A beautiful morning, a clear sky, dawn breaking in the east—it seemed nothing could mar this day.
I had to do my physical exercises, including the glaive, under various concealment charms—the Gryffindors had gone to Quidditch practice, and generally were making a morning fuss before breakfast.
I myself was occupied not only with thoughts about how to organize a decent room for diverse DADA training, but also reflected on the well-spent yesterday, the walk around Hogsmeade with Daphne, and Pansy periodically joining us and leaving. Well, what of it? No matter what my consciousness is like, it's impossible to avoid the fact that I am essentially just a guy named Hector Granger, who more than enjoys the affection of a girl.
The Gryffindors are training... Amusing.
By the way, during the tryouts, which passed completely in the background for me, we got new players. Well, that goes without saying, of course, but nevertheless. The current lineup now looks like this. Captain and one of the Chasers—Tamsin. Zacharias passed for the role of another Chaser, and the third—Ernie. The guys decided to try themselves as players, and they had some experience of amateur games in the summer with friends—this allowed them to pass without any special problems, and essentially, they had almost no competition. Quidditch is not popular in our house. It's much more popular even among the Ravens, but this is not surprising—they experiment with tactics, analysis, and other intellectual twists there. Generally, only the Slytherins and Gryffindors take this game seriously in our school, and if most snakes see it as one of the tools to win the school competition—useless, by the way, as for me—then the Gryffindors—as one of the few ways for them personally to take first place at the end of the year. But, I digress.
Beater—our former Keeper, Herbert Fleet. The second Beater—fourth-year Edward Nicholson. Well, an ordinary average guy, except large among his peers, and summer boxing practice—his Squib uncle is a cool coach—allowed the guy to show excellent hand work, bat work. Yes, oddly enough, but it's a fact—his whipping and accurate hits send the Bludger like from a cannon and almost always into the bullseye, and physical training skills and the sense of his own body in space allow him to fly on a broom stably, like a tank, and use mass and inertia during the flight to hit the Bludger really powerfully.
Leanne Tyler—a half-blood not only as a witch, but also by nationality. She passed for Seeker. Not phenomenal, but worthy. Lacks practice, but excellent reflexes. This half-Asian girl said that she decided to try out for the team purely because of communication with Katie Bell, a Gryffindor girl, an ardent fan of this game, and at the same time her friend.
And I—Keeper.
At first, the newcomers were indignant, like: "Why doesn't the Keeper go to training?". Of course, Tamsin explained to them that I don't need training, and the Keeper doesn't participate in teamwork, so don't interfere with our prefect's quiet life. This was not enough, and therefore I got on the broom that had just arrived by mail, the second version of Sleipnir, and showed class, standing at the goalposts—with my reaction and sensitivity to the space around me it was impossible either to break through or bypass.
Why did I even remember such a thing? Well, just Gryffindors, over there, are training, and mostly Ron gets it—he is a rather mediocre Keeper. Not given. But he tries, and most importantly—with full dedication. I even sometimes saw him in the mornings—training alone, sparing no effort. The main thing is that the game with the Slytherins doesn't break him—lions and snakes traditionally play first.
In general, in a good mood I returned to the common room, put myself in order and took up the duties of a prefect. For example, approved the training time set by Tamsin, scooped up a couple of documents and went to the Head of House.
With Madam Sprout, who had been awake for a long time and checking her plants in the greenhouse, I certified a couple of documents and got official permission to conduct training at the time I indicated—the Quidditch pitch is scheduled quite tightly, and every two weeks you have to approve the schedule anew, and all this is the task of the captain and prefects. Because in past years I heard many times the Gryffindors' indignation that, like, Snape, the bastard, cunningly knocks out the most intense training schedule for his team. And if you think about it, it's the Slytherins who fuss more actively about this, approaching their Head of House at the most appropriate time.
Returning to the common room again, I "caught" the most active guys from different years and clarified how their DADA self-study was proceeding. It turned out that quite and very much so—thanks to my idea and albeit modest, but participation, almost the entire house agreed among themselves who teaches whom, what and where. Except that the fifth year, ours, and the first are out of work so far, but everything is simple here—we decided that we would teach the youngsters basic spells when Flitwick begins practice in his subject. The fact is that the professor perfectly feels the readiness of students for something more than transfiguration, in which gestures are almost not used. It only remains to wait when the professor "gives the go-ahead".
Having clarified all the nuances of life in the house, I went with the rest to breakfast. But is it possible to pass by the wall near the doors to the Great Hall? No, because it is on this wall that new and new announcements in frames appear now and then—the next "decrees" of Umbridge. And right now some of the students were watching our caretaker, Filch, still a little sloppy and with sparse graying hair, getting down from the stepladder, nailing a fresh "decree" to the wall.
"What do they write about?" I asked Hermione, who stood with a couple of girls from her house, Alicia, Lavender and Katie, and looked at this miracle of bureaucratic thought.
"It's a nightmare, Hector," she exhaled.
"What happened? Hi, folks," I nodded to the rest. "And good morning to you, by the way."
"Dubious statement," sister shook her head. "Umbridge banned all illegal gatherings and clubs."
Glancing at the new document in the frame, I quickly ran my eyes over its contents. And indeed, banned. All extracurricular meetings, groups, clubs and other activity. To continue your activity, you need to get permission for it from the High Inquisitor, that is, Umbridge.
"This is generally a problem!" Alicia was indignant. "This toad will definitely not allow our team to play. She is too angry at Potter."
"And what to do now?" Hermione turned sharply to me. "How to gather now..."
"Sh-sh-sh," I shushed her to keep quiet. "Why did this decree come out only now? Students have been busy with self-education for more than one day."
"Yes someone ratted us out," Alicia waved it off and went with the other girls to the Great Hall. "Malfoy, probably..."
"Yeah, he created a reputation for himself, nothing to say..." I shook my head.
"So there is no one else," Hermione stated as a matter of course, "but the girls are fundamentally wrong."
Hermione managed to convey with a single look that, like: "Contract, right!", to which I only nodded with a smile.
"Think someone just overheard. As they say, even walls have ears, and considering from what serpentarium Umbridge came to us, having risen to the Minister's assistant without any patronage—she definitely does not shy away from dirty methods and definitely knows how to gather information through roundabout ways."
"What are you talking about?" the eternally smiling twins approached us.
"I heard," Fred continued the thought, "the word 'Umbridge'?"
Instead of answering, we just nodded at the new announcement in the frame and went to breakfast, otherwise with all these conversations we could be left without food.
"Shit..." we heard the synchronous comment of the twins behind our backs, and entering the Great Hall—went to our seats at our tables.
As soon as the food appeared, Justin decided to ask a question that interested him:
"And how to gather now?"
"I'm working on it."
Hannah looked at the two of us.
"You about the new decree?"
"Uh-huh."
"I am more worried about how many papers will have to be collected for all sorts of small clubs and so on. And if Umbridge also resists..."
"That's unlikely," Ernie chuckled. "She is clearly aimed at Dumbledore, and the easiest way is to annoy Potter in every way. Sure, if he did not participate in the adventure with DADA, she wouldn't care."
While the guys talked and ate, I indulged in reflections on several topics. The first, and quite obvious—need to hurry with a place for classes. The second, equivalent in importance—to organize the protection of classrooms near the common room, where additional classes of the house guys take place. Don't need Umbridge dripping on ours' brains.
But the most alarming thing I consider personally for myself is that the dueling club can close in this way. It is supervised by Flitwick, and he is a very responsible professor. He will never risk the future of his students, leaving the club to function. And even though because of the massively increased activity of ordinary club members, who furiously began to practice DADA there, almost completely cutting off the possibility for more advanced students to duel—Flitwick is alone, there are many of us, and the protection of those present from stray spells lies entirely on his shoulders—I still consider this club a rather good place. Oh, the students will be furious.
Classes on this day, Monday, went quite quickly, and because all houses study at the same time again, I practically all day observed the dissatisfaction of Gryffindors in the person of Ron and Harry. Ours, puffs, were simply somewhat confused and weighed on different scales the importance of DADA and the chance to get administrative punishments of unknown severity—Umbridge threatens with expulsions, and it's not a fact that she won't be able to push through such a decision. Yes, it can be challenged by the Hogwarts Board of Governors, but before the matter reaches that, it's unknown what else can happen.
In general, DADA was our last class on Monday, and Umbridge caught a whole bunch of angry looks from the students. But everyone kept silent, wrote what was told, and all this together immensely pleased this little pink creature, by some coincidence bearing the title "Professor".
Practically right after DADA, on the way to the Great Hall, Potter and Weasley decided to express their weighty opinion to Malfoy:
"It was you who ratted us out," Ron took the initiative in this improvised run-in, and Potter... He looked, but standing next to a friend, and not aside.
"What?" Malfoy's face expressed an extreme degree of surprise. "What are you talking about, sick?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. It was you who ratted us out to this toad."
"I assume," Draco smirked, shooting a quick sideways glance, and seeing Crabbe and Goyle there, continued: "you mean this new decree?"
"Exactly."
"Let it be known to you that even if I had such a desire, I would not be able to do this. Contract. But, judging by your invariably stupid expression on your face, the word 'contract' tells you absolutely nothing."
"You're lying, as always," Ron ignored Malfoy's arguments. "Filthy slug..."
I waved off this whole business and went with the rest further down the corridor that will lead us to the Great Hall for the coveted dinner.
"And you don't want to do anything about this?" Daphne walking next to me looked at me with an obvious question in her gaze, adjusting her already perfect hairstyle of blue-black hair.
"In disputes of two people, a third is always guilty. And even if they want to fight, Professor Snape will surely appear out of nowhere."
Dinner went quietly and calmly. Hannah gave me part of the papers on clubs and other organizations inside the house—lists, kind of activity and all other things that can come in handy for Umbridge. I myself also collected such things, but somehow it turned out that it was only necessary to speak with some of ours about it, as the papers were organized almost by themselves in a couple of minutes. Well, and we also just divided the work—some clubs were almost in the style of "cutting and sewing", purely female, and it's easier for a girl to work with girls, because I can't even enter the territory of their dormitory, even if a prefect.
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