore said it happened whenever Voldemort was feeling a powerful emotion," said Harry, ignoring Ron and Hermione's winces. "So maybe he was just, I dunno, really angry or something the night I had that detention."
"Well, now he's back it's bound to hurt more often," said Sirius.
"So you don't think it had anything to do with Umbridge touching me when I was in detention with her?" Harry asked.
"I doubt it," said Sirius. "I know her by reputation, and I'm sure she's no Death Eater-"
"She's foul enough to be one," said Harry darkly, and Ron and Hermione nodded vigorously in agreement.
"Yes, but the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters," said Sirius with a wry smile. "I know she's a nasty piece of work, though – you should hear Remus talk about her."
"Does Lupin know her?" asked Harry quickly.
"No," said Sirius, "but she drafted a bit of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago that makes it almost impossible for him to get a job."
Hermione's dislike of Umbridge deepened even further, which she didn't think was possible. "What's she got against werewolves?" she growled.
"Scared of them, I expect," said Sirius, smiling at her anger. "Apparently, she loathes part-humans; she campaigned to have merpeople rounded up and tagged last year, too. Imagine wasting your time and energy persecuting merpeople when there are little toerags like Kreacher on the loose."
Ron laughed, but Hermione looked upset.
"Sirius!" she said reproachfully. "Honestly, if you made a bit of an effort with Kreacher, I'm sure he'd respond. After all, you are the only member of his family he's got left, and Professor Dumbledore said-"
"So, what are Umbridge's lessons like?" Sirius interrupted, to Hermione's fury. "Is she training you all to kill half-breeds?"
"No," said Harry. "She's not letting us use magic at all!"
"All we do is read the stupid textbook," said Ron.
"Ah, well, that figures," said Sirius, confirming one of Hermione's theories. "Our information from inside the Ministry is that Fudge doesn't want you trained in combat."
"Trained in combat!" repeated Harry incredulously. "What does he think we're doing here, forming some sort of wizard army?"
"That's exactly what he thinks you're doing," said Sirius, "or, rather, that's exactly what he's afraid Dumbledore's doing – forming his own private army, with which he will be able to take on the Ministry of Magic."
There was a pause at this, and then Ron said, "That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard, including all the stuff that Luna Lovegood comes out with."
"So we're being prevented from learning Defence Against the Dark Arts because Fudge is scared we'll use spells against the Ministry?" said Hermione, looking furious. It was one thing to think it and another entirely to hear it spoken aloud as a truth. It made her even more committed to her idea in the bathroom.
"Yep," said Sirius. "Fudge thinks Dumbledore will stop at nothing to seize power. He's getting more paranoid about Dumbledore by the day. It's a matter of time before he has Dumbledore arrested on some trumped-up charge."
"D'you know if there's going to be anything about Dumbledore in the Daily Prophet tomorrow?" Harry asked. "Ron's brother Percy reckons there will be-"
"I don't know," said Sirius. "I haven't seen anyone from the Order all weekend; they're all busy. It's just been Kreacher and me here…"
"So you haven't had any news about Hagrid, either?"
"Ah…" said Sirius. "Well, he was supposed to be back by now. No one's sure what's happened to him." Then, seeing their stricken faces, he added quickly, "But Dumbledore's not worried, so don't you three get yourselves in a state; I'm sure Hagrid's fine."
"But if he was supposed to be back by now…" said Hermione in a small, anxious voice.
"Madame Maxime was with him. We've been in touch with her, and she says they got separated on the journey home – but there's nothing to suggest he's hurt or – well, nothing to suggest he's not perfectly OK."
Unconvinced, Hermione, Ron, and Harry exchanged worried looks.
"Listen, don't go asking too many questions about Hagrid," said Sirius hastily. "It'll just draw even more attention to the fact that he's not back, and I know Dumbledore doesn't want that. Hagrid's tough, he'll be OK." And when they did not appear cheered by this, Sirius added, "When's your next Hogsmeade weekend, anyway? I was thinking, we got away with the dog disguise at the station, didn't we? I thought I could-"
"NO!" said Harry and Hermione together, very loudly.
"Sirius, didn't you see the Daily Prophet?" said Hermione anxiously.
"Oh, that," said Sirius, grinning. "They're always guessing where I am, they haven't really got a clue-"
"Yeah, but we think this time they have," said Harry. "Something Malfoy said on the train made us think he knew it was you, and his father was on the platform, Sirius – you know, Lucius Malfoy – so don't come up here, whatever you do. If Malfoy recognises you again-"
"All right, all right, I've got the point," said Sirius. He looked most displeased, but it was for his own good. "Just an idea, thought you might like to get together."
"I would. I just don't want you chucked back in Azkaban!" said Harry.
There was a pause in which Sirius looked out of the fire at Harry, a crease between his sunken eyes.
"You're less like your father than I thought," he said finally, a definite coolness in his voice. "The risk would've been what made it fun for James." Hermione gasped. Why would a grown man put something like that on a teenage boy?
"Look –"
"Well, I'd better get going; I can hear Kreacher coming down the stairs," said Sirius. "I'll write to tell you a time I can make it back into the fire, then, shall I? If you can stand to risk it?"
There was a tiny pop, and the place where Sirius's head had been was flickering flame once more.