Cassian slouched at the Slytherin table, idly toying with a slice of toast as the morning owls swept into the Great Hall. Luna sat beside him with a dreamy smile, flipping through a Quibbler article titled Top Ten Reasons Nargles Hate Breakfast Foods. Blaise was halfway through a dry remark about someone's mismatched socks when a crisp square of parchment dropped neatly into Cassian's lap.
He glanced at the official Ministry seal and immediately felt his stomach knot.
Unfolding the decree, he read the bold black letters:
Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four
All student organizations, societies, teams, groups, and clubs are hereby disbanded until further notice.
Cassian stared at the page for a long moment.
Luna peered over his shoulder. "Oh. That's not good."
Blaise scanned it with a skeptical brow. "Well, that didn't take long. Think one of the Gryffindors wet themselves and tattled?"
"Or someone was listening in," Luna said airily. "The walls have ears, you know. Especially near windows. And plates. And that one suit of armor on the fourth floor that whispers names backwards."
Cassian crumpled the parchment in his fist. "Someone talked."
Blaise shrugged. "Could've been eavesdropping."
"Then why didn't Granger plan for that?" Cassian snapped. "All that effort on coins and secret messages, and she didn't think to ward the room?"
"You didn't either," Blaise pointed out, unbothered.
"I don't run this circus," Cassian growled. "But she acted like she had it handled."
He stood abruptly, stuffing the decree into his pocket. "I'm going to find her."
—
He caught her halfway down a quiet corridor, alone with a stack of books in her arms and a determined scowl on her face. She blinked in surprise as he strode up.
"Did you read it?" he snapped, holding up the decree.
"Yes, I just saw it—"
"Then tell me something," he interrupted, voice low and sharp. "Why weren't there any spells protecting us?"
Hermione blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"The meeting," Cassian said. "At the Hog's Head. You didn't cast a single silencing charm. No warding runes. Nothing to stop anyone from overhearing a group of students loudly discussing forming an illegal defense organization!"
Hermione frowned. "I chose the Hog's Head because it's seedy. No students go there. I thought it was safer that way—less chance of someone paying attention."
Cassian stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "You thought shady atmosphere was a substitute for actual spells? That no eavesdropping charm or Notice-Me-Not was necessary because of the vibe?"
"I was trying to keep things simple—too much magic would've drawn attention—"
"It's a pub full of questionable characters!" he hissed. "And we sat there discussing illegal activities in plain hearing range of at least three other patrons and a barkeep with a beard like a nest of secrets!"
Hermione flushed. "Look, we were rushed. I didn't think—"
"Exactly. You didn't think. And now the Ministry knows everything."
She opened her mouth, then faltered. Her grip on her books tightened.
Cassian looked at her, bitter disappointment creeping into his voice. "You know, I used to think you were the smart one of the Golden Trio. The clever one. The one who actually understood what was at stake. Guess I was wrong."
Her eyes flicked downward, jaw tight. "If someone in the group told them, the jinx will reveal them. We'll find out."
Cassian took a step closer, eyes narrowed. "And what if it wasn't someone in the group? What if it was a stranger sitting behind a Daily Prophet, or a Ministry agent sipping firewhisky at the bar? We were loud. We were stupid. And you didn't even try to protect us."
Hermione opened her mouth again, then closed it. Her face had gone pale.
"I did what I thought was safest," she said stiffly. "And I'll take responsibility if someone was listening."
"You'd better," Cassian said coldly. "Because this isn't one of Potter's golden-boy adventures. We're not chasing down the hidden evil anymore." He leaned in slightly, voice colder than frost. "We are the hidden evil now. At least, according to the ministry."
He strode down the corridor, cloak billowing, leaving Hermione standing in silence with her arms full and a stricken look on her face.
—
The next few days at Hogwarts were tense and strange, as if the castle itself were holding its breath. Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four spread like wildfire, posted in every corridor by a smug-looking Filch. All clubs, teams, and gatherings were disbanded "until further notice."
That "notice," as it turned out, meant "whatever Dolores Umbridge personally approved." She played queen and judge with terrifying efficiency. After enough whining and political pressure, she was forced to cave on some activities—like Quidditch—but only those she approved, and only with her written consent. Everything else remained suspended.
She began attending classes, sitting in the back with a clipboard and an expression like she'd swallowed vinegar. She interrupted Flitwick mid-lecture to correct his pronunciation, made Snape grit his teeth through entire double Potions lessons, and had the audacity to tell McGonagall she was "too intimidating" for young minds.
The students—especially those who had attended the secret meeting—grew more paranoid with every passing hour.
Then, one morning after Charms, Cassian returned to his dorm to find a small square of parchment slipped onto his books. He hadn't noticed it appear.
He unfolded it carefully.
Seventh floor. Tonight. Across from the tapestry of the dancing trolls.
The ink shimmered faintly—then the parchment burst into harmless green flame and disintegrated into smoke before his eyes.
Cassian raised an eyebrow. "Finally doing something right, Granger."
—
The seventh-floor corridor was quiet when Cassian and Blaise arrived, torchlight flickering over stone as they approached the tall, polished door that now stood waiting. It hadn't been there earlier—but now it looked as if it had always belonged.
Blaise arched a brow. "Well, subtle as ever."
Cassian said nothing, just reached for the handle and pushed the door open.
Inside, the Room of Requirement had become a wide, candlelit training hall. Duelling mats lined the floor, and wooden dummies stood at attention along the walls. A blackboard was already filled with defensive diagrams, and someone had conjured a kettle that steamed gently in the corner.
As soon as they stepped inside, the conversation dulled. Heads turned. A ripple of tension ran through the room. Most of the students frowned or whispered behind their hands, eyes lingering far longer than was polite. A few outright scowled.
"Charming," Blaise muttered under his breath. "They really rolled out the red carpet."
Cassian's eyes swept the room. "So much warmth. I'm overwhelmed."
Before another remark could pass between them, Luna skipped up to meet them, her usual dreamy smile intact.
"You made it," she said simply, as if there'd never been a doubt. "The people here… they're trying. Even if it's a little stiff."
Cassian raised a brow. "Trying?"
Luna nodded. "Yes. They want to believe this will work. That we'll be ready for whatever comes."
She gently tugged Cassian's sleeve. "You should sit with me. The people in the corner are less… twitchy."
Behind them, murmurs continued. Some students averted their eyes. Others—like Neville and Ginny—offered tentative nods. But Parvati, Lavender, and Zacharias Smith made no effort to hide their wariness.
Hermione approached with a clipboard hugged to her chest. "Ignore them," she said quietly to Cassian and Blaise. "Some people don't know how to be grateful when others show up to help."
Cassian gave a dry smirk. "I'm not here to make friends. I'm here because the Ministry's tightening the noose, and half of these people still think this is a homework club."
Hermione didn't argue. "Good. We're about to begin."
At the front of the room, Harry stood by the board, wand in hand. He noticed Cassian's entrance, and his frown deepened slightly, but he said nothing. Ron, however, looked downright sour—like the mere sight of Cassian had curdled his breakfast.
Cassian held their gazes, expression unreadable, then followed Luna to a quiet spot near the back.
The silence stretched, taut and uneasy.
Then Hermione stepped forward and cleared her throat.
"All right, let's begin."