Time is an incomprehensible entity. It has a tendency to drag on long and painfully in a person's perception, or it can fly by instantly. Thinking about this, especially possessing some mystical knowledge, as well as an understanding of quite "material" physics, you can go into such wilds that you yourself will be surprised. For example, how could the thought that a week passed unnoticed and quickly lead me to reflect on the influence of the density of matter on the "density" of space, which in turn, possibly, slows down the rate of changes in the energy states of this matter, which in turn is essentially energy, and after all, it is exactly this rate that we perceive as time...
But, putting aside thoughts about the complexity of the universe and that my ideas may turn out to be, as usually happens with a lack of information, extremely wrong, it is worth noting a few important things over the past, second week of study at Hogwarts.
The first and most important thing. Umbridge, on her very first working day in the post of High Inquisitor, rushed to conduct inspections of teachers. If at breakfast on Monday the guys only assumed, and during lunch too, then at dinner there was clear information on this matter. Umbridge, taking advantage of a window in her schedule, went to inspect Divination. To be honest, it seemed to me that Trelawney definitely wouldn't pass this check. In addition to the fact that Divination—in itself is a rather murky discipline, the teacher must also possess a gift, but that's not all. This gift does not have a "switch" and it cannot be "started" at any convenient moment in time. At least, if the gift for such a thing is not particularly bright, and the seer himself due to the unexpressed nature of the gift could not take it under control—it is difficult to learn to control what you can't even really feel.
In general, according to the available information, Umbridge picked on Trelawney, with just a few phrases exposing her as an incompetent teacher, moreover, not even having skills to conduct the subject.
On Tuesday the inspection continued. Now the whole year could observe how this process goes. In Charms and Spells Professor Flitwick treated Umbridge quite politely and hospitably. As a result—Umbridge calmly sat for herself on the very top row of the amphitheater, made notes in a notebook, and asked the only question only at the end of the lesson.
"Miss Brown, tell me," she spoke, stopping the Gryffindor girl at the exit from the classroom. I was just passing by. "How do classes with Professor Flitwick usually go?"
"Wonderfully, Madam Umbridge!" brightly smiling answered this cheerful girl. "The professor always knows how to interest us, explains well and shows examples."
"Excellent," her signature sugary smile did not leave Umbridge's face.
The next class on the schedule was Transfiguration, and Umbridge decided that she certainly had to inspect the conduct of this subject too. Many students smirked, expecting a rebuke from McGonagall, and the Gryffindor Head of House did not disappoint anyone.
McGonagall importantly floated into the classroom, completely ignoring Umbridge sitting at the farthest desk. I sat together with Daphne and we were preparing both to show skills in using Evanesco—we still have a long way to go with it, complicating the object of elimination—and expecting the inevitable dialogue between Umbridge and McGonagall.
"Settle down, students," McGonagall began to speak, instantly establishing dead silence in the class. "Mr. Finnigan, be so kind as to come and take the checked essays and distribute them to the students. Miss Brown, please take this box with mice... Bolder, dear, they won't eat you. Distribute one to everyone."
"Hem, hem..." with her coughing, high tone, intonations—Umbridge managed to cause irritation with every detail of her behavior, and it doesn't matter, intentionally or not. But everyone ignored her, including McGonagall.
"Something will happen," Daphne whispered very, very quietly to me, leaning slightly sideways so that I could hear better. It was at this moment that Lavender handed us our white mice—perfect transfiguration, bravo, Professor! I am sure that even the chemical composition of the "mouse" will fully correspond to the reference individual.
"Definitely," I answered just as quietly. "But not a scandal. Just, a tiny conflict, sparks between two professors."
"I would ask for no talking, Mr. Granger, Miss Greengrass," McGonagall by some miracle heard our words, although even I could hardly hear myself, honestly speaking.
Having received our homework from Finnigan, we nodded in satisfaction to ourselves. "O"—Outstanding. And when was it otherwise?
"So, may I have your attention. Dean Thomas, if you do that to the mouse one more time, I will leave you after classes..."
And what did he do? What generally can be done to it to deserve disapproval? Didn't he eat it, in the end—this is an extremely bad idea, eating a transfigured object.
"...Most of you achieved the disappearance of snails, and even those who retained noticeable remnants of the shell caught the principle of transformation. Today we will be..."
"Hem, hem..."
"Yes?" McGonagall finally looked at Umbridge.
"I wanted to know, Professor, did you receive my note with the date and time of the inspection of your..."
