With the heirs study group keeping a low profile since Umbridge's new appointment, Harry spent his Saturday morning with Neville, Luna and Ginny — the weather wasn't quite good enough to be outside, but it wasn't raining, so with some warming charms and a privacy ward they managed to make a cosy little spot for themselves under a tree by the lake. Harry and Neville had both brought homework with them, though Harry wasn't particularly enthusiastic about his — Friday's DADA class had ended with Umbridge setting them an essay on the defensive theories outlined in chapter two of Slinkhard's book, and it was such utter garbage he was having trouble holding his tongue.
"Have you thought any more about what Susan said, Harry?" Neville asked him. It took a few moments for Harry to realise what he was referring to — and he sent a cautious glance towards the two fourth year girls. Of course, if they did start a secret defence club, Luna and Ginny would absolutely want to be part of it.
"A bit." Harry enjoyed daydreaming about it during his detentions, thinking up increasingly outlandish ways to annoy Umbridge without her even realising. "It's a good idea — though I'm still not sure I'm the best person to be teaching it. And we'll have to be careful. If Umbridge catches us…"
"What are you two talking about? What did Susan say?" Ginny pressed. Setting his parchment aside, Harry told her about the idea for the study group — framing it as a conversation with some of the Hufflepuffs, rather than a secret meeting of Wizengamot heirs — and her brown eyes lit up with glee. "That's brilliant. Oh, please say you'll do it, Harry! I'm dying of boredom in Umbridge's classes."
"It does sound like fun," Luna agreed. "I think you'll be a great teacher, Harry."
"Thanks, Luna." Harry smiled at the blonde girl. "I'm certainly game for the idea. I'm just wondering how we'll pull it off. The number of people who might end up getting involved… It'll be hard to hide a group that size." Even if the publicly-dark-aligned Slytherins couldn't risk being present, that was still eleven heirs, plus anyone they deemed trustworthy — Ginny and Luna, the twins, the Gryffindor chasers, Cho Chang. And those were just the people Harry might want to invite.
"Hogwarts is massive, though," Neville pointed out, looking up at the castle towering over them. "There's bound to be somewhere we can hide a study group. Especially with all the privacy wards you know, Harry."
"It's not like it's a History of Magic group, though — Defence needs space for people to move about. If I'm teaching people how to survive in a real fight, they need to be able to get up and dodge." Duelling and defence were very physical forms of magic. They might be able to cram enough people into an empty classroom, but if Harry had to have people take turns to try their hand at spells it would take forever to teach them anything useful.
"Why don't you ask the castle for help?" Luna suggested dreamily. Ginny sniggered.
"Don't know if it quite works that way, Lu," she replied. "Would be nice, though." Then she made a face of disgust. "There's always the Chamber of Secrets, I suppose. It's certainly big enough. And hidden enough." She didn't seem thrilled by the suggestion. Harry shuddered.
"And full of basilisk corpse," he reminded her.
"Oh, yeah." She shrugged. "Maybe you can split the group into smaller groups. Do it by year, or something."
That sounded like an enormous time commitment to Harry, and he said as much. "I know I said I'd try and stop getting detentions, but I still have homework to do," he pointed out. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips. "We'll sort something out. Maybe. It's a nice idea, at any rate."
He reluctantly went back to his essay, tapping his quill against his lower lip in thought. Luna's words, ridiculous though the sounded, stuck in his head.
He was Slytherin's heir; the castle's magic had helped him out plenty of times last year, avoiding Crouch and such. Always small things, but there was definitely some sort of sentient presence there.
…Asking couldn't hurt, right?
.-.-.
That night, once the rest of his dorm-mates were asleep, Harry snuck out beneath his invisibility cloak, Marauder's Map in his pocket just in case. Stood unseen in the corridor outside the tower entrance, he closed his eyes, and reached with his magic.
It was hard, but after an evening spent meditating in search of his animagus for, the magic came easier than it might have done otherwise. He stretched it towards the ambient magic of the castle, one thought echoing in his mind.
