Chapter 134: Slides And Blow Ups

Harry seemed in better spirits the rest of the weekend. He and I spent much of Sunday catching up with all our homework again, only this time we took our work outside and lounged in the shade of a large beech tree on the edge of the lake. Hermione, who of course had already done all of her work, brought more wool outside with her and bewitched her knitting needles so that they clicked in midair beside her, producing more hats and scarves.

"At least they look like actual wearable things," I teased.

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, sticking out her tongue.

Monday morning Harry and I headed downstairs from our dorm, discussing Angelina's idea that we were to work on a new move called the Sloth Grip Roll during that night's Quidditch practice, and not until we were halfway across the sunlit common room did we notice the addition to the room that had already attracted the attention of a small group of people.

A large sign had been posted to the Gryffindor noticeboard, so large it covered everything else on it. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

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, an 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-four.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

My stomach churned at the words.

"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" one of the second years that was under us that read it asked his friend.

"I reckon you'll be OK with Gobstones," I said coldly. "I don't think we're going to be as lucky, though, do you?" I asked Harry.

Harry looked as if he wanted to yell.

"This isn't a coincidence," he said, his hands forming fists. "She knows."

"She can't!"

"There were people listening in that pub. And let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust ... any of them could have run off and told Umbridge ..."

"Zacharias Smith, that fucking bitch!" I said once, punching a fist into his hand. "Or-I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look, too-"

"I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?" Harry said, looking round at the door to the girls' dorms.

"Let's go and tell her," I said as I pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase.

I was on the sixth stair when there was a loud sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide. I tried to keep running, looking mental as my arms whirled around madly windmills. I ended up falling over backwards and speeded down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Harry's feet.

"Er-I don't think we're allowed in the girls' dormitories," said Harry, pulling me to my feet and trying not to laugh.

Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.

"Oooh. who tried to get upstairs?" they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and I.

"Me," I said, head aching, body shaking. "I didn't realise that would happen. It's not fair! Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed -?"

"Well, it's an old-fashioned rule," said Hermione, who had just slid neatly onto a rug in front of us and was now getting to her feet, "but it says in Hogwarts: A History, that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?"

"To see you-look at this!" I said, taking her by the hand and dragging her over to the noticeboard.

Hermione's eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony.

"Someone must have blabbed to her!" I said, angrily.

"They can't have done," said Hermione in a low voice.

"How can you be so naive? Just because you're all honourable and trustworthy-"

"No, they can't have done, because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed," said Hermione, eyes darting back and forth to Harry and I. 'Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it."

I was intrigued. "What'll happen to them?"

"Well, put it this way," said Hermione,"'it'll make Eloise Midgeon's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think ... I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses?"

Brilliant, she was. I almost wanted someone to have actually told, just to see her dirty work.

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. Everyone was talking about the notice, asking other houses if they had seen it too. We had barely taken our seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon us.

"Did you see it?" asked Ginny.

"D'you reckon she knows?" asked George.

"What are we going to do?" Neville began to panic.

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them.

"We're going to do it anyway, of course. Fuck her," he said quietly.

"Knew you'd say that," said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.

"The prefects as well?" said Fred, looking questionably at Hermione and I.

"Of course," said Hermione, offended.

"Here come Ernie and Hannah," I said, looking over my shoulder. "And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith ... and no one looks very spotty."

Hermione looked alarmed. "Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious-sit down!" she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. 'Later! We'll-talk-to-you-later!"

"I'll tell Michael," said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench, "the fool, honestly ..."

But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until we were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic.

"Harry! Ron!"

It was Angelina and she was hurrying towards us looking horribly frantic.

"It's OK," said Harry quietly, when she was near enough to hear him. "We're still going to-"

"You realise she's including Quidditch in this?" Angelina said over him. "We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!"

"What?" said Harry.

"No way," I said, appalled.

"You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry ... I am saying this for the last time ... please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play any more!"

"OK, OK," said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. "Don't worry, I'll behave myself."

"Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic," I said as we set off for Binns's lesson. "She hasn't inspected Binns yet ... bet you anything she's there ..."

Thankfully, I was wrong. The only teacher present when we entered was Professor Binns.

Class was boring as usual, until Hedwig turned up outside the window, pecking at it.

"Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful," Lavender sighed to Parvati.

Harry slipped quietly off his chair, crouched down and hurried along the row to the window, where he slid the catch and opened it very slowly.

Hedwig hopped inside, hooting sweetly. She perched on Harry's shoulder as he snuck back into his seat. He put Hedwig on his lap and removed the letter tied to her leg.

"She's hurt!" Harry whispered, to Hermione and I. "Look-there's something wrong with her wing."

The poor bird was trembling as Harry gently touched her ruffled up wing. It was insane. Who would hurt an innocent owl?

"Professor Binns," said Harry loudly, and everyone in the class turned to look at him. "I'm not feeling well."

"Not feeling well?" Binns repeated hazily.

"Not at all well," said Harry firmly, getting to his feet with Hedwig concealed behind his back. "I think I need to go to the hospital wing."

"Yes," said Professor Binns. "Yes ... yes, hospital wing ... well, off you go, then, Perkins."

Harry went out the door.

"Who would harm Hedwig?" whispered Hermione. "She wouldn't hurt anybody, she's the sweetest owl in the world."

"Dunno. Another bird, perhaps?"

