Nearly everybody looked stunned at this news; everybody except Luna Lovegood, who piped up, ‘Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army.’
‘What?’ said Harry, 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 Neville, 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, Neville,’ 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.
‘Library?’ suggested Katie Bell after a few moments.
‘I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library,’ said Harry.
‘Maybe an unused classroom?’ said Dean.
‘Yeah,’ said Ron, ‘McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Tri wizard.’
But Harry was pretty certain that McGonagall would not be so accommodating this time. For all that Hermione had said about study and homework groups being allowed, he 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 Harry 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 Harry 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.
Cho made rather a business of fastening the catch on her bag before leaving, her long dark curtain of hair swinging forwards to hide her face, but her friend stood beside her, arms folded, clicking her tongue, so that Cho had little choice but to leave with her. As her friend ushered her through the door, Cho looked back and waved at Harry.
‘Well, I think that went quite well,’ said Hermione happily, as she, Harry and Ron walked out of the Hog's Head into the bright sunlight a few moments later. Harry and Ron were clutching their bottles of Butterbeer.
‘That Zacharias bloke's a wart,’ said Ron, who was glowering after the figure of Smith, just discernible in the distance.
‘I don't like him much, either,’ admitted Hermione, ‘but he overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say? But the more people the better really—I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if he hadn't been going out with Ginny—’
Ron, who had been draining the last few drops from his Butterbeer bottle, gagged and sprayed Butterbeer down his front.
‘He's WHAT?’ spluttered Ron, outraged, his ears now resembling curls of raw beef. ‘She's going out with—my sister's going—what d'you mean, Michael Corner?’
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