"Obviously, I received it—otherwise I would have asked you what you are doing at my lesson," McGonagall turned away, continuing to address the students. "I repeat: today we will practice in a much more difficult disappearance—a mouse. Evanesco..."
"Hem, hem..."
"Perhaps," McGonagall looked coldly at Umbridge, "you should contact the Hospital Wing, because a constant cough—is not good, especially considering the prediction of great danger you recently received from Trelawney."
"I would like..."
"Wonder how you are going to get acquainted with my teaching method if you intend to interrupt me every minute? You see, I usually don't allow talking in class when I speak myself."
Umbridge took offense, but no one sympathized with her, which goes without saying. For the rest of the week, only one more inspection fell to our lot—Care. Everything was quiet and peaceful there, Umbridge asked Grubbly-Plank about this and that, and the lesson went on as usual.
On the same day, on Tuesday, in the house common room, I had a conversation with Tamsin, who took the role of the captain of the house Quidditch team.
"You know, Hector," we stepped a little aside from the bulk of students, "only the second week is going, and I'm already tired. Are you aware that Gryffindors cheat a little?"
"In what? In that they held tryouts on Friday?"
"Oh, so you know? Yes, a week ahead of schedule. Also training without permission."
"Well okay," I smiled. "They are generally the only house focused only on winning the school tournament, and only live for victory."
"It's understandable that we play for the sake of interest," Tamsin smiled weakly, "but the sports spirit evaporates against the background of these small and insignificant, but unpleasant actions."
"What to do," I shrugged. "This is such a trifle that it is easier to neglect it than to try to fix it."
"Right. By the way. Have you come up with something yet to compensate for the lack of DADA practice for the house?"
"There is a thought. For example, organize a fairly simple class scheme. One class a week. Second year shows first-years a spell, third—second, and so on. The biggest problem—seventh year."
"Not really," the girl smiled. "Herbert perfectly knows DADA of school level and even a little more. Think our year will easily figure it out itself—just once a week will gather for about two hours purely for DADA, and that's it. Ah, yes, you didn't catch the program of the first and second year."
"Well yes."
"There too everything is very simple. Can start practice a little later, from Christmas. And assign to them better someone from the fourth or fifth, your year. They will manage faster, and the task will be easier than easy."
"Good... Thanks for the advice."
"Let's assign Herbert to organizational moments, or else he is painfully pleased," Tamsin glanced at her colleague, freely lounging on the sofa in the company of their classmates. "Even sickening to look."
"I'm all for it," a smile crawled onto my face. "Herbert!"
"Huh?!"
"Come here," I waved my hand at him, and our Keeper, already former, quickly jumped off the sofa, heading towards us.
Discussion of various organizational moments took about an hour, during which we developed a quite decent strategy for teaching students practical DADA skills. Had to puzzle guys from different years so that they compiled a list of activities of the rest, giving us the opportunity to make a class schedule. But it still needs to be polished and, as I said at the house meeting, the result will be at the end of the second week.
These, actually, are all the significant events for the week.
Prefects, it seems, conveyed to their colleagues in houses information about the undesirability of running into Umbridge and the extreme necessity to control themselves. Slytherins, it seems, actively dug the earth with their noses, finding out from acquaintances, parents, from acquainted parents and from other contacts, whether the Dark Lord returned or not. It seems they have some reliable information, because they accepted the general idea not to get involved in anything, and if anything—to ignore to a certain extent.
And right now, on Sunday, sitting in the library, feverishly memorizing information from books and enjoying the fact that I won't have to lead first-years almost by the hand all over the castle anymore, I simultaneously pondered about time, gravity, space and the complexity of being in general. But my thoughts were not destined to come to any conclusion—Hermione appeared, sitting down at the table next to me without unnecessary prefaces.
"Hi," she put a rather large book on the table—for light reading, not otherwise. "What are you doing?"
"Hi. Studying, as you see."
"From the outside it looks as if you are looking for pictures—turning pages too fast, running your eyes over the text too fast."
"For now only memorizing. Later will think it over. Completely no time with all this social activity. By the way, haven't you put off into the far box your project to free house-elves from the injustice of their magical essence?"
"Don't exaggerate," she smiled and frowned simultaneously. "Put off. For its readiness something important is missing... Besides the fact that I understand that I don't understand anything in the life of these creatures. And their mentality."
"It's good that last year you refused to impose good on them regardless of their desire for it."
"Yes-yes," she nodded, waving it off and smiling. "Dark Lady Granger and the army of house-elves. Actually, what reason I came for..."
"Come on, tell me what you've thought up," I pushed the book aside and sat half-turned to sister, who looked uncertain, but at the same time clearly burned with enthusiasm. As, actually, always when another amusing thought to do something like that visits her.
