Chapter Nineteen: Table for Two
"Dolores…Dolores!"
Professor Umbridge stood up from her desk in her office at Hogwarts and rushed to the fireplace as quickly as her stubby little legs could take her. Sitting in the middle of the flames was the head of Cornelius Fudge, who, judging by his expression, was not in a particularly good mood.
"Yes, Minister, what can I do for you?"
"I need you back at the Ministry tonight, and possibly even tomorrow," said Fudge. "Amelia Bones has opened a formal investigation into the death of Cedric Diggory, and I need all hands on deck."
"I don't understand," replied Umbridge. "Wouldn't Potter standing trial for murder remove what little credibility he and Dumbledore have left?"
"Be serious, Dolores," the Minister huffed. "Potter's either been hoodwinked by Dumbledore or he's just plain delusional, but I seriously doubt the boy's a bloody murderer. What's he been like in class? Is he still telling stories about You-Know-Who?"
"I find him to be a poor student, but he's held his tongue — at least during my lessons," she admitted begrudgingly. "I did have him in detention last week for missing class without permission."
"Nothing useful there…" Fudge muttered to himself.
"I still don't understand why you're so concerned about the investigation," Umbridge reiterated.
"Because it's a distraction we don't need!" bristled Fudge. "Lucius insists, and I quite agree, that the Ministry will come off looking bad regardless of what happened, or did you forget who was responsible for resurrecting the Triwizard Tournament!"
"I…I see."
"That's why I had the investigation closed after declaring it a tragic accident in the first place," the Minister continued. "Ever since the Prophet published Amos's letter, people have been asking questions. If this investigation goes on, our opponents will somehow find a way to twist the story and make it sound like it was my fault. We have an aggressive legislative agenda, and we do not need the additional scrutiny!"
"Why don't you just order Amelia to drop the investigation?"
"Don't you think I've tried? She's been reminding me all week that decisions regarding criminal investigations fall outside the Minister's purview," he complained. "Even so, I think I almost had her convinced, but this afternoon she sent me a memo telling me she's received new evidence, and that the investigation will go forward."
"Evidence? What new evidence?"
"I don't know yet. Do you have any idea which incompetent buffoon wrote that anonymous letter to Amos?"
Umbridge stiffened. "No, Minister, I do not," she lied.
"Well find out, damn it!" he demanded. "And when you do, I want them fired!"
"Yes, Minister. Allow me a few minutes to tidy up, and I'll be in your office shortly," she responded, and with a stiff nod, Fudge's head disappeared from the flames.
Umbridge stood up and began wringing her hands together. It seemed as though she was in for a busy evening.
oOoOoOo
"I don't know why you're so nervous, mate. She obviously fancies you."
Ron was sitting next to Neville on the edge of the bed, watching Harry as he checked himself in the mirror one last time.
"It's not that," Harry replied over his shoulder.
"Then what's the problem?" asked Ron.
Harry sighed, deciding the image in the mirror was as good as it was going to get. He had decided to wear one of the new outfits he picked out during their trip to Hogsmeade the previous Saturday. While he was satisfied with his clothing choice, he had decisively lost the battle with his hair, which refused to lay flat no matter what he tried.
"I just can't help but wonder if this is really the right time for this," he admitted.
In the moment, inviting Astoria to dinner felt like a natural, normal thing to do. She had certainly accepted readily enough. During the intervening hours, however, Harry had begun to question whether it was the right thing to do.
Neville looked confused. "What do you mean by that?" the boy questioned.
"Well, being near the top of Voldemort's hit list is bad enough," explained Harry. "Add to that, at least one of our teachers wants to see me in Azkaban, the papers are still having a go at me every day, and half the bloody country probably thinks I murdered Cedric."
Harry plopped down on the bed next to Ron.
"I don't think she understands how hard being close to me could be for her, or even her family," he added soberly. "Asking her out seemed like a good idea at the time, but now I'm wondering if I can really put her through all that."
"I don't know, Harry," said Neville. "I don't know her that well, but I'm pretty sure she's smart enough to understand all that. Maybe she just doesn't care."
"Yeah? Well, maybe she should," countered Harry.
"Listen, Harry — you need to lighten up," Ron gently chided him. "It's just dinner. I'm sure You-Know-Who has better things to worry about than teenagers going out on dates."
Harry snorted and shook his head. Maybe Ron was right; perhaps he was worrying unnecessarily. Besides, it wasn't as if things would just go back to the way they were if he backed out — it was already far too late for that.
"Thanks guys, I should probably be off," said Harry, standing up from the bed.
"Good luck," said Neville.
"You'd better tell us everything when you get back," added Ron.
"We'll see," he replied, and with a grin, Harry turned and marched towards the door.
"And make sure you kiss her this time!" Ron called after him, earning himself a two-fingered salute.
Preferring not to answer questions about where he was going all dressed up, he threw on his Invisibility Cloak before making his way out of the common room. His trip up to the seventh floor was uneventful, giving him just enough time to set up the room before Astoria arrived.
