"Are you sure you don't mind teaching me some stuff too?" Sophie asked, closing her Arithmancy book. "Or are you scared I'm a Slytherin spy?"
"Oh, shut it," Ginny said, playfully swatting at her.
"Of course we will," Hermione said, dipping her quill into her ink well. They were at their weekly Arithmancy Club meeting, recapping their escapades at the Hog's Head the previous weekend. "You understand, though, that we couldn't-"
"Yeah, I get it," Sophie smiled. "Did this one ever tell you how she almost hexed me while I was getting fitted for my robes in year three? Just because they were green?" Sophie laughed. "Don't deny it, Granger."
"I-"
"You damned lions with your hot tempers," Sophie continued with a smirk. It took Hermione a second, but she realised Sophie was just joking with them. "This defence class is gonna turn into the Lion Dueling Club." Sophie paused and laughed. "But it went well, yeah?"
"I think so," Ginny said. "Hermione got everyone to agree to it all. We just have to figure out when, where, and how to let people know."
Sophie cocked her head. "So… what did you get people to agree to if you didn't discuss when, where, and how?"
"But we did discuss 'what,'" Ginny said. "They all agreed Harry would teach us how to defend ourselves. Baby steps. We're not working with the best of the best."
"Fair point. Who all came?"
Hermione ran down the list for Sophie.
"Zacharias Smith?" Sophie said. "I can't stand that one."
"We can't either," Ginny said. "I'll be excited to duel with him first."
"And you got Looney Lovegood too, eh?" Sophie giggled. "Maybe she can create an army of Wrackspurts or something."
"I think we've got a good group," Hermione said. "It'd obviously be better with you, but-"
"I'm a Slytherin. Yes, I know," Sophie said. "But seriously, I'm not mad! My feelings aren't hurt at all, and neither should yours. I'd rather learn stuff from you lot than Potter, no offence. He irks me."
"I think it's mandatory for Slytherins to hate Harry Potter," Ginny said. "There's probably a rule somewhere, right Hermione?"
"What? No, I don't think-"
"Joking. I was joking," Ginny giggled. "But I wouldn't put it past Umbridge to make one, though."
The three sat silently for a moment, admitting it was indeed possible. Soon, they got back to work, asking each other questions here and there. Hermione's mind kept going back to their defence group. There had to be a way to get the word out to all the members without raising suspicion.
At that moment, Hermione remembered Keelin's bracelet Finnigan had given her the year before the Quidditch World Cup. Her mind started racing, trying to think it through until she glanced up and realised she was in a room with two of the brightest people at Hogwarts.
"I just had an idea, but I am going to need you to help me figure it all out." Hermione then briefly explained the friendship bracelet to the girls and its roots in the Dark Mark.
"A Protean Charm is some N.E.W.T. level stuff," Sophie said.
"And what would you use that people from three houses could conceivably carry around? You can't very well brand students' arms or start a friendship bracelet club," Ginny added. "Though I have some choice words to put on Zacharias Smith's bracelet."
"If we can figure out what to use," Hermione started, "we can use Arithmancy to help us figure out the Protean Charm. I'd assume it'd just be a matter of finding the right formula for the Functional Spell Units and the Magical Conversion Efficiency Coefficient."
"You may be right," Sophie said, grabbing a book from their stack. "Theoretically, the raw magical energy input would be a repeatable quotient of the Functional Spell Units-"
"And the variable of the quotient would-"
"Determine the desired output for practical spellcasting!" Ginny and Sophie finished together.
"Brilliant!" Hermione said.
"It'd still be bloody difficult," Sophie said, "but you'd at least have the framework for the spell."
Sophie was right. It would still be extremely difficult, but Hermione knew if she could figure out the formula, the spell would follow.
A few days later, just as Hermione was about to head down to the common room, the staircase suddenly flattened into a slide. She knew instantly who was behind it and confirmed her suspicions when she slid down to find Ron and Harry at the bottom.
"Well, it's an old-fashioned rule," Hermione explained, responding to their puzzled looks. "It says in Hogwarts: A History that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?"
"To see you – look at this!" said Ron, dragging her to the noticeboard.
Hermione's eyes darted over the new notice. Her expression became stony as she read the large black letters with the official-looking seal and neat, curly signature at the bottom.
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
"Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron growled.
"They can't have done," Hermione replied in a low voice.
"You're so naive," said Ron. "You think just because you're all honourable and trustworthy-"
"No, they can't have done because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Hermione grimly. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are, and they will really regret it."
"What'll happen to them?" asked Ron eagerly.
"Well, put it this way," said Hermione, "it'll make Eloise Midgeon's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think... I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses?"
Upon entering the Great Hall, it was immediately apparent that Umbridge's sign had been posted everywhere. The air buzzed with intense chatter, and students scurried up and down their tables, conferring on what they had read. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny descended upon them.
"Did you see it?"
"D'you reckon she knows?"
"What are we going to do?"
"We're going to do it anyway, of course," Harry said quietly.
"Knew you'd say that," said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.
"The prefects as well?" asked Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.
"Of course," said Hermione coolly.
"Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott," said Ron, glancing over his shoulder. "And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith... and no one looks very spotty."
Hermione looked alarmed.
"Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now; it'll look really suspicious – sit down!" she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically for them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. "Later! We'll – talk – to – you – later!"
She felt someone's eyes on her and turned to see Sophie at the Slytherin table, watching her with concern. Hermione gave a slight nod, reassuring her that she was okay, though inwardly, she seethed at the other students' lack of discretion.
"I'll tell Michael," said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off the bench. "The fool, honestly."
Luckily, most people on Hermione's jinxed list had enough sense to stay put, and soon, it was time to head to History of Magic. As they left the Great Hall, they heard someone calling to Harry and Ron.
"Harry! Ron!"
It was Angelina hurrying towards them with a look of desperation. Hermione thought Angelina was more intelligent than that to attract this kind of attention.
"It's OK," said Harry quietly, "we're still going to-"
"You realise she's including Quidditch in this?" Angelina said over him. "We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!"
"What?" said Harry.
"No way," said Ron, appalled.
"You read the sign; it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry... I am saying this for the last time... please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play any more!"
"OK, OK," said Harry. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself."
Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. Hermione rolled her eyes. Sportsball? Really?
"Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic," said Ron grimly as they set off for Binns's lesson. "She hasn't inspected Binns yet... bet you anything she's there…"
But he was wrong; the only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual, ready to continue his lecture on giant wars. Hermione was riveted, as always, by the history lesson, but a fluttering motion in her peripheral vision caught her attention. It was Hedwig at the window! She poked a very clearly daydreaming Harry in the ribs.
"What?"
She pointed at the window. Harry looked round and saw his owl with a letter tied to her leg. Many of his classmates pointed out Hedwig to each other, too.
"Oh, I've always loved that owl. She's so beautiful," Lavender sighed to Parvati.
After glancing at Professor Binns, Hermione watched Harry slip quietly off his chair, crouch down, and hurry along the row to the window, where he slid the catch and opened it very slowly.
To Hermione's horror, instead of simply taking the letter off the owl's leg and returning to his seat, Harry picked up his pet and brought her back into the classroom with him. What on earth-
"She's hurt!" Harry whispered, bending his head low over her. Hermione and Ron leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill. "Look – there's something wrong with her wing –"
Hedwig was quivering; when Harry made to touch the wing, she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she was inflating herself, and gazed at him reproachfully.
"Professor Binns," said Harry loudly, and everyone in the class turned to look at him. "I'm not feeling well."
Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes. "Not feeling well?" he repeated hazily.
"Not at all well," said Harry firmly, getting to his feet with Hedwig concealed behind his back. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing."
"Yes," said Professor Binns, "Yes... yes, hospital wing... well, off you go, then, Perkins."
Harry ran out of the room, leaving them to finish the class and wonder what was happening. After class, Hermione and Ron headed to the courtyard despite the wind to wait for Harry, wherever he was.
"What if someone tried to intercept Hedwig?" Hermione asked Ron, her voice filled with worry.
"You don't think-"
"There's Harry."
Harry came jogging over to them, clutching the note that Hedwig had carried. The snowy white owl was nowhere to be found.
"Is Hedwig OK?" asked Hermione anxiously as Harry came within earshot.
