Harry Potter and the Sect of the Serpent

CHAPTER SIXTEEN -- Speechless

Ginny was released from the hospital wing by Monday morning, fully mended and none the worse for wear, though she told Harry that Ron had practically driven her mad with his mollycoddling. After Harry told her that Ron's interference had caused the Beaters to lose sight of the Bludger, she quickly apologized to Andrew for the bat bogeys and to Jack for the Dungbombs in his shoes.

For their part, Ron and Harry were not particularly fighting, but not particularly friendly either, and Ron began to spend more and more time off on his own. He was frequently gone at lunchtimes, and came in for dinner looking frazzled but pleased with himself. Hermione speculated that he was probably just getting a good handle on all of his homework as he was hardly ever in the common room when they were doing theirs. Harry wasn't so sure.

By mid-week, Harry had given up trying to engage Ron in any conversation at all. They walked to and from classes with Hermione or Gwyn between them, and while they both spoke animatedly to everyone around them, they rarely spoke a word to one another.

"I thought Professor Lindell's lecture yesterday about spell energy was really fascinating, didn't you?" Hermione asked as they she and Harry settled themselves into their favorite armchairs near the fire, ready to play Sisyphus to their mountains of school work. Ron was once again conspicuously absent from the common room.

"I don't really think I understood most of it," Harry admitted. "What was all that 'power of intent' business that she was waffling on about?"

Hermione gave him a contemptuous glare that seemed to say, Professors don't waffle. "There are three components to working a spell: intention, focus of power, and focus of mind. Speaking an incantation focuses your mind on what you want to do. Your wand, and any particular movements you do with it, focuses your power on the spell, but the most important part is the intent. You have to intend to do something first, otherwise nothing happens at all."

"But then," Harry interjected suddenly, "if intention is the most important part, why can't I just cast any old spell I want, so long as I know what I intend to do?"

"Because you need the other two to focus it," Hermione explained. "Only the most advanced witches and wizards can use the raw power of intention to make magic happen. Most need words and wands to focus the power."

"I suppose that makes sense," Harry said grudgingly, digging for his notes to add Hermione's plain English translation to them. When he looked up again, he saw Ron coming from the direction of the boys' dormitory. Hermione saw him and smiled.

"Are you going to sit with us then, Ron?" she asked in surprise as Ron sunk down onto the armchair nearest to her.

"Well, yeah," Ron said slowly. "I mean, I thought I would. If it's alright." He looked up at Harry pointedly. Harry shrugged.

"Don't be a prat!" Hermione said brightly. "Of course it's all right!"

"By the way," Ron said suddenly, "happy birthday, 'Mione."

Hermione's mouth fell open in an expression of pleased shock. "You remembered!" she squealed delightedly. Ron's ears began to go red.

"'Course I remembered," he said in a slightly indignant tone. "And I got you something too."

"Are we doing gifts now?" Harry asked. "I'll run and get mine."

"You don't have to..." Hermione began, but she was grinning from ear to ear.

Harry grinned back at her.

"Back in a minute," he said. He jogged up the spiral staircase to his room and rummaged in his trunk for his gift. He had bought it over the summer with Mrs. Weasley's help, and it had ended up packed at the very bottom. Smiling at the thought of Hermione's reaction, he hurried back down to the common room.

Hermione had already opened Ron's gift, and a long flat box lay open in her lap, a crumple of beautiful silver wrapping forgotten on the floor at her feet. She and Ron were leaning quite close together looking at the gift, Ron sitting forward in his chair so that their heads and knees were almost touching.

Harry heard Hermione laugh slightly, and as she tilted her face up to look at Ron, he suddenly felt very guilty for watching them. He bent down as if to do up his laces, but continued to watch Hermione and Ron out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't help it.

Ron was saying something now, and it made Hermione's eyes light up the way they did when a professor told her she'd gotten the right answer to a particularly difficult question, or when someone praised her for being the smartest witch of her age. She was smiling so prettily that it warmed up her entire face. Harry couldn't see Ron's face, but he saw Ron point something out in the box. Slowly, his hand moved up right to the side of Hermione's face, where he was almost touching her hair. Hermione was watching him intently.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" Ginny called suddenly, coming up behind them. She was carrying a large box of what looked like Mrs. Weasley's famous birthday treats.