Pacing across the empty stretch wall, Harry tried to think of a place where two people could have a nice, quiet dinner. As soon as the door materialised, he stepped into the Room of Requirement to see it had transformed into an intimate dining room, which wouldn't have looked out of place in someone's fancy manor or an upscale restaurant. The walls were panelled from floor to ceiling with dark wood, which, when combined with the large fireplace, gave the place a warm, comfortable feel. Instead of a formal dining room table, however, there was a smaller, two-person table set directly in front of the fire, resting atop a burgundy and gold decorative rug.
Harry nodded satisfactorily at the Room's configuration, just as a soft knock came from the door. Before he even had a chance to answer, the door swung open and Astoria stepped inside. She was still wearing her school robes, but even so, Harry thought she somehow looked even prettier than usual.
"Wow, the Room looks amazing," were the first words out of her mouth. "Did you think of this yourself?"
"Not really," he responded honestly. "I just asked for a place where we could have a quiet dinner and let the Room do its magic."
"Well, I like it. You look nice too, by the way," she remarked. "You got that during our first trip to Hogsmeade, right?"
"I thought it would be appropriate," replied Harry, although he was beginning to feel overdressed.
"I suppose great minds think alike," she grinned, removing her Hogwarts robes to reveal one of the dresses she had modelled for him in Gladrags. She turned around briefly and hung her robe on a nearby coat stand, which had just materialised out of thin air.
"It looks just as good on you now as it did last week," he told her, though that felt like an understatement.
"I'm certainly glad you think so," Astoria replied teasingly, before allowing him to escort her to the table. "What a gentleman," she remarked, when he even pulled her chair out for her.
"Go easy on me, okay? I've never done this before," he asked light-heartedly.
"That's okay, neither have I," she replied, shooting him a nervous smile.
Harry sat down across from her, and they spent the next few moments just looking at one another in silence. Hoping to break the tension, Harry took a nervous sip from his water goblet and sat up a bit taller in his chair.
"So…" he started, but no words would come to him.
"Oh, this is silly," declared Astoria. "Why is this awkward? We talk to each other all the time!"
"I know!" laughed Harry, some of the awkwardness already evaporating. "Maybe it'll help if we go ahead and eat first."
"Sounds good to me," she agreed. "What's on the menu?"
"Let's find out," he responded jovially. "Dobby!"
The effervescent house-elf popped into the room carrying a large tray, like a waiter in a restaurant. Harry noticed that Dobby had also marked the occasion by wearing the new socks he and Astoria had bought for him — a different one on each foot, obviously. The elf snapped his fingers, and their plates floated from the tray onto the table.
"Is this Coq Au Vin?" Astoria asked Harry with a look of surprise. "How did you know it was my favourite?"
"I asked Dobby to get in touch with Flopsy. I figured that was better than leaving it up to chance."
"That's very sweet — thank you," she said, sounding genuinely touched. "And thank you, Dobby."
"Harry Potter's Miss Tori is most welcome," the elf replied with a bow. "Please make sure to call Dobby again when you are ready for afters," he added, before popping away.
Astoria took a bite and closed her eyes. "This is so good," she said while taking another forkful. "I can't believe it; Dobby makes it the exact same way as Flopsy!"
"She probably taught him how. I only asked him for help a couple hours ago, but I've learned not to doubt house-elves, especially Dobby," said Harry fondly. "I've never had this before, but it's quite nice."
"You mean you asked Dobby to make something you weren't even sure you liked?"
"I'm good with pretty much anything," he shrugged. "I wasn't given many choices growing up, so I learned to eat whatever was put in front of me. This is really good, though."
Astoria set down her fork and looked at Harry, who hadn't noticed the look she was giving him.
"The people you live with are really awful to you, aren't they?" she said at last.
Harry froze for a moment, and then took a moment to swallow his bite before wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin. It wasn't the first time they'd touched on the subject, but he was usually able to avoid diving in too deeply.
"Pretty much," he replied simply. "Lately, they mostly ignore me, which suits me just fine. It was worse when I was younger, before I went to Hogwarts."
"Is there nowhere else you can go?"
"I'll not be going back there," Harry said firmly. "I was sent to my relatives because Dumbledore thought I would be safe there, but he was wrong. It's a bit of a sore spot between me and him at the moment, but I'm working to get past it."
"Well, I'm glad you don't have to go back there, at least," she responded. "I promise I won't keep asking you about what it was like there, but I'm here if you ever want to talk about it."
"Thanks," he replied simply and resumed eating, subtly hinting that a change of topic was in order.
"It seems like you spend a lot of time with Professor Dumbledore," Astoria said eventually. "I don't think I know anyone else who's even spoken with him."
Harry laughed for a moment. "Sorry," he said, "it's just that a couple days ago I was wondering if any student in history has been to the headmaster's office as often as I have."
"How many times have you been?"
"No idea," he replied honestly. "I'll be there a lot this year, though, because he's giving me private lessons."
Astoria nearly choked on her food and had to take a drink of water to wash everything down.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked concernedly, but she nodded and held up one finger while working to compose herself.
"I'm sorry, I just wasn't expecting that," she said after a moment. "Private lessons with Professor Dumbledore, though…that's incredible. What is he teaching you?"
