The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast.

"But on the plus side, no Snape today," said Ron bracingly.

Hermione yawned widely and poured herself some coffee. She looked mildly pleased about something, and when Johnny joined the table and asked her what she had to be so happy about, she simply said, "The hats have gone. Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Ron told her cuttingly. "They might not count as clothes. They didn't look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders."

Hermione didn't speak to him all morning.

Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing the class on the importance of OWLs.

"What you must remember," said little Professor Flitwick squeakily, perched as ever on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"

They then spent over an hour revising Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were bound to come up in their OWL, and he rounded off the lesson by setting them their largest ever amount of Charms homework.

It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration.

"You cannot pass an OWL," said Professor McGonagall grimly, "without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work." Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. "Yes, you too, Longbottom," said Professor McGonagall. "There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So ... today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

By the end of a double period, neither Harry or Ron had managed to vanish the snails on which they were practising, though Ron said hopefully he thought his looked a bit paler. Selena Reywood, Hermione and Johnny, on the other hand, successfully vanished their snails on the third and fourth attempt, earning Gryffindor twenty points and Slytherin ten points. The three were the only ones not given homework; everybody else was told to practise the spell overnight, ready for a fresh attempt on their snails the following afternoon.

The day had become cool and breezy, and as they walked down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid's front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with twigs. As Johnny, Hermione, Mia, Pansy, Tom, Harry and Ron reached her, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, they saw Draco striding towards them, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Stephanie Cattleman and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table and, judging by the way they all kept looking over at Harry, they was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty.

"Everyone here?" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. "Let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?"

She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Hermione's hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Draco did an imitation of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question.

"Bitch, I will kill you," Johnny hissed at Draco, walking over to the boy who was now shaking.

"You can't threaten him!" Stephanie said, shoving a finger into Johnny's chest.

"Back up, bitch," Pansy said, shoving Mia's hand off of her shoulder, as she came to back up her best friend. Pansy grabbed Cattleman by the finger and twisted it around, causing the other girl to let out a rather loud shriek.

"What's going on back there?!" Grubbly-Plank called over the heads of her students, trying to get a look at the four fighting Slytherin's.

"Nothing Professor," Pansy said sweetly, sending a fake smile towards Cattleman who was cradling her finger.

"I reckon you broke her finger," Mia told Pansy, a proud smirk on her face. Pansy blushed under Mia's gaze, causing Johnny to snicker and fist bump Mia, who was grinning proudly to herself.

"-you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle--I have enough here for one between three--you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labelled by the end of the lesson."

The class surged forwards around the trestle table. Johnny watched as Mia, Pansy and Tom grouped together, same with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Johnny ended up with Axel and Nick, who greeted him happily.

"This is boring!" Nick groaned halfway through,

"Completely agree!" Said Axel, resting his chin on his hand.

"OUCH!"

Nick had gripped the Bowtruckle so hard that it had almost snapped, and it had just taken a great retaliatory swipe at his hand with its sharp fingers, leaving two long deep cuts there. Nick dropped it. Crabbe and Goyle, who had already been guffawing at the idea of Hagrid being sacked, laughed harder as the Bowtruckle set off at full tilt towards the Forest, a little moving stick-man soon swallowed up among the tree roots. When the bell echoed distantly over the grounds. When the bell rang, Johnny rolled up his blood stained picture of a Bowtruckle and bid goodbye two his two friends, joining up with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"If he calls Hagrid a moron one more time..." said Harry through gritted teeth. Together, they traipsed across the vegetable patch. The sky still appeared unable to make up its mind whether it wanted to rain or not.

"I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that's all," said Harry in a low voice, as they reached the greenhouses. "And don't say that Grubbly-Plank woman's a better teacher!" he added threateningly.

"I wasn't going to," said Hermione calmly.

"Because she'll never be as good as Hagrid," said Harry firmly, fully aware that he had just experienced an exemplary Care of Magical Creatures lesson and was thoroughly annoyed about it.

The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth-years spilled out of it, including Ginny.

"Hi," she said brightly as she passed. A few seconds later, Luna emerged, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose, and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry and Johnny, her prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for them. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello, "I believe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back and I believe Johnny fought him and you both escaped from him."

Johnny blinked, his eyes showing surprise as Hermione squeezed his hand in support.

"Er--right," said Harry awkwardly. Luna was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes.

"Leave the girl alone!" Johnny barked at the two girls, silencing them instantly. Luna smiled thankfully at Johnny.

"You can laugh," Luna said, her voice rising, under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing, "but people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!"

"Well, they were right, weren't they?" said Hermione impatiently. "There weren't any such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack."

"Darling, shut up!" Johnny hissed, watching as Luna gave her a withering look and flounced away, radishes swinging madly. Parvati and Lavender weren't the only ones hooting with laughter now.

"I said shut the fuck up!" Johnny barked once more, his claws, fangs and eyes on full display. At once, the laughing stopped and Johnny's werewolf features retracted.

"D'you mind not offending the only people who believe us?" Harry asked Hermione as they made their way into class.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, you can do better than her," said Hermione. "Ginny's told me all about her; apparently, she'll only believe in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler."

Johnny was about to scold his girlfriend, but Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to him and Harry.

"I want you to know, boys," he said in a loud, carrying voice, "that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred per cent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I."

"Uh, cheers, Ern," Johnny smiled awkwardly, shaking Ernie's hand. Ernie might be pompous on occasions like this, but Johnny was extremely happy to know someone else believed him. Ernie's words had certainly wiped the smile from Lavender's face and as Johnny turned to talk to Harry, Ron and Hermione, Johnny caught Seamus's expression, which looked both confused and defiant.