Ron quickly straightened up and sat back in his chair, and Hermione's cheeks turned very pink as she accepted the box from Ginny. Harry stood up and quickly made his way over to the group.

"Thanks Ginny!" Hermione said as she opened the box to reveal a tin of Mrs. Weasley's fudge, a large box of Fred and George's After Dinner Entertain-Mints, and three large balls of scarlet and gold wool.

"What on earth?" Hermione asked, holding up the yarn, quizzically.

"I think that's meant to go with my gift," Harry said, pressing his box into her hands. "Mrs. Weasley helped me pick it out." Hermione tore off the pages of The Daily Prophet that Harry had used for wrapping -- much to the photographs' horror -- and opened the box to reveal a fat book of knitting patterns and a pair of needles.

"Mrs. Weasley said those patterns would make a nice change from scarves and elf hats," Harry explained, "and the needles change size automatically for whatever pattern you're doing."

"Oh, Harry they're wonderful!" Hermione said happily, flipping eagerly through the pages of the book. "Look at these jumpers. That doesn't look too hard at all!" She looked up and smiled brightly at him. "Thank you so much!" she said.

Ginny moved around from behind Hermione to perch on the arm of Harry's armchair.

"So what did Ron give you then?" she asked.

Hermione blushed again. "Well... See for yourself."

She set Harry's presents aside to reveal a long low wooden box, beautifully stained and polished and expertly made. The lid was hinged, and when she opened it, she revealed a beautiful silver brush and comb set with a matching hand mirror nestled snugly in rich burgundy velvet.

"Oooh!" Ginny said in awe. She reached out to touch the comb, the teeth of which looked to be made of ivory. The back of the brush and mirror were covered in an intricate pattern of leaves and vines, and the handle of the mirror was solid milky green jade.

"Well call me a fairy's uncle," Ginny said. "Well done Ron!"

Hermione gave an uncomfortable little laugh and Ron looked rather affronted.

"What's that meant to mean?" he demanded of his sister.

Ginny gave him an incredulous look. "I never knew you had any taste. Three years in a row you've given me socks," she said plainly.

Ron frowned. "You're hard to shop for," he said defensively.

Ginny picked up the mirror and held it up to examine it. "They're really beautiful," she said, passing Harry the mirror for inspection. It was amazingly light and artfully made. On the reflective side, little tendrils of silver vines and tiny silver blossoms overlapped the oval surface making the mirror itself look almost like a perfectly still pond done all in silver. Harry glanced over at Ron in surprise as he handed the mirror back to Hermione, and Ron blushed furiously.

"I think Hermione really liked your gift," Harry ventured as he and Ron headed up the stairs to their dormitory a while later. Ron blushed again, but looked pleased.

"Yeah? I hope so. I had a bugger of a time deciding what to get her," he replied. "But blast it all if Ginny isn't going to expect better birthday gifts from now on..."

"They looked really expensive," Harry said, wondering where Ron had got the galleons for a gift like that. "Kinda put my knitting book to shame!"

Ron snorted and gave a little shrug. "They're antiques and I... They reminded me of her, I guess."

Harry watched his friend thoughtfully as Ron kicked his shoes off under his bed. They were alone, none of the other sixth year boys having come up for bed yet, and Ron didn't seem to be too upset at speaking with him, so Harry thought he'd go ahead and ask the question that was burning in his brain.

"So..." Harry began slowly, "do you, I dunno, fancy her then?"

Ron looked up at him sharply, and Harry tried his best to keep his face neutral. Ron frowned slightly, but it wasn't an angry expression.

"I don't know," he said finally. He seemed to be watching Harry closely for any sign that he was going to laugh, but Harry had no intention of laughing.

"She drives me absolutely mad sometimes!" Ron continued. "And not in that silly dreamy way people go on about in romances. Bloody well starkers round the twist, she is! But then..." He shrugged expressively. "Other times..." Harry saw his eyes wander over to a framed photo on his nightstand. It was of the three of them in their second year at the Ravenclaw Slytherin Quidditch match. They had their arms round each other and all of them were pink cheeked and laughing. Colin Creevy had taken it and they had bought three copies off of him, one for each.

