_______ ✿☾☆♫ _______

_______ ✿☾☆♫ _______

⚡︎
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟏𝟒
ᴜᴍʙʀɪᴅɢᴇ's ɪɴsᴘᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

"ɪᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴛᴏᴏᴋ ʏᴏᴜ
ʙᴏᴛʜ ꜰɪᴠᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴛᴏ
ꜰɪɢᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴏᴜᴛ?"

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 Ron headed downstairs from their dormitory together, discussing Angelina's idea that they were to work on a new move called the Sloth Grip Roll during that night's Quidditch practice, and not until they were halfway across the sunlit common room did they notice the addition to the room that had already attracted the attention of a small group of people. Tasmin being one of the many people crowded around it. She turned to them with an anxious look on her face. "You've got to see this." she gestured to the notice board behind her.

A large sign had been affixed to the Gryffindor notice board, so large that it covered everything else on there — the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training schedule, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog cards for others, the Weasleys' new advertisement for testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends, and the lost - and - found notices. 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.

— ʙʏ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ ᴏꜰ —
𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑯𝑰𝑮𝑯 𝑰𝑵𝑸𝑼𝑰𝑺𝑰𝑻𝑶𝑹 𝑶𝑭
𝑯𝑶𝑮𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑺

All Student Organizations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded.   

An Organization, 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 Organization, 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 Organization, 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.

sіgᥒᥱძ ᑲᥡ :
𝒟ℴ𝓁ℴ𝓇ℯ𝓈 𝒥𝒶𝓃ℯ 𝒰𝓂𝒷𝓇𝒾𝒹ℊℯ
ʜɪɢʜ ɪɴǫᴜɪsɪᴛᴏʀ

Harry and Ron read the notice over the heads of some anxious - looking second years.

"Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?" one of them asked his friend.

"I reckon you'll be okay with Gobstones," Ron said darkly, making the second year jump. "I don't think we're going to be as lucky, though, do you?" he asked Harry as the second years hurried away.

Harry was reading the notice through again. The happiness that had filled him since Saturday was gone. His insides were pulsing with rage.

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

"She can't," said Ron at once.

"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 . . ."

"And he had thought they believed him, thought they even admired him . . .

"Zacharias Smith!" said Ron at 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 around at the door to the girls' dormitories.

"Let's go and tell her," said Ron. He bounded forward, pulled open the door, and set off up the spiral staircase.

He was on the sixth stair when it happened. There was a loud, wailing, klaxonlike sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backward and shot 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 Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh.

"You think?" He asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Though he himself was failing to hold back a chuckle.

"It really took you both five years to figure this out? You've really never tried to go up there before?" Tasmin asked the boys while laughing.

Before either Ron or Harry could reply, 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 Ron.

"Me," said Ron, who was still rather disheveled. "I didn't realize that would happen. It's not fair!" he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. "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 them 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!" said Ron, dragging her over to the notice board.

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

"Someone must have blabbed to her!" Ron said angrily.

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

"You're so naive," said Ron, "you think 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 grimly, referring to the piece of parchment the group all signed, labelled with 'Dumbledore's Army'. "Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it." she muttered out coldly.

"What'll happen to them?" Tasmin asked eagerly with a grin on her face.

"Well, put it this way," said Hermione, "it'll make Eloise Midgen'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?"

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Harry, Ron, and Hermione and Tasmin had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George, and Ginny descended upon them.

"Did you see it?"

"D'you reckon she knows?"

"What are we going to do?"

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," he said quietly.

"Knew you'd say that," said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm as he sat next to Tasmin.

"The prefects as well?" Fred questioned, looking rather quizzically at Ron and Hermione.

"Of course," said Hermione coolly.

"Here comes Ernie and Hannah Abbott," said Ron, looking over his 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. The pair looked rather confused but complied to Hermione's frantic request anyway.

"Later! We'll — talk — to — you — later!"

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

She hurried off toward the Ravenclaw table; Harry watched her go. Cho was sitting not far away, talking to the curly - haired friend she had brought along to the Hog's Head. Would Umbridge's notice scare her off meeting them again?

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

"Harry! Ron!"

It was Angelina and she was hurrying toward them looking perfectly desperate.

