"Umbridge has been reading your mail, Harry. There's no other explanation."
"You think Umbridge attacked Hedwig?" he said, outraged.
"I'm almost certain of it," said Hermione grimly. "Watch your frog, it's escaping."
Harry pointed his wand at the bullfrog that had been hopping hopefully towards the other side of the table – "Accio!" – and it zoomed gloomily back into his hand.
Charms was always one of the best lessons in which to enjoy a private chat; there was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows, Hermione, Ron, and Harry's whispered discussion about how Umbridge had nearly caught Sirius went relatively unnoticed.
"I've been suspecting this ever since Filch accused you of ordering Dungbombs because it seemed such a stupid lie," Hermione whispered. "I mean, once your letter had been read, it would have been quite clear you weren't ordering them, so you wouldn't have been in trouble at all – it's a bit of a feeble joke, isn't it? But then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? Well then, it would be a perfect way for Umbridge to manage it – tip off Filch, let him do the dirty work and confiscate the letter, then either find a way of stealing it from him or else demand to see it – I don't think Filch would object, when's he ever stuck up for a student's rights? Harry, you're squashing your frog."
Harry looked down; he had been squeezing his bullfrog so tightly its eyes were popping; he replaced it hastily upon the desk.
"It was a very, very close call last night," said Hermione. "I just wonder if Umbridge knows how close it was. Silencio."
The bullfrog on which she practised her Silencing Charm was struck dumb mid-croak and glared at her reproachfully.
"If she'd caught Snuffles –"
"– He'd probably be back in Azkaban this morning," Harry finished the sentence for her. However, any other thoughts he may have had were interrupted by Harry's bullfrog, which had swollen like a green balloon and was emitting a high-pitched whistle.
"Silencio!" said Hermione hastily, pointing her wand at Harry's frog, which deflated silently before them. "Well, he mustn't do it again, that's all. I just don't know how we're going to let him know. We can't send him an owl."
"I don't reckon he'll risk it again," said Ron. "He's not stupid. He knows she nearly got him. Silencio." The large, ugly raven in front of him released a derisive caw. "Silencio. SILENCIO!" The raven cawed more loudly.
"It's the way you're moving your wand," said Hermione, watching Ron critically. "You don't want to wave it; it's more of a sharp jab."
"Ravens are harder than frogs," said Ron testily, which was totally untrue.
"Fine, let's swap," said Hermione, seizing Ron's raven and replacing it with her own fat bullfrog. "Silencio!" The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out.
"Very good, Miss Granger!" said Professor Flitwick's squeaky little voice, making Hermione, Ron, and Harry all jump. "Now, let me see you try, Mr Weasley."
"Wha—? Oh – oh, right," said Ron, very flustered. "Er – silencio!"
He jabbed at the bullfrog so hard he poked it in the eye: the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk.
It was no surprise to any of them that Harry and Ron were given additional practice of the Silencing Charm for homework.
They were allowed to remain inside over break due to the downpour outside. They found seats in a noisy and overcrowded classroom on the first floor where Peeves was floating dreamily up near the chandelier, occasionally blowing an ink pellet at the top of somebody's head. They had barely sat down when Angelina came struggling towards them through the groups of gossiping students.
"I've got permission!" she said. "To re-form the Quidditch team!"
"Excellent!" said Ron and Harry together.
"Yeah," said Angelina, beaming. "I went to McGonagall, and I think she might have appealed to Dumbledore. Anyway, Umbridge had to give in. Ha! So I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, all right, because we've got to make up time. You realise we're only three weeks away from our first match?"
She squeezed away from them, narrowly dodged an ink pellet from Peeves, which hit a nearby first-year instead, and vanished from sight. At Angelina's mention of Umbridge, Hermione was reminded about the ramifications of their group and Sirius' support of it.
Ron's smile slipped slightly as he looked out the window, now opaque with hammering rain. "Hope this clears up. What's up with you, Hermione?"
She, too, was gazing at the window, but not as though she really saw it. Her eyes were unfocused, and she had a frown on her face.
"Just thinking…" she said, still frowning at the rain-washed window.
