Chapter 133: Of Bitches And Meetings

Hermione made no mention of Harry giving Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons for two whole weeks after suggesting it. Harry's detentions with Umbridge were finally over; I had had four more Quidditch practices and not been shouted at during the last two (finally); and all three of us had managed to Vanish our mice in Transfiguration (Hermione had actually progressed to Vanishing kittens), before the subject was brought up again at the end of September, when the three of us were sitting in the library, looking up potion ingredients for Snape.

"I was wondering," Hermione said suddenly, "whether you'd thought any more about Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry."

"Course I have," said Harry grumpily, "can't forget it, can we, with that monstrous hag teaching us-"

"I meant the idea Ron and I had-" (I casted her a threatening kind of look. I did not feel like hearing him bitch at us again)"-Oh, all right, the idea I had, then-about you teaching us."

Harry did not answer at once. He pretended to look very interested in the book that was in front of him for a minute.

"Well," he said slowly, when his pretending was getting very awkward, "yeah, I-I've thought about it a bit."

"Annnnnnnd?" said Hermione eagerly.

"I dunno," said Harry, playing for time. He looked up at me, hoping I would help him stall.

"I thought it was a good idea from the start," I said, as ending that this was not going to end up a shouting match.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?"

"Yes, Harry," said Hermione gently, "but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said-"

I turned my head so quickly towards her, I ended up hurting my neck. "Yeah? What did your precious Vicky say?"

'Ho ho," said Hermione in a bored voice. "He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang."

I eyed Hermione suspiciously. No, she couldn't be.

"You're not still in contact with him, are you?" I asked.

"So what if I am?" said Hermione, annoyed. "I can have a pen-pal if I-"

"He didn't only want to be your pen-pal and you know it, Hermione." I said, eyes burning a hole in her face.

Hermione ignored me as I continued to watch her. Why the bloody hell was she still writing him? He was a sick ass bloke, writing children at nineteen fucking years old!

"Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?" asked Hermione as she continued.

"Just you and Ron, yeah?"

"Well," said Hermione, looking down at her fingers. "Well ... now, don't fly off the handle again, Harry, please ... but I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against V-Voldemort(I closed my ears), oh, don't be pathetic, Ron. It doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people."

Harry considered this for a moment, then said, "Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?"

"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," said Hermione seriously. "Look, you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"Why do we have to do it outside school?" I asked.

"Because," said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, "I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to."

"What if Sirius shows? I don't fancy him getting caught."

"Well, you can't blame him for wanting to get out and about," I said. "I mean, he's been on the run for over two years, hasn't he, and I know that can't have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn't he? And now he's just shut up all the time with that ghastly elf."

Hermione scowled at me, but she knew I was telling the truth.

"The trouble is," she said to Harry, "until V-Voldemort (I cringed-oh, for heaven's sake,Ron) comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realise Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again, it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one ... I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing."

"I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up," I said. '

"Dumbledore'd go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears."

When Harry continued to look worried, Hermione said, "Listen, Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Hogsmeade."

"Right," said Harry vaguely.

"Don't worry, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "You've got enough on your plate without Sirius, too."

Harry nodded, then got up to find another book.

"You do know that couple means two, right Mione? And I'm pretty positive we talked to way more than two." I whispered to Hermione.

"I know that Ron," huffed Hermione. "But if I would have said the truth, he would have backed out and you know that."

She had a point.

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit shone bright, but with bitter wind. Alter breakfast we lined up in front of Filch, who matched our names to the long list of students who had permission from parents or guardian to visit the village.

When Harry reached Filch, he sniffed him. Actually sniffed him. As if he were some sort of food. It concerned me

"Er-why was Filch sniffing you?" I asked, as the three of us set off.

"I suppose he was checking for the smell of Dungbombs," said Harry with a small laugh. "I forgot to tell you ..."

Harry told us the story about him going to the owlery to send Sirius a letter, and how Filch demanded to see it. It seemed that he didn't think anything of it, however, Hermione found the story highly interesting.

"He said he was tipped off you were ordering Dungbombs? But who tipped him off?"

"I dunno," said Harry, shrugging. Maybe Malfoy he'd think it was a laugh."

"Malfoy?" said Hermione, skeptically. "Well ... yes ... maybe ..."

And she remained deep in thought all the way into the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

"Where are we going, anyway?" Harry asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh no," said Hermione, "no, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit ... you know ... dodgy ... but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

We walked down the main street past Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop, where I really wanted to go to see if ol Zonko had anything new, past the post office, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood onto the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of us hesitated outside the door.

"Well, come on," said Hermione, slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.

It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, which was spacious, full of light, and beat of all, clean. No, The Hog's Head bar was one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats, or pigs, or something. The windows were covered in grime, and what we thought was a dirt floor, turned out to be a nasty, filthy unswept floor. Probably hadn't been swept in centuries.