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

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

"What?" Harry questioned incredulously. He didn't think he had ever been more confused in his life. Confusion and anger did not make a good mix, especially with Harry.

"No way," said Ron, 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 anymore!"

"Okay, okay," 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," said Ron grimly, as they set off for Binns's lesson. "She hasn't inspected Binns yet. . . . Bet you anything she's there . . ."

But he was wrong; the only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. Harry did not even attempt to follow what he was saying today; he doodled idly on his parchment ignoring Hermione's frequent glares and Tasmin's harsh nudges, until a particularly painful poke in the ribs made him look up angrily.

"What?"

She pointed at the window. Harry looked around. Hedwig was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing through the thick glass at him, a letter tied to her leg. Harry could not understand it; they had just had breakfast, why on earth hadn't she delivered the letter then, as usual? Many of his classmates were pointing out Hedwig to each other too.

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

He glanced around at Professor Binns who continued to read his notes, serenely unaware that the class's attention was even less focused upon him than usual. 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. He had expected Hedwig to hold out her leg so that he could remove the letter and then fly off to the Owlery, but the moment the window was open wide enough she hopped inside, hooting dolefully. He closed the window with an anxious glance at Professor Binns, crouched low again, and sped back to his seat with Hedwig on his shoulder. He regained his seat, transferred Hedwig to his lap, and made to remove the letter tied to her leg.

It was only then that he realized that Hedwig's feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle.

"She's hurt!" Harry whispered, bending his head low over her. Hermione and Ron leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill. "Look — there's something wrong with her wing —"

Hedwig was quivering; when Harry made to touch the wing she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she was inflating herself, and gazed at him reproachfully.

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

Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, looking amazed, as always, to find the room in front of him full of people.

"Not feeling well?" he repeated hazily.

"Not at all, no." said Harry firmly, getting to his feet while concealing Hedwig behind his back. "So I think I'll need to go to the hospital wing."

"Yes," said Professor Binns, clearly very much wrong - footed. "Yes . . . yes, hospital wing . . . well, off you go, then, Perkins . . ."

Harry looked confused before running out of the room, not bothering to correct the man.

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐂𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐋𝐋'𝐒 short warning, Harry found himself wondering aimlessly with the letter, he know to be from Sirius, in his hand:

Today, same time, same place.

is what it read. He sighed slightly, his mind wandering back to his thoughts slightly. That was before a sudden voice broke him out of them of course.

"Is Hedwig okay?" asked Hermione anxiously, the moment he was within earshot.

"Where did you take her?" asked Ron.

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

And he told them what Professor McGonagall had said. To his surprise, none of them looked at all shocked; on the contrary, they exchanged significant looks.

"What?" said Harry, looking from Ron, to Hermione, then Tasmin and then back again.

"Well, I was just saying to these two . . . 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?" asked Tasmin, taking the note from Harry.

"Snuffles," said Harry quietly.

"'Same time, same place'? Does he mean the fire in the common room?" Ron asked while peering over his friends' shoulder at the short letter.

"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, trying to convince himself as much as her. "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 Tasmin anxiously, hitching her bag back over her shoulder as the bell rang again. "It wouldn't be exactly difficult to reseal the scroll by magic. . . ." Tasmin trailed off.

"And not to mention 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!" Hermione sighed worriedly.

The quartet trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, all three of them lost in thought, but as they reached the bottom of the stairs they were recalled to themselves by the voice of Draco Malfoy, who was standing just outside Snape's classroom door, waving around an official - looking piece of parchment and talking much louder than was necessary so that they could hear every word.

"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," Tasmin whispered urgently to Harry and Ron, who were both watching Malfoy, faces set and fists clenched. "It's what he wants . . ." Noticing the visible anger on his face, the girl reached over and grabbed Harry's (good) hand and rubbed it soothingly in order to try and calm him down.

"I mean," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his gray eyes glittering malevolently in Harry and Ron's direction, "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 . . ."

Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter, Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee.

Something collided hard with Harry's shoulder, knocking him sideways. A split second later he realized that Neville 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.

"Help me!" Harry flung at Ron, managing to get an arm around Neville's neck and dragging him backward, away from the Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle were now flexing their arms, closing in front of Malfoy, ready for the fight. Ron hurried forward and seized Neville's arms; together, he and Harry succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line. Neville's face was scarlet; the pressure Harry was exerting on his throat rendered him quite incomprehensible, but odd words spluttered from his mouth.