"Well, we've only met a few times, so far. First, he taught me how to feel the magic around me, which has already come in handy," he explained. "The first few days were pretty rough, though. There's so much magic around Hogwarts that I had a constant headache until I learned how to turn it off."
"That's an incredibly rare skill, Harry," replied Astoria, sounding impressed.
"Is it?" Harry asked in surprise. "Dumbledore made it sound like it was no big deal, just something that isn't taught at Hogwarts."
"For wizards like you and him, it probably isn't," she conceded, giving Harry pause for a moment. "Has he taught you anything else?"
"We spent one evening reviewing memories that showed Voldemort's history," he told her casually. "He was a really creepy kid. And last time, we went down to the Chamber of Secrets looking for something we need to get rid of him permanently, but we came up empty." Astoria looked at him as if he'd grown a second head, but Harry didn't notice. "While we were there, though, Dumbledore did teach me some stuff about advanced transfiguration and using conjuration to block spells," he continued to explain. "That was pretty wicked — it gives me a whole new avenue to explore in my own training."
Harry looked up and noticed Astoria's stricken expression.
"Astoria?"
"You really are going to fight him, aren't you?" she said quietly.
"It's not like I want to," he replied, "but he wants me dead, so one way or another, it'll end up being either me or him. I'd very much prefer it to be him."
"I'd prefer you didn't fight him at all," countered Astoria.
"I know," sighed Harry, having not planned for Voldemort to be a topic of conversation that evening.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to try to talk you out of it," she promised. "I know you're going to do whatever you think is right. That won't stop me from worrying about you, though."
Harry nodded and took another sip of water, the guilty feelings he'd been working to suppress rearing their collective heads once again.
"Listen, Astoria…" he began in a strained voice.
"Harry," she interrupted, her expression growing serious. "If this is going to be more overprotective nonsense, then you can just stop right there."
Harry's mouth clamped shut.
"I decided to support you a long time ago," she continued, reaching across the table to take his hand, "so you're definitely not getting rid of me, whether we become a couple or not."
He looked into her eyes and saw the truth of her words staring back at him. It was just as Daphne told him, that day in the cabin: once Astoria had dedicated herself to something, she was far too stubborn to abandon it, even if it was for her own good. Realising there was no point in fighting a battle he couldn't win, even if he wanted to, Harry made his decision.
"So," he began, gently squeezing her hand, "are we going to become a couple?"
"I would like to," she sighed, the pink of her cheeks visible even in the low light of the Room. "I'm sorry if I'm being too bold, it's just that I really like you, Harry, and I'm not one for wasting time. Life's far too short for that."
"That sounds brilliant," replied Harry, unable to keep the smile from his face. "I…I really like you, too. I think I have from the beginning; it just took me a while to realise it."
"Really?" she replied, her expression becoming more hopeful. "Does that mean we're…"
Understanding her meaning, Harry began to nod. "Yeah, I think so — that is, if you want to," he replied.
"Of course I do, silly," answered Astoria, smiling broadly as she dragged him up out of his chair to embrace him.
Astoria had hugged him before, but this one lingered quite a bit longer than the others. Harry heard her sigh as he gently squeezed her, and then eventually, she relaxed her grip and allowed some space between them.
"Noreen and Felicity are going to flip when they find out," she said happily.
"I'm sure," he grinned in return. "Oddly enough, out of all my friends I think Ron will be the most excited."
Astoria laughed musically at his comment, but mentioning Ron brought his redheaded friend's last piece of advice to the forefront of Harry's mind. Was he supposed to kiss her now? Would she be expecting it? He looked down at her hesitantly, but before he could decide to act either way, she gave him another quick hug and then stepped away to reclaim her seat at the table.
The next several minutes were spent making light conversation while they finished their meals, although neither of them could stop smiling at the other.
"That was wonderful, thank you," said Astoria, setting down her silverware.
"I'm pretty sure Dobby said there was pudding, if you still have some room left," Harry reminded her.
"I could definitely go for something sweet," she said, flashing Harry a grin. "Let me try something first, though."
Astoria closed her eyes in concentration, and then suddenly, the wall with the fireplace began sliding backwards, slowly increasing the size of the room. A few seconds later, a suede upholstered loveseat popped into existence in front of the fire, followed by a low coffee table.
"Oh, that's perfect!" said Astoria, after opening her eyes. "Come on, let's go have our pudding in front of the fire."
"Brilliant," agreed Harry, as they both stood up from the table. "Dobby!"
Dobby popped back into the room, this time holding a small plate in each hand. "Dobby has your pudding, sir," he announced. "Dobby hopes your dinner was most satisfactory."
"It was wonderful, Dobby," said Astoria gratefully, gladly accepting her plate. "Thank you for going through all the effort to learn how to make it for me."
"Miss Tori is too kind to Dobby," the elf replied bashfully. "If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to call."
Dobby popped away again, leaving Harry and Astoria to enjoy the rest of their date. They had both just settled into the loveseat and were about to tuck in, when Astoria took notice of Harry's plate.
"No treacle tart?"
"What? It's not like it's the only thing I'll eat," he grinned. "Besides, I thought it would be fun to try your favourites tonight."