"Maybe. I hope so. Surely not a human, I hope a muggle didn't try to hunt her." said Hermione, chewing on the end of a sugar quill, which was extremely distracting.

"I hope not."

"Oh Ron, what if it was someone trying to capture her? Trying to read Harry's message? Everyone knows that she is his. She's the only snowy owl here." whispered Hermione in a panic.

I mulled the thought over. That could very well be a possibility. Especially with what was going on these days.

When class was over, we walked out of class and looked for Harry. We went to the courtyard to wait and see if he would turn up.

Sure enough, Harry came a few minutes later with a scroll in his hand.

"Is Hedwig OK?" asked Hermione.

"Where did you take her?" I asked.

"To Grubbly-Plank," said Harry. "And I met McGonagall ... listen ..."

And he told us what Professor McGonagall had said about letters being intercepted and searched.

"Well, I was just saying to Ron ... what if someone had tried to intercept Hedwig? I mean, she's never been hurt on a flight before, has she?"

"Who's the letter from, anyway?" I asked, taking the note from Harry.

"Snuffles," said Harry quietly.

" 'Same time, same place?' Does he mean the fire in the common room?"

"Obviously," said Hermione, also reading the note. She looked uneasy. "I just hope nobody else has read this."

"But it was still sealed and everything," said Harry. "And nobody would understand what it meant if they didn't know where we'd spoken to him before, would they?"

"I don't know," said Hermione anxiously, hitching her bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again, "it wouldn't be exactly difficult to re-seal the scroll by magic ... and if anyone's watching the Floo Network ... but I don't really see how we can warn him not to come without that being intercepted, too!"

We dragged ourselves down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, and as we reached the bottom of the steps, Malfoy's toxic voice sounded off loudly as he waved around an official-looking piece of parchment.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father really well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry ... it'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor are allowed to keep playing, won't it?"

"Don't rise," Hermione whispered to Harry and I, both of us clenching our fists, glaring at the prick. "It's what he wants."

"I mean," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes now on us, "if it's a question of influence with the Ministry, I don't think they've got much chance ... from what my father says, they've been looking for an excuse to sack Arthur Weasley for years ... and as for Potter ... my father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's ... apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic."

Suddenly, something knocked Harry sideways. It was Neville, who had just charged past him, heading straight for Malfoy.

"Neville, no!"

Harry leapt forward and seized the back of Neville's robes; Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Malfoy who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked, just like the rest of us.

"Help me!" Harry wailed at me as he managed to get an arm around Neville's neck and dragged him backwards, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were flexing their arms as they stepped in front of Malfoy, ready for the fight. I seized Neville's arms, and together Harry and I succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line.

Neville's face was red; he looked as if he wanted to kill Malfoy. He tried to catch his breath as odd words spluttered from his mouth.

"Not ... funny ... don't ... Mungo's ... show ... him ..."

The dungeon door opened. Snape appeared there. His black eyes swept up the Gryffindor line to the point where Harry and I were wrestling with Neville.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape said in his cold, sneering voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, Potter, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you."

Harry let go of Neville, who stood panting and glaring at him.

"I had to stop you," Harry gasped, picking up his bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would've torn you apart."

Neville said nothing; he merely snatched up his own bag and stalked off into the dungeon.

"What the fuck was that about?" I asked Harry.

"Dunno," he answered. "Might have just had enough, you know?'

Harry, Hermione, and I took our usual seats at the back of the class, pulled out parchment, quills and got out our textbooks. The class was all a buzz, whispering about what Neville had just done, but when Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang, everybody immediately fell silent.

"You will notice," said Snape, in his low, sneering voice, "that we have a guest with us today."

He gestured towards the dim corner of the dungeon and there was the great pink toad sitting there, clipboard on her knee.

"Oh, bloody hell, " I whispered to Hermione. "I don't know whose side to be on, I hate them both."

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solution today. You will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson; it correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend-instructions-" he waved his wand again "-on the board. Carry on."

Umbitch spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. We were all trying to eavesdrop on her questions, but it seemed like Harry was concentrating more on that than he was his potion.

"Salamander blood, Harry!" Hermione moaned, grabbing his wrist to prevent him adding the wrong ingredient for the third time, "not pomegranate juice!"

"Right," said Harry vaguely, putting down the bottle and continuing to watch the corner. Umbridge had just got to her feet and walked over to Snape, who was bending over Dean's cauldron.

"Well, the class seem fairly advanced for their level," she said in fake cheeriness to Snape's back. "Though I would question whether it is advisable to teach them a potion like the Strengthening Solution. I think the Ministry would prefer it if that was removed from the syllabus."

Snape straightened up slowly and turned to look at her.

"Now, how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard.

'Fourteen years," Snape replied boredly.

"You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

"Yes," said Snape quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?"

Snape's lip curled.

"Obviously."

I buried my face in Hermione's arm for a couple of seconds. I needed to laugh at that one.

Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?"

"Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. It was almost too much to bear without laughing on the floor.

"Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge.

"I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily.

"Ron, you're going to rip my sleeve," Hermione whispered.

"Oh, I shall," said Professor Umbridge, with a sweet smile.

"I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge, "yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'-er-backgrounds."

She turned away, walked over to Pansy, and began questioning her about the lessons. Harry had paid so much attention to the conversation, that has potion was now giving off a. strong smell of burned rubber.

'No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape nastily, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

"Yes," said Harry furiously.

I stopped laughing after that.