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

By now, Tasmin had made her way over to the three, rounding on Malfoy.

"What the hell is your problem Malfoy?" she spat out, particularly his last name.

"My problem?" Draco sneered. "You think I have a problem? Maybe you should be learning to control your fellow housemates Barlow." He continued, putting extra emphasis on her last name just as she did to his.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to if you didn't keep saying idiotic and insensitive comments. Keep saying stuff like that and you'll be the one in St. Mungo's hospital." the girl threatened holding up her wand. She was now looking at the boy with nothing but pure anger, wishing she could get a good spell or two on him. But before she could do so, the doors flung open and Snape burst in. Immediately, he looked over to the four Gryffindors in the middle of the hall, then to the Slytherins, he skipped over them afterwards. His attention going back to the students clad in maroon red ties.

"Fighting, Potter, Weasley, Barlow, Longbottom?" Snape asked 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 in the name of Merlin," said Ron slowly, as they followed Neville, "was that about?"

Neither Harry nor Tasmin answered. They knew exactly why the subject of people who were in St. Mungo's because of magical damage to their brains was highly distressing to Neville, but Tasmin had sworn to Neville she wouldn't tell a soul, and Harry had sworn to Dumbledore that he would not tell anyone Neville's secret. Even Neville did not know that Harry knew. Not even Harry knew that Tasmin knew, he just thought she was being caring as always. He also thought that she just wanted an excuse to call out Malfoy once more.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Tasmin took their usual seats at the back of the class and pulled out parchment, quills, and their copies of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. The class around them was whispering about what Neville had just done, but when Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang everybody fell silent immediately.

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

He gestured toward the dim corner of the dungeon, and Harry saw Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. He glanced sideways at Ron, Hermione and Tasmin, his eyebrows raised. Snape and Umbridge, the two teachers he hated most in one room . . . it was hard to decide which he wanted to triumph over the other. Though he supposed he'd have to wait until the end of the lesson for that result.

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

Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. Harry was very interested in hearing her question Snape, so interested, that he was becoming careless with his potion again.

"Salamander blood, Harry!" Tasmin whisper yelled, catching his wrist to prevent him adding the wrong ingredient for the third time. "Not pomegranate juice!" Hermione looked over in alarm at the girl's words, she nodded in approval of her words. Thankful she wasn't the only one to correct Harry in his wrong movements.

"Right," said Harry vaguely, putting down the bottle and continuing to watch the corner. Umbridge had just gotten to her feet. "Ha," he said softly, as she strode between two lines of desks toward Snape, who was bending over Dean Thomas's cauldron.

"Well, the class seems fairly advanced for their level," she said briskly 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. Scowling ever so slightly, if Umbridge saw, she certainly said not a word.

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

"Fourteen years," Snape replied in his usual monotonous tone. His expression was unfathomable. All eyes were now on Snape, everybody in the room didn't know who to root for, their dreaded potions professor who had tormented the Gryffindors for years, or the old hag who was their DADA professor.

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

"Yes," said Snape quietly.

"But you were unsuccessful?" she tutted.

Snape's lip curled."Obviously."

Umbridge smiled with her sickly sweet smile and turned away to Pansy Parkinson who was in the back with all of the other Slytherins.

Across from Tasmin, Harry and Hermione was Ron, who was barely able to conceal his laugh. His attempts were fruitless however, when Snape whacked him on the back of the head with an old potions book. Ron turned back to the professor who snarled at him before walking across the classroom to where Umbridge was standing and writing notes on her pink clipboard.

"Really Ronald?" Hermione questioned the boy. He turned to look at her, just by the use of his full name allowed for Ron to know he was in trouble.

"No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape who had now come over to the table Tasmin, Harry, Ron, Hermione and one the the Parvati twins were residing at. He then emptied 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. Snape had already given them homework, and he had Quidditch practice this evening; this would mean another couple of sleepless nights. It did not seem possible that he had awoken that morning feeling very happy. All he felt now was a fervent desire for this day to end as soon as possible.

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 skive off Divination," he said glumly as they stood again in the courtyard after lunch, the wind whipping at the hems of robes and brims of hats. "I'll pretend to be ill and do Snape's essay instead, then I won't have to stay up half the night . . ."