I need a place we can all learn. Help me, help the students.
He stood there for several minutes, magic thrumming, feeling like a bit of an idiot as he silently begged the castle for help. He let out a long breath, disappointedly letting his magic fade — and then there was a nudge.
He froze. Another nudge; a familiar feeling, the castle's magic reaching back, urging him. A grin split his face, his breathless laugh echoing in the empty corridor. "Show me," he whispered, focusing on that nudge.
The magic pulled, and he followed.
It didn't tug him towards the main staircase, like he anticipated. Instead, Harry followed the pull through the winding corridors of the seventh floor, keeping his footsteps quiet and a careful eye on the map, just in case. He didn't pay much attention to where it was leading him, focused so hard on not losing the feel of the magic.
Eventually the pull stopped quite abruptly, and Harry looked around. He was in one of the corridors between Ravenclaw Tower and the North Tower, home only to a pair of disused classrooms and a boys' bathroom.
And a door, which Harry had never seen before.
It was right in the middle of the wall, bold as brass, and yet Harry was quite sure it hadn't existed the last time he'd walked that corridor. The castle's magic was encouraging as he reached out to open it.
The room he found had his mouth agape. It was perfect.
The room was easily twice the size of an ordinary Defence classroom, the walls lined with bookshelves. Harry recognised a lot of the titles — both from the school library, and from the library at Seren Du. In one corner was a pile of soft-looking cushions, while another held a trio of mannequin-like figures; duelling practice dummies. One wall was taken up by an enormous mirror, perfect for someone to watch their own duelling form as they attempted spells.
"This is amazing," Harry breathed in awe. "What is this place?"
The castle's magic, so much stronger in this room, was suddenly wiggling into his mind. Room of Requirement, it said, barely a whisper. This was followed by a brief flash of an image, like a memory; Harry himself pacing up and down three times in front of the blank wall, and then the door appeared. Suddenly, he knew how it worked — this room could give him anything.
A grin playing at his lips, he narrowed his gaze in concentration. A squashy sofa, identical to his favourite one in the library at home, appeared in the centre of the room. Harry laughed, throwing himself down on it.
This was incredible. A room that could change and cater to his every desire, that could hide away the door once they were all inside — even better, it was several floors up from Umbridge's office, in a part of the castle hardly anyone bothered to think about.
A thought popped into his head, and his joy faltered. It would be easy to access for the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, but it was a long way to travel for the two houses in the lower half of the school. Not that Harry expected many Slytherins, but there would be at least a few. The Hufflepuffs especially had no reason to be up so high in the castle; it would be tricky for them to get back to their common room without getting caught.
As he thought that, a door suddenly appeared opposite him, sprouting between two bookshelves. Warily, Harry approached it.
It opened up not in the seventh floor corridor, but in a narrow staircase. Harry followed it all the way to the bottom — perhaps two or three floors — and emerged from behind a tapestry of Helga Hufflepuff.
Twenty feet down the corridor from where he knew the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room was.
He gaped again, slipping back behind the tapestry and hurrying up the stairs. The room was exactly as he'd left it, but for three more doors, each engraved with a house crest. Harry knew that were he to follow them, he would find himself not far from each house common room.
"Amazing," he said again, beaming.
It was everything he could possibly need to keep his friends safe. "And other people can use this room too?" There was a vague affirmative feeling in his mind. Harry hummed. This room was incredible, that was for sure — it was also clearly one of the best kept secrets in Hogwarts. And in this room it would be all too easy to assume they were safe. It would just take one untrustworthy person to let the location slip — if not to Umbridge, then bragging to a friend, or wanting the room for their own personal use — and everything would be ruined.
There had to be a way to make sure their secret was kept safe. To make sure this room wouldn't be misused.
But this was an excellent start.
"Thank you," he declared vehemently, feeling the castle's magic warm and happy in his chest. It made him smile. "You don't like Umbridge sticking her nose in any more than the rest of us, do you?"