"In general... I asked around in the house. Not so many of ours are interested in DADA practice. For some it's even a joy that won't have to strain unnecessarily."
"That's understandable," I nodded. "Such will be found everywhere. You, I see, definitely planned something."
"Yes, to some extent," Hermione fixed a strand of hair, somehow not particularly confidently intercepted the sleeve of her jumper. "Since there are not very many such in the house, then... Maybe in others there are guys wishing to do DADA practice?"
"Want to gather some general group? Or join an already existing one?"
"Gather my own, of course," sister stated importantly. "And are there already existing ones?"
"And what do you think?"
"Well... Quite possibly, actually. Although, after the failure of the Dueling Club in the second year, unlikely we have something similar. I would know about it."
"And do you know everything that happens at Hogwarts?"
"Hector," Hermione looked at me reproachfully. "I live in a bedroom with the two main gossips of Hogwarts. If there was something like a dueling club—I would definitely know simply by the fact that Parvati and Lavender would definitely discuss it."
"They also may not know, but that's not the point. You didn't approach me just like that, did you? Think you yourself could organize your own club or something similar."
"Would be great if could do such a thing officially," she sighed. "Only Umbridge won't let such an initiative pass. Will nip it in the bud."
"Naturally. She is against practice. By the way, did you read the 'decrees' gradually appearing on the wall near the Great Hall?"
"Trifle," sister waved it off. "She repeats herself. 'Do not conjure in corridors', 'dress according to rules', 'wear insignia'. For the sake of justice, something like this on a mandatory level was missing."
"Yeah? That is, are you ready to change your favorite jeans and windbreakers, constantly wearing school uniform?"
"Don't know... Don't stray from the topic," Hermione straightened up, and the slight detachment from the original topic of conversation gave her more confidence. "I wanted to find out from you if you will join if we organize our... Club? Let it be a club."
"We, is...?"
"So far some girls will definitely participate... The twins will definitely be. Ron and Harry—possibly. I already talked to them about this, but lately we communicate not very well, and I don't know what's going on in their heads. Ron can go for company—by himself he is unlikely to overcome his desire to do nothing. Moreover—to study..."
"Clear," I leaned back on the back of the chair. "Suppose you organized. Who will be the teacher? Of course, can also by books, without mentors. Group lesson will allow to jointly develop the best approach to spells. But why do I need it? The guys from the house and I already gather several times a week for practice."
"Yes? And where?"
"In an unused classroom, of course," I even smiled, giving such an obvious answer. "Charms for protecting the room, privacy, runic knits—just a bunch of all this. Who but you should know, go to runes together."
"We didn't cover anything like that, and I didn't see it in books."
"Make a runic chain yourself? What are knowledge for? Moreover experience is."
"I didn't look at the question from this side," Hermione thought. "Wanted a ready-made option so as not to waste time—there is almost none anyway. By the way, the girls already asked around. Seemingly your classmates from the house would all not mind learning something worthwhile. Didn't you know?"
"We are not together all the time, as you see," I spread my hands, demonstrating an obvious thing—before her arrival I sat in the library alone. "But this could very well be. They surely think that someone from senior years will show something like that."
"Unlikely many seniors will come. They have plenty of their own worries. Least of all want to mess with younger ones—I know this for sure."
"A-ah," I drawled understandingly, "ran enough with first-years."
"A little," at the same time Hermione looked guilty. "It is tiring."
"Okay, good."
"Do you agree?"
"No, I'm not about that, you didn't let me finish the thought."
"Ah, come on."
"Is there anyone from Ravenclaw?"
"Don't know yet. Padma, Parvati's sister, will surely be. Can't say more yet, and even assume."
"Clear. Slytherin?"
"Slytherin?" Hermione was very surprised by such a thing. "That's definitely unlikely..."
"And why?"
"So these are Slytherins."
"Are they, in your opinion, bad?"
"Not about that at all," Hermione with the face of an extremely knowledgeable person waved it off. "Just, they are completely-completely on their own. And recently I thought over some words. Yours and Malfoy's..."
"Oh, interesting," I completely turned to sister. "Continue."
"About them obeying family opinions, their... orders, or what?"
"Well, not orders, but strong recommendations," I smirked at my own interpretation of this voluntary-compulsory form of interaction of adult wizards with the younger generation.
"And as is known, most of the caught Death Eaters are relatives or even parents of those who study now in Slytherin. Or studied before. Or studied there themselves for many generations."