"I do love sticky toffee pudding," she admitted, before taking a small bite. "And this is really good."
Harry was inclined to agree; Dobby had outdone himself yet again. They leisurely ate their pudding while chatting merrily, watching the flames as they danced in the fireplace. A short time later, their empty plates were resting on the coffee table, and the new couple had settled back into the loveseat to relax for a while.
"Should I ask Dobby to bring us some tea?"
"No, I'm fine — unless you want some," replied Astoria, leaning into Harry's side and resting her head on his shoulder.
Taking the hint, Harry removed his arm from between them and wrapped it around her. They remained that way for quite a while, listening to the crackling of the flames and simply enjoying being together.
Harry honestly couldn't remember the last time he felt so content. He knew it was silly, but part of him was afraid to even speak, not wanting to accidentally break the spell they had both seemed to have fallen under. In the end, Astoria wound up being the first to talk.
"I am slightly worried about what Daphne will say about us being together," she admitted quietly, still gazing into the fire.
"Really?" Harry replied questioningly. "When we talked the other day, Daphne made it sound like she'd been expecting this all along."
"Wait, what?" said Astoria, now sitting up straighter. "When I told her all about our sort-of date to Hogsmeade, she tried talking me out of it again."
"That doesn't really surprise me either," he conceded. "Daphne's said from the beginning that being too close to me is dangerous — and to be fair, she's probably not wrong."
Astoria's eyes narrowed at Harry.
"But she also knows you would never let that stop you," he added, quickly heading off her protest. "And for the record, I think I finally understand what you, and just about everybody else has been trying to tell me. You can make your own decisions, which is why I promise to never do anything mental, like try to push you away for our own good."
For a moment, Astoria seemed lost for words. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say that," she said finally, her eyes shining in the dim firelight.
"Took me long enough, I know," admitted Harry, grinning slightly. "You don't let other people dictate how you live your life. I think that's one of the things I like most about you."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he replied sincerely. "It's like you refuse to be ruled by fear. I honestly think Daphne respects that about you, no matter what she says."
"You really think so?" she asked softly.
Harry nodded. "She cares about you a lot," he told her. Suddenly, a memory leapt to the front of his mind, forcing a quiet chuckle to escape him.
"Do you remember the day she caught us, and she made you stand outside the cabin while we talked?"
"Of course," huffed Astoria.
"Well, I think she saw something here before either of us did," he explained, gesturing between the two of them. "She already knew you would refuse to abandon me no matter what she said, which is why she made me swear two promises to her."
Astoria cocked her head to the side slightly. "Really?" she asked. "What were they?"
"Well, the first one was to protect you and keep you safe."
"That sounds like Daphne, at least," she snorted. "And the other?"
Harry paused. "Not to break your heart," he said quietly.
"Oh," she breathed, and a sudden tension arose between them.
Harry pulled her in a little closer, his own heart starting to beat faster. A million thoughts swirled through his head, though he would never remember a single one of them. As he leaned in closer, he saw his own anticipation reflected in her eyes, and the last traces of doubt faded away as he gently pressed his lips against hers.
It started slowly, tentatively, before slowly growing into something more; their enthusiasm more than making up for their lack of experience. After a while, Astoria gently pulled back, leaving Harry looking slightly dazed. For a brief moment, the two just gazed into each other's eyes, Astoria wearing the expression of one who had just awoken from a very pleasant dream.
"Everything okay?" asked Harry, sporting a goofy grin.
"Brilliant," she replied breathily, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him back to her.
oOoOoOo
Harry made it back to the Gryffindor common room just a few minutes before curfew, the new couple having lingered in the Room of Requirement for as long as they could before Harry had to escort Astoria back to Ravenclaw Tower.
Unsurprisingly, Ron and Hermione were in their usual corner waiting for him, this time along with Neville and Ginny. Harry drifted towards them while holding up a hand in greeting, his good mood obvious to anyone who could see him.
"Looking sharp, Harry. Where've you been?" Ginny asked, as he approached them.
"Just dinner," Harry replied vaguely.
"Just dinner, he says," snorted Ron. "Come on now, don't be like that — how'd it go?"
All four were looking up at him expectantly, although Hermione was looking especially smug, wearing an expression that practically screamed 'I told you so'. Harry's grin widened as some of the evening's highlights flashed through his mind, even as his friends were all anxiously awaiting an update.
"Perfect," he replied, dropping into the last available seat.
"So, are you two officially dating now?" questioned Hermione, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.
"Yep."
Ginny quickly turned to face him. "Greengrass?" she questioned, receiving a nod in reply.
Hermione closed her book. "Did you kiss?" she asked him, not even bothering to hide her smirk.
Harry looked over at Ron, who was practically on the edge of his seat. Neville and Ginny both seemed quite interested in his answer, as well. He had no intention of going into details right then and there, but it seemed unlikely he was going to get away without giving them something.
"We did," he confirmed.
"Ha, I told you!" Ron practically shouted, pumping his fist in celebration while Neville gave him a subtle 'thumbs-up' gesture.
"Did she kiss you, or did you kiss her?" Hermione pressed him.