"About Siri— Snuffles?" said Harry.
"No ... not exactly …" said Hermione slowly. "More ... wondering ... I suppose we're doing the right thing ... I think ... aren't we?"
Harry and Ron looked at each other.
"Well, that clears that up," said Ron. "It would've been really annoying if you hadn't explained yourself properly."
Hermione looked at him with a hint of annoyance. It was no time for sarcasm.
"I was just wondering," she said, her voice stronger now, "whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group."
"What?" said Harry and Ron together.
"Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!" said Ron indignantly.
"I know," said Hermione, twisting her fingers together. "But after talking to Snuffles…"
"But he's all for it," said Harry.
"Yes," said Hermione, staring at the window again. "Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all…"
Peeves floated over them on his stomach, peashooter at the ready; automatically, all three of them lifted their bags to cover their heads until he had passed.
"Let's get this straight," said Harry angrily as they put their bags back on the floor, "Sirius agrees with us, so you don't think we should do it anymore?"
Hermione looked tense and rather miserable. She knew she had to say it, but it didn't make it any easier. Now staring at her hands, she asked, "Do you honestly trust his judgement?"
"Yes, I do!" said Harry at once. "He's always given us great advice!"
An ink pellet whizzed past them, striking Katie Bell squarely in the ear. Hermione watched Katie leap to her feet and start throwing things at Peeves; it was a few moments before Hermione spoke again. She chose her words very carefully.
"You don't think he has become ... sort of ... reckless ... since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's ... kind of ... living through us?"
"What d'you mean, 'living through us?'" Harry retorted.
"I mean ... well, I think he'd love to be forming secret Defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry ... I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is ... so I think he's keen to kind of ... egg us on."
Ron looked utterly perplexed.
"Sirius is right," he said. "You do sound just like my mother."
Hermione bit her lip and did not answer. The bell rang just as Peeves swooped down on Katie and emptied an entire ink bottle over her head. She'd rather sound like Mrs Weasley than be as reckless as Sirius.
With Ron and Harry off at Quidditch practice, Hermione seized the chance to visit the Prefects' bathroom. She needed to sort out her concerns about the defence club and decide how to proceed. Bringing her yarn and needles, she aimed to make her bath both reflective and productive.
After selecting a cherry almond bubble bath scent and filling the tub, Hermione disrobed and stepped into the silky waters. The rich bubbles surrounded her like a warm hug. She found a ledge at the perfect depth, where her shoulders were covered, keeping the temperature just right while her hair stayed dry. She was also perfectly positioned to control her knitting needles without soaking her wand.
She allowed herself a few moments to enjoy the bath before attending her internal discussion. Sirius Black, of all people, encouraging the idea of their defence club? His recklessness could be their undoing. The way he seemed to consider Harry as a replacement for James was concerning, not to mention that he had been locked up in one way or another for almost fifteen years and was probably more than willing to take a risk just to feel alive again. But then again, he's experienced. He knows the dangers they're up against. Maybe, just maybe, his enthusiasm is a sign that they need this more than Hermione initially thought.
But what if it goes wrong? What if it draws too much attention? What if someone tells and Hermione's failsafe doesn't work? If Umbridge finds out, the consequences could be severe. The risk is enormous, and they can't afford to let their emotions cloud their judgment. They need a plan, a structured way to resist… and Hermione was the most structured person there was. She knew she was the best person to organise the group, but that also meant she was responsible for not only her fate but the fate of anyone who joined.
Hermione wouldn't be able to live with herself if she didn't fight back somehow. Was freeing the House Elves enough of a resistance for her moral compass? Hermione wasn't so sure. Of course, it was a worthwhile cause in its own right and needed to be continued, but the stakes were higher.
"Oh, look who it is," came a high-pitched, whiny voice from the other side of the bathroom. Hermione snapped her head around to see Moaning Myrtle, one of the castle's many ghosts, floating in. She had befriended Myrtle in her first year when she didn't have any friends but had since tried to ignore her. It wasn't that she didn't like Myrtle; it was just that Myrtle didn't like anyone or anything and wasn't afraid to make that known. Everything (and she meant everything) was a personal slight.
"Hello, Myrtle," Hermione said. "Alright?"
"Oh, still dead, if that's what you're asking. And lonely," Myrtle sighed. "I haven't seen you in forever."
"Sorry about that, Myrtle," Hermione said. "Fifth year is the OWL year, and I've been—"
"Too busy for me. I get it," Myrtle said. "Story of my life. No one has time for poor Myrtle."
"I'd love to schedule a time to catch up," Hermione said, trying to salvage the conversation and avoid Myrtle's tantrums.
"I'm not sure I believe you."
"I'm telling the truth, Myrtle."
"Prove it. When would we be able to meet with all of your clubs you have going on?"
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. "My what?"
"Your clubs," Myrtle said. "Arithmancy. House elves. Defence Against the Dark Arts. Those ones."
"How do you know about that?"
"I've heard all about your hats and socks you've been leaving for the house-elf called Dobby to clean up."
"No, no. Not that one," Hermione said. "The other one."
"Arithmancy?"
"Myrtle…"
"Right, right," Myrtle said. "So sorry for trying to be funny. No one gets my humour." Myrtle floated over to Hermione, her translucent body displacing some of the bubbles in the most peculiar way. "Yes, I know about the defence club."
"How?"
"I'm a ghost, stupid! I can sneak into any room in this castle! I just prefer the bathroom."
"Do any of the other ghosts know?" Hermione's mind immediately went to Peeves the Poltergeist. If he knew, the rest of the school would soon follow.
"I don't think so," Myrtle said, trying to pop a bubble with her finger. "You'd probably hear about it, especially if Peeves knew."
"You're right," Hermione said, letting herself exhale in relief. "And listen, Myrtle - I'm sorry I've not been around much. I really am. Is there a way I can make it up to you?"
Myrtle floated around for a moment with a pensive look on her face. "How can I tell if you're telling the truth?"
Hermione sighed. "I guess you'll just have to trust me."
"Well, you are a prefect this year."
"I am!"
"Maybe I can float with you on some of your prefect rounds?"
"Absolutely!" Hermione said. "I would welcome the company!"
"And can I come to Arithmancy club every now and then?"
"We would love to have you," Hermione was stretching the truth with that statement, but it was worth the white lie.
"And can I visit the defence club?"
"If we decide to have it, absolutely."
"Why wouldn't you have it?"
Hermione paused to consider how much to tell Myrtle. As annoying as the moaning ghost was, she never once betrayed Hermione's confidence by spilling any stories or gossip. "Ok, well, if you are going to be a part of it hypothetically, you have to agree not to discuss it with anyone outside the group."
"Do you think I'm stupid?" moaned Myrtle. "Of course not."
"Right, but I have to be careful, don't I?" Hermione said more as a statement than a question. "Gotta cover all of my bases and be more careful."
Myrtle only responded by staring at Hermione with an annoyed, expectant look and her arms crossed defiantly.
"That's why I came here to take a bath, actually," Hermione continued. "To think. Is a defence club too much of a risk? Am I being unreasonable in what we can accomplish with it? Is it really as bad as it seems?"
"Yes, yes, and most importantly, yes," Myrtle answered decisively. "The first two questions are trumped by the third because it's even worse than it seems. You must, regardless of the risk, because, if not, you won't accomplish anything if you're dead. I should know."
Myrtle's frank explanation was better than anything Hermione's mind could have come up with, even if it was accompanied by a coldness not being washed away by the bath.
Hermione stayed up as long as she could, waiting for the boys to return from Quidditch. After Myrtle had left, the relaxing bath made her so drowsy that she could barely keep her eyes open. She went to her room, still in her robe, and fell asleep almost immediately.
The following day, Ron met her for breakfast. He mentioned Harry was having a lie-in, as he had been up even later than Ron. "But while he's not here, I need to tell you something," Ron said.
"What?"
"Harry's scar has been hurting him. A lot." Ron described how Harry had nearly collapsed in pain during Quidditch practice the previous day, clutching his forehead. "And he said, 'He's angry,' when I asked why. Can Harry read You-Know-Who's mind or something?"
