Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (43 page)

‘Yes, he has,’ said Luna.

‘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 tartly.

‘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 people looked around in alarm and then laughed. ‘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 …’

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

‘Library?’ suggested Katie Bell after a few moments.

‘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,’ said Ron, ‘McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Triwizard.’

But Harry was pretty certain that McGonagall would not be so accommodating this time. For all that Hermione had said about study and homework groups being allowed, he had the distinct feeling that this one might be considered a lot more rebellious.

‘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, rather as though she was steeling herself to say 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 Harry noticed at once that 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, though Harry saw Cho’s friend give her a rather reproachful look before adding her own name. When the last person – Zacharias – 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 they 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 made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forwards to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that 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 she, Harry and Ron walked out of the Hog’s Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later. Harry and Ron were clutching their bottles of Butterbeer.

‘That Zacharias bloke’s a wart,’ said Ron, who was glowering after the figure of Smith, just discernible in the distance.

‘I don’t like him much, either,’ admitted Hermione, ‘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 –’

Ron, who had been draining the last few drops from his Butterbeer bottle, gagged and sprayed Butterbeer down his front.

‘He’s WHAT?’ spluttered Ron, outraged, his ears now resembling curls of raw beef. ‘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 composedly. They had turned into the High Street and she paused outside Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant feather quills in the window. ‘Hmm … I could do with a new quill.’

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

‘Which one was Michael Corner?’ Ron demanded furiously.

‘The dark one,’ said Hermione.

‘I didn’t like him,’ said Ron at once.

‘Big surprise,’ said Hermione under her breath.

‘But,’ said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, ‘I thought Ginny fancied Harry!’

Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head.

‘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.

Harry, whose head was still full of Cho’s parting wave, did not find this subject quite as interesting as Ron, who was positively quivering with indignation, but it did bring something home to him that until now he had not really registered.

‘So that’s why she talks now?’ he 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, with Ron still breathing down her neck.

‘Ron,’ she said severely as she turned and trod on his feet, ‘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 …’ Ron continued to chunter under his breath all the way down the street.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and then said in an undertone, while Ron was still muttering imprecations about Michael Corner, ‘And talking about Michael and Ginny … what about Cho and you?’

‘What d’you mean?’ said Harry quickly.

It was as though boiling water was rising rapidly inside him; a burning sensation that was causing his face to smart in the cold – had he been that obvious?

‘Well,’ said Hermione, smiling slightly, ‘she just couldn’t keep her eyes off you, could she?’

Harry had never before appreciated just how beautiful the village of Hogsmeade was.

Harry felt happier for the rest of the weekend than he had done all term. He and Ron spent much of Sunday catching up with all their homework again, and although this could hardly be called fun, the last burst of autumn sunshine persisted, so rather than sitting hunched over tables in the common room they took their work outside and lounged in the shade of a large beech tree on the edge of the lake. Hermione, who of course was up to date with all her work, brought more wool outside with her and bewitched her knitting needles so that they flashed and clicked in midair beside her, producing more hats and scarves.

Knowing they were doing something to resist Umbridge and the Ministry, and that he was a key part of the rebellion, gave Harry a feeling of immense satisfaction. He kept reliving Saturday’s meeting in his mind: all those people, coming to him to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts … and the looks on their faces as they had heard some of the things he had done … and
Cho
praising his performance in the Triwizard Tournament – knowing all those people did not think him a lying weirdo, but someone to be admired, buoyed him up so much that he was still cheerful on Monday morning, despite the imminent prospect of all his least favourite classes.

He and Ron headed downstairs from their dormitory, 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.

A large sign had been affixed to the Gryffindor noticeboard, so large it covered everything else on it – the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training timetable, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog Cards for others, the Weasleys’ latest 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.

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

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 OK 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 round at the door to the girls’ dormitories.

‘Let’s go and tell her,’ said Ron. He bounded forwards, pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase.

He was on the sixth stair when there was a loud, wailing, klaxon-like sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide like a helter-skelter. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backwards 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.

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 dishevelled. ‘I didn’t realise 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 on to 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 noticeboard.

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. ‘Believe me, if anyone’s run off and told Umbridge, we’ll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it.’

‘What’ll happen to them?’ said Ron eagerly.