"Well, I kissed her first, but…"
"But what? said Ron.
Harry shrugged. "Well…it sort of went on for a while after that."
That really set Ron off, prompting Hermione to roll her eyes at his antics. "Well, I'm not one to say I told you so…" she started, but Harry cut her off.
"Since when?" he laughed, and she threw a bit of wadded up parchment at him in retaliation. "Well, go on then," Harry continued. "You kind of deserve it, at this point."
"I told you so!" she replied, enthusiastically and without hesitation. "I am happy for you, though. I think you'll be good together."
"Thanks."
"Come on, Hermione, hurry up and tell Harry so me and Neville can take him upstairs and drag the details out of him," said Ron impatiently, having just finished his victory lap around their chairs.
"Tell me what?" asked Harry.
Hermione took a quick look around and leaned forward in her seat. "I think we're ready to try the Fidelius Charm," she said in a low voice.
"Really? You're sure?"
"Pretty sure," she replied confidently. "I think you were right, though — I should probably be the one to cast it."
"Told you so," Harry replied cheekily, earning himself a light-hearted glare from Hermione. "Out of curiosity, though, why do you think that?"
"Well," she began, the academic in her coming out, "it turns out that the spell doesn't require an absurd amount of magical power like I first thought. What it does require is a well-organised mind, because the caster has to be able to focus on every aspect of the secret they want to protect, down to the very last detail."
"Okay, I think I'm following…" he replied uncertainly.
"Think about it; we're not simply trying to hide the location of a building," explained Hermione. "The secret will be the entire existence of our 'club', for lack of a better word. That includes what it is, where we meet — maybe even who its members are. I'm not saying you couldn't cast it, but I think I'm probably better suited."
Harry nodded his understanding. "I couldn't agree more," he told her, "but am I going to have to remember all that every time I tell someone the secret?"
"No, that's what's really fascinating," she replied eagerly. "What you share with others is essentially just a passphrase you create during the casting. It can't be just anything, of course, but as long as the passphrase appropriately summarises the secret, the magic of the charm fills in the gaps."
"Okay, that is pretty interesting," agreed Harry, sounding impressed. "Let's go ahead and start inviting people. Just be discreet about it — at least until we cast the charm."
"Agreed," nodded Hermione. "I was thinking we could cast it at our first meeting, that way you can give everyone the secret at the same time. I assume you'll want to invite Astoria?"
"Her, and probably a couple of her friends," Harry confirmed. "I was also thinking Ernie, Luna, and maybe even Cho — anyone who we know believes the truth."
"Are you absolutely certain?" questioned Hermione, seemingly wanting to make sure he understood what he was signing up for. "I have a feeling that number is only going to grow, once your interview is published."
"We'll figure it out," Harry replied unconcernedly. "What?" he said, in response to her sceptical look. "It's like you said before: everyone deserves a chance to learn how to defend themselves. Peoples' lives might be at stake."
"Well said, mate," Ron cut in. "Now, are we done here? We men have important things to discuss," indicating the two of them and Neville. Ginny had apparently wandered off at some point during Harry and Hermione's conversation.
"Fine," said Hermione, shaking her head in exasperation. "I'll start sounding people out, but be sure to ask the people you want to invite."
"You got it," replied Harry, standing up and allowing Ron to lead him away. "And good work on learning the charm."
Hermione waved him off and went back to her book, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "Boys…"
oOoOoOo
The following week would be quite memorable for Harry, for a number of reasons.
As one might expect, his new relationship with Astoria was at the forefront of his mind. Having never had a girlfriend before, he wasn't exactly sure what was expected of him, but he needn't have worried. For the most part, they didn't behave any differently in public, not wanting to attract too much attention. Even so, they did manage to find a few opportunities to spend some time alone together — including the evening he introduced her to the kitchens, where they were greeted with much fanfare by Dobby and the rest of the house-elves. Daphne, of course, already knew everything by the time they met to train that week, but aside from reiterating her previous warnings, she seemed to have no problem with his and Astoria's change in status.
On the school side of things, it was easily the best week of classes Harry had experienced all term. Snape was still ignoring him, which only served to ratchet up Harry's curiosity about the man's mysterious history with his Aunt Petunia. That being said, while going undisturbed during Potions was a refreshing change of pace, being officially exempt from Defence Against the Dark Arts was the real icing on the cake.
Sadly, he did not get to personally witness Umbridge's reaction to the news, but Professor McGonagall did approach Harry at lunch to let him know she had been informed, and to warn him to avoid his former teacher if at all possible. Much later, he would find out that Umbridge completely hit the roof when told about Harry's O.W.L., threatening to go directly to the Minister to have it overturned, along with several other nonsensical, and borderline juvenile promises of retribution — none of which ever came to fruition.
They had also managed to assemble a decent roster of people interested in joining their defence group, which was set to have their first meeting the following week. Harry brought it up again to Astoria during lunch one day, who finally agreed to join, as did Noreen and Felicity. Unfortunately, their other friend Ethan overheard them discussing it, so Harry felt obligated to invite him, though thankfully, he declined.
