Chapter 127: Allies

Dinner in the Great Hall that night was not a pleasant experience for Harry. The news about his shouting match with Umbridge had travelled exceptionally fast even by Hogwarts' standards. People were whispering all around us, not even trying to lower their voices so that Harry couldn't hear.

"He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered ..."

"He reckons he duelled with You-Know-Who ..."

"Come off it ..."

"Who does he think he's kidding?"

"Pur-lease ..."

"What I don't get," said Harry through clenched teeth, laying down his knife and fork (his hands were shaking too much to hold them steady), "is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them ."

"The thing is, Harry, I'm not sure they did," said Hermione grimly. "Oh, let's get out of here."

She slammed down her own knife and fork. As much as I didn't want to leave the delicious pie I was eating, I left with them anyways. The whispers and stares were too much.

"What d'you mean, you're not sure they believed Dumbledore?" Harry asked Hermione when we reached the first-floor landing.

"Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened," said Hermione quietly. "You arrived back in the middle of the lawn clutching Cedric's dead body ... none of us saw what what happened in the maze ... we just had Dumbledore's word for it that You-Know-Who had come back and killed Cedric and fought you."

"Which is the truth!" said Harry loudly.

"I know it is, Harry, so will you please stop biting my head off?" said Hermione, annoyed. "It's just that before the truth could sink in, everyone went home for the summer, where they spent two months reading about how you're a nutcase and Dumbledore's going senile!"

We walked up the stairs until we reached the Fat Lady's portrait.

"Mimbulus mimbletonia," said Hermione, before the Fat Lady could ask. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it and the three of us scrambled through it.

The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly, and when we sat down by the fireside, he leapt lightly onto Hermione's lap and curled up there like a furry ginger cushion.

"How can Dumbledore have let this happen?" Hermione said angrily, surprising us and causing Crookshanks to leap off her. She pounded the arms of her chair in fury, so that bits of stuffing leaked out of the holes. "How can he let that terrible woman teach us? And in our OWL year, too!"

"Well, we've never had great Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we?" said Harry. "You know what it's like, Hagrid told us, nobody wants the job; they say it's jinxed."

"Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic! What's Dumbledore playing at?"

"And she's trying to get people to spy for her," I said. "Remember when she said she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-Know-Who's back?"

"Of course she's here to spy on us all, that's obvious, why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?" snapped Hermione.

"Don't start arguing again," said Harry, before I could respond. "Can't we just... let's just do that homework, get it out of the way..."

I wasn't even aware that Hermione and I was arguing. From the look on Hermione's face, she didn't seem aware either. Still, we quietly collected our schoolbags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were coming back from dinner now, still staring.

'Shall we do Snape's stuff first?" I said, dipping my quill into my ink. " 'The properties... of moonstone... and its uses ... in potion-making...' " I muttered, writing the words across the top of my parchment as I spoke them.

"There." I said, looking at Hermione, knowing she would love to tell me. "So, what are the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making?"

But Hermione was not listening; she was squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the centre of a knot of innocent-looking first-years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding.

"No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far," she said, standing up and looking positively furious. "Come on, Ron."

"I -what? No-come on, Hermione-we can't tell them off for giving out sweets."

"You know perfectly well that those are bits of Nosebleed Nougat or-or Puking Pastilles or-"

"Fainting Fancies?" Harry suggested quietly.

One by one, the first-years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right on to the floor, others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. Most of the people watching were laughing; Hermione, however, squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first-years.

"She's got it under control," I said to Harry as I sunk as low in my chair as I possibly could. No way was I going to go over there.

"That's enough!" Hermione said forcefully to Fred and George, both of whom looked up in mild surprise.

"Yeah, you're right," said George, nodding, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?"

"I told you this morning, you can't test your rubbish on students!"

"We're paying them!" said Fred, rolling his eyes.

"I don't care, it could be dangerous!"

"Rubbish," said Fred.

"Calm down, Hermione, they're fine!" said Lee reassuringly as he walked from first-year to first-year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.

"Yeah, look, they're coming round now," said George.

A few of the first-years were indeed stirring. Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that I was sure Fred and George had not warned them what the sweets were going to do.

"Feel alright?" said George kindly to a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet.

"I-I think so," she said shakily.

"Excellent," said Fred happily, but the next second Hermione had snatched both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands.

"It is NOT excellent!"

"Course it is, they're alive, aren't they?" said Fred angrily.

"You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?"

"We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same-"

"If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to-"

"Put us in detention?" said Fred, in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice.

"Make us write lines?"said George, smirking.

Hermione's hair started to stand up, looking like it did when it got mildly damp in the rain. A clear indication that she was getting pissed.

"No," she said, her voice quivering with anger, "but I will write to your mother."

I gasped. She had played the card. She had really played the Mum card.

Why was this turning me on?

"You wouldn't," said George, horrified, taking a step back from her.

"Oh, yes, I would," said Hermione grimly. "I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not to give them to the first-years,"

Fred and George looked as if they were finally taking her seriously. With a last threatening look at them, she thrust Fred's clipboard and the bag of Fancies back into his arms, and stalked back to her chair by the fire.

"Thank you for your support, Ron," Hermione said acidly.

"You handled it fine by yourself, I'm actually very proud." I said, trying to sound cheerful.

Hermione stared down at her blank piece of parchment for a few seconds, then said edgily, "Oh, it's no good, I can't concentrate now. I'm going to bed."

She wrenched her bag open and pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill and looked at them, as if she was trying to figure out proper placement.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" I said as I watched her.

"They're hats for house-elves," she said briskly now stuffing her books back into her bag. "I did them over the summer. I'm a really slow knitter without magic but now I'm back at school I should be able to make lots more."

"Wait. You're leaving out hats for the house-elves? And you're covering them up with rubbish first?"

"Yes."

"That's not on," I said angrily. "You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not want to be free. Hermione, we've been through this!"

"Of course they want to be free!" said Hermione at once. "Don't you dare touch those hats, Ron!"

She turned on her heel and left. I waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls' dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats.

"They should at least see what they're picking up," I said firmly. "Nasty tick this is. Anyway, there's no point trying to finish this now, I can't do it without Hermione, I haven't got a clue what you're supposed to do with moonstones, have you?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm going to bed too."

I sat looking at the abysmal hats with disgust. I thought that Hermione had gotten her radical ideas out of her head, and now she was trying to trick the elves into freeing themselves. She was going too far with this.

I took the ghastly things and threw them into the fire. I didn't care how she felt about it. Tricking them into freeing themselves were wrong.

The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast.

"But on the plus side, no Snape today," I said, hopefully.

Hermione yawned widely and poured herself some coffee. She looked mildly pleased about something, and when I asked her what she had to be so happy about, she simply said, "The hats have gone. Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all."

"I wouldn't bet on it," I said, glaring at her. "They might not count as clothes. They didn't look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders."

Hermione did not speak to me the rest of the morning.

Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of our lessons lecturing the class on the importance of OWLs. Then, the classes were grueling, having us repeat a lot of what we already learned.

Harry and I spent lunch hour in the library looking up the uses of moonstones in potion-making. Still angry about my insult about her stupid hats, Hermione did not join us. Soon, it was time for Care Of Magical Creatures.

The day had become cool and breezy as we walked down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid's front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with twigs. As we reached her, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, we saw Ferret Bollocks striding towards us, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and the rest continued to laugh as they gathered around the trestle table and, judging by the way they all kept looking over at Harry, it was probably something to do with him.

"Everyone here?" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. "Let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Malfoy did a buck-toothed imitation of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question. Pansy gave a shriek of laughter that turned almost at once into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves. They looked like tiny pixie-ish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twig like fingers at the end of each hand and a funny flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered. I had seen them in one of Charlie's animal books; Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

'Oooooh!' said Parvati and Lavender, as if they had never been shown anything interesting by Hagrid before.