"Where did you take her?" asked Ron.
"To Grubbly-Plank," said Harry. "And I met McGonagall... listen… I think this is way worse than we thought. McGonagall said that the channels of communication in and out of Hogwarts may be being watched, probably by Umbridge." He paused, expecting Hermione and Ron to react, but they did not. "What?" said Harry, looking from Ron to Hermione and back again.
"Well, I was just saying to Ron ... what if someone had tried to intercept Hedwig? I mean, she's never been hurt on a flight before, has she?"
"Who's the letter from, anyway?" asked Ron, taking the note from Harry.
"Snuffles," said Harry quietly.
"'Same time, same place?' Does he mean the fire in the common room?"
"Obviously," said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. "I just hope nobody else has read this."
"But it was still sealed and everything," said Harry. "And nobody would understand what it meant if they didn't know where we'd spoken to him before, would they?"
"I don't know," said Hermione anxiously, hitching her bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again. She had a bad feeling about it. "It wouldn't be exactly difficult to re-seal the scroll by magic ... and if anyone's watching the Floo Network ... but I don't really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted, too!"
They trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, each lost in thought. As they reached the bottom of the steps, they were brought back to reality by the voice of Draco Malfoy, who was standing just outside Snape's classroom door, waving around an official-looking piece of parchment and talking much louder than necessary so that they could hear every word.
"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway. I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic; 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?"
"Don't rise," Hermione whispered imploringly to Harry and Ron, who were both watching Malfoy, faces set and fists clenched. "It's what he wants."
"I mean," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes glittering malevolently in Harry and Ron's direction, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance ... from what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years ... and as for Potter ... my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St Mungo's ... apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."
Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter; Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee.
Hermione reached out to grab Harry, thinking he was moving towards Malfoy, but someone else knocked him down. A split second later, she realised Neville had charged past Harry, heading straight for Malfoy.
"Neville, no!"
Harry leapt forward and seized the back of Neville's robes. Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Malfoy, who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked.
"Help me!" Harry flung at Ron, getting an arm around Neville's neck and dragging him backwards, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were flexing their arms, ready for a fight. Ron seized Neville's arms, and together, he and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Neville's face was scarlet; Harry's pressure on his throat rendered him quite incomprehensible, but odd words spluttered from his mouth.
"Not... funny... don't... Mungo's... show... him…"
The dungeon door opened. Professor Snape appeared there. His black eyes swept up the Gryffindor line to the point where Harry and Ron were wrestling with Neville.
"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape said in his cold, sneering voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."
Harry let go of Neville, who stood panting and glaring at him.
"I had to stop you," Harry gasped, picking up his bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would've torn you apart."
Neville said nothing; he merely snatched up his bag and stalked off into the dungeon. Hermione almost went after him but thought maybe he needed a few minutes alone.
"What in the name of Merlin," said Ron slowly, as they followed Neville at a safe distance, "was that about?"
Hermione shrugged - she had no idea.
Hermione, Ron, and Harry took their usual seats at the back of the class, pulling out parchment, quills, and their copies of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. The class around them buzzed with whispers about Neville's outburst, but everyone fell silent when Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang. Hermione, however, kept glancing at Neville, hoping he could keep a level head.
"You will notice," Snape said in his low, sneering voice, "that we have a guest with us today."
He motioned towards a dim corner of the dungeon. Hermione's eyes followed his gesture and saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. The chaos at the start of class had made her miss the unpleasant surprise.
"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 –" he waved his wand again "– on the board. Carry on."
Professor Umbridge spent the first half-hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. Harry was paying more attention to Professor Umbridge than his potion.
"Salamander blood, Harry!" Hermione moaned, grabbing his wrist to prevent him from adding the wrong ingredient for the third time. "Not pomegranate juice!"
"Right," said Harry vaguely, putting down the bottle and continuing to watch the corner. Umbridge had just gotten to her feet. "Ha," he said softly as she strode between two lines of desks towards Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas's cauldron. Hermione stole a glance over as well, curious despite herself.
"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," Umbridge said briskly to Snape's back. "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 straightened up slowly and turned to face her. His expression was unreadable.