"I'd do anything for her," Ron continued at last. "I know that." He glanced up at Harry. "But then, you would too, I reckon."

Harry shrugged. "I'd do pretty much anything for either of you," he said simply. Ron nodded.

"I just want her to be happy, I guess," Ron said finally. "When she's happy, I'm happy. That's all." He lay back on his bed to stare at the canopy, and Harry sensed that the conversation was over.

He got up and changed into a pair of cotton pajama pants quietly, thinking hard. Part of him felt rather pleased at the thought of Ron and Hermione together, but another, smaller, darker part worried that if they ever did start dating, he would be the one left out. He shook his head slightly. Ron hadn't even admitted to liking her, so there was no sense in worrying about that now.

Ron was puttering about, changing out of his robes, and sucking on his toothbrush as Harry climbed into bed.

"So, are we alright then?" Harry asked finally. Ron snorted.

"Shut up, Harry. We're best mates, you and me."

And that was all he needed to say.

Harry had been dozing peacefully, his mind wandering just onto the edge of a dream in which he and Hermione and Ron were going down to the Quidditch pitch where Colin Creevy was going to do their portraits, when the dormitory door slammed open with a crash. Harry jolted awake and heard the disgruntled grumblings of the other boys around him.

Sitting up, he grabbed the curtain around his bed and pulled it back to see who was making all the racket. All the other boys still had the curtains drawn, except for Neville.

He was standing at the end of his bed, fully dressed, and he seemed to be pointing his wand at his own head. Harry blinked and squinted in the dark, trying to see what he was up to.

"All right there, Nev--"

As Harry spoke, Neville turned to look at him and Harry's voice failed him. Neville's face was bruised and bloodied, but more horrifying than any of the cuts or contusions was the fact that his mouth seemed to be missing -- entirely.

Harry started and grabbed for his glasses, certain that he couldn't be seeing clearly, but when he jammed them on his nose and looked back at Neville's pitiful face, his worst fears were confirmed.

Both of Neville's eyes had been blackened, his nose was crooked and bloody, and there was a nasty lump coming on the side of his head. Worst of all, however, the area between his nose and his chin, where his mouth should have been, was completely and unnaturally smooth, as if his skin had grown to cover his mouth completely.

Harry leaped to his feet. "What happened?" he asked stupidly, and Neville gave him a scathing look.

"Shut up, Harry!" Dean grunted from his own bed.

"No look!" Harry said amid the sounds of bed curtains opening, "Neville's hurt!" Rushing over to the stove in the middle of the room, Harry lit the lamp with his wand, and, turning back to see Neville bathed in its light. Immediately, he wished he hadn't.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed.

"Is it just me," Dean asked shakily, "or is his mouth missing?" No one bothered to answer.

"Who did this to you, mate?" Ron asked, getting out of bed. "Can you write it?"

Neville nodded and grabbed a spare bit of parchment from his satchel. He fumbled with ink and quill for a moment before shoving the paper at Harry.

It had one word written on it: Malfoy.

"Where is he?" Ron demanded on seeing the parchment. He launched off the end of his bed and grabbed his wand. "Where is he? I'll kill the bastard. I'll murder him. I'll--"

"Hadn't we ought to get Neville's mouth back first?" Dean asked. Ron didn't reply as he was busy pulling a jumper on over his boxers.

"Do you know what curse it was, Neville?" Harry asked. Neville shook his head solemnly. His left eye was more severely battered than the right, and it was beginning to swell shut. "Does anybody know what curse could do this?" Harry asked. They all looked at him blankly.

"Let's take him to hospital," Dean suggested, going for his slippers, but Neville shook his head violently. "Why not, Neville?" Dean demanded. "Madam Pomfrey'll fix you up in two flicks of a dragon's tail!"

Neville shook his head again and sat down on the end of his bed, resolutely crossing his arms across his chest. It was clear he was not planning to go to the hospital wing any time soon.

"What are we going to do, then?" Ron asked. "I mean, you can't very well stay that way... People will talk."

Neville gave him a very dirty look.