A feeling of strong dislike, followed by a hint of mischief. Harry laughed, suddenly flooded with a huge wave of confidence.
If the castle itself didn't like Umbridge, she didn't stand a chance.
.-.-.
Harry felt like he was walking on air the next morning, his smile so bright that Neville gave him weird looks over breakfast. Harry refused to explain anything, just grinning and eating his scrambled eggs.
He had to look into a few things, and he didn't want to get anyone's hopes up before his plan was fully formed. If they were going to do this, it would be done properly.
Neville quickly begged off to go spend time in the greenhouses — which, Harry wondered, might have had something to do with Ginny practically sitting in Michael Corner's lap over at the Ravenclaw table — so Harry was left to his own devices. That sounded like a perfect Sunday to him; he could finish off his Potions homework, get in a little animagus practice, and maybe if he was lucky find the time to sneak away with Draco for a while.
With that plan in mind, Harry went up to grab his books from his dorm, then made his way to the library; the homework Snape had set required them to cross-reference some research in books other than the set text.
Since most of his free time had been taken up by detentions since he'd arrived at school, Harry had hardly spent any time in the library so far. Compared to the endless hours of the year before, it felt strangely unfamiliar when he walked in. Madam Pince eyed him warily, but didn't say anything.
He made his way towards the Potions section of the library, a smile tugging at his lips when he saw half a dozen clusters of students gathered around tables, all from mixed houses, all studying diligently together. His friends had promised they would keep the study groups going, and it looked like they had succeeded.
A familiar head of copper curls caught his eye, and he peered into one of the darker corners to see Susan sat with Justin Finch-Fletchley, both of them gesticulating wildly as they spoke soundlessly — under a privacy ward, clearly.
Unsure if he was intruding, Harry edged closer. Luckily, when Susan spotted him, she grinned. A wave of her wand had the ward coming down. "Hiya, Harry."
"Hey, guys." On the table, he spotted one of the enormous law books Susan had had all the heirs searching through over the summer. One dark eyebrow rose. "You two look busy."
Justin's gaze was wary, and he hunched his shoulders a little as if to cover the notes on the table. Susan waved him off. "It's fine, Harry's with us," she assured. She raised the ward once more, pulling out the chair beside her. Harry sat.
"What are you up to? I thought this stuff was… private?" Not for anyone outside their group, he thought, watching as Susan lit up with a devious grin.
"Harry, did you know Justin's dad works for the muggle government?" she said. Harry blinked, perplexed.
"I didn't, no." He knew the Hufflepuff was a muggleborn, but that was the extent of it.
"He's an MP," Justin supplied proudly. "Labour, not Tory."
The only bit of muggle politics Harry knew was that Uncle Vernon was a staunch Tory supporter, so he assumed Justin's dad being in the opposite party meant he was probably a fairly solid bloke.
"Justin has been teaching me a bit about how the muggle government works," Susan continued. "With their elections for the governing seats as well as their Prime Minister. It's fascinating, really."
"I'm sure it is," Harry agreed mildly. It wasn't a topic he'd ever been particularly interested in. "What are you plotting, Bones?" He knew that look on her face all too well by now.
"Me? Plotting?" She feigned innocence, and even Justin laughed. "Okay. So, the Wizengamot is great — or, at least, it will be, once we've sorted it all out," she said, waving a hand dismissively like that was a simple task. "But it's still so very… pureblood. And obviously, we need to uphold wizarding traditions and culture — half the problems we're having is that things are being suppressed so as not to offend muggleborns who don't understand it. But that doesn't mean that they shouldn't get to have a say in how things are run, just because they don't have magical parents."
"If the purebloods are the only ones with power to make legal changes, we risk going too far in the other direction," Justin explained. "Forcing the muggleborns and half-bloods to abandon any trace of their muggle heritage. Or worse, removing them entirely from the muggle world, like the Americans used to do — Obliviating their parents and stealing them away, banning people from interacting with muggles, all that rot."
"That's definitely not what we want." Harry couldn't imagine how bad things might get if the pureblood supremacists felt even more validated than they were already.
"Exactly. And the muggles have some really great technology and stuff that we could do with adapting — you know how I feel about pens, Harry," Susan added with a rueful smile. "We're already dangerously unaware of modern muggle society; the last thing we need is to be separated even further. Not while the muggles are working on all those surveillance cameras and stuff. So," she said, patting her law book, "Justin and I have been talking about how we can adjust the Wizengamot to make it more representative of the community. We can't get rid of any of the existing seats — except the five that have totally died out — not without causing an absolute riot. So my plan is to add more seats, that are a bit like the muggle ones. People run for office, get elected to join the Wizengamot, if they've a mind for that sort of thing. New-bloods, half-bloods, muggleborns — even creatures, maybe, one day. If we can get the law to allow it."
Justin puffed out his chest. "I'm as much of a politician as my father is, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let being a muggleborn keep me out of the profession." There was a challenge in his voice, his blue eyes daring Harry to argue.
"I think that's a brilliant idea," Harry enthused. "You're right that it's not fair to keep all the power in pureblood hands. Do you really think you can make it happen?"
Susan reached over, patting the back of his hand in a fondly patronising manner. "Chief Warlock by the time I'm thirty, remember?" she said. "I'll get it done."
Harry absolutely believed her.
"Well, you know where I'm at if you need me to throw my weight around. I get enough grief for being the Boy-Who-Lived, might as well use the name for good," he joked. Opposite him, Justin's pale cheeks flushed faintly; the curly-haired boy was no doubt remembering the way he'd treated Harry after the Chamber of Secrets debacle.
Wishing the pair luck, Harry left them to it — Susan was a girl on a mission, and he had far too many missions of his own to get sucked into that aspect of her crusade as well.
He had Potions homework to complete.
.-.-.
Through some stroke of luck, the dormitory was empty after lunch — the perfect chance for Harry to get in a little animagus practice. He spelled and warded the drapes around his bed, made sure his meditation stone was under his pillow, and closed his eyes.
It was getting easier and easier every time, to reach for that place within him where the fox slept. The animal's body was so familiar now, as familiar as his own — he felt so close.
He would get it before Christmas, he was sure of it. His wandless magic had come on in leaps and bounds over the past year; this was just like that. Harry felt a strange sensation over the backs of his hands and arms, and opened his eyes. Immediately, he was hit with a wave of astonishment — where he had once had regular human hands, he was now staring at two front paws, the dark red fur trailing all the way up almost to his elbows. He stared at his new paws, flexing the sharp claws and the short toes, feeling the way the pads of his feet felt on his bedsheets. A laugh bubbled up from his chest.
"I hope I can undo that before dinner," he said to himself, closing his eyes to concentrate once more.
It would be really awkward to explain away if he couldn't.
.-.-.
Ever since the High Inquisitor announcement, the students of Hogwarts had wondered what Umbridge's first move would be to bring the school to order.
On Monday morning, they got their answer.
There was a crowd outside the Great Hall at breakfast, and Harry frowned — one of the huge double doors was closed, and it had a large piece of parchment pinned to the front. He squeezed his way past some chattering second year Ravenclaws, trying to get a good look. When he drew close enough to read it, his heart sank like a stone to his gut.
EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER TWENTY-THREE
By Order of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor,
All students are to remain seated at their assigned house tables during every meal.
Failure to comply with this rule will result in loss of house points, detentions, and/or other necessary punishments as decided by the High Inquisitor, Dolores Jane Umbridge.
At the bottom was an enormous Ministry seal, with two signatures below it; Umbridge, and Fudge.
"That's ridiculous!" Ginny complained loudly beside him. "Why can't we sit where we want?"
Harry wondered how much of this rule was down to him. Still, the joke was on Umbridge — if she was implementing this new decree to try and get at Dumbledore, she clearly hadn't noticed the headmaster hated the inter-house mixing just as much as she did. Indeed, the man looked quite jovial up at the head table, happily spreading jam on a slice of toast.