"Now ... how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.
"Fourteen years," Snape replied, his tone icy.
"You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked.
"Yes," said Snape quietly, his face tightening.
"But you were unsuccessful?"
Snape's lip curled. "Obviously."
Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.
"And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"
"Yes," said Snape, his voice barely more than a whisper. His anger was palpable.
"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.
"I suggest you ask him," Snape said, his words clipped.
"Oh, I shall," Professor Umbridge said with a sweet, condescending smile.
"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowing.
"Oh yes," Professor Umbridge said, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' backgrounds."
She turned away and began questioning Pansy Parkinson about the lessons. Snape looked around at Harry, his eyes blazing with fury. He peered into Harry's cauldron and saw an orange mess.
"No marks again, then, Potter," Snape said maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "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," said Harry furiously.
Hermione felt relieved that Harry didn't blow up at Snape for once.
"Maybe I'll skive off Divination," he said glumly as they stood in the courtyard after lunch, the wind whipping at the hems of their robes and 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," said Hermione severely.
"Hark, who's talking, you walked out of Divination. You hate Trelawney!" said Ron indignantly.
"I don't hate her," said Hermione loftily. "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!" They all had to be on their best behaviour.
Neville was silent all through Ancient Runes. He managed a lacklustre smile at Hermione but shook his head when she started to ask how he was. As much as she wanted to press, she knew he needed his space.
"You and Umbridge have got something in common," Harry told Hermione quietly when they met again in Defence Against the Dark Arts. "She obviously reckons Trelawney's an old fraud, too ... looks like she's put her on probation."
Umbridge entered the room as he spoke, wearing her black velvet bow and an expression of great smugness.
"Good afternoon, class."
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted drearily.
"Wands away, please."
But there was no answering flurry of movement this time; nobody had bothered to take 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 –"
"– no need to talk," Hermione, Ron, and Harry said together, under their breaths.
"No Quidditch practice," said Angelina in hollow tones as Hermione, Ron, and Harry entered the common room after dinner. She looked utterly crestfallen as if someone had just told her that her puppy had died.
"But I kept my temper!" said Harry, horrified. "I didn't say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I –"
"I know, I know," said Angelina miserably. "She just said she needed a bit of time to consider."
"Consider what?" said Ron angrily. "She's given the Slytherins permission, why not us?"
"Well," said Hermione, trying to lighten the mood, "look on the bright side – at least now you'll have time to do Snape's essay!"
"That's a bright side, is it?" snapped Harry while Ron stared incredulously at Hermione. "No Quidditch practice and extra Potions?"
They settled into their favourite chairs in the common room to do their homework and wait for Sirius. Fred and George were demonstrating a new type of Skiving Snackbox, which they had finally perfected. They were taking turns showcasing it to a cheering and whooping crowd.
First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, resulting in a spectacular vomit in a bucket in front of him. Then, he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease. Lee Jordan, who assisted the demonstration, lazily vanished the vomit regularly. It was utterly despicable, disgusting, and demoralising. Still, they weren't technically breaking any rules. All Hermione could do was voice her concerns with sighs and sniffs.
"Just go and stop them, then!" Harry said irritably.
"I can't; they're not technically doing anything wrong," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "They're quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves, 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."
They watched George projectile-vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew, and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protracted applause.
"You know, I don't get why Fred and George only got three OWLs each," said Harry, observing as Fred, George, and Lee collected gold from the eager crowd. "They really know their stuff."
"Oh, they only know flashy stuff that's of no real use to anyone," said Hermione, but only because she was annoyed, not because she believed what she said.
"No real use?" said Ron in a strained voice. "Hermione, they've made about twenty-six Galleons already."
It was a long while before the crowd around the Weasley twins dispersed. Fred, Lee, and George sat up counting their takings even longer, so it was well past midnight when Hermione, Ron, and Harry finally had the common room to themselves. At long last, Fred had closed the doorway to the boys' dormitories behind him, rattling his box of Galleons ostentatiously, making Hermione scowl. Harry, who was making very little progress with his Potions essay, decided to give it up for the night. As he put his books away, Ron, dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt, awoke, and looked blearily into the fire.