"We need to figure out what curse did this, and then we can look up the counter spell," Harry said, going for his trunk. He started pulling out books at random and stacking them on the floor.

"That'll take ages!" Ron complained. "We need Hermione..." Suddenly his face brightened. "Why not?" he said. "I bet she'll know." He stood up and headed for the door.

"Ron!" Harry chided. "Did you forget what happened the last time you tried to go into the girls' dormitories?" Ron stopped in his tracks. "You'll wake the whole house if you set that alarm off again."

Ron thought about this for a moment and shrugged. "I bet she'd come out though. Perfect little Prefect that she is, she'd want to know what was going on."

Neville shook his head again, obviously appalled at the thought of waking all of Gryffindor Tower.

"Oy, Seamus! Get up you great lump!" Dean shouted, leaning over Seamus' still sleeping form. The boy didn't move. Dean shook his head.

"Can sleep through anything, this one can." He leaned down directly over Seamus' ear. "OY! SEAMUS!"

Seamus snorted and flailed as he woke suddenly.

"We've got an emergency, here!" Dean said pointing at Neville before the startled Seamus could lay forth with the string of obscenities that were so obviously waiting on his lips.

"Blimey," was all he managed at the sight of Neville's missing mouth.

"We need Hermione," Ron said firmly. "So one of us is going to have to brave the stairs to the girls' dorm." The other four boys stared at him. "I vote Harry should do it."

"Why me?" Harry demanded. "You're the Prefect, here!"

"I was a Prefect last year too," Ron countered," and it didn't make a bit of difference. But you're McGonagall's favorite, if she's got one. She won't be so hard on you if you get caught."

Harry stared at him in disbelief, but the other three boys seemed to agree that Harry was the logical choice. "You're off your nut," Harry grumbled. "She'll murder us all if I get caught..." But he allowed himself to be led, with Neville, down to the common room.

The room was dark except for the last few dying embers of the common room fire. The five Gryffindor boys marched purposefully across the darkened room to the matching spiral staircase that led up to the girls' dormitories. They all stared at it reverently.

"No man's land," Seamus whispered.

"Maybe," Ron said suddenly, "if your intentions are pure, the stairs will let you up."

Harry stared at him. "Do you really think so?"

"No, but it's worth a shot. We've got to get her down here."

Harry sighed. He took a step forward, and the other boys took a step back. "We who are about to die, salute you," Harry muttered.

He walked to the very edge of the bottom step and looked up the staircase. It looked perfectly normal in every way, but he had watched it turn into a slide and spit Ron right back down to the floor on his bum.

"I swear," Harry whispered aloud. "My intentions are pure. I just need to get Hermione Granger. It's an emergency." When he finished, he felt rather foolish, but Ron was right; it was worth a shot.

Feeling that he couldn't put it off any longer, he gingerly lifted his foot and placed his toes lightly on the bottom step. Nothing happened. He slid his foot all the way onto the stair, and still nothing. Feeling slightly braver, he put his weight onto the step.

The stones remained silent. No klaxon rang out to wake the tower. With a disbelieving look over his shoulder, Harry raced up the stairs two at a time until he reached the door marked "6^th Years."

Steeling himself for the wrath of whoever might open the door, he banged on it loudly. For a moment, nothing happened. He raised his fist to knock again, but before he could hit it, the door swung away from him. A very angry looking Parvati appeared in the .entryway. Her long black hair was plaited down her back and she was wearing a pair of aquamarine, silk pajamas.

"Harry??" she exclaimed, her anger turning to outright shock. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to -- how did you get up here?"

"I need to see Hermione!" he replied. "It's an emergency!" Parvati put her hands on her hips.

"Harry?"

Over Parvati's shoulder, Harry could see Hermione's head poking through the hangings around her bed. She rubbed her eyes, as if she weren't quite sure she was truly seeing him. "What is it?" she said, her voice becoming tinged with fear. "What's wrong?"

"It's--" Harry glanced at Parvati. "It's nothing... We just need your help. Right now."

Parvati scowled. "As if I care anyway!" she snapped, turning to head back to her bed. Somewhere in the darkness, Lavender snored.

Hermione jumped out of bed, pulled on a red bathrobe over her nightgown, and slid her feet into a pair of slippers at the foot of the bed.