There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows, talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes.

"I don't know about this, Hermione," Harry muttered, as we crossed to the bar. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"

Hermione cast an appraising eye over the veiled figure.

"Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she said quietly. "And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I've double- and triple-checked the school rules. We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing."

"No," said Harry drily, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

The barman came towards us out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and could pass for a relative of Harry. The resemblance was uncanny. All he needed was glasses and a scar.

"What?" he grunted.

"Three Butterbeers, please," said Hermione in a quiet, but polite voice.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up three very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.

'Six Sickles,' he said.

'I'll get them,' said Harry quickly, passing over the silver. The barman's eyes travelled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar. Then he turned away and deposited Harry's money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it.

We retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The man in the dirty grey bandages wrapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman.

"You know what?" I whispered with enthusiasm. "We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try Firewhiskey-"

"You-are-a-prefect," snarled Hermione.

"Oh yeah. You weren't saying that the other night with the butter beer, love," I said, smirking at her.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "I knew it had to be spiked with something!"

"So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject before Hermione started ranting about broken rules.

"Just a couple of people," Hermione repeated, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards the door, as I rolled my eyes at the lie. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is-oh, look, this might be them now."

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati, Padma with Cho and one of her giggling annoying girlfriends, then Luna, Katie, Alicia, Angelina, Colin, Dennis, Ernie, Justin, Hannah, Susan Bones, Anthony, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Ginny, some other Hufflepuff that played Quidditch for the house, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan.

All in all, twenty-five people. Harry glared at us.

"A couple of people?" said Harry harshly to Hermione. "A couple of people?"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," said Hermione, shrugging happily. "Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

The barman paused to look at the huge amount of people crowding his bar. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, "could we have ... twenty-five Butterbeers, please?"

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these!"

The three of us watched as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. Harry was beginning to look very nervous.

"What have you been telling people?" he said in a low voice. "What are they expecting?"

"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say," said Hermione soothingly; but Harry continued to look at her so furiously that she added quickly, "you don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first."

"Hi, Harry," said Neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite him.

Harry looked as if his mind had gone fuzzy as Cho smiled at him and sat down on my right. Her friend, who had curly reddish-blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a distrusting look which basically said she had no interest in being here. Cho must have made her come.

In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around the three of us, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna looking spaced. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eyes were on Harry.

'Er," said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well-er-hi."

The group focused its attention on her, which made her even more nervous from the look on her face. She wasn't used to talking to such a large group of people.

"Well ... erm ... well, you know why you're here. Erm ... well, Harry here had the idea-I mean" (Harry had thrown her a sharp look) "I had the idea-that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts-and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us- "(Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) "- because nobody could call that Defense Against the Dark Arts-"("Hear, hear," said Anthony, and Hermione looked heartened) "-Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."

She paused, looked sideways at Harry and went on, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells-"

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" said Michael Corner, eyeing her a little too close for my liking.

"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defense because ... because ..." she took a great breath and finished, "because Lord Voldemort is back."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.

"Well ... that's the plan, anyway," said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to-"

"Where's the bloody proof You-Know-Who's back?" said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice. I didn't like his tone.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it-" Hermione began.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," said the blond boy, nodding at Harry.

"Who are you?" I said very rudely.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy in an uppity voice, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

"You've got the right to-"

"Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about-"

"It's OK, Hermione," said Harry.

It was now apparent the real reason why a lot of the people were there. They wanted to know what happened, and hoped that Harry would tell.

"What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?" he repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

Zacharias said dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know-"

"How bout you-?"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Harry said, holding up a hand to let me know it was okay. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive and arrogant face. And neither did I.

"I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out." said Harry, casting an angry look in Hermione's direction.

None of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry.

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. "So ... like I was saying ... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to-"

"Is it true," interrupted Susan, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah," said Harry slightly defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Er-you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" asked Harry.

The girl smiled. "She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So-is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry, looking a bit more confident.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Lee, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed.

The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" demanded Terry. "That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year."

"Er-yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

Justin whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender said "Wow!" softly.

"And in our first year," said Neville to the group at large, "he saved that Philosopher's Stone-"

"Sorcerer's," hissed Hermione.

"Yes, that-from You-Know-Who," finished Neville.

Hannah's eyes were as round as Galleons.

"And that's not to mention," said Cho (Harry's eyes snapped across to her; she was looking at him, smiling) "all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year-getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things."

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Hermione and I exchanged smirks.

"Look," said Harry, and everyone fell silent at once, "I ... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but ... I had a lot of help with all that stuff."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Michael at once. "That was a fucking cool bit of flying."

"Yeah, well-" said Harry, shrugging bashfully.

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Susan.

