"Night falls, Hogwarts goes to sleep, the 'mafia' wakes up"—that is exactly what I mentally told myself as I left the house common room at one in the morning under a bunch of concealing charms and spells. I didn't sneak around like a petty thief; I walked confidently, and for now, I wasn't planning on leaving the castle grounds—I needed to set up the promised classroom. Fortunately, the room for it was located literally a couple of meters from the entrance to the common room.
Stepping inside, I looked around—nothing new or surprising. Old desks and benches, bare stone walls, and slightly dusty windows covered in the thinnest layer of soot, through which the moonlight confidently broke through. Yes, the classroom was located on what felt like a semi-basement level, and the windows were positioned quite high up—so the moonlight, breaking through only their upper part, turned into white-blue lines, mystically illuminating the tiniest dust particles kicked up by my arrival.
Closing the door, I took out my wand and began to entangle the classroom with silencing charms and other results of the local wizards' brainstorming. After five minutes of securing the room, I dropped my backpack on the nearest desk, took out my hammer, and laid out various attachments for it. They were only halfway to becoming full-fledged blanks—only the runic parts of various protective complexes were etched onto them.
Rubbing my hands in anticipation of some interesting work, I decided to conduct a small experiment first. Taking the attachment I used to make glowing pendants, I fitted it to the hammer, dragged a desk over to the wall, climbed on top of it, and, taking aim, struck the highest stone I could reach.
A flash, sparks, but there was no ringing sound—just a hum. Heavy, drawn-out, as if a gong had been struck, but a stone one rather than an iron one. Yes, it sounds absurd, but those were the exact impressions. Hopping down from the desk, I gave myself a shake to clear the noise from my head and naturally stared at the stone in the wall, which was now glowing with an even, soft, internal yellow light. It looked as if some sneaky builder had shoved a piece of matte, translucent plastic into the masonry instead of a stone, and resourceful me had screwed a flashlight behind it. The light wasn't enough for reading, for example—just a nightlight, nothing more—but if I organized a chain of these along all four walls, it would be more than bright enough in the classroom.
Impressed by this success, I stepped back to the middle of the room and mentally mapped out which stones in the walls I would have to "forge" to place the various elements of my camouflage and isolation complex, to keep out unwanted visitors and set up "security" and the like.
I climbed all over the classroom, swapping attachments, concentrating on the necessary imagery and formulas, and striking stones. It felt like I had spent almost the entire night doing this, but that wasn't the case—it had only been forty minutes. The result? Well, visually, it was hard to spot any differences—the thin, thread-like patterns in the stone barely stood out against the natural texture of the rocks. However, I could say with absolute certainty that to everyone else in the castle, this room would always appear empty. Meaning, to any tracking systems, house-elves, locator charms, and other such nonsense. Anyone wishing harm upon those inside wouldn't be able to enter this room—that wizard simply wouldn't be able to find the way here, and even standing directly in front of the door, they wouldn't see it. And no, this wasn't some complex, high-class magic—it fell into the category of seventh-year level charms. It's just that, in the form of a charm, it's a light and quickly dissipating area protection, but executed my way, with the application of some dwarven methods, it became a much more serious defense.
Now, with the time approaching two in the morning, it was time for the second part of tonight's excursion. Packing everything back into my backpack, I left the classroom and, making sure I was under various concealing charms and spells, hurriedly made my way out of Hogwarts.
The night's freshness and cool air warmly welcomed me beyond the castle's threshold. Taking a deep breath, I glanced at the thick clouds on the horizon, backlit by the moonlight, and headed off the grounds into the Forbidden Forest, to a point where the Hogwarts anti-Apparition wards wouldn't interfere with me.
Before my foot even crossed into the Forest, Khrustik dive-bombed onto my shoulder, ruffling his feathers amusingly. The tiny scops owl, as always, knew perfectly well when I needed his services as a postman. Scratching the bird's beak, I walked further in, through the terrifying gloom of the Forbidden Forest. As soon as I felt the Apparition-restricting wards vanish, I instantly transported myself to the center of London, literally a block away from Soho.