"Bring your wand!" Harry said. Hermione gave him a worried look, but grabbed her wand and followed him out onto the landing. She was struggling to tie her hair -- which had seemed to have taken on a life of its own -- back with a hair band.

"Harry!" she whispered, closing the door behind her. "What's going on? How on earth did you get up here? There are supposed to be alarms and it clearly says in Hogwarts: A History that--"

"It's Neville!" Harry said, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down the stairs. He wasn't keen to spend any more time in the stairwell than necessary, lest the stones change their mind about his good intentions.

"Well done, Harry!" Dean cheered, as Harry and Hermione stumbled out of the dark stairway and into the common room.

"Is someone please going to tell me what on earth--" Hermione gasped and put her hands over her mouth as the boys moved aside so that she could see Neville. She rushed over to him, staring in wide eyed disbelief. "How... Who?"

"Malfoy," Harry answered bitterly.

Hermione whirled on them. "He needs to go to the hospital wing right now!" she said. "But you lot didn't need to wake me up to tell you that, I hope. So ....What's going on?"

"Neville won't go." Ron retorted. Hermione gave him an odd look, and it took Ron a moment to realize that he was still only wearing a jumper and boxer shorts. He began to blush and to try to tug down the hem of the jumper.

Hermione turned back and looked at Neville pleadingly, but he shook his head, his eyes dark, mouthless expression set

"We were hoping you'd know what curse it is, so we can put him right," Dean said.

"It's the Obmutesco Curse," Hermione said at once, "but I'll have to look up the counter spell." She turned to Harry. "Bring me that book I gave you for your birthday."

"I told you it would be in there!" Harry shot at Ron, who shrugged, still blushing madly and now trying to look nonchalant while hiding behind an armchair. Harry dashed up to their room and grabbed the book. Hermione found the counter curse in a matter of moments, and began pushing up the sleeves of her bathrobe to cast it.

"Ocsetumbo!" she said, pointing her wand at Neville's face. A bolt of red light lit up the darkened room and Neville flinched as it ripped a wide gash in the smooth skin where his mouth should have been. The gash healed before their very eyes becoming lips and revealing his teeth and tongue.

Neville took a deep breath. "Thanks, Hermione," he said hoarsely as he got up and headed for the stairs.

"Wait just a minute!" she cried, grabbing Neville's arm. Since hitting his growth spurt, Neville, like most of the sixth year boys, now towered over Hermione, but he nevertheless seemed cowed by her obvious ire.

"I didn't get woken from a sound sleep and get dragged down here for you to just say 'Thanks' without so much as a what when, where, why or how! So spit it out, Neville! What happened?"

Neville glanced around at the other Gryffindor boys and seemed to realize that even if he escaped Hermione, he'd have to tell them the story anyway.

"I was in the library," he said moodily, "researching a project for Professor Sprout, and Malfoy and his gang showed up." Neville glanced up, his one good eye looking directly at Harry. "He started making fun of me again, and I... I just lost it." He shrugged. "So I hexed him."

"You did?" Seamus cried.

"In the library?" Hermione gasped.

Neville nodded. "Madame Pince caught me and gave me detention and threw me out," he continued dejectedly. "Malfoy followed me and cursed me from behind. And once I couldn't cry out any more, he, Crabbe and Goyle had a go at my head." He glared at Hermione rather painfully. "And when I woke up, I came back here. Satisfied?"

"But why don't you want to go to the hospital wing?" Hermione pleaded.

Neville held his head up a little higher. "I knew she'd want to keep me for a day or more, and I'm not going to miss any class. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction." He stared at her resolutely, and Harry again caught a glimpse of the hard, determined man inside the boy.

Hermione took Neville's hand gently and led him back over to one of the armchairs. "Sit," she commanded in a much gentler tone. "Now, let's see what we can do about those bruises. Who's got essence of murtlap in his potions kit?"

Harry, Dean, and Seamus, and Ron ran back to their room for ingredients and supplies. Ron donated a white button down that was two sizes too small, to be used for bandages, and Hermione made quick work of patching Neville up.