To nobody's surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of OWLs. Johnny wished all the teachers would stop doing this; he was starting to get an anxious, twisted feeling in his stomach every time he remembered how much homework he had to do, a feeling that worsened dramatically when Professor Sprout gave them yet another essay at the end of class. Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Professor Sprouts preferred type of fertiliser, the Gryffindor's and Slytherin's trooped back up to the castle an hour and a half later, none of them talking very much; it had been another long day.

Johnny walked with the trio into the Great Hall, when they heard a voice call out, "Oi, Potter!"

"What now?" Harry muttered wearily, turning to face Angelina, who looked as though she was in a towering temper.

"I'll tell you what now," she said, marching straight up to him and poking him hard in the chest with her finger. "How come you've landed yourself in detention for five o'clock on Friday?"

"What?" said Harry. "Why ... oh yeah, Keeper tryouts!"

"Now he remembers!" snarled Angelina. "Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the whole team, and find someone who fitted in with everyone? Didn't I tell you I'd booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!"

"I didn't decide not to be there!" said Harry, stung by the injustice of these words. "I got detention from that Umbridge woman, just because I told her the truth about You-Know-Who."

"Well, you can just go straight to her and ask her to let you off en Friday," said Angelina fiercely, "and I don't care how you do it. Tell her You-Know-Who's a figment of your imagination if you like, just make sure you're there!"

"It seems like you have a bad relationship with your team?" Said Mia sarcastically, approaching the group. Angelina glared at the Captain and Co-Captain of the Slytherin team and turned on her heel and stormed away.

"I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session, because your Captain seems to be channelling his spirit," Johnny said sarcastically, waving as he and Mia walked towards the Slytherin table.

"Where's Pansy and Tom?" Johnny asked, sitting opposite Mia.

"Tom is at the end of the Gryffindor table with Selena, Nick, Axel, Kieran and that lot, and Pansy is with Daphne in the library," said Mia, pointing in the direction of each person she labelled off.

"You sound jealous," Johnny smirked, drinking a glass of orange juice. A faint blush appeared on Mia's cheeks, but she waved him off.

"I don't get jealous, Grindelwald."

As Johnny had expected, half of Slytherin House seemed to have turned up for the Quidditch trials, from first years who were nervously clutching a selection of the dreadful old school brooms, to seventh years who towered over the rest, looking coolly intimidating. The sixth years included a boy Johnny recognised immediately. Arthur Callahan, an absolute cunt of a boy.

"We've met," Callahan said confidently, stepping out of the crowd to shake Johnny's hand. "Arthur Callahan, Beater."

"You didn't try out last year, did you?" asked Johnny, taking note of the cockiness in Callahan's voice.

"I was in the hospital wing when they held the trials," said Callahan, with something of a swagger. "Food poisoning."

"Right," said Johnny. "Well... if you wait over there..."

He pointed over to the edge of the pitch, close to where Pansy was watching. He thought he saw a flicker of annoyance pass over Callahan's face and wondered whether Callahan expected better treatment as he was "popular."

Johnny decided to start with a basic test, asking all applicants for the team to divide into groups of ten and fly once around the pitch. This was a good decision: the first ten was made up of first years, and it couldn't have been plainer that they had hardly ever flown before. Only one boy managed to remain airborne for more than a few seconds, and he was so surprised he promptly crashed into one of the goal posts.

The second group was comprised of ten of the silliest girls Johnny had ever encountered, who, when he blew his whistle, merely fell about giggling and clutching one another. When Johnny told them to leave the pitch, they did so quite cheerfully and went to sit in the stands to heckle everyone else.

The third group had a pile-up halfway around the pitch. Most of the fourth group had come without broomsticks. The fifth group were Hufflepuffs.

"If there's anyone else here who's not from Slytherin," roared Mia, who was starting to get seriously annoyed, "leave now, please!"

There was a pause, then a couple of little Ravenclaws went sprinting off the pitch, snorting with laughter.

"I fucking hate kids," Mia muttered, leaning on her broom for support. Johnny nodded in agreement.

After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Johnny had found himself two new Chasers: Blaise, who entered the team after an excellent trial; and surprisingly, Tom, who was particularly good at dodging Bludgers and scoring. The other Houses knew it was particularly hard to score when Mia was between the sticks, so Johnny was very pleased with his choices. He also found two new Beaters; two Seventh Years who could hit a Bludger very hard.

"That's my final decision and if you don't get out of the way I'll hex you," Johnny bellowed at the other Beaters who were shaking their bats at Johnny. Callahan, who was clutching a broken nose, glared at Johnny, and turned to wink at Pansy.

"Imma kill him," Mia said, going to pounce at Callahan but Johnny caught her around the waist.

"Stand down," Johnny muttered. David and Amanda Ford, the new Beaters, along with Blaise, Tom and Draco (who kept his place as Seeker) joined the Captains on the pitch. After fixing the time of their first full practice for the following Thursday, Johnny and Mia bid goodbye to the rest of the team and headed off towards the school.

The departing delivery owl had barely cleared the top of the milk jug when Hermione let out a huge gasp and flattened the newspaper to reveal a large photograph of Dolores Umbridge, smiling widely and blinking slowly at them from beneath the headline.

MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM, DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HIGH INQUISITOR

"High Inquisitor?" said Harry darkly, his half-eaten piece of toast slipping from his fingers. "What does that mean?"

"The Spanish Inquisition!" Said Johnny, sharing a laugh with Dean.

Hermione read aloud:

"In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

'"The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts for some time," said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. "He is now responding to concerns, voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school may be moving in a direction they do not approve of."

'This is not the first time in recent weeks that the Minister, Cornelius Fudge, has used new laws to effect improvements at the wizarding school. As recently as 30th August, Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of the current Headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person.

'"That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching staff at Hogwarts," said Weasley last night. "Dumbledore couldn't find anyone so the Minister put in Umbridge, and of course, she's been an immediate success--"'

"Like fuck has she?" said Johnny, causing Hermione to nudge him.

"Wait, there's more," said Hermione grimly.

'"--an immediate success, totally revolutionising the teaching of Defence Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts."

'It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalised with the passing of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, which creates the new position of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

'"This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips with what some are calling the falling standards at Hogwarts," said Weasley. "The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post and we are delighted to say that she has accepted."

'The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from parents of students at Hogwarts.

'"I feel much easier in my mind now that I know Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation," said Mr. Lucius Malfoy, 41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. "Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and are glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation."

'Among those eccentric decisions are undoubtedly the controversial staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included the employment of werewolf Remus Lupin, half-giant Rubeus Hagrid and delusional ex-Auror, "Mad-Eye" Moody. Not to meantime a series of dangerous students like the King and Queen of the Supernatural, Johnathan Grindelwald and Hermione Granger.

"Look, darling! We're in the paper!" Johnny joked, causing his friends to crack a smile.

'Rumours abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the prestigious school of Hogwarts.

'"I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step towards ensuring that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose our confidence," said a Ministry insider last night.

'Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.

'"Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office," said Madam Marchbanks. "This is a further, disgusting attempt to discredit Albus Dumbledore." '(For a full account of Madam Marchbanks's alleged links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page seventeen.)'

Hermione finished reading

"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this "Educational Decree" and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!" Hermione was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous!"

"I know it is," said Harry. Johnny looked down at Harry's right hand, clenched on the table-top, and saw the faint white outline of the words Umbridge had forced Harry to cut into his own skin.

"Can I kill her?" Johnny asked Harry, looking at his cousin with a look of malicious intent. Harry shook his head with a small smile and a grin was unfurling on Ron's face.

"What?" said Johnny, Harry and Hermione together, staring at him.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," said Ron happily. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."

"Well, come on," said Hermione, jumping up, "we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late..."

But Professor Umbridge wasn't inspecting their History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape's dungeon when they arrived for double Potions, where Johnny's moonstone essay was handed back to him with a large, spiky black 'O' scrawled in an upper corner. He had passed.

"I have awarded you the grades you would have received if you presented this work in your OWL," said Snape with a smirk, as he swept among them, passing back their homework. "This should give you a realistic idea of what to expect in the examination. Well done, Mr. Grindelwald, full marks."

Snape reached the front of the class and turned on his heel to face them.

"However, for the rest of you, the general standard of this homework was abysmal. Most of you would have failed had this been your examination. I expect to see a great deal more effort for this week's essay on the various varieties of venom antidotes, or I shall have to start handing out detentions to those dunces who get a "D"."

Johnny could see that Harry was determined not to give Snape an excuse to tail him this lesson, Harry read and reread every line of instructions on the blackboard at least three times before acting on them.

"Well, that wasn't as bad as last week, was it?" said Hermione, as the four of them climbed the steps out of the dungeon and made their way across the Entrance Hall towards lunch. "And the homework didn't go too badly, either, did it?"

"Well you heard what Snape said," Johnny grinned to himself.

When neither Ron nor Harry answered, Hermione pressed on, "I mean, all right, I didn't expect the top grade, not if he's marking to OWL standard, but a pass is quite encouraging at this stage, wouldn't you say?"

"Did she just admit I bested her at something?" Johnny whispered to Harry, who smiled weakly and nodded. Harry made a non-committal noise in his throat.

They sat down together at the Gryffindor table.

"Obviously, I'd have been thrilled if I'd got an "O"-"

"Hermione," said Ron sharply, "if you want to know what grades we got, ask."

"I don't--I didn't mean--well, if you want to tell me-"

"I got a "P"," said Ron, ladling soup into his bowl. "Happy?"

"Well, that's nothing to be ashamed of," said Fred, who had just arrived at the table with George and Lee Jordan and was sitting down on Harry's right. "Nothing wrong with a good healthy "P"."

"But," said Hermione, "doesn't "P" stand for..."

'"Poor", yeah," said Lee Jordan. "Still, better than "D", isn't it? "Dreadful"?

Harry felt his face grow warm and faked a small coughing fit over his roll. Johnny realised then that Harry must've gotten a D from Snape, and smiled sympathetically.

"You lot had an inspected lesson yet?" Fred asked them.

"No," said Johnny, not touching the food. "Have you?"

"Just now, before lunch," said George. "Charms."

"What was it like?" Johnny and Hermione asked together, grinning as they looked at each other.

Fred shrugged.

"Not that bad. Umbridge just lurked in the corner making notes on a clipboard. You know what Flitwick's like, he treated her like a guest, didn't seem to bother him at all. She didn't say much. Asked Alicia a couple of questions about what the classes are normally like, Alicia told her they were really good, that was it."

"I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down," said George, "he usually gets everyone through their exams all right."

"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked Johnny.

"Trelawney and Umbridge herself."

"Well, Harry, be a good boy and keep your temper with Umbridge today," said George. "Angelina'll do her nut if you miss any more Quidditch practices."

"Aw, the inner fights within the Gryffindor team are so cute," said Johnny mockingly. "Hope you all get your act together before the first match, be such a shame to have no competition because the Lions are arguing amongst themselves."

Ron, who had made the Gryffindor team as Keeper (Kieran being reserve Keeper and Beater), went to open his mouth to retort, but Johnny got up from the bench, cutting Ron off.

"May the best team win, Lions," Johnny said loudly, attracting the attention from all across the Hall. "And I guarantee you, even those kind-hearted Puffs have a better team than you!"

There was a roar of applause from the Slytherin's and a roar of disapproval from the Hufflepuff's as Johnny raised his arms mockingly and left towards Divination. Johnny sat in the same dark corner as normal and was pulling out his dream diary when Ron sat next to him and elbowed him in the ribs and, looking round, he saw Professor Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerily, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Professor Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out copies of The Dream Oracle, look round.

"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," said Professor Umbridge with her wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"

Professor Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Professor Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Professor Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Professor Trelawney's seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag and looked up expectantly, waiting for the class to begin.

Professor Trelawney pulled her shawls tight about her with slightly trembling hands and surveyed the class through her hugely magnifying lenses.

"We shall be continuing our study of prophetic dreams today," she said in a brave attempt at her usual mystic tones, though her voice shook slightly. "Divide into twos or threes, please, and interpret each others latest night-time visions with the aid of the Oracle."

She made as though to sweep back to her seat, saw Professor Umbridge sitting right beside it, and immediately veered left towards Parvati and Lavender, who were already deep in discussion about Parvati's most recent dream.

Johnny opened his copy of The Dream Oracle, watching Umbridge covertly. She was already making notes on her clipboard. After a few minutes she got to her feet and began to pace the room in Trelawney's wake, listening to her conversations with students and posing questions here and there. Johnny bent his head hurriedly over his book.

"Think of a dream, quick," he told Ron and Harry, "in case the old bitch looking toad comes our way."

"We did it last time," Ron protested, "it's your turn, you tell us one."

"Oh, I dunno..." said Johnny desperately, who couldn't remember dreaming anything at all over the last few days. "Let's say I dreamed I was... saving my mother from my bastard father... yeah, that'll do... Trelawney loves hearing my sob stories..."

"OK, we've got to add your age to the date you had the dream, the number of letters in the subject ... would that be "saving" or "mother" or "father"?"

"It doesn't matter, pick any of them," said Harry. Professor Umbridge was now standing at Professor Trelawney's shoulder making notes while the Divination teacher questioned Neville about his dream diary. "What night did you dream this again?" Harry asked, immersed in calculations.

"I dunno, last night, whenever you like," Johnny told them, trying to listen to what Umbridge was saying to Professor Trelawney. They were only a table away from him, Harry and Ron now. Professor Umbridge was making another note on her clipboard and Professor Trelawney was looking extremely put out.

"Now," said Umbridge, looking up at Trelawney, "you've been in this post how long, exactly?"

Professor Trelawney scowled at her, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as though wishing to protect herself as much as possible from the indignity of the inspection. After a slight pause in which she seemed to decide that the question was not so offensive that she could reasonably ignore it, she said in a deeply resentful tone, "Nearly sixteen years."

"Quite a period," said Professor Umbridge, making a note on her clipboard. "So it was Professor Dumbledore who appointed you?"

"That's right," said Professor Trelawney shortly.

Professor Umbridge made another note.

"And you are a great-great-granddaughter of the celebrated Seer Cassandra Trelawney?"

"Yes," said Professor Trelawney, holding her head a little higher.

Another note on the clipboard.

"But I think-- correct me if I am mistaken--that you are the first in your family since Cassandra to be possessed of Second Sight?"

"These things often skip--er--three generations," said Professor Trelawney.

Professor Umbridge's toadlike smile widened.

"Of course," she said sweetly, making yet another note. "Well, if you could just predict something for me, then?" And she looked up enquiringly, still smiling.

Professor Trelawney stiffened as though unable to believe her ears. "I don't understand you," she said, clutching convulsively at the shawl around her scrawny neck.

"I'd like you to make a prediction for me," said Professor Umbridge very clearly.

Johnny, Harry and Ron weren't the only people now watching and listening sneakily from behind their books. Most of the class were staring transfixed at Professor Trelawney as she drew herself up to her lull height, her beads and bangles clinking.

"The Inner Eye does not See upon command!" she said in scandalised tones.

"I see," said Professor Umbridge softly, making yet another note on her clipboard.

"I--but--but ... wait!" said Professor Trelawney suddenly, in an attempt at her usual ethereal voice, though the mystical effect was ruined somewhat by the way it was shaking with anger. "I... I think I do see something... something that concerns you... why, I sense something... something dark... some grave peril... large claws... lot's of red..."

Professor Trelawney pointed a shaking finger at Professor Umbridge who continued to smile blandly at her, eyebrows raised.

"I am afraid ... I am afraid that you are in grave danger!" Professor Trelawney finished dramatically.

There was a pause. Professor Umbridge surveyed Professor Trelawney.

"Right," she said softly, scribbling on her clipboard once more. "Well, if that's really the best you can do..."

She turned away, leaving Professor Trelawney standing rooted to the spot, her chest heaving. Johnny caught Ron and Harry's eye and knew that they was thinking exactly the same as he was: they knew that Professor Trelawney was an old fraud, but on the other hand, they loathed Umbridge so much that they felt very much on Trelawney's side--until she swooped down on them a few seconds later, that is.

"Well?" she said, snapping her long fingers under Harry's nose, uncharacteristically brisk. "Let me see the start you've made on your dream diary, please."

And by the time she had interpreted Harry's dreams at the top of her voice (all of which, even the ones that involved eating porridge, apparently foretold a gruesome and early death), they was feeling much less sympathetic towards her. All the while, Professor Umbridge stood a few feet away, making notes on that clipboard, and when the bell rang she descended the silver ladder first and was waiting for them all when they reached their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson ten minutes later.

She was humming and smiling to herself when they entered the room. Johnny told Hermione, who had been in Arithmancy, exactly what had happened in Divination while they all took out their copies of Defensive Magical Theory, but before Hermione could ask any questions Professor Umbridge had called them all to order and silence fell.

"Wands away," she instructed them all with a smile, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out, sadly returned them to their bags. "As we finished Chapter One last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence "Chapter Two, Common Defensive Theories and their Derivation". There will be no need to talk."

Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. Johnny wondered dully whether there were enough chapters in the book to keep them reading through all this years lessons and was on the point of checking the contents page when he noticed that Hermione had her right hand in the air again.

"What're you doing?" Johnny whispered, the fingers of his right hand linking with Hermione's left hand. Hermione shook her head and stared straight ahead. Professor Umbridge had noticed, too, and what was more, she seemed to have worked out a strategy for just such an eventuality. Instead of trying to pretend she hadn't notice Hermione she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face to face, then she bent down and whispered, so that the rest of the class couldn't hear, "What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read Chapter Two," said Hermione.

"Well then, proceed to Chapter Three."

"I've read that too. I've read the whole book."

Professor Umbridge blinked but recovered her poise almost instantly. Johnny ducked his head so Umbridge couldn't see the proud grin he had sent to his girlfriend.

"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen," said Umbridge.

"He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named," said Hermione promptly. "He says "counter-jinx" is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable."

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows and Johnny knew she was impressed, against her will.

"But I disagree," Hermione continued.

Professor Umbridge's eyebrows rose a little higher and her gaze became distinctly colder.

"You disagree?" Umbridge repeated.

"Yes, I do," said Hermione, who, unlike Umbridge, wasn't whispering, but speaking in a clear, carrying voice that had by now attracted the attention of the rest of the class. "Mr. Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively."

"Oh, you do, do you?" said Professor Umbridge, forgetting to whisper and straightening up. "Well, I'm afraid it is Mr. Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

"But-" Hermione began.

"That is enough," said Professor Umbridge. She walked back to the front of the class and stood before them, all the jauntiness she had shown at the beginning of the lesson gone. "Miss Granger, I am going to take five points from Gryffindor house."

There was an outbreak of muttering at this.

"What for?" said Johnny, trying to keep his calm, but he couldn't stop the werewolf claws piercing the underside of the desk.

"Don't you get involved!" Hermione whispered urgently to him, her eyes turning purple.

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," said Professor Umbridge smoothly. "I am here to teach you using a Ministry-approved method that does not include inviting students to give their opinions on matters about which they understand very little. Your previous teachers in this subject may have allowed you more licence, but as none of them--with the possible exception of Professor Quirrell, who did at least appear to have restricted himself to age-appropriate subjects--would have passed a Ministry inspection-"

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," said Harry loudly, stopping Johnny from talking, "there was just that minor drawback of him having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head."

This pronouncement was followed by one of the loudest silences Johnny had ever heard. Then--

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge sleekly.

The cut on the back of Harry's hand had barely healed and, by the following morning, it was bleeding again.

The very worst part of this second week's worth of detentions was, just as George had predicted, Angslina's reaction. She cornered Harry just as he arrived at the Gryffindor table for breakfast on Tuesday and shouted so loudly that Professor McGonagall came sweeping down upon the pair of them from the staff table.

"Miss Johnson, how dare you make such a racket in the Great Hall! Five points from Gryffindor!"

"But Professor-- he's gone and landed himself in detention again-"

"What's this, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall sharply, rounding on Harry. "Detention? From whom?"

"From Professor Umbridge," muttered Harry, not meeting Professor McGonagall's beady, square-framed eyes.

"Are you telling me," she said, lowering her voice so that the group of curious Ravenclaws behind them couldn't hear, "that after the warning I gave you last Monday you lost your temper in Professor Umbridge's class again?"

"Yes," Harry muttered, speaking to the floor.

"Potter, you must get a grip on yourself! You are heading for serious trouble! Another five points from Gryffindor!"

"But--what--? Professor, no!" Harry said, furious at this injustice, "I'm already being punished by her, why do you have to take points as well?"

"Because detentions do not appear to have any effect on you whatsoever!" said Professor McGonagall tartly. "No, not another word of complaint, Potter! And as for you, Miss Johnson, you will confine your shouting matches to the Quidditch pitch in future or risk losing the team captaincy!"

Professor McGonagall strode back towards the staff table.

"Times ticking to get it sorted," Johnny said mockingly.

"Fuck off," muttered Angelina. Angelina gave Harry a look of deepest disgust and stalked away.

"She's taken points off Gryffindor because I'm having my hand sliced open every night! How is that fair, how?" Harry complained, sitting next to Ron.

"I know, mate," said Ron sympathetically, tipping bacon on to Harry's plate, "she's bang out of order."

Hermione, however, merely rustled the pages of her Daily Prophet and said nothing.

"You think McGonagall was right, do you?" said Harry angrily to the picture of Cornelius Fudge obscuring Hermione's face.

"I wish she hadn't taken points from you, but I think she's right to warn you not to lose your temper with Umbridge," said Hermione's voice, while Fudge gesticulated forcefully from the front page, clearly giving some kind of speech.

Harry didn't speak to Hermione all through Charms, but when they entered Transfiguration he seemed to forgot about being cross with her. Professor Umbridge and her clipboard were sitting in a corner and the sight of her drove the memory of breakfast right out of his head.

"Excellent," whispered Ron, as he and Johnny got seats right in the front. "Let's see Umbridge get what she deserves."

Professor McGonagall marched into the room without giving the slightest indication that she knew Professor Umbridge was there.

"That will do," she said and silence fell immediately. "Mr. Finnigan, kindly come here and hand back the homework--Miss Brown, please take this box of mice--don't be silly, girl, they won't hurt you--and hand one to each student-"

"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge, employing the same silly little cough she had used to interrupt Dumbledore on the first night of term. Professor McGonagall ignored her. Seamus handed back Johnny's essay; Johnny took it without looking at him and saw an 'O'.

"Right then, everyone, listen closely--Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse again I shall put you in detention--most of you have now successfully Vanished your snails and even those who were left with a certain amount of shell have got the gist of the spell. Today, we shall be-"

"Hem, hem," said Professor Umbridge.

"Yes?" said Professor McGonagall, turning round, her eyebrows so close together they seemed to form one long, severe line.

"I was just wondering, Professor, whether you received my note telling you of the date and time of your inspec-"

"Obviously I received it, or I would have asked you what you are doing in my classroom," said Professor McGonagall, turning her back firmly on Professor Umbridge. Many of the students exchanged looks of glee. "As I was saying: today, we shall be practising the altogether more difficult Vanishment of mice. Now, the Vanishing Spell-"

"Hem, hem."

"I wonder," said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, "how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking."

Professor Umbridge looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She didn't speak, but straightened the parchment on her clipboard and began scribbling furiously.

Looking supremely unconcerned, Professor McGonagall addressed the class once more.

"As I was saying: the Vanishing Spell becomes more difficult with the complexity of the animal to be Vanished. The snail, as an invertebrate, does not present much of a challenge; the mouse, as a mammal, offers a much greater one. This is not, therefore, magic you can accomplish with your mind on your dinner. So-- you know the incantation, let me see what you can do..."

Professor Umbridge didn't follow Professor McGonagall around the class as she had followed Professor Trelawney; perhaps she realised Professor McGonagall wouldn't permit it. She did, however, take many more notes while sitting in her corner, and when Professor McGonagall finally told them all to pack away, she rose with a grim expression on her face.

"Well, it's a start," said Ron, holding up a long wriggling mouse-tail and dropping it back into the box Lavender was passing around.

It was nearly midnight when Harry returned to the Gryffindor Common Room to see Johnny, Hermione and Ron.

"Here," Hermione said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid towards him, "soak your hand in that, it's a solution of strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles, it should help."

Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief.

Crookshanks curled around Johnny's legs, purring loudly, then leapt into his lap and settled down.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully.

"I still reckon you should complain about this," said Ron in a low voice.

"Or I could kill her and get rid of the body," Johnny shrugged.

"No," said Harry flatly.

"McGonagall would go nuts if she knew-"

"Yeah, she probably would," said Harry dully. "And how long do you reckon it'd take Umbridge to pass another decree saying anyone who complains about the High Inquisitor gets sacked immediately?'

Ron and Johnny opened their mouths to retort but nothing came out and, after a moment, they closed them again, defeated.

"She's an awful woman," said Hermione in a small voice. "Awful. You know, I was just saying to Ron and Johnny when you came in... we've got to do something about her."

"I suggested poison," said Ron grimly.

"I suggested draining her of her blood and hanging her corpse from the Astronomy Tower," said Johnny, playing with his nails.

"There's something wrong with your head," said Hermione, grinning at her boyfriend.

"No ... I mean, something about what a dreadful teacher she is, and how we're not going to learn any Defence from her at all," said Hermione.

"Well, what can we do about that?" said Ron, yawning. "'S too late, isn't it? She's got the job, she's here to stay. Fudge'll make sure of that."

"Well," said Hermione tentatively. "You know, I was thinking today..." she shot a slightly nervous look at Harry and Johnny and then plunged on, "I was thinking that-- maybe the time's come when we should just--just do it ourselves."

"Do what ourselves?" said Johnny suspiciously, waving his wand so a hand held mirror and a comb materialised out of nowhere. His three friends looked at him weirdly as he started combing his hair.

"Well--learn Defence Against the Dark Arts ourselves," said Hermione.

"Come off it," groaned Ron. "You want us to do extra work? D'you realise Harry and I are behind on homework again and it's only the second week?"

"But this is much more important than homework!" said Hermione.

Johnny stopped combing his hair midway through, and he, Harry and Ron goggled at her.

"I didn't think there was anything in the universe more important than homework!" said Johnny, grinning at his girlfriend.

"Don't be silly, of course there is," said Hermione, and Johnny saw, with an ominous feeling, that her face was suddenly alight with the kind of fervour that SPEW usually inspired in her. "It's about preparing ourselves, like Harry said in Umbridge's first lesson, for what's waiting for us out there. It's about making sure we really can defend ourselves. If we don't learn anything for a whole year-"

"We can't do much by ourselves," said Ron in a defeated voice. "I mean, all right, we can go and look jinxes up in the library and try and practise them, I suppose-"

"No, I agree, we've gone past the stage where we can just learn things out of books," said Hermione. "We need a teacher, a proper one, who can show us how to use the spells and correct us if we're going wrong."

"If you're talking about Lupin..." Harry began.

"No, no, I'm not talking about Lupin," said Hermione. "He's too busy with the Order and, anyway, the most we could see him is during Hogsmeade weekends and that's not nearly often enough.|

"Who, then?" said Harry, frowning at her.

Hermione heaved a very deep sigh.

"Isn't it obvious?" she said. "I'm talking about you, Harry, and you, Johnny."

There was a moment's silence. A light night breeze rattled the windowpanes behind Ron, and the fire guttered.

"About me what?" said Harry.

"Are you really that thick?" Johnny asked, holding his head in his hands. "She's talking about us teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Harry stared at Johnny. Then he turned to Ron, ready to exchange the exasperated looks they sometimes shared when Hermione and Johnny elaborated on far-fetched schemes. To Harry's consternation, however, Ron didn't look exasperated.

He was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then he said, "That's an idea."

"I'm fine with it," said Johnny. "My dream is to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts when we finish here."

"But..."

"-You know what, I'm not sure I want someone this stupid teaching me," Ron said to Hermione and Johnny, smirking slightly. "I think I'm good with just Johnny."

Ron turned to Harry.

"Let's think," Ron said, pulling a face like Goyle concentrating. "Uh... first year--you saved the Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who."

"Bitch, that was fucking me!" Said Johnny, slapping Ron, who blushed in embarrassment and said a quiet, "right."

"Second year," Ron said, red still tinting his cheeks, "you killed the Basilisk and destroyed Riddle."

"Yeah, but if Fawkes hadn't turned up, I-" Harry went to say.

"Third year," said Johnny, joining in on the fun, "you fought off about a hundred dementors at once-"

"You know that was a fluke, if the Time-Turner hadn't-"

"Last year," Johnny said, almost shouting now, "we escaped You-know-Who again-"

"Listen to me!" said Harry, almost angrily, because Johnny, Ron and Hermione were both smirking now. "Just listen to me, all right? It sounds great when you say it like that, but all that stuff was luck-- I didn't know what I was doing half the time, I didn't plan any of it, I just did whatever I could think of, and I nearly always had help-"

"He's admitting I'm better than him!" Johnny said happily. "I didn't have help!"

"STOP LAUGHING!"

The bowl of Murtlap essence fell to the floor and smashed. Harry became aware that he was on his feet, though he couldn't remember standing up. Ron and Hermione's smiles had vanished.

"Look," said Harry, taking a deep breath. "I'll think about it."

"I was wondering," Hermione said suddenly, two weeks later, "whether you'd thought any more about Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry."

"Course I have," said Harry grumpily, "can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us-"

"I meant the idea we had-" Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look. She frowned at him, "--Oh, all right, the idea I had, then--about you and Johnny teaching us."

Harry didn't answer instantly. He pretended to be perusing a page of Asiatic Anti-Venoms,.

"Well," he said slowly, when he could no longer pretend to find Asiatic Anti-Venoms interesting, "yeah, I--I've thought about it a bit."

"And?" said Johnny eagerly, practically bouncing in his seat.

"I dunno," said Harry, playing for time.

"I thought it was a good idea from the start," said Ron.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?"

"Yes, Harry," said Johnny impatiently, "but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You and I were the only people last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, I certainly can't, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't."

"Viktor always said-" Hermione began, but was cut off by Johnny.

Johnny looked round at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, "Yeah? What did Vicky say?"

"Ho ho," said Hermione in a bored voice. "He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang."

Johnny was looking at Hermione suspiciously.

"You're not still in contact with him, are you?"

"So what if I am?" said Hermione coldly. "I can have a pen-pal if I-"

"He didn't only want to be your pen-pal," said Johnny accusingly.

Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Johnny, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, "Well, what do you think? Will you and this jealous sod teach us?"

"Just you and Ron, yeah?" Asked Harry.

"Well," said Hermione, looking a bit anxious again. "Well... now, don't fly off the handle again, Harry, please... but I really think you and Johnny ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against V-Voldemort. Oh, don't be pathetic, Ron. It doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people."

"Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by Johnny and I. We're nutters, remember?"

"Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say," said Hermione seriously. "Look," she leaned towards him and Ron -- Johnny, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forwards to listen too-- "you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?"

"Why do we have to do it outside school?" said Ron.

"Umbridge wouldn't be very happy if she found out what we were up to," said Johnny, looking away from Hermione to doodle on his parchment paper.

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. Alter breakfast they queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village. When Johnny reached Filch, the caretaker gave a great sniff as though trying to detect a whiff of something from Johnny. Then he gave a curt nod that set his jowls aquiver again and Johnny walked on, out on to the stone steps and the cold, sunlit day.

"Er--why was Filch sniffing you?" asked Harry , as he, Johnny, Ron and Hermione set off at a brisk pace down the wide drive to the gates.

"I suppose he was checking for the smell of Dungbombs,". said Johnny with a small laugh. "Where are we going, anyway?" Johnny asked. "The Three Broomsticks?"

"Oh--no," said Hermione, coming out of her thoughts, "no, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit... you know... dodgy... but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard."

They walked down the main street past Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop, where they weren't surprised to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood on to the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All four of them hesitated outside the door.

"Well, come on," said Hermione, slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.

It wasn't at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as Johnny stepped on to it he realised that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows; Johnny might have thought they were dementors if they hadn't been talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.

"I don't know about this," Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He noticed Johnny was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. "Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?"

Hermione cast an appraising eye over the veiled figure.

"Umbridge is shorter than that woman," she said quietly. "And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, because I've double- and triple-checked the school rules. We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing."

"No," said Johnny, an amused smile on his lips as he kissed Hermione's head, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

The barman sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to them.

"What?" he grunted.

"Four Butterbeers, please, mate," said Johnny, leaning on the bar.

The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up four very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.

"Six Sickles," he said.

"I'll get them," said Johnny quickly, passing over the silver. The barman's eyes travelled over to Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar. Then he turned away and deposited Johnny's money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. Johnny, Harry, Ron and Hermione retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The man in the dirty grey bandages rapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman.

"You know what?" Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. "We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try Firewhisky-"

"You--are--a--prefect," snarled Hermione.

"Oh," said Ron, the smile fading from his face. "Yeah..."

"So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his Butterbeer and taking a swig.

"Just a couple of people," Hermione repeated, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards the door. "I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is--oh, look, this might be them now."

The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.

First came Selena, Nick, Kieran, Amber and Summer, then came Neville, Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Axel, Emily, Parvati and Padma Patil, Cho and one of her usually-giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait clown her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose who Johnny recognised vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, then Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise. Last but not least was Mia, Pansy and Tom, followed by Daphne Greengrass, Blaise and Theodore Nott.

"A couple of people?" said Johnny hoarsely to Hermione. "A couple of people?"

"Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular," said Hermione happily. "Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?"

The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.

"Hi," said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, "could we have ... thirty-seven Butterbeers, please?"

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

"Cheers," said Fred, handing them out. "Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these..."

Johnny watched numbly as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins.

"What have you been telling people?" Harry asked Hermione in a low voice. "What are they expecting?"

"I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say," said Hermione soothingly; but Harry continued to look at her so furiously that she added quickly, "you don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first."

"Hi, guys," said Kieran, beaming and taking a seat opposite him, his girlfriend, Summer, taking the seat next to him.

In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Johnny, Harry, Ron and Hermione, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna gazing dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry and Johnny.

"Er," said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. "Well--er--hi."

The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry or Johnny.

"Well ... erm ... well, you know why you're here. Erm ... well, Harry and Johnny here had the idea--I mean" (Harry and Johnny had thrown her a sharp look) "I had the idea--that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts--and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us-" (Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) "-- because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts-"("Hear, hear," said Daphne, Pansy and Mia in unison, and Hermione looked heartened) "--Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands."

She paused, looked sideways at Harry and Johnny and went on, "And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells-"

"You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?" said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.

"Of course I do," said Hermione at once. "But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because... because..." she took a great breath and finished, '
"because Lord Voldemort is back."

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked eagerly at Harry and Johnny.

"Well... that's the plan, anyway," said Hermione. "If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to-"

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice.

"Well, Dumbledore believes it-" Hermione began.

"You mean, Dumbledore believes them," said the blond boy, nodding at Harry and Johnny.

"Who the fuck are you?" said Selena, rather rudely.

"Zacharias Smith," said the boy, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes them say You-Know-Who's back."

"Look," said Hermione, intervening swiftly, "that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about-"

"It's OK, Hermione," said Harry. "What makes Johnny and I say You-Know-Who's back?" Harry repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. "We saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe us, and we're not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. Johnny had the impression that even the barman was listening. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag, making it steadily dirtier.

Zacharias said dismissively, "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Johnny got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Johnny's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, just suddenly Johnny's alive, I think we'd all like to know-"

"If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you," Johnny said, standing up. His temper, so close to the surface, was rising again. He didn't take his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive face. "I don't want to talk about my death, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out."

"So," said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again, once no one moved. "So... like I was saying... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to-"

"Is it true," interrupted Susan Bones, looking at Harry, "that you can produce a Patronus?"

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

"Yeah," said Harry slightly defensively.

"A corporeal Patronus?"

"Er--you don't know Madam Bones, do you?" Harry asked.

The girl smiled.

"She's my auntie," she said. "I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So--is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Blimey, Harry!" said Theodore Nott, looking deeply impressed. "I never knew that!"

"Mum told Ron not to spread it around," said Fred, grinning at Harry. "She said you got enough attention as it was."

"She's not wrong," said Johnny, and a couple of people laughed.

The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.

"And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?" Asked Blaise, a look of wonder on his face.

"Er--yeah, I did, yeah," said Harry.

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender Brown said 'Wow!' softly.

"And in our first year," said Pansy, grinning at her best friend, "Johnny saved the Philosophers Stone."

Hannah Abbotts eyes were as round as Galleons.

"And that's not to mention," said Cho (Harry's eyes snapped across to her; she was looking at him, smiling; his stomach did another somersault) "all the tasks Harry had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year--getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things..."

"Look," Johnny said, and everyone fell silent at once, "Harry and I don't want to sound like we're trying to be modest or anything, but... we had a lot of help with all that stuff..."

"Not with the dragon, you didn't," said Amber, Nick's girlfriend at once. "That was a seriously cool bit of flying..."

"Lay off the compliments," said Johnny, grinning at Nick who clenched his jaw. "Nicky is jealous."

"And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer," said Mia.

"No," said Harry, "no, OK, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is-"

"Are you and Johnny trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?" said Zacharias Smith.

"Here's an idea," said Axel loudly, before Harry or Johnny could speak, "why don't you shut your mouth and fuck off?"

"Well, we've all turned up to learn from them and now they're telling us they can't really do any of it," he said.

"That's not what they said," snarled Fred.

"Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" enquired Greorge, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.

"Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this," said Fred.

"Yes, well," said Hermione hastily, moving on. "... the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry and Johnny?"

There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fred's hand.

"Right," said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week-"

"Hang on," said Angelina, "we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

"No," said Cho, "nor with ours."

"Nor ours," added Zacharias Smith.

"Or ours," said Johnny, pointing to the Slytherin's.

"I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," said Hermione, slightly impatiently, "but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters-"

"Well said!" barked Ernie Macmillan. "Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up!"

He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry "Surely not!" When nobody spoke, he went on, "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells-"

"We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione, "is that she's got some... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilise us against the Ministry."

Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna, who piped up, "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

"What?" said Johnny, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information.

"Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths," said Luna solemnly.

"No, he hasn't," snapped Hermione.

"Yes, he has," said Luna.

"What are Heliopaths?" asked Dean, 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, Dean," 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.

"Maybe an unused classroom?" said Dean.

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

For all that Hermione had said about study and homework groups being allowed, Johnny 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 Johnny 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 Johnny 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.

"Well, I think that went quite well," said Hermione happily, as she, Johnny, Harry and Ron walked out of the Hog's Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later.