Night lighting, noise, people—the capital never sleeps in this area. Leaning against the wall of a cinema building, ignoring the sparse passersby just as they ignored me, I pulled out Susan's letter, added some of my own notes with apologies for the late-night mail, and handed the envelope to Khrustik.
"Take this letter to Amelia Bones."
The little owl chirped something indistinct and flew off, immediately disappearing from sight.
Why did I leave Hogwarts to send a letter? It's extremely simple. I had no idea what exact methods Umbridge was using to censor our mail, nor over what area her control extended. Plus, I just wanted to take a walk around the city without unnecessary witnesses, that's all. I'd be back by morning, but for now—a stroll, night cafes, fast food, the bright lights of the city, and a little bit of magic.
. . . . . .
Wednesday is just as excellent a day as the rest.
Returning to Hogwarts after a walk around London, I didn't feel tired at all, although my schedule was significantly thrown off. But, I think, with my horse-like health, I shouldn't worry about such things.
The morning itself went as always—training, tidying myself up, and heading to breakfast with the guys.
In the Great Hall, many students, as always, actively discussed some of their topics, made assumptions about what next nonsense would be published in the Prophet, expected letters and parcels, in short—nothing new.
Taking our place at the house table together with the guys, we immediately received our portions of breakfast from the house-elves and started eating, periodically diversifying this process with various remarks and phrases. However, the appearance of post owls with correspondence immediately attracted everyone's attention. Among the many owls of different breeds, my scops owl was also mixed in.
Khrustik fiercely dive-bombed onto the table opposite me, braking at the very "ground". Taking the letter from the scops owl and handing him a couple of pieces of bacon—magical birds are omnivorous, whatever anyone says—I immediately started reading. Hmm... Amelia Bones expressed gratitude for a full letter from her beloved niece, chided for the night mailing, and at the same time commented on our idea with punishing Umbridge through the DMLE by initiating various cases under different "articles". She also wrote that she found out the method of censoring letters and took measures. Probably, that's why her letter arrived complete?
"Hector?" Susan turned to me, having finished reading her letter. "Did aunt write to you too?"
"Yes," I folded the letter into the envelope and destroyed it just in case, burning it in fire and leaving not even ashes. "Difficulties may arise with punishment through the DMLE."
"What are you talking about?" Justin couldn't contain his curiosity, not particularly suiting such a neat young wizard from a rich, albeit ordinary family. "About the toad?"
"About the toad, my friend," I smiled. "About the toad."
"And what exactly is the problem?"
"I assume," Ernie took the floor, throwing one nut from a large plate into his oatmeal with a bored look, "the matter is in the Wizengamot. Cases of this scale, and even about the use of Dark Magic, always go through a hearing with the full staff of the Wizengamot. And there, no matter how short-sighted a fool Fudge is, he has some power and influence."
"Exactly," Hannah nodded. "He, as everyone interested knows, is a studied, understood, tamed quantity. Undermining his authority is beneficial to few."
"And not beneficial?" Justin turned to Hannah.
"I assume, if believe the words of parents and acquaintances, equally to few."
"It turns out," I pondered, pulling a plate of sausages closer to me, for some reason not popular specifically this morning, "most are neutral towards him?"
"Yes."
"Well... I think I can try to solve this issue. From you—letters to relatives with a detailed description of the current alignment of forces and with a request to assist if this case pops up in the Wizengamot."
"That can be done," smiled Hannah and Ernie, as representatives of ancient wizarding families, one way or another having some certain influence.
"Eh..." Ernie sighed sadly.
"Why so despondent?"
"Yes, I also want to say sometimes: 'Now as I write to parents, they will arrange for you, ooh, b-b-bitches'."
Such a statement made everyone smile, and breakfast continued in a more relaxed and easy atmosphere.
After breakfast, I almost immediately intercepted the Slytherins in the corridor at the entrance to the Great Hall.
"Malfoy," I nodded to the guy, drawing his attention, his comrades' and a couple of other students from the snake house, including Daphne. "Daphne. Good thing I met you."
"As if it could have happened otherwise in this narrow corridor," Malfoy snorted, and behind his back, as always, stood Crabbe and Goyle with an important look.
Daphne came closer, smiling a little more than sparingly—already very much, considering that various students were wandering back and forth around.