"The bruises on your eyes should be gone in a day or two," she said at last, looking over her handiwork. "But you really should go and see Madam Pomfrey about the bump on your head. Just tell her you ran into a door or something," she said at Neville's black look.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said again. He looked round at all of them. "Thanks."

"But I still want to know how you managed to get up the girls' stairs!" Hermione said, rounding on Harry with her hands on her hips. Harry shrugged expressively.

"I'm not even sure," he said. "Ron suggested that maybe if I told the stairs that my intentions were pure..." Saying it out loud, he realized that it sounded rather stupid. Ron was blushing again.

"Pure intentions?" Hermione repeated. "That's ridiculous."
"Hey, don't knock it -- it worked, didn't it?" Ron said.

Hermione shook her head. "But why risk it? Why not just send Hedwig to wake me up?" she asked pointedly, looking back to Harry. "Or fly round to our window? You've got at least two brooms between you..."

The boys all stared at her dumbly. Hermione sighed. "Because that would have been easy, I suppose," she answered herself dolefully.

"So," Ron said abruptly, "who's up for a rousing game of 'Murder That Slytherin' tomorrow?" Hermione gave him a worried look.

"I'll second that," Dean said and Seamus nodded.

"It's time to show that prick that when he picks on one of us, he's got to deal with all of us!" Seamus said menacingly.

"No," Neville said simply, but firmly. "It's my fight. I'll get him back myself."

"Besides," Harry said, "we won't have time." The others looked at him questioningly. "Pass the word: DA meeting tomorrow night."

Harry fixed the date and time on his coin as soon as he got up the next morning, knowing that across the castle, its siblings were growing warm to signal the other members of the DA that the meeting time had been set.

The rest of the day passed at a snail's pace. Harry almost fell asleep in Professor Lindell's class as she droned on and on in lecture about the fundamental differences between regular magic and Dark Magic, and Ron had to poke him in the ribs several times to keep him from nodding off. He couldn't wait to get down to some real Defense later that night.

Harry was also feeling anxious because he wanted to speak to Gwyn, and his opportunity arrived later that afternoon in Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid had sent them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest to hunt for sparrows, wrens and other small birds to feed the Gargoyles they had captured. The class spread out along the edge of the forest, enjoying the sunshine, and occasionally sending a half-hearted spell into a tree after an elusive bird. Harry quickly made his way over to Gwyn, and she grinned as she saw him coming up to her.

"Catch anything yet?" she asked. Harry shook his head and she gave him a wry grin. "Well, I can see you're trying really hard," she chided, indicating the wand sticking out of his back pocket.

"Oh is that how we were supposed to do it?" he asked, feigning surprise. "I thought we were meant to catch them with our hands."

Gwyn laughed. "I'll give you a buck if you do," she replied.

Slowly they began to wander into the trees towards a clump of bushes a little ways in. Harry watched Gwyn surreptitiously as she tucked a strand of hair out of her face, her eyes tilted upwards, scanning the canopy of trees for the flutter of wings. She had a little basket hung over her arm that Hagrid had given them for collecting the birds in, and she swung it slightly as they walked.

"Have you done Snape's essay on slow acting poisons yet?" Gwyn asked absently, drawing Harry back from his mental wanderings.

"No," he replied unashamedly. "Dunno when I'd have time."

"Well," Gwyn said, rustling a bush in the hopes of rousting out a bird or two, "I was going to go to the library tonight to do some research." She paused and looked sideways at Harry. "I'd love some help if you're not busy."

Harry grinned broadly and nodded as a warm sensation filled him at the thought of spending an evening uninterrupted with Gwyn. He was about to ask what time, when he remembered why he'd wanted to talk to her in the first place.

"Oh," he said suddenly crestfallen. "I can't." Gwyn turned away quickly, but Harry thought she looked disappointed. "I mean," Harry faltered, "I'd like to, but we're having our first defense club meeting tonight, and I was hoping you might want to come."

Gwyn turned back to him, a look of surprise on her face. "Defense club?" she repeated. "Harry, I've never had anything more than the most rudimentary lessons in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"All the more reason for you to come!" Harry insisted but Gwyn still looked uncertain.

"Well, what exactly does one do in defense club?" she asked, not meeting his gaze.