As eventful as the days leading up to the weekend felt, none were more consequential than that Friday, which would kick off a series of events that even Harry could never have anticipated. It all started that morning, when he caught sight of another Ministry decree obscuring the bulk of the Gryffindor notice board.
-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, and 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-five.
Signed:
Dolores Jane Umbridge
High Inquisitor
"She knows," Harry said darkly. "There's no way this is a coincidence."
"But how?" asked Hermione. "We've been careful, haven't we? Who could have told her?"
"I have a pretty good idea," he replied, thinking back to his conversation at the Ravenclaw House table a few days prior.
"Who?"
"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he responded. "None of this will matter once we cast the Fidelius, right?"
"Theoretically? No," replied Hermione. "She may have a vague recollection of us doing something that prompted the Decree, but she won't be able to remember exactly what it was."
"That will drive her mental," remarked Harry, grinning in satisfaction. "All right, we proceed as planned. Just make sure everyone knows to shut up about it for the time being."
Hermione voiced her approval of the plan, and with that, they started towards the Great Hall to eat breakfast, making sure to bring Ron, Ginny, Neville, and the twins up to speed while they were at it. They unanimously agreed to continuing, with Fred and George seeming even more eager than before, knowing they would be meeting in direct defiance of the Ministry. On the other hand, the realisation that the Decree even applied to Quidditch was extremely troubling, and it was a highly distressed Angelina Johnson who rushed off to see Umbridge about reinstating the Gryffindor team.
The Great Hall was still buzzing with conversation when the owl post arrived, setting off the second, yet even larger shockwave of the day — one which would soon ripple across the entire school.
Two unfamiliar owls landing in front of Harry was the first sign that something unusual was going on. That was only confirmed when a third owl landed on the table and tried to squeeze in between the others, followed by a fourth owl — and then a fifth, and a sixth. People up and down the Gryffindor table turned to look at the commotion, as more and more owls piled in front of Harry, stepping in the food and knocking over goblets as they jockeyed for position.
"What is going on?" Ron asked in amazement, while Harry hastily started collecting envelopes from the owls so they would leave.
"I think I know," gasped Hermione. "Look!"
She pointed up to the ceiling just as another dozen owls swooped into the Great Hall, and — seemingly at random — started dropping off identical packages to each of the four House tables. The packages were all long, cylindrically shaped, and wrapped in plain brown paper packaging.
"Here, open it," Hermione said to Harry, handing him one of the parcels.
He ripped open the paper, revealing what appeared to be a tightly rolled magazine. Harry's face broke out in a wide smile as he unfurled the contents to see a photo of himself grinning uncomfortably back at him, confirming that the packages indeed contained the latest edition of The Quibbler. Plastered across the top in bold, red lettering was the following headline:
HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST:
THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED
AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN
"Well, there it is," said Ron, clapping Harry on the shoulder. The noise in the room had picked up considerably as students up and down the Hall discovered the contents of the mysterious packages.
"Do you like it?" asked Luna from behind them. "Daddy decided to put the November issue out early. It seemed really important, so I thought you might like a few copies delivered to the school."
"Great idea, thanks Luna," Harry said genuinely.
"I tried to get Daddy to send them for free, but he didn't agree, so I'm going to need eight Sickles."
He hesitated for a moment. "Er — that's fine, Luna…" he said, looking slightly bemused. "I'll get it to you later, okay?"
Luna nodded happily and sat down next to Neville.
"So, what are all these letters, then?" asked Ron, holding up a handful.
"The issue went out to subscribers yesterday, so I imagine they're all letters from readers," explained Luna, as she helped to sort through them.
"Well, let's open them up!" suggested Fred, who had moved down the table to see what all the fuss was about.
"Have at it," shrugged Harry, and they all set to work opening up the letters and summarising their contents for the others. As expected, several of the readers thought Harry was completely barmy, but nearly half seemed to believe him!
They were a little more than halfway through the pile when Astoria joined them. "Does this mean your interview is out?" she asked, as Ron slid over to allow her space to sit next to Harry.
"Yep, there's one right there if you want to see," he said pointing to the nearest copy. "Right now, we're going through the letters people sent me after reading it."
"What's the verdict so far?"
"About fifty-fifty," replied Hermione, "which is better than I'd expected, honestly. Here, listen to this one," she continued, "'Having read your side of the story I am forced to the conclusion that the Daily Prophet has treated you very unfairly…Little though I want to think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, I am forced to accept that you are telling the truth…' This is wonderful, Harry! It seems like you might convince a lot of people!"
"That's the idea," he agreed. "Let's see Fudge try to sweep this under the rug."
He scanned the Great Hall with his eyes, trying to gauge everyone's reaction. Several groups of students were huddled together in discussion, and every so often a few of them would look towards Harry with looks ranging from curiosity and confusion, all the way to anger. Most of the latter were being directed at him by a select few Slytherins, most notably Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and even Nott — who had apparently been welcomed back into the fold at some point. Of course, Harry wouldn't have expected anything different after publicly outing all four of their fathers as Death Eaters.
"What is all this, Mr. Potter?" said a sickly-sweet voice from behind Harry, and every chattering voice in the vicinity suddenly fell silent.
"Letters," he replied without turning around.
"Letters from whom?"
Harry picked up one of the loose sheets of parchment from the table. "This one's from a Mrs. Martha Bowen," he said, then set the letter back down, triggering a few bouts of nervous laughter from around him.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Mr. Potter," Umbridge responded testily, some of the saccharine quality missing from her voice. "Exactly why are these people writing to you?"
Harry recognised that there was little point in hiding what he'd done; Umbridge was always going to find out eventually. Reaching across the table, he picked up a copy of The Quibbler, and then turned around to hand it to her.
"I figure it has something to do with this," he said blandly.
Umbridge glanced at the cover, and her eyes immediately bulged out of her head, which only served to deepen her resemblance to an overlarge toad. "You…you…" she started, her face reddening in a passable imitation of his Uncle Vernon. "You awful, insolent child! I told you to stop telling lies, did I not? How did this shameful monstrosity come into being?"
"It's hard to say, really. Skeeter's always had a knack for digging up stories," Harry replied uncooperatively.
"Very well, then," she said in a cold voice. "Fifty points from Gryffindor for spreading harmful, attention-seeking rumours, and I will see you in detention for the next week! We shall see if we can break you of these vile habits," she added before turning to walk away.
"What, are you going to torture me again?" Harry called after her.
Several people in the vicinity audibly gasped, and Umbridge stopped in her tracks.
"What was that, Mr. Potter?" she said, turning around.
"What else would you call forcing me to write lines using my own blood?" he bit back, some of his familiar anger beginning to resurface. Harry felt Astoria's hand move to his thigh in an attempt to calm him.
There was more muttering around them at Harry's accusation, but Umbridge didn't seem fazed by it.
"Telling more lies, are we, Mr. Potter?" she said silkily.
"Speaking of lies, weren't you the one who told me your Decree gave you the authority to make me carve words into my own skin? As it turns out, that's not actually true," he countered, before adding in a low voice, "That means if you try to illegally harm me again, I'm legally allowed to defend myself. How do you think that will turn out?"
"You…you dare!" spat Umbridge, looking as if she were mere moments from going for her wand.
"What is going on here?" called the voice of Professor McGonagall, who had come down from the staff table to intervene.
Umbridge straightened up at the reminder that they were not, in fact, alone. "Just a disciplinary issue with Mr. Potter — nothing that need concern you, Minerva," she said stiffly.
"I see," the professor responded, her mouth thinning until it was practically a straight line. "However, as head of Mr. Potter's House, I feel responsible for helping to correct his behaviour. Perhaps you could start by telling me what rules he has broken?"
"Here," said Umbridge, thrusting the magazine towards her, "surely this violates several school rules."
Professor McGonagall took one look at the cover and her eyes shot to Harry, who, with great effort, barely managed to maintain a neutral expression.
"Not that I am aware of…" drawled Professor McGonagall. "Mr. Potter, are you responsible for producing this…publication?"
"Of course not, Professor. All I did was answer a reporter's questions," he responded.
Professor McGonagall hummed in response before turning back to Umbridge, saying, "Regardless of whether or not we agree personally with Mr. Potter's actions, I fail to see how this is a matter of school discipline."
"Is that so?" replied Umbridge testily. "Then perhaps I should remind you that as High Inquisitor, I am the supreme authority when it comes to disciplinary action. As such, I have assigned Mr. Potter a week's worth of detentions for his uncouth behaviour."
"Very well, then," Professor McGonagall said in reply. "Considering how…volatile…yours and Potter's relationship seems to be, perhaps it would be prudent for me to observe his detentions."
"No, no, I am sure that isn't necessary," balked Umbridge. "Besides, you are certainly far too busy to waste your time dealing with such frivolous matters."
Harry and the others sat quietly as they observed the back and forth between the deputy headmistress and Hogwarts' least popular teacher. Even though Harry was the subject of their little tête-à-tête, he couldn't help but find the entire exchange wildly entertaining.
"On the contrary," countered Professor McGonagall, "ensuring that difficult cases like Mr. Potter are handled appropriately is precisely why the Hogwarts bylaws grant students' head of house that ability. I assure you that I am more than willing to lend my assistance."
Umbridge's face puckered as if she'd swallowed something extremely bitter. "Very…very well," she replied stiffly.
"Of course, if you'd prefer, I can volunteer to supervise his detentions myself," suggested McGonagall. "You already have so many responsibilities as it is; we wouldn't want you to waste your valuable time unnecessarily."
Harry could practically hear the wheels turning inside Professor Umbridge's head. Loth as she was to admit defeat, being forced to spend the next seven evenings in a room with Harry Potter without being able to mistreat or antagonise him must have been far from appealing. The only question was how she could manage to agree while still saving face.
"Yes…thank you, Minerva," she said finally. "It is true that Cornelius — that is to say, the Minister — has been relying heavily on me as of late. I am far too busy to supervise an individual student every night, no matter how troubled that student may be," she said, glaring at Harry. "You may handle Mr. Potter's detentions, but I expect him to serve each and every one he has been assigned."