"You can't skive off Divination," said Hermione severely.

"Hark who's talking, you walked out of Divination, you hate Trelawney!" said Ron indignantly.

"I don't hate her," said Hermione loftily. "I just think she's an absolutely appalling teacher and a real old fraud . . ." she trailed off. "But Harry's already missed History of Magic and I don't think he ought to miss anything else today!"

There was too much truth in this to ignore, so half an hour later Harry took his seat in the hot, over - perfumed atmosphere of the Divination classroom feeling angry at everybody. Professor Trelawney was handing out copies of The Dream Oracle yet again; he would surely be much better employed doing Snape's punishment essay than sitting here trying to find meaning in a lot of made - up dreams.

It seemed, however, that he was not the only person in Divination who was in a temper. Professor Trelawney slammed a copy of the Oracle down on the table between Harry and Ron and swept away, lips pursed: she threw the next copy of the Oracle at Seamus and Dean, narrowly avoiding Seamus's head, Trelawney then made her way over to Hermione and Tasmin's table and threw a copy of the book to the pair, Tasmin acted quickly and caught it before it could hit the boy behind her, the professor thrust the final one into Neville's chest with such force that he slipped off his pouf.

"Well, carry on!" said Professor Trelawney loudly, her voice high pitched and somewhat hysterical. "You know what to do! Or am I such a substandard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?"

The class stared perplexedly at her and then at each other. Harry, however, thought he knew what was the matter. As Professor Trelawney flounced back to the high - backed teacher's chair, her magnified eyes full of angry tears, he leaned his head closer to Ron's and muttered, "I think she's got the results of her inspection back."

"You think?" Ron muttered quietly to Harry in a rather sarcastic tone. It seemed as though the Divination professor heard the two's conversation as she moved over to glance at them, giving them an extremely harsh glare.

"Have you got something to say boys?" she asked them. Harry and Ron froze, they looked to each other, then to Lavender and Tasmin as if they'd be able to help them, then back to the now very angered looking woman. "Uhm . . . no." Ron replied.

"Nothing." Harry added.

"I think they were just saying how much of a great professor you are." a voice rang out. All eyes were now on the brave person who had dared to speak.

"Is that so?" she questioned, looking back to both Ron and Harry.

The duo looked back to where the voice had come from, Tasmin sent them a look as of saying just go with it. Before Ron could say a word, Harry did. "Oh yeah, absolutely."

"Professor?" asked Parvati Patil in a hushed voice after the whole debacle with Ron and Harry, (she and Lavender had always rather admired Professor Trelawney). "Professor, is there anything — er — wrong?"

"Wrong!" cried Professor Trelawney in a voice throbbing with emotion. "Certainly not! I have been insulted, certainly. . . . Insinuations have been made against me. . . . Unfounded accusations levelled . . . but no, there is nothing wrong, certainly not . . ."

She took a great shuddering breath and looked away from Parvati, angry tears spilling from under her glasses.

"I say nothing," she choked, "of sixteen years' devoted service. . . . It has passed, apparently, unnoticed. . . . But I shall not be insulted, no, I shall not!"

"But Professor, who's insulting you?" asked Parvati timidly.

"The establishment!" said Professor Trelawney in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice. "Yes, those with eyes too clouded by the Mundane to See as I See, to Know as I Know . . . Of course, we Seers have always been feared, always persecuted. . . . It is — alas — our fate . . ."

She gulped, dabbed at her wet cheeks with the end of her shawl, and then pulled a small, embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve, into which she blew her nose very hard with a sound like Peeves blowing a raspberry. Ron sniggered. Lavender shot him a disgusted look.

"Professor," said Parvati, "do you mean . . . is it something Professor Umbridge . . . ?"

"Do not speak to me about that woman!" cried Professor Trelawney, leaping to her feet, her beads rattling and her spectacles flashing. "Kindly continue with your work!"

And she spent the rest of the lesson striding among them, tears still leaking from behind her glasses, muttering what sounded like threats under her breath.

". . . may well choose to leave . . . the indignity of it . . . on probation . . . we shall see . . . how she dares . . ."

"𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 saving us back there," Ron spoke up as they were walking through the corridors having just came out of Divination, they were now on their way to DADA. "I thought we were goners for sure." he added with a dreaded look on his face.

"No problem." Tasmin dismissed with a wave of her hand. "You would of done the same thing for me, I hope."

"Of course." This time it was Harry who spoke. "We'll always have your back." He reassured while giving the girl a small smile, she gave one in return. At that, Harry felt his face heat up slightly and his stomach flutter with non - existent butterflies.

The trio finally made their way into the DADA classroom and Harry immediately beelined straight towards Hermione who was already sat in her seat with her book out, wand away and tucked neatly into her robes.

"You and Umbridge have got something in common," Harry told Hermione quietly when they met again in Defense Against the Dark Arts. "She obviously reckons Trelawney's an old fraud too. . . . Look"

Umbridge entered the room as he spoke, wearing her, surprisingly, black velvet bow and an expression of great smugness.

"Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted drearily.

"Wands away, please . . ."

But there was no answering flurry of movement this time; nobody had bothered to take out their wands."Please turn to page thirty - four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled 'The Case for Non - Offensive Responses to Magical Attack.' There will be —"

"— no need to talk," Harry, Ron, Tasmin and Hermione all chorused together under their breaths bitterly.

"𝐍𝐎 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 practice," said Angelina in hollow tones when Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered the common room that night after dinner.

"I kept my temper!" Harry defended, horrified. "I didn't say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I —"

"— I know, I know," said Angelina miserably. "She just said she needed a bit of time to consider."

"Consider what?" Ron spat out, equally as confused as Harry. "She's given the Slytherins permission, why not us?"

"Well," said Hermione, "look on the bright side — at least now you'll have time to do Snape's essay!"

"That's a bright side, is it?" snapped Harry, while Ron stared incredulously at Hermione. "No Quidditch practice and extra Potions?"

Harry slumped down into a chair, dragged his Potions essay reluctantly from his bag, and set to work.

It was very hard to concentrate; even though he knew that Sirius was not due in the fire until much later he could not help glancing into the flames every few minutes just in case. There was also an incredible amount of noise in the room: Fred and George appeared finally to have perfected one type of Skiving Snackbox, which they were taking turns to demonstrate to a cheering and whooping crowd.

First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, at which he would vomit spectacularly into a bucket they had placed in front of them. Then he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease. Lee Jordan, who was assisting the demonstration, was lazily vanishing the vomit at regular intervals with the same Vanishing Spell Snape kept using on Harry's potions.

What with the regular sounds of retching, cheering, and Fred and George taking advance orders from the crowd, Harry was finding it exceptionally difficult to focus on the correct method for Strengthening Solutions. Hermione was not helping matters; the cheers and sound of vomit hitting the bottom of Fred and George's bucket were punctuated by loud and disapproving sniffs that Harry found, if anything, more distracting.

"Just go and stop them, then!" he said irritably, after crossing out the wrong weight of powdered griffin claw for the fourth time.

"I can't, they're not technically doing anything wrong," said Hermione through gritted teeth. "They're quite within their rights to eat the foul things themselves, and I can't find a rule that says the other idiots aren't entitled to buy them, not unless they're proven to be dangerous in some way, and it doesn't look as though they are . . ."

"She, Harry, Tasmin and Ron watched George projectile - vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew, and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protracted applause.

"You know, I don't get why Fred and George only got three O.W.L.s each," said Harry, watching as Fred, George, and Lee collected gold from the eager crowd. "They really know their stuff . . ."

"Oh, they only know flashy stuff that's no real use to anyone," said Hermione with a huff.

"No real use?" said Ron in a strained voice. "Hermione, they've got about twenty - six Galleons already . . ."

It was a long while before the crowd around the Weasleys dispersed, and then Fred, Lee, and George sat up counting their takings even longer, so that it was well past midnight when Harry, Ron, Tasmin and Hermione finally had the common room to themselves again. At long last, Fred closed the doorway to the boys' dormitories behind him, rattling his box of Galleons ostentatiously so that Hermione scowled. Harry, who was making very little progress with his Potions essay, decided to give it up for the night. As he put his books away, Ron, who was dozing lightly in an armchair, gave a muffled grunt, awoke, looked blearily into the fire and said, "Sirius!"