Hermione's face grew tight with concern. "He needs to tell—"
"Dumbledore, yeah. I told him, but of course, he said no."
"We need to keep pushing him, then," Hermione said, determined.
"He'll hex our heads off!" Ron said, half-joking, half-worried.
"All the more reason to do the defence club, then."
"Oh, so you've decided Sirius' opinion doesn't matter anymore?"
Hermione crossed her arms. "I've decided it's a good idea. Sirius' opinion has no bearing on anything."
Ron rolled his eyes but wisely kept his mouth shut.
Harry finally made it down, cutting their conversation short. "Morning," Hermione greeted him just as an owl delivered her copy of the Daily Prophet.
Harry sat down, leaning in close. "Dobby stopped by last night and told me about a place we can have the defence classes," he whispered. "He called it the 'Come and Go Room' or 'The Room of Requirement.' It's perfect because it only appears when you really need it. You can't find it unless you know about it and what's in it. Let's see if we can get people to come tonight at eight!"
Hermione was about to ask follow-up questions about Harry's hasty plan when the bell rang for their first class. They didn't get another chance to talk until lunchtime. Angelina approached them, letting Harry and Ron know that Quidditch practice had been cancelled due to the weather (Care of Magical Creatures had been relocated from the storm-swept grounds to a free classroom on the ground floor).
"Good," said Harry quietly when Angelina informed him about practice, "because we've found somewhere to have our first Defence meeting. Tonight, eight o'clock, seventh floor opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by those trolls. Can you tell Katie and Alicia?"
Angelina, looking slightly taken aback, promised to tell the others. Hermione watched Harry return to his sausage and mash.
"What?" he said thickly.
"Well ... it's just that Dobby's plans aren't always that safe. Don't you remember when he lost you all the bones in your arm?"
"This room isn't just some mad idea of Dobby's; Dumbledore knows about it too. He mentioned it to me at the Yule Ball."
Hermione's expression cleared. "Dumbledore told you about it?"
"Just in passing," said Harry, shrugging.
"Oh, well, that's all right then," said Hermione, satisfied.
Together with Ron, they spent most of the day seeking out those who had signed their names to the list in the Hog's Head, telling them where to meet that evening. By the end of dinner, Harry was confident that the news had reached all twenty-five people who had shown up at the Hog's Head.
At half-past seven, Hermione, Harry, and Ron left the Gryffindor common room, with Harry clutching the Marauder's Map. Fifth-years were allowed out in the corridors until nine o'clock, but all three kept looking around nervously as they made their way along the seventh floor.
"Hold it," Harry warned, unfolding the piece of parchment at the top of the last staircase, tapping it with his wand and muttering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
A map of Hogwarts appeared on the parchment's blank surface. Tiny black moving dots, labelled with names, showed the locations of various people.
"Filch is on the second floor," said Harry, holding the map close to his eyes, "and Mrs Norris is on the fourth."
"And Umbridge?" asked Hermione anxiously.
"In her office," said Harry, pointing. "OK, let's go."
They hurried along the corridor to the place Dobby had described to Harry, a stretch of blank wall opposite an enormous tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy's foolish attempt to train trolls for ballet.
"OK," said Harry quietly, while a moth-eaten troll paused in his relentless clubbing of the would-be ballet teacher to watch them. "Dobby said to walk past this bit of wall three times, concentrating hard on what we need."
They did so, turning sharply at the window just beyond the blank stretch of wall, then at the human-sized vase on its other side. Hermione started muttering under her breath, "We need a safe place to practice Defence Against the Dark Arts… We need a safe place to practice Defence Against the Dark Arts… We need a safe place to practice Defence Against the Dark Arts…"
After the third time, Hermione opened her eyes and stared at the wall. A highly polished door had appeared.
"Harry!" said Hermione sharply. He opened his eyes to look.
Ron was already staring at it, looking slightly wary. Harry reached out, seized the brass handle, pulled open the door, and led the way into a spacious room lit with flickering torches like those illuminating the dungeons eight floors below.
The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs, there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried various instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a large, cracked Foe-Glass that had hung in the fake Moody's office.