"No," said Harry, "no, OK, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is-"

"Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias, pissing me off for the last time.

"Here's an idea," I said loudly, before Harry could speak, "why don't you shut the fuck up?"

"Ronald!"

Zacharias glares at me. I gave him a look that clearly stated that I would gladly kick his ass. Annoying ass little bitch.

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it," Zacharias said, still eyeing me.

"That's not what he said," snarled Fred.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" enquired George, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

I loved my brothers.

"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily, "moving on, the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fred's hand.

"Right," said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week-"

"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," added Zacharias.

"Nobody gives a bloody fuck about your-"

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," said Hermione loudly, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters-"

"Well said!" barked Ernie. "Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up! I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells."

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, "is that she's got some ... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilise us against the Ministry."

Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Harry.

"Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths," said Luna.

"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione.

"Yes, he has," said Luna.

I wanted to laugh at their exchange so bad, but I didn't wanna incur Hermione's wrath later.

"What are Heliopaths?" asked Neville, looking blank.

"They're spirits of fire," said Luna, her protuberant eyes widening so that she looked madder than ever, "great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of-"

"They don't exist, Neville," said Hermione, firmly.

"Oh, yes, they do!" said Luna angrily.

"I'm sorry, but where's the proof of that?" snapped Hermione.

"There are plenty of eye-witness accounts. Just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you-"

"Hem, hem," said Ginny, in such a good imitation of Professor Umbridge that several of us looked around in alarm and then laughed.

"Ginny, way too good." I said, laughing. "You scared the fuck out of me.

"Ginny smiled. "Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defence lessons?"

"Yes,' said Hermione at once, "yes, we were, you're right, Ginny."

"Well, once a week sounds cool," said Lee Jordan.

"As long as-" began Angelina.

"Yes, yes, we know about the Quidditch," said Hermione in a tense voice. "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet."

"Library?" suggested Katie.

"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library," said Harry.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.

"Yeah," I said, "McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practicing for the Triwizard."

"I have a strong feeling McGonagall would OK this, mate." said Harry.

"Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere," said Hermione. "We'll send a message round to everybody when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting."

She rummaged in her bag and produced parchment and a quill, then hesitated, as if she was second guessing something.

"I-I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think," she took a deep breath, "that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to."

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.

"Er ..." said Zacharias slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass to him, "well ... I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is."

But Ernie was looking rather hesitant about signing, too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"I-well, we are prefects," Ernie burst out. "And if this list was found ... well, I mean to say ... you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out-"

"You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year," Harry reminded him.

"I-yes," said Ernie, "yes, I do believe that, it's just-"

"Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?" said Hermione testily.

"No. No, of course not," said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious. "I-yes, of course I'll sign."

Nobody raised objections after Ernie, When the last person (Zacharias, the fucking git)had signed, Hermione took the parchment back and slipped it carefully into her bag. There was an odd feeling in the group now. It was as though we had just signed some kind of contract.

"Well, time's ticking on," said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. "George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later."

In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too.

Cho seemed to try to linger a bit longer, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry.

"Well, I think that went quite well," said Hermione happily, as we walked out of the Hog's Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later, Butterbeers in hand.

"That Zacharias tosser is a bitch," I said, still ready to fight him.

"I don't like him much, either," admitted Hermione,,as I started chugging my drink. "but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really-I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if he hadn't been going out with Ginny-"

I ended up spitting out my Butterbeer.

"He's WHAT? She's going out with-my sister's going-what d'you mean, Michael Corner?"

"Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think-well, they're obviously interested in learning defence, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on-"

"When did this- when did she-?"

"They met at the Yule Ball and got together at the end of last year," said Hermione.

We had turned into the High Street and she paused outside Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where there was a display of very nice pheasant feather quills in the window. "Hmm ... I could do with a new quill."

She turned into the shop. Harry and I followed her.

"Which one was Michael Corner?" I demanded furiously.

"The dark one," said Hermione.

"I didn't like him."

"Big surprise," said Hermione under her breath.

"But I thought Ginny fancied Harry!"

"Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn't like you, of course," she added kindly to Harry while she examined a long black and gold quill.

"So that's why she talks now?" Harry asked Hermione. "She never used to talk in front of me."

"Exactly," said Hermione. "Yes, I think I'll have this one."

She went up to the counter and handed over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts. I was in a very foul disposition. My baby sister, my ONLY sister, had gotten her first wanker of a boyfriend.

"Ron, this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake!"

'What d'you mean? Who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything."

"Fucking toshpot. Let him lay one hand on my sister, and I'll kick his sorry-"

"And talking about Michael and Ginny ... what about Cho and you?" said Hermione, ignoring my ranting.

"What d'you mean?" said Harry quickly.

"Well,' said Hermione, beaming, "she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?"