"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. "So-anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?"

"Bowtruckles," said Hermione. "They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees."

"Five points for Gryffindor," said Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"

"Woodlice," said Hermione promptly. "But fairy eggs if they can get them."

"Good girl, take another five points. So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle-I have enough here for one between three-you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labelled by the end of the lesson."

We all stepped forward around the trestle table. Hermione and I decided to partner up and selected one that curled around her finger. Harry looked like he was busy with the teacher, so we went to sit down and start.

"Tricky little buggers, eh? I said, as the Bowtruckle uncurled itself from Hermione's fingers and tried to make a go for her hair.

"He's just nervous," said Hermione, snatching it off her arm and handing it to me. "They are actually pretty shy."

I held it as stiffly as I could as Hermione tried to get a rough sketch. Unfortunately, the little wanker didn't like to be touched my me, and it tries to wage a war with my index finger.

Soon Harry came over to us. He pulled out parchment and quill, crouched down beside us and told us about Malfoy hinting around that he knew what was going on with Hagrid.

"Dumbledore would know if something had happened to Hagrid," said Hermione at once. "It's just playing into Malfoy's hands to look worried; it tells him we don't know exactly what's going on. We've got to ignore him, Harry. Here, hold the Bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face ."

"Yes," came Malfoy's clear drawl from the group nearest us, "Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straightaway."

"OUCH!"

Harry had gripped the Bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped, and it had just taken a great swipe at his hand with its sharp fingers, leaving two long deep cuts there. Harry dropped it. Crabbe and Goyle laughed even harder as the Bowtruckle set off at full tilt towards the Forest. When the bell rang, Harry rolled up his blood-stained Bowtruckle picture and marched off to Herbology with his hand wrapped in Hermione's handkerchief that she had given him.

"If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time ..." said Harry through gritted teeth.

"Harry, don't go picking a row with Malfoy, don't forget, he's a prefect now, he could make life difficult for you."

"Wow, I wonder what it'd be like to have a difficult life?" said Harry sarcastically. I couldn't help but laugh, however, Hermione frowned.

"I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that's all," said Harry in a low voice, as we reached the greenhouses. "And don't say that Grubbly-Plank woman's a better teacher!" he added threateningly.

"I wasn't going to," said Hermione calmly.

"Because she'll never be as good as Hagrid," said Harry firmly.

The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth-years spilled out of it, including Ginny.

"Hi," she said brightly as she passed.

"Hey," the three of us said.

A few seconds later, Luna Lovegood emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of dirt on her nose, and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry, she made a beeline straight for him. Many of our classmates turned curiously to watch.

Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a hello, "I believe He Who Must Not Be Named is back and I believe you fought him and escaped from him."

"Er-right," said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes.

"You can laugh," Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing, "but people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"Well, they were right, weren't they?" said Hermione impatiently. "There weren't any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

Luna gave her a withering look and stomped away, radishes swinging madly. Parvati and Lavender were not the only ones hooting with laughter now.

"D'you mind not offending the only people who believe me?" Harry asked Hermione as we made their way into class.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, you can do better than her," said Hermione. "Ginny's told me all about her; apparently, she'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler."

" I want you to know, Potter," Ernie Macmillan said a loud, carrying voice, "that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred per cent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I."

"Er-thanks very much, Ernie," said Harry, pleased. It was actually nice to hear that he was on Harry's side. Ernie was usually a pompous ass, but it was great that Harry seen someone else was in his corner. Ernie's words had certainly wiped the smile from Lavender Brown's face, and Seamus's expression was both confused and defiant.

To nobody's surprise, Professor Sprout started the lesson by lecturing us about the importance of OWLs. It was getting to be rather annoying having every teacher go on and on like that, and was even more annoying when Professor Sprout gave us yet another essay at the end of class. Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Professor Sprouts preferred type of fertiliser, us Gryffindors trooped back up to the castle an hour and a half later, none of us talking very much; it had been another long day.