"These will be good when we're practising Stunning," said Ron enthusiastically, prodding one of the cushions with his foot.
"And just look at these books!' said Hermione excitedly, running a finger along the spines of the large leather-bound tomes. "A Compendium of Common Curses and their Counter-Actions ... The Dark Arts Outsmarted ... Self-Defensive Spellwork ... wow ..." She looked around at Harry, her face glowing. "Harry, this is wonderful. There's everything we need here!" And without further ado, she slid Jinxes for the Jinxed from its shelf, sank onto the nearest cushion, and began to read.
There was a gentle knock on the door. Hermione glanced up. Ginny, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean had arrived.
"Whoa," said Dean, his eyes wide as he took in the room. "What is this place?"
Harry started to explain, but before he could finish, more people arrived, and he had to start all over again. Hermione, using the opportunity to read a bit more from Jinxes for the Jinxed, soon had to set the book aside as the room filled up. By eight o'clock, every cushion was occupied. Harry moved to the door and turned the key protruding from the lock. It clicked loudly, and everyone fell silent, eyes fixed on him. Hermione, marking her page carefully, felt a rush of excitement more than nervousness for the first time.
"Well," said Harry, looking around at the attentive faces. "This is the place we've found for practice sessions, and you've – er – obviously found it okay."
"It's fantastic!" Cho exclaimed, and several others murmured their agreement.
"It's bizarre," said Fred, frowning. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then."
"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" Dean called from the back, pointing to the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.
"Dark detectors," Harry explained, weaving through the cushions to get to them. "They show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you can't rely on them too much; they can be fooled."
Harry paused, staring at the Foe-Glass. Hermione, growing impatient, decided it was time to implement some structure.
"Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and – er –" Harry began.
She raised her hand. "What, Hermione?"
"I think we ought to elect a leader," she suggested.
"Harry's leader," Cho said immediately, looking at Hermione as if she were mad.
"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," Hermione insisted. "It makes it formal and gives him authority. So – everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"
Every hand went up, even Zacharias Smith's, though he did it reluctantly.
"Er – right, thanks," said Harry. Hermione raised her hand again. "And – what, Hermione?"
"I also think we ought to have a name," she said brightly, keeping her hand in the air. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"
"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" Angelina suggested hopefully.
"Or the Ministry of Magic are Morons Group?" Fred added.
"I was thinking," Hermione said, frowning at Fred, "more of a name that didn't give away what we were doing, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."
"The Defence Association?" Cho suggested. "The DA for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"
"Yeah, the DA's good," Ginny said, "but let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"
There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this.
"All in favour of the DA?" Hermione asked, kneeling up on her cushion to count. She knew someone needed to keep order. "That's a majority – motion passed!"
She pinned the parchment with all their signatures to the wall and wrote across the top in large letters:
DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY
"Right," said Harry when she had sat down again. "Shall we get practising then? I was thinking the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic, but I've found it really useful –"
"Oh, please," Zacharias Smith scoffed, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"
"I've used it against him," Harry said quietly. "It saved my life in June."
Smith opened his mouth, dumbstruck. The rest of the room fell silent.
"But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave," Harry said.
Smith did not move. Nor did anyone else. Hermione felt a swell of pride. Harry had just won them all over with that single statement.
"Okay," said Harry. "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practise."
Everyone stood up at once and began to pair off. Predictably, Neville was left without a partner.
"You can practise with me," Harry told him. "Right – on the count of three, then – one, two, three –"
The room suddenly filled with shouts of "Expelliarmus!" as wands flew in all directions. Missed spells hit books on shelves, sending them flying through the air. Hermione had paired up with Ron and effortlessly disarmed him on the first try. Unsurprisingly, Harry was too quick for Neville, whose wand spun out of his hand, hit the ceiling in a shower of sparks, and landed with a clatter on top of a bookshelf. Harry retrieved the wand, unaware Neville was ready to strike again.
"Expelliarmus!" Neville shouted, and Harry's wand flew out of his hand.
"I DID IT!" Neville exclaimed gleefully. "I've never done it before – I DID IT!"
Hermione smiled, knowing that even though Harry had been caught off guard, saying he disarmed Harry Potter would be a huge morale boost for Neville. While she watched Neville bask in his newfound confidence, Ron took advantage of her distraction and disarmed Hermione.
"Ronald!" she cried, fetching her wand from across the room. "You know quite well I wasn't paying attention!"
"You-Know-Who won't wait until you're looking either," Ron said with his goofy grin that always softened her anger. She rolled her eyes and walked back over to him. Harry pointed at her.
"Listen, Neville, can you take turns practising with Ron and Hermione for a couple of minutes so I can walk around and see how the rest are doing?"
Neville walked over, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "Did you see? I disarmed Harry Potter!"
"Congratulations, Neville!" Hermione said, clapping him on the back. "Cheers!"
"Yeah, cheers, mate!" Ron said, waving his wand. "I just disarmed Hermione too!"
Hermione glared at Ron but chose to ignore him. Instead, she whispered to Neville, "I'll distract Ron and, on the count of three, disarm him, okay?"
Neville nodded, still grinning.
Hermione started walking over to Ron, keeping his eyes on her. "I forgot to ask you, Ron. Did you-"
"Expelliarmus!" Neville shouted.
Ron's wand flew up and hit him in the chin. Hermione doubled over, laughing, while Neville jumped up and down in excitement.
They took turns disarming each other, and when it was Ron and Neville's turn, Hermione studied the rest of the room. Ginny was paired with Michael Corner; she was doing very well, whereas Michael was either very bad or unwilling to jinx her. Ernie Macmillan was flourishing his wand unnecessarily, giving his partner time to get in under his guard. The Creevey brothers were enthusiastic but erratic, responsible for most of the books leaping off the shelves around them. Luna Lovegood was similarly patchy, occasionally sending Justin Finch-Fletchley's wand spinning out of his hand, at other times merely causing his hair to stand on end.
Soon, it was Hermione's turn again, and she turned her attention back to Ron. She had just disarmed him for the seventh time when a shrill whistle interrupted the room.
"That wasn't bad," said Harry, "but there's definite room for improvement." Zacharias Smith glared at him. "Let's try again."
Harry moved around the room, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance improved. Hermione's heart swelled with pride. This was going to work… and it was going to work well.
They continued practising their disarming spells until Hermione froze, realising the time. She hurriedly looked at her watch. It was already ten past nine. They needed to return to their common rooms immediately or risk being caught and punished by Filch for being out of bounds.
"Hey, Harry," Hermione called to him from the other end of the room, "have you checked the time?"
Harry glanced down at his watch and blew his whistle. Everyone stopped shouting "Expelliarmus," and the last couple of wands clattered to the floor.
"Well, that was pretty good," said Harry, taking charge yet again, "but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"
" sooner!" Dean Thomas said eagerly, and many people nodded in agreement.
Angelina, however, quickly interjected, "The Quidditch season's about to start. We need team practices, too!"
"Let's say next Wednesday night, then," Harry suggested. "We can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, we'd better get going."
Harry pulled out the Marauder's Map again and checked it carefully for signs of teachers on the seventh floor. He and Hermione let everyone leave in threes and fours, watching their tiny dots on the map anxiously to ensure they returned safely to their dormitories: the Hufflepuffs to the basement corridor that also led to the kitchens, the Ravenclaws to a tower on the west side of the castle, and the Gryffindors along the corridor to the Fat Lady's portrait.
"That was really, really good, Harry," said Hermione, when finally it was just her, Harry, and Ron left.
"Yeah, it was!" said Ron enthusiastically as they slipped out the door and watched it melt back into stone behind them. "Did you see me disarm Hermione, Harry?"
"Only once," said Hermione. "I got you loads more than you got me—"
"I did not only get you once, I got you at least three times—"
"Well, if you're counting the one where you tripped over your own feet and knocked the wand out of my hand—"
They argued all the way back to the common room, only stopping when they parted to go to their respective dormitories. But Hermione couldn't help but smile. They were Dumbledore's Army, and they would defend themselves.