"Just don't say that everyone there—are insidious Dark Wizards, all evil, Death Eaters, murderers..."
Hermione put her hands up in a defensive gesture.
"Wait-wait, I understood that you can remember many epithets used by someone towards them or simply applicable to 'not good'. But need to understand that, if... Voldemort..." even if with slight effort over herself, but Hermione pronounced the pseudonym of the local Dark Lord. "If he revived, then his supporters, no matter to what extent they are them, can simply put Slytherins before the fact. Like, now you are on his side."
"Of course."
"That's what I'm talking about!" Hermione experienced obvious relief, finding understanding of her words. "Why teach those who can become an enemy?"
"Enemy? Isn't it too loud a statement towards peers who haven't even reached adulthood. Maximum that can turn out—new round of intrigues, fiercer confrontations, by the way, already extremely rare and then between only a small group of Gryffindors and Slytherins."
Hermione looked at me with slight misunderstanding and demanded to explain my words.
"Look closely. Seventh and sixth years communicate with each other without problems. Younger ones—too. Twins generally do business with the whole Slytherin house, because money does not smell. It's you, your year and a year up and down arranged from a albeit slightly aggressive, but ordinary confrontation and rivalry a real cold war, occasionally flowing into a fleeting hot phase."
"You exaggerate."
"Believe me, it's more visible from the outside. From the inside maybe I wouldn't have noticed, but alas. In general, you must invite Slytherins."
"Many won't agree to this."
"Don't speak for everyone. At least each of the students you named, except Ron and Harry, has adequate contacts with Slytherins. Goldsteins, those who live now in England, cooperate with Bulstrodes and Flints, and Anthony is guaranteed to communicate with some guys from snakes. Our Abbott and Macmillan—generally with the whole stream of Slytherins in completely neutral relations. I can list for a long time if set this goal."
"But why? I understand everything, communicate normally, good," Hermione did not give up. "Even agree that got excited with enemies. But why?"
"Think, you are smart. Right now."
And she thought. Only for a couple of seconds, but it was enough for her. Never doubted that she is smart, just mind, like any other activity, needs to be directed into a certain channel to have a result. Sometimes have to direct from the outside.
"Just a gesture," she nodded importantly. "Even if no one or almost no one agrees—the gesture itself will be important. Because now, despite Umbridge's efforts and increasingly frequent hints from her side on desirability to report to her about everyone and everything, none of them meets her halfway."
"Exactly. And if you organize your secret club from students of three houses and don't even invite Slytherin, it will look like a spit in their direction. Spit on their agreement, even if not without personal benefit, but follow the general course of the school. And if don't invite, then don't be surprised that a group of Slytherin errand boys for Umbridge will appear. Just to break you off all at once, since all houses spit in their backs so openly."
"I understood. Then, through twins..."
"Yourself."
"Also gesture?"
"Exactly. You—are a prefect. Face of the house. If you submit this proposal to them, it will also be a gesture. Only convince your especially violent ones in the necessity of such a thing first."
"Can be some clashes already in the club."
"Conflicts of interests are generally inevitable."
"Okay, I understood..." Hermione reached for the book, wanting to start reading, because not only for the sake of conversation she sat down with me. "But will you participate in this?"
"Depends on whether guys from our house will participate. Ideally—whole year. It would be inconvenient for me to spend time on classes with two different groups. Time is already in great value now."
"Good..."
The conversation itself came to an end, we began to study each our own material. I looked into the Restricted Section only three times over the last week, which is a little less than I would like. So right now I sat at the table, but a couple of times stealthily glanced at the doors to this section. But, no matter how much I wanted to go there right now, at the moment according to plan I have expansion of horizons through books in the ordinary part of the library—nothing special, but just as mandatory, in my opinion, as everything else.
Participate in this adventure of Hermione? Why not? I will look at the skills of classmates, show something myself if someone is interested, and possibly even learn something new if I'm lucky. Especially the dueling club turned into a DADA practicum and something significant almost never happens there now. Flitwick is so busy there now that it won't even be possible to really duel with anyone—simple spells are still tolerable, but won't be able to throw something serious and tricky due to the professor's busyness and the need for him to look after a bunch of students eager to practice this damn subject as soon as possible.
Umbridge planted a pig, oh she did. A big, pink one. Indeed—she herself is this uncut bacon. Will be necessary to organize some dirty trick for her so she doesn't relax. Or don't need to? No, I won't for now. As is known—no need to add fuel to the fire under a cauldron with shit. Boiling shit both stinks and can scald strongly. Means for now just waiting when Hermione will gather the club... Let's call it "Dementia and Courage!".
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