It made Harry's stomach turn, to see rows of only red-lined robes at the Gryffindor table. Everyone looked disgruntled, picking morosely at their meals and muttering to each other in annoyance, sending longing looks at friends on other tables. It was funny how this would have been a perfectly ordinary thing in Harry's first or second or even third year; while a few people might occasionally join a friend elsewhere, the majority of students stuck to their own houses.
How quickly things could change.
The only person more pleased than Dumbledore was Umbridge, who was surveying the students with smug glee. Just for a moment, Harry was so very tempted to send a wandless, wordless hex in her direction. No one would even know it was him.
Knowing her vendetta, he'd probably get blamed regardless.
Not nearly as hungry as he had been before he'd read the announcement, Harry reached for some scrambled egg, nibbling on a corner of toast. And that's when he saw it.
Over at the Ravenclaw table, Cho was sat the wrong way on the bench. Her back to the table and her plate in her lap, she grinned at the boy sat at the Hufflepuff table opposite her. Patrick, Cedric's best friend.
Harry watched as Patrick turned around, raised his eyebrows, then grinned. Suddenly, he was swinging his legs over the bench, copying Cho's position; plate in his lap, sat facing Cho, conversing happily as if there were an invisible table between them.
A hush fell over the hall. Then, Parvati Patil shuffled down the bench at the Gryffindor table, until she was sat opposite her twin sister. They copied Cho and Patrick, resting their plates on their knees, facing away from their own tables. Across the room, a Hufflepuff fourth year turned around to face the Slytherin table, and was met by a Slytherin third year. One by one, students swivelled around on their benches, facing whoever happened to be sat opposite them. Students who had never spoken before started up cheerful conversation, reaching back to add food to their plates. Harry shifted around to face the Ravenclaw table, and found himself staring at one of their chasers whose name he couldn't remember for the life of him. The boy grinned. "Think you're ready for the first match of the season, Potter?" he asked, challenge in his eyes.
Not every student moved. Plenty stayed put, and obviously those on the far sides of the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables had nothing but a wall at their backs. But it was enough — the hall filled with chatter, the bright energy returning to the room at large. Up at the staff table, Sprout was beaming widely, and Flitwick looked so proud Harry thought he might faint. Umbridge, on the other hand, was spitting feathers. "ENOUGH!" she screeched, chair scraping on stone as she stood abruptly. "This is— all of you, sit properly! This is most inappropriate, put your plates back on the tables! Five points from each of you, every student facing the wrong way!" Immediately, the stones in all four house point hourglasses began to fly upwards. Slytherin lost fewer than the rest, but the other three houses were so even it made little difference to the overall scores. Umbridge stormed down the aisle between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, careful not to trip over the legs of all the students sat incorrectly, until she was stood in front of Cho. "Detention, Miss Chang. My office, five o'clock this evening."
Cho's eyes hardened. "Yes, Professor," she replied, smiling unrepentantly. Umbridge huffed, and kept walking, all the way out of the Great Hall.
A flood of excited murmurs started up, even as people swung their legs back over the benches to sit properly. They were all wide-eyed and grinning, flushed with exhilaration.
To them, it felt like a victory. But Harry's eyes were on Cho, being congratulated by Patrick for her ballsy move, and his stomach felt like it was full of lead.
.-.-.
Harry waited outside Umbridge's office that night, under the invisibility cloak, watching the door with anger in his blood. Cho had entered at five on the dot, and it was eight, now.
Thankfully, by half past the door opened; Cho walked out, cradling her right hand, cheeks flushed but no tears in her eyes. As soon as the door shut behind her, Harry stuffed the cloak in his bag and stepped from the shadows, calling her name softly. She jumped, whipping around.
"Harry." Her eyes went wide, her lower lip trembling. "Harry, she—"
"I know," he said softly, sympathetic. "Come here." He reached gently for her hand, first doing the Healing charm Snape had taught him, then the spell to drain the magic. After only one detention, the words were faint, but Harry could just about make them out.
I will not be disruptive.
"I'll teach you the spells tomorrow, if you come find me," he promised. "In case she gets you again. Or anyone else."
"She did that to you, too? Every night?" Cho looked utterly horrified, and Harry attempted a reassuring smile.
"I've had worse. Look, see, it's basically healed." He showed her the back of his hand, where the words I must not tell lies stood out pale pink against his dark skin. "That's awful," Cho breathed. "She just sat there, watching me cut myself over and over — I tried not to cry, I didn't want to give her the satisfaction, I—" The dam broke, and with a quiet sob, tears began to spill from her brown eyes. Harry pulled her into a tight hug, letting her cry on his shoulder.
"You did so well," he soothed. "Brave as a Gryffindor, you are." That earned a weak laugh. Eventually, she pulled back, wiping her face with the sleeve of her jumper.
"Tomorrow after dinner, in the library?" she suggested, only the hint of a wobble to her voice. "Whatever those spells you used were, they helped a lot — it feels better already. I want to know them, in case she gets anyone else I know." Then she smiled shakily. "In case I get another one."
"Cho, you don't have to—"
"Don't," she cut him off sharply. "Don't tell me what to do, Harry Potter. I made my choice this morning, and I'd do the same again. You aren't the only one who hates that hag. Let people make their own choices." She blinked away a few more tears. "Like Cedric made his choice, to stand with you."
Well, when she put it like that, there was nothing he could say. "I'll meet you there," he promised. "Let me walk you back upstairs."
Cho didn't argue, and the pair of them walked side by side, completely silent but for Cho's occasional sniffles. At the top of the staircase, Harry gave her one last tight hug before they parted ways. On the way back to Gryffindor Tower, rage burned deep within him.
Dolores Umbridge was going to regret the day she decided to take on Hogwarts.
.-.-.
Tuesdays were awkward, lunch break splitting Harry's double Transfiguration period right in half. He went straight to the Tower from class to exchange his books, then wolfed down a meal, giving Snape an intent look that the man couldn't possibly ignore. He waited for the tiniest nod, then left the hall, ignoring Neville's confusion.
Despite the small rebellion of Monday morning, everyone was sat at the correct house table. By the way some of the older Ravenclaws looked at him, Cho had told a few people what detentions with Umbridge entailed.
They eyed him with respect, that he had endured two weeks of it so stoically, but their gazes made Harry feel sick. It was much better when people didn't know.
He beat Snape to the man's office, but only by a minute. The Potions Master strolled in, locking and warding the door in his wake. "What?" he snapped irritably. Harry just smirked.
"Hypothetically," he began, dragging out the words.
Snape's eyes raised skyward. "Merlin help me."
Ignoring the mutter, Harry continued. "If I were to need a way to secure the secrecy of a group of people — say, thirty-odd students of varying age and house — in order to hypothetically lead a secret Defence Against the Dark Arts study group right under Umbridge's nose, do you have any suggestions for how I might go about doing that? Hypothetically."
The stare Snape gave him was utterly unimpressed.
"Explain."
Harry told him about Blaise and Susan's idea, and the secret room the castle had shown him. "I'm just worried about people talking about it too much and letting it slip to someone they shouldn't. Both the group itself, and the room in particular. They need to stay secret."
Snape looked like he would very much like to go and investigate the Room of Requirement for himself. "Will any Slytherins be involved?"
"Some will," Harry assured. "Some would like to but can't, like Draco. But hopefully enough will join that they can take what they learn and teach it to those who can't." Blaise and Daphne would be able to pass on information to those who couldn't be seen so publicly on Harry's side.
The Slytherin's lips pursed, something like approval in his eyes. "This is reckless, and very likely to get you expelled," he pointed out evenly.
"I know, but I'm willing to take that risk." If he could teach even a handful of students enough to protect themselves before Umbridge shut him down, it would be worth it.