"We learn practical defense, like shield charms, and curses and hexes and stuff like that."

"Mmmm..." Gwyn took a few steps away from him deeper into the woods. "You mean you learn how to fight."

Harry shrugged. "We learn how to defend ourselves, yeah." Gwyn turned to look at him.

"Defend yourselves against whom?" she asked, pointedly. "Against Malfoy and his like?" Harry frowned at her.

"Yeah," he said pointedly, "them too." Gwyn seemed to grasp his meaning. She pursed her lips into a tight little rosebud of consternation. Finally she turned away from him again, a blush of color rising in her cheeks.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass, Harry. I've got that Potions essay and... and all." She glanced back at him and Harry frowned. He wanted to rail at her for being too nearsighted to see the danger all around her. Why couldn't he make her see that this game she thought he was playing was all too real?

Gwyn seemed to sense his rising anger and took a step back towards him. Her expression was apologetic and pleading. "I wouldn't be any good at it anyway... I'm sure I'd just hold you all back..." She paused, her eyes searching his. "We were doing so good there for a while. Can't we just agree to disagree, Harry?" she asked finally.

Harry wanted to shout at her that no, they couldn't, because he was right and if she didn't work that out for herself she'd probably end up dead, but instead, he nodded. Gwyn looked relieved, and Harry spent the rest of the lesson trying not to let on how disgruntled he was feeling.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached the Room of Requirement a few minutes before the meeting was set to start, Harry was glad to see the room looking exactly the way they had left it the year before. He had been a little afraid that they would find a piano and a breezy desert courtyard, but the book-lined shelves, dark detectors, and piles of cushions reassured him.

One by one, the members of Dumbledore's Army appeared in the doorway, many of them with anxious-looking new members in tow. Neville was one of the first to appear, and while most of his cuts and bruises were well on the way to being healed, thanks to Hermione's ministrations, he was still quite a sight with a swollen nose and two black eyes.

When everyone had arrived, Harry cleared his throat before trying to get their attention, only he found he didn't have to do anything more. At the sound, every head turned towards him and every voice fell silent.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice," Harry said. "We've got a little business to attend to before we start, but I want to make it quick so we can get going with practical stuff."

"Hear, hear!" Ernie cheered. Next to him, Hannah Abbott looked mortified.

"First," Harry started, "we need someone to take care of a lot of the details of running the club, like our roster, and coordinating schedules and everything. I'm rubbish at that sort of thing, so I'd like to nominate Hermione."

Hermione glanced up at him in surprise, and then blushed as she realized everyone was looking at her.

"Everyone in favor," Harry said. Almost every hand went into the air. "Opposed?" he asked. Zacharias Smith raised his hand, but Harry ignored him. He was likely only doing it to be contrary anyway.

"Great, so the first thing we need is a list of everyone in the club," Harry said, pulling out a piece of parchment and handing it to Hermione to pass around. She held it out to Parvati. Parvati gave Hermione a slightly mistrustful look.

"Don't worry," Harry said with a grin. "It isn't jinxed. I just need a list of everyone to give to Professor Lindell." Parvati took the parchment and reluctantly signed her name.

"Also," Harry continued as the paper made its way around the room, "we need to coordinate schedules, so everybody needs to give Hermione a copy of their timetable sometime this week so we can work out when to meet. OK? Good. Any questions?"

The group stared back at him silently, attentively, waiting for his next instructions. For the briefest moment, Harry pictured them all waiting for him to give them the order to go into battle. He pushed the image quickly away.

"OK," he said quickly, "everybody who was here last year partner up with someone new and we'll start going over the basics."

The students quickly scrambled to follow his instructions, and only a few old members were left without a new member to partner. Dennis Creevy had brought along Natalie MacDonald, who would shy away from Harry whenever he passed them; Geoffry Hooper had showed up with Jack and Andrew, though Harry couldn't quite figure out who had told them about the meeting; Padma had brought Mandy Brocklehurst, a pretty dark haired Ravenclaw, and her boyfriend Mo MacDougal; Justin had brought his friend Wayne Hopkins, who Harry recognized from their potions class, along; but perhaps most surprising were the two people Luna brought -- a fifth year named Terrance Higgs, and a fourth year named Phoebe Llewellyn -- both of whom were from Slytherin.