"Hector. Did something happen?"
"You could say that. Shall we step aside?"
"Who exactly?" Malfoy folded his arms over his chest, adopting an important and independent look.
"Both of you."
"Of course," Daphne didn't even have questions.
Pansy noticed us and wanted to approach, but changed her mind, walking by importantly. Malfoy turned to his thugs.
"Go, guys."
They nodded and went to classes. They, like many in the year, have Divination now. Alternative to Divination—Arithmancy. But I study it independently. By the way, will need to approach the professor of this subject and consult about OWLs—topics there, something else, so that I can prepare independently. Still Arithmancy—far from only purely mathematics.
"Let's go," with a nod of my head I asked Daphne and Draco to follow me.
A couple of turns and short corridors, and here we taxied into the gallery in front of one of the courtyards. Now it was deserted here—everyone was in a hurry to classes, and not a single of even the longest and most tangled routes ran through this place, although here often just walk in free time.
"So," I imperceptibly waved my wand, establishing a barrier around us against eavesdropping and peeping. "Need to arrange a mutiny on the ship."
"I'm afraid," Malfoy smirked, "you turned to students of the wrong house. For mutiny and other revolutions—you to Gryffindors."
"Forced to agree," Daphne nodded, smiling. "This is not our department."
"Well yes. Yours is—tease poor Ron."
"It's not my fault that it's so funny," Draco smiled.
"Well, that's not the conversation right now. My dear fellow wizards," I smiled as disarmingly as possible. "Your parents have access to different, but diverse circles of influential families one way or another, and themselves are no less influential."
"That is so," Draco straightened up, and Daphne only looked at me expectantly.
"There is an option to 'besiege' Umbridge through the DMLE."
"Already interesting," Daphne even leaned forward a little bit. "Continue."
"I already understood what he is driving at," Draco nodded. "Need information about who will support such an initiative when considering the case in the Wizengamot."
"Bingo, Malfoy."
"Don't rejoice, Granger," the guy grimaced a little. "To go against Umbridge—is to go against Fudge. At the same time, high probability that he himself will make excuses, but those who raised a hand—he will remember. On the other hand, can push information to the press, and press from there already."
"Any contacts for Skeeter?" I immediately asked, sensing an opportunity to pressure public opinion that I had missed.
"Father has. Here the main thing—is to place accents correctly. That with the connivance of Fudge, Umbridge arranged terror in the school, tortures students, everyone suffers and so on. I would, of course, prefer to use her initiative to annoy Gryffindors, but... Somehow this is no longer interesting."
"You are growing up," I could not help but express my observation. "Commendable."
"Tsk..." Malfoy grimaced.
"It had to happen sooner or later," Daphne snorted. "I understood the essence of your problem. Only we are here, if you haven't forgotten, under Umbridge's hood. She won't let write off with relatives on such topics. She even controls fireplaces allegedly for the purpose of our safety. Because Black is at large."
"Found someone to be afraid of. We do otherwise," I shifted my gaze from Draco to Daphne. "Work in the house with the necessary students, write letters, I can send them."
"How?"
"Easy and simple, Malfoy—you leave the Hogwarts territory and send."
"Tried. Doesn't work. Need to go much further."
"Apparate to London, and send," I shrugged. "That's all."
"Not so many wizards know how to Apparate."
"I know how," I parried this argument of the blond.
"Good. I understood. Will talk. See you in the evening."
On this we parted, and the usual working Wednesday dragged on—classes, rare duties of a prefect, classes, lunch, and so on.
After dinner Hermione intercepted me.
"Hector, wait..."
The matter was in one of the corridors, literally a step from the Main Tower.
"Yes?" I turned to the voice of sister. "You are kind of in a lather. Did something happen?"
"Huh? No," she shook her head, ruffling her unruly brown hair. "Just a lot of worries. Here, take this."
She handed me an ordinary-looking coin, but some charms were felt in it.
"Money? Thanks, of course..."
"Listen," she interrupted me. "This is one of the enchanted coins for communication. Protean Charm. Look closely at the edge of the coin. See the numbers?"
"Of course."
"On a real Galleon here is a serial number by which you can determine exactly which goblin minted it."
