Flashback: hogsmeade 1995
The wind howled fiercely, whipping snow around in vicious swirls that stung against exposed skin. It clung to Hermione's curls, turning them into a wild, frizzy halo of ice-crusted strands as she, Harry, and Ron trudged down the winding path to the Hog's Head. Their winter cloaks were pulled tightly around them, hats tugged low over their ears, and their frayed Gryffindor scarves flapped behind them like banners in the storm.
"Brilliant idea, this," Ron muttered, his breath puffing out in icy clouds. "Who wouldn't want to take a stroll through a blizzard to hang out in the dodgiest pub in Hogsmeade?"
"It's secluded," Hermione countered, though her voice was muffled by the thick scarf wrapped around her mouth. "And no one would ever think to look for us there."
"Yeah, because no one wants to go there," Ron shot back dryly.
They pushed open the heavy wooden door, the bells above it jangling sharply. The interior was as dingy as they remembered—dimly lit, smelling faintly of goats and old ale. A few scattered patrons turned their heads at the sudden burst of cold air, but then looked away, clearly uninterested in the three bundled-up teenagers shaking snow off their boots.
"Lovely place," Ron muttered under his breath, eyeing the cracked wooden tables and dust-covered shelves. "Very welcoming."
"Come on," Hermione said briskly, ignoring his sarcasm. She led the way toward the far corner, where a group of students had already gathered, murmuring anxiously amongst themselves.
There was a nervous energy in the air, a buzzing tension that made Hermione's heart race. Some of the faces were familiar—Neville, Luna, and Ginny, watching them with eager anticipation. But there were others, too—students from three of the four houses, their expressions ranging from curious to wary.
Harry took a deep breath, stepping forward. His eyes swept over the group, his posture straightening, the weight of what he was about to do settling onto his shoulders.
"Thanks for coming," he began, his voice steady and calm. "I know it's a bit… unconventional, meeting here. But we didn't really have much of a choice."
A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, easing some of the tension. Hermione bit back a smile. Harry had a way of connecting with people, of making them feel like they were all part of something bigger. It was one of the reasons she knew this would work.
"We all know what's going on," Harry continued, his expression hardening. "Umbridge isn't going to teach us how to defend ourselves. She doesn't care if we're ready when… when the real danger comes. But we care. That's why we're here. We're going to learn how to fight back. Properly."
Excited whispers broke out among the students. Hermione glanced at Harry, nodding slightly. This was his moment—his cause. She would support him, but he was the one who would lead them.
"So, I'm going to teach you what I know," Harry said, his gaze intense. "Everything I've learned. How to defend yourselves against curses and hexes, how to duel… how to stay alive."
The murmuring swelled, a few of the students leaning forward eagerly. Hermione felt a surge of pride, her chest tightening with something fierce and hopeful.
"But there's one thing," she cut in, stepping up beside Harry. "We have to be careful. If Umbridge finds out about this—if anyone finds out—she'll shut us down. And she won't stop there. She'll expel us, maybe even worse."
That sobered the group. Several students shifted uneasily, glancing at each other.
Hermione drew a deep breath. "So, I think… I think we should all write our names down, just so we know who was here. But I also think that we all ought to agree not to talk about what we're doing. To anyone."
She held up a roll of parchment and a quill, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. "If you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge—or anybody else—what we're up to. You're agreeing to secrecy. To keeping each other safe."
The silence that followed was heavy. Then, slowly, one by one, the students began to step forward. Ginny was the first, her chin lifted defiantly as she took the quill and scrawled her name. Neville followed, his face set with determination. Luna smiled dreamily as she signed, as if this were all some grand adventure.
One by one, the names filled the parchment—Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Cho Chang, Terry Boot… Hermione watched them all, a fierce pride swelling in her chest. This was more than she had hoped for. This was a real movement.
"Are you sure about this?" a small voice asked.
Hermione turned to see Zacharias Smith standing at the back, his brow furrowed. "If we get caught—"
"We won't," she interrupted firmly. "If everyone keeps their word, we won't."
And then, with a wave of her wand, she cast a silent spell over the parchment. The words shimmered briefly, then faded back into ordinary ink.
None of them noticed. None of them knew what she had just done—that she had woven a powerful jinx into the parchment. If anyone betrayed them, if anyone spoke of the D.A. to Umbridge or the Inquisitorial Squad, the consequences would be… unpleasant.
The word SNEAK would be written on their face, identifying the turn in their alliance obviously.
It was drastic. Ruthless, even. But Hermione didn't care. They were fighting for their lives. For their futures. For everything that mattered.
"So," Harry said, breaking the silence. "Are we in agreement?"
A murmur of assent rippled through the group. Heads nodded, eyes shining with resolve.
"Good," Harry said, smiling slightly. "Then let's get started."
The meeting broke up soon after, the students filing out in pairs and small groups, talking in hushed, excited tones. As the last of them slipped out the door, Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine.
They had done it. They had taken the first step of defiance.
Now, there was no turning back.