"Sirius!" he said.
Hermione and Harry whipped round. Sirius's untidy, dark head was sitting in the fire again.
"Hi," he said, grinning.
"Hi," chorused Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all three kneeling down on the hearthrug. Crookshanks purred loudly and approached the fire, trying, despite the heat, to put his face close to Sirius's.
"How're things?" asked Sirius.
"Not that good," said Harry, as Hermione pulled Crookshanks back to stop him singeing his whiskers. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams—"
"Or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?" interrupted Sirius.
There was a short pause. Hermione's stomach dropped to the dungeons, and her whole body felt like it was on fire.
"How did you know about that?" Harry demanded.
"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," said Sirius, grinning even more broadly. "The Hog's Head, I ask you."
"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" said Hermione defensively. "That's always packed with people—"
"Which means you'd have been harder to overhear," said Sirius. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione."
Hermione felt as if she had been slapped in the face.
"Who overheard us?" Harry demanded.
"Mundungus, of course," said Sirius, and when they all looked puzzled, he laughed. "He was the witch under the veil."
"That was Mundungus?" Harry said, stunned. "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"
"What do you think he was doing?" said Sirius impatiently. "Keeping an eye on you, of course."
"I'm still being followed?" asked Harry angrily.
"Yeah, you are," said Sirius, "and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organise an illegal defence group."
But he looked neither angry nor worried. On the contrary, he was looking at Harry with distinct pride. Hermione felt sick to her stomach. This wasn't some game. This was their future.
"Why was Dung hiding from us?" asked Ron, sounding disappointed. "We'd've liked to've seen him."
"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago," said Sirius, "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."
"Oh yeah?" said Ron, sounding apprehensive.
"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure, and your future will be ruined. She says 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," Sirius's eyes turned to the other two, "advises Harry and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over either of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted, you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight."
"On duty doing what?" said Ron quickly.
"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order," said Sirius. "So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on because I don't think she trusts me to."
There was another pause in which Crookshanks, mewing, attempted to paw Sirius's head, and Ron fiddled with a hole in the hearthrug.
"So, you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the Defence group?" he muttered finally.
"Me? Certainly not!" said Sirius, looking surprised. "I think it's an excellent idea!"
"You do?" said Harry.
"Of course I do!" said Sirius. "D'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—"
"Last year, all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!" said Sirius 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!"
"And if we do get expelled?" Hermione asked.
"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" said Harry, staring at her.
"I know it was. I just wondered what Sirius thought," she said, shrugging.
"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue," said Sirius.
"Hear, hear," said Harry and Ron enthusiastically.
"So," said Sirius, "how are you organising this group? Where are you meeting?"
"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," said Harry. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go."
"How about the Shrieking Shack?" suggested Sirius.
"Hey, that's an idea!" said Ron excitedly, but Hermione made a sceptical noise, and all three of them looked at her, Sirius's head turning in the flames.
"Well, Sirius, it's just that there were only four of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school," said Hermione, "and all of you could transform into animals, and I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you'd wanted to. But there are twenty-eight 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," said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. "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 practise jinxes in there."
"Fred and George told me it's blocked," said Harry, shaking his head. "Caved in or something."
"Oh," said Sirius, frowning. "Well, I'll have a think and get back to—"
He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, looking into the solid brick fireplace wall.
"Sirius?" said Harry anxiously.
But he had vanished. Harry gaped at the flames momentarily, then turned to look at Hermione and Ron.
"Why did he—?"
Hermione gasped and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand covered in ugly old-fashioned rings.
The three of them ran for it. At the door of the girls' dormitory, Hermione looked back. Umbridge's hand was still snatching amongst the flames as though she knew precisely where Sirius's head had been moments before and was determined to seize it.
When Hermione was safely upstairs, it took her a long time to catch her breath and slow her heart. She couldn't believe how close that was. The stakes were much higher than they had let themselves believe. Also, knowing that Sirius, one of the most irresponsible adults they knew, thought it was a good idea wasn't sitting well with Hermione. Even visiting the fireplace was a considerable risk, but Sirius initially found it funny. She had a lot to think about. She sighed and pulled out her needles and yarn. It was going to be a long night.