"Just like your bloody mother," Snape grumbled, making Harry beam. That was the biggest compliment the man could offer him, and they both knew it. "There's a spell — more of a ritual, really. A combination of incantation and potion, soaked into a piece of parchment; it's borderline dark, used by old families to keep contracts secure. Anyone who signs the parchment will not be able to discuss the contents of the parchment with anyone whose name is not also present."
"What will it do to them if they try?" Harry asked warily, not wanting to cause any pain or potential disfigurement. He'd heard all sorts of horror stories from Sirius about magical contract breach.
"Wipe their memory of everything related to the terms of the contract. They won't remember what they signed, who else signed it, any of the details — if yours is regarding your meetings, they won't remember attending any once they break their oath."
Harry shuddered, imagining having a huge chunk of his memory just gone. "Bit drastic."
"Need I remind you what you are risking?" Snape pointed out sharply. "I believe that is far more reasonable a consequence than what Umbridge will do to you if you are discovered."
"Fair point," Harry conceded. "And I suppose if everyone's trustworthy, it won't be a problem." If Snape was suggesting it, it was likely the best option. "Is it magic I can do under school wards?" The last thing he wanted was Dumbledore finding out.
"No. Give me ten days to brew the potion, and I'll do the magic for you at home. The contract will need to be written before it's soaked, so make sure you have everything covered."
Harry grinned; even Snape thought of Seren Du as home, by now. "I can handle that, after all the laws I've read for Susan." He was pretty confident he could write a contract without any loopholes.
"Then bring me the contract on Saturday. I'll take care of the rest," Snape assured, before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I'm not sure if Remus will be proud or disappointed that I'm aiding in your rule-breaking."
A laugh burst from Harry's throat. "It's to piss off Umbridge, he'll be delighted." Sirius, too, would think it a fantastic idea.
Snape didn't look entirely convinced, but he agreed all the same, then sent Harry off to Transfiguration, warning him to stay out of trouble for the next week.
"Really, it's like he's never met me," Harry murmured to himself with a shake of his head, hands in his pockets as he walked. He couldn't keep the grin off his face — his plan was all coming together.
.-.-.
Sadly, his good mood only lasted as far as the end of lessons. After Herbology, Harry was walking across the grounds back to the castle with Neville and Hannah when a small white blob appeared in the sky, moving jerkily in Harry's direction. Harry froze, heart leaping to his throat — it was Hedwig, and she was hurt.
The snowy owl flew awkwardly towards him, one wing set at a strange angle, a crumpled letter tight in her grasp. Instead of landing on Harry's outstretched arm, she missed, flying with a soft thump straight into his chest. "Sweet Helga!" Hannah exclaimed, hand flying to her mouth. "Is that your owl?"
"Is she okay?" Neville asked urgently. Harry ran gentle fingers over the malformed wing, heart clenching when Hedwig flinched visibly.
"I don't know. I think it might be broken." He eased the letter out of her claws. It was a thick one, still sealed, though that didn't mean much with magic. When he looked, there was blood speckling the envelope. Panic flooded him — but there was no blood matting Hedwig's white feathers.
There was, however, blood on her talons.
"I need to get her to Grubbly-Plank," Harry said, looking up in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. The woman may teach outside, but she lived in the castle, as far as he knew. To his relief, he could see her walking up from the edge of the forest.
Not waiting for Neville and Hannah, Harry tore off in her direction. "Professor! Professor!" She turned at his call, brow furrowing.
"Potter? What is it? What've you got there?"
"It's my owl, Professor." He skidded to a half in front of her. "She's hurt. Her wing—"
"Yes, I see." Grubbly-Plank's frown deepened, and she studied Hedwig carefully. "Looks like she's been attacked. Odd; the animals around here are used to owls, they tend to leave them alone. Especially a larger one like this."
Harry could think of one thing that might have reason to attack Hedwig, and it wasn't an animal. "Can you help her?"
"I should be able to get her back to rights, if you leave her with me for a few days," the professor assured. "Seems like a fairly straightforward wing dislocation."
That sounded painful, and Harry stroked Hedwig's head. She cooed feebly, butting into his hand. "You'll be alright, girl," he promised, carefully handing her over to Grubbly-Plank, careful not to touch her damaged wing. Her eyes were sad, and it broke his heart. "It'll all be better soon."
"I'll take good care of her, Potter," Grubbly-Plank assured, her usually brusque manner softening in the face of his care for the owl.
"Thank you, Professor. She's— Hedwig means a lot to me." She was his very first friend in the world. He wasn't sure what he'd do without her.
Grubbly-Plank nodded in assurance, then set off towards the castle at a brisk pace; hopefully to take Hedwig somewhere to set her wing. Harry watched her go, feeling like she was taking part of him with her.
He wished Hagrid would come back. Grubbly-Plank was perfectly competent, he was sure, but… Hagrid was the one who had given him Hedwig in the first place. He knew how important she was.
He looked down at the crumpled letter in his hands. It was Bill's writing, on the front. Perhaps that was why the letter was still unopened; the curse-breaker took privacy very seriously. His magic was all over the parchment, though it dissipated when Harry broke the seal.
There were four pieces of parchment inside. Bill, Charlie, Tonks and Fleur. Harry's stomach churned.
Thank Merlin Bill had warded the letter — that particular combination of people, all coming from the same place, could have been very suspect. That was before he even got to the potential contents of the letters.
He pocketed them, jogging back towards Neville and Hannah, his heart heavy.
If Umbridge had damaged Hedwig in any kind of permanent way, Harry would end her.
.-.-.-.
Remus sipped at the large mug of hot chocolate Ceri had given him, smiling at the sight of Sirius sprawled in front of the fire. It was a rare evening they could both get away, and they were making the most of it.
Suddenly, Sirius tensed. "Snape's here," he announced, scrambling into a sitting position. Remus' eyes widened, but before he could ask further, the living room door opened and the man himself strode in. He was still dressed in his teaching robes, obviously come straight from dinner.
"What's happened?" Remus asked, fearing the worst. Severus rarely left the castle on weekdays, just in case he was needed.
"That brat," the Slytherin declared, and Remus let himself relax; he sounded annoyed, not worried or angry, that was okay.
On the floor, Sirius snorted. "What's he done now?"
Severus sank down on the sofa beside Remus, waving off the offer of a sip of hot chocolate. "Your godson," he told the pair of them, dark eyes narrowed, "has decided, at the behest of his peers, to begin teaching his own underground Defence Against the Dark Arts club. Apparently, several of his year mates worried about their ability to pass their OWLs under Umbridge's instruction — and their ability to face what may greet them outside of Hogwarts' walls."
A slow grin crossed Remus' lips; there was pride in that tone, buried under annoyance, and dare he say it, even fondness. Severus couldn't fool him, not for a second.
"That's my boy!" Sirius crowed in delight. Gently, Remus bumped his shoulder against Severus'.
"I think you've got at least some claim to his actions, after the last two summers." Severus had put in more time instructing Harry than either him or Sirius combined. No doubt it was that knowledge which gave Harry the confidence to teach his peers.
"Absolutely not," Severus groused. "I've got enough on my plate with Draco deciding to date the bloody Chosen One right under the Dark Lord's nose. Potter is all your responsibility."
But the fondness was still there — Sirius might not recognise it, but Remus did, and it made something warm settle in his chest. Hiding his smile with his mug, he leaned against Severus' side. Having him close in the middle of the week was a nice surprise, one he would take full advantage of, no matter how many childish faces Sirius pulled.
"If you say so," he placated, pressing a brief kiss to the Slytherin's sharp jaw. "Tell us what our boy has got himself into now, then."
Severus could deny it all he wanted, but he couldn't hide it from his partner. Harry was as much his as he was Remus', by now. And that was exactly how it should be.