"Of course," returned McGonagall, with a stiff nod. Turning to Harry, she added, "Potter, I expect to see you in my office at eight o'clock sharp."
Harry nodded his agreement, and with a final, withering look in his direction, Umbridge stalked away with as much dignity as she could muster.
"Professor, is all that really in the bylaws?" Harry asked curiously.
Stoic as ever, the professor's only visible reaction was a slight upward twitch from one corner of her mouth. "Eight o'clock sharp," she repeated, before turning around and walking back to the staff table.
Obviously relieved, Astoria relaxed her grip on Harry's leg and leaned into his side.
"That was close," huffed Ron. "You're gonna owe McGonagall big time for that one."
"Yeah, she really stuck her neck out," agreed Harry.
"What was all that about her torturing you?" enquired George, drawing the attention of those not already in the know.
"In detention last week, she made me use a quill that carved whatever I wrote into the back of my hand and used my own blood for ink," he explained darkly, reiterating his earlier comments. "Dumbledore said he'd make sure she couldn't use it on anyone else, but I don't trust her when it comes to me."
"Smart," nodded Fred. "She tries to act friendly, but the old bat seems pretty deranged," he added, to the general agreement of those around him.
Harry's interview was the talk of the school that day, much to the chagrin of the High Inquisitor. In response, another sign announcing yet another Educational Decree had been posted everywhere around the school by the time their first class had ended.
-BY ORDER OF-
THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree number Twenty-six.
Signed:
Dolores Jane Umbridge
High Inquisitor
At first, Harry was disheartened when he saw it, but then Hermione pointed out that Umbridge outright banning students from reading his interview practically guaranteed that every single person in the castle would have read it by the weekend.
Sure enough, several people — many of them complete strangers — came up to Harry throughout the day to let him know they believed him. Hermione reported that his interview was even the main topic of conversation in the girls' toilets, and even the teachers seemed extra pleased with him, awarding him points for even the most trivial of accomplishments.
Umbridge sought to further quell the spread of Harry's story by subjecting people to random searches, but the students were far too savvy for that and pre-emptively disguised their copies of his interview to avoid being caught red-handed.
Fred and George even threw a party in his honour that evening, complete with a magically enlarged copy of the front cover of The Quibbler hung on the common room wall, which they had also cleverly charmed to speak the occasional insult, such as "The Ministry are morons," or "Eat dung, Umbridge."
It was a drastic change from the previous atmosphere of suspicion that had plagued him all term. While on some level he knew he should still be angry about both the student body's treatment of him and their flippant nature, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that so many people were back on his side. Surprisingly, even Seamus had come around — which would make hanging out in their dorm a lot less awkward.
After apologising for having to leave his own party early, Harry ducked out of the common room to attend his detention. Arriving at eight o'clock on the dot, he was admitted into Professor McGonagall's office to find that she was not alone. Standing next to her desk was Angelina Johnson, who looked as though she had been crying.
"Angelina? What's wrong?"
"Sit down, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm afraid I have some bad news. Professor Umbridge has refused to reinstate the Gryffindor Quidditch team, as long as you are a member."
"Oh," he responded, the happiness of the day immediately draining out of him.
"Indeed," she replied, her lips pursed tightly. "I attempted to appeal to Professor Dumbledore, but the headmaster does not believe he will be able to overrule her in this instance. He also believes that there are — his words — more important battles to fight."
"Yeah…I suppose I get it," Harry stated flatly. "I guess I'll step down, then. It wouldn't be fair to everyone else, otherwise. Sorry, Angelina."
"It's not your fault," his captain replied, shaking her head regretfully. "It'll be hard without you, but we still have a decent team. Maybe you can help me choose your replacement?"
That honestly did not sound like something Harry particularly wanted to do, but the look on Angelina's face stopped him from telling her so. "Sure, whatever you need," he wound up saying.
"Thanks, Harry," Angelina replied sadly, "and I'm sorry about this — about everything."
Harry gave her what he hoped was a sympathetic nod, and then watched as she left Professor McGonagall's office.
"I appreciate your understanding of the situation," said the professor, once they were alone. "I am sincerely hoping this is only a temporary setback, as I have grown quite accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup every time I enter my office," she said, nodding towards the shelf where the trophy was perched.
"I hope so too."
"Good, and now for your detention," she continued. "Professor Dumbledore has informed me that you have been working on conjuration in the context of duelling, and the use of transfiguration without the assistance of an incantation, is that correct?"
"Er — yeah, that's right," he replied, unaware that Dumbledore had shared their lessons with anyone else.
"Excellent," she nodded. "Your work in my class this term has been exemplary, but I had no idea you had advanced so far. As such, we believe using these detentions to further hone these skills would be a far better use of our time than writing lines or cleaning cauldrons, wouldn't you agree?"
"Definitely," said Harry excitedly, finding himself looking forward to detention for the first time in his life.
"I thought as much," replied Professor McGonagall, with only the tiniest hint of a smirk. "Wand out," she said, while using her own to clear the centre of the room of furniture and other obstacles.
"Now, why don't you show me exactly how far you've come."
"Yes, Professor," he said with a grin, pulling his wand from his sleeve.