"I know. And here is some gibberish."
"Now yes. But through the Protean Charm on the coin will appear the month, day and time of gathering of the club."
"And how to know that need to check information?"
"It will heat up," Hermione smiled.
"You're doing great. Thought it out well."
Hermione started smiling from praise, and I don't mind.
"Here, take more," she handed a few more coins. "Will you pass to Hannah and the others?"
"No question."
"Well excellent. Okay, Hector, I ran—things to do."
Hermione rushed away like a whirlwind through the corridors, and I continued my way, which lay to the Dueling Club.
Entering our spacious room, I could not help but notice that, perhaps, everyone was present, but no one practiced, didn't study and didn't fight. Everyone took seats either near cabinets, or at tables, or on sofas. I headed to the sofa behind which Daphne and Pansy sat.
"Hi," I smiled, sitting next to Daphne. "How are things? What kind of mourning is here?"
"Hi, not bad," Pansy responded for everyone. "Professor Flitwick asked not to disperse and not to do anything. Wants to make an announcement."
After Pansy's words I noticed how Professor Flitwick went out to the middle of the dueling track, which was somewhat higher than the floor level. But this was not enough for him to be tall enough, and so that he could be seen from anywhere in the hall, and therefore he waved his wand, conjuring for himself a ladder with a lectern. Climbing there, the tiny professor straightened the sleeves of his black tailcoat, and carefully looked at the audience.
"My dear students," he began to speak in complete silence. "I am incredibly glad that so many of you strive for knowledge of the subtle art of dueling, as well as simply reach for applied, one might say, combat areas of using magic. However, you all know how sad the situation has become in our beloved Hogwarts at the moment."
The students hummed in agreement, taking advantage of the dramatic pause in Flitwick's speech.
"We all should understand," the professor continued to speak, "that our Club—is illegal. Even if the Headmaster and other Heads of Houses know about its existence, they turn a blind eye to this small arbitrariness of ours."
Flitwick smiled conspiratorially, which caused answering smiles of the rest.
"All of us, 'normal'," Flitwick put an emphasis on this word, "professors understand that such a club, this activity of ours, are important on the way of becoming a comprehensively developed and skillful wizard. However, as I already said, de jure—we are illegal. Considering the policy pursued by Umbridge in relation to DADA, and practical magic in particular, I can say—they won't let us live."
The students hummed quietly—everyone agreed with this, but no one wanted to put up with it, and where to practice now?
"I am not ready and do not wish to take responsibility for what this strange woman can do in relation to you and your future. And therefore, I declare the Dueling Club... Eh..." Flitwick sighed sadly. "Closed until better times. I will ask to treat with understanding, and patience. That's all from me."
Flitwick descended somewhat gloomily from his platform and disappeared into the crowd, which immediately began to discuss the news.
"Maybe," I pondered, "after all, just bump off Umbridge, and that's it?"
"N-no," Pansy waved it off. "To dirty hands, fi-i. Confound so she sets off without a wand into the lair of Acromantulas in our Forest—that's what I understand."
A tea set appeared in front of us on the table, and the girls immediately poured us all a cup of tea, but we didn't even manage to take a sip when Malfoy approached.
"Here," without any prefaces he handed me a bundle of envelopes with letters. "Addresses and whom to send—is written. Unfortunately, I don't have time—duty."
Malfoy quickly retired, leaving the three of us alone with the tea set. Well, like "alone"—the hall was full of people, but everyone was in their own companies. An easy and meaningless conversation flowed, and I thought about whether it would be possible to somehow sting Fudge and throw off Umbridge? Would be nice, honest word, and most importantly the Club will work anew, students will start studying DADA in classes, and not just anywhere, and in general, the amount of unnecessary fuss will significantly decrease, and this is important. And that means, this night I have to send a whole pile of letters. Maybe need to drop into the post office on Diagon Alley—it is round-the-clock.
And generally, worth formulating some questions for the Narcissa Malfoy women's club, but I will not rush here. They said that they will not answer obvious questions, and if besides obvious questions, to which there are no less obvious answers, my brain does not generate others, then our "contacts" wept with bitter tears.
And for now only one thing remains—to wait.
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