"Harry!" Ron hissed coming over to stand near him as the new students practiced the disarming charm with members from the previous year. "Did you see?" he demanded, motioning with his head towards the corner where Luna and Neville had partnered with Terrance and Phoebe.

"Yeah," Harry said, "I saw."

"Well, you're not going to let them stay, are you? They'll rat us out!"!"

"Rat us out to whom?" Hermione demanded. "We're a legal club this year, remember?"

"That doesn't mean that everyone's going to be thrilled about it," Ron retorted. "In fact, I can think of several people whose parents might be rather less than thrilled to know about a club called 'Dumbledore's Army'." He turned back to Harry. "You can't let them stay, mate! They could be spies!"

Harry considered this as he stared at the unlikely pair in the corner. Terrance was tall and skinny with a long neck and rather protuberant adam's apple. His brown curly hair hung long in his eyes and around his face and gave him a sort of dopey look; but his eyes were sharp and keen, and he was picking up on the disarming charm fairly quickly. Next to him, Phoebe was small and waifish with short black braids in her hair and a complexion the color of coffee with cream. She was trying very determinedly to hex Neville, who was patiently explaining to her what she was doing wrong.

"I don't think they're spies," Harry said finally. "They can stay."

Ron gave him a shocked look. "You can't be serious! Harry, they're Slytherins!"

"Yeah well," Harry shrugged, "nobody's perfect." Ron scowled, but Hermione gave Harry an approving smile.

Harry realized fairly quickly that the older members would soon be bored if they had to start from scratch with all the new people, so after running them through a few minutes each on some of the basic charms they'd learned the previous year, Harry blew his whistle and called them all back together.

"Good work!" he said heartily, beaming around at the assembled faces, who were all looking rather proud of themselves. "But we can't go on doing revisions for everyone as long as we'd like; we have more important things to move on too. So, I was thinking that the new members could have extra practice sessions for the first few weeks to get caught up." There were murmurs and nods of assent through the group. "Maybe some of the older members could volunteer to lead them?"
Everyone began looking around at each other. Harry looked pointedly at Ron, but Ron looked away quickly. Then Luna raised her hand.

"I'll volunteer," she said with a wide smile. Harry nodded, thinking that beggars couldn't be choosers, and hoped that Luna wouldn't be the only one to step up. Harry glanced back at Ron, who, this time, emphatically shook his head.

"I'll help," Neville said quietly. Harry looked at him in surprise, but then smiled warmly.

"Good!" he said. "Great! You two hang about after and we'll get your schedules set." Sensing that the meeting was over, the group began to disperse, and Harry noticed with some amusement that they did so in small groups just as they had the year before when Umbridge was forever on their tails.

After giving their schedules to Hermione, Neville and Luna left together. Neville's battered face was shining, and Harry heard them already discussing lesson plans. He grinned.

Hermione was busily making notes on the roster they had passed around. Next to Harry's name she had written "President," next to her own, "Secretary," and next to Neville and Luna's, "Assistants."

"Harry," she said, frowning over the parchment, "I just noticed that Cho didn't sign up."

Harry was surprised and tried to remember if he'd seen her at the meeting at all. "Did she come?" he asked.

Hermione shook her head blankly. Ron was looking over her shoulder reading the parchment.

"What's my title going to be then?" he asked.

"You don't get a title unless you do something," Hermione said pointedly.

"I do things!" Ron rejoined. "What do you call that tidying up I just did then?"

"So you want to be club janitor?" Hermione asked sweetly, her quill poised over the parchment.

"I tried to get you to volunteer to train the newbies with Neville and Luna," Harry reminded him.

Ron scoffed. "I haven't got time! I'm swamped with Quidditch practice and homework and... other stuff. I'm already behind as it is."

Hermione stared at him. "How can you be behind? You've got two free periods more than either of us has, and you're never at lunch or studying in the common room. What are you doing if not studying?"

Ron gave her an uncomfortable look. "I'm just saying I'm busy, OK? We all are."

"Yeah well," Harry said, leading the way out of the room and back towards Gryffindor Tower, "there are some things that are just more important."