Harry whipped around; Sirius's untidy dark head was sitting in the fire again.

"Hi," he said, grinning widely.

"Hi," chorused Harry, Ron, Tasmin and Hermione, all four kneeling down upon the hearthrug. Crookshanks purred loudly and approached the fire, trying, despite the heat, to put his face close to Sirius'.

"How're things?" said Sirius."Not that good," said Harry, as Hermione pulled Crookshanks back to stop him singeing his whiskers on the ever glowing fire, now with the addition of Sirius' face in it. "The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams —"

"— or secret Defense Against the Dark Arts groups?" said Sirius.

There was a short pause. The four all looked to each other confusedly. Sirius chuckled at that and the puzzled look on the teenager's faces.

"How did you know about that?" Harry demanded.

"You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. "The Hog's Head, I ask you . . ."

"Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" said Hermione defensively. "That's always packed with people and —"

"— which means you'd have been harder to overhear," interrupted Sirius. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione.

Ron and Tasmin snickered quietly at this, which gained the attention of Hermione. She glared at them menacingly. "Oh shut it you two."

"Who overheard us?" Harry dashed his Godfather, ignoring the argument going on between his three friends, and the small fluttering feeling he got in his stomach earlier from seeing Tasmin's smile. Pull yourself together he had told himself.

"Mundungus, of course," said Sirius, and when they all looked puzzled he laughed. "He was the witch under the veil."

"That was Mundungus?" Harry said, stunned. "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?"

"What do you think he was doing?" said Sirius impatiently. "Keeping an eye on you, of course."

"I'm still being followed?" asked Harry angrily.

"Yeah, you are," Sirius confirmed, "and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organize an illegal defense group."

But he looked neither angry nor worried; on the contrary, he was looking at Harry with distinct pride.

"But why was Mundungus hiding from us though?" asked Tasmin, a confused look on her face.

"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago," said Sirius, "and that barman's got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately. . . . Anyway . . . First of all, Ron — I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother."

"Oh yeah?" said Ron, sounding apprehensive.

"She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now. She also" — Sirius' eyes turned to the other three — "advises Harry, Tasmin and Hermione not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over any of them and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart. She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight."

"On duty doing what?" said Ron quickly.

"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order," said Sirius. "So it's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think she trusts me to."

There was another pause in which Crookshanks, mewing, attempted to paw Sirius's head, and Ron fiddled with a hole in the hearthrug.

"So you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the defense group?" he muttered finally.

"Me? Certainly not!" said Sirius, looking surprised. "I think it's an excellent idea!"

"You do?" said Harry, his heart lifting.

"Of course I do!" said Sirius. "D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?"

"But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —"

"Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!" said Sirius rather impatiently. "This year we know that there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"

"And if we do get expelled?" Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.

"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" said Harry, staring at her.

"I know it was. . . . I just wondered what Sirius thought," she said, shrugging.

"Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue," said Sirius.

"Hear, hear," said Harry and Ron enthusiastically.

"So," said Sirius, "how are you organizing this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," said Harry. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go . . ."

"How about the Shrieking Shack?" suggested Sirius.

"Hey, that's an idea!" said Ron excitedly, but Hermione made a skeptical noise and all three of them looked at her, Sirius' head turning in the flames.

"Well, Sirius, it's just that there were only four of you meeting in the Shrieking Shack when you were at school," said Hermione, "and all of you could transform into animals and I suppose you could all have squeezed under a single Invisibility Cloak if you'd wanted to. But there are twenty - nine of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn't need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee —"

"— Fair point," said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. . . . There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practice jinxes in there —"

"George told me it's blocked," said Tasmin, shaking her head. "Caved in or something."

"Oh . . ." said Sirius, frowning. "Well, I'll have a think and get back to —"

"He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace.

"Sirius?" said Harry anxiously.

But he had vanished. Harry gaped at the flames for a moment, then turned to look at Ron and Hermione.

"Why did he — ?"

Hermione gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire.

A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short - fingered hand covered in ugly old - fashioned rings. . . ."

The four of them ran for it; at the boys' dormitory Harry looked back. Umbridge's hand was still making rather aggressive snatching movements amongst the flames, as though she knew exactly where Sirius' hair had been moments before and was determined to seize it.

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