Every student fell completely silent; the words were reasonable, and everyone who had risked coming down this alley had some true pursuit of real 'Defense Against the Dark Arts.' Regardless of the political situation, learning more magic could never be a bad thing.
Zacharias Smith sat in his corner with his arms tightly folded across his chest, pouting exactly like a spoiled child would for not getting his own way.
Lucifer observed him, firmly believing the boy didn't belong in Hufflepuff house at all; a petty mind like his would have suited Ravenclaw or Slytherin far better. Zacharias's personality was entirely arrogant, condescending, and perpetually eager to draw cheap attention to himself by opposing others.
"So, when exactly do we start our very first meeting? And where?" Colin Creevey asked excitedly, his quill hovering over his notebook.
"Do we need to officially report the creation of this group to Umbridge?"
The question came from a clueless Hufflepuff second-year, and the exact second the words left his mouth, a large group of older students looked at him with expressions of pure pity for the intellectually challenged.
"We are explicitly supposed to be avoiding her and meeting in total secrecy, you idiot," Rolf Scamander said, facepalming hard. "If you go and report the roster to her office, wouldn't that be walking the entire group right into a Ministry trap?"
The young badger scratched his head sheepishly, his face turning red. "Right. Forget I said anything. But since it's a secret meeting, we need a completely safe place, right?"
"We will fully guarantee that protection," Hermione started, leaning over her parchment. "So... about the meeting times... I know every house has its own Quidditch practice schedules, but we shouldn't meet any less than once a week. We will find a suitable evening to schedule the practices."
"Really, we should aim to meet far more than once a week," Lucifer said, his voice carrying an icy clarity. "Because what earthly good are your upcoming O.W.L.s or your Quidditch matches if you are all dead in a ditch?" He raised a very good, undeniable point, before relaxing his posture slightly. "However, I won't deny any of you the right to care about your academic future or enjoy the simple pleasure of your house matches."
"He is right, though," Rolf said firmly. He had completely outgrown his old social anxiety this year after receiving direct letters and supportive treats from his grandmother, Tina Scamander, "This training is incredibly important, probably the single most important thing we'll ever do this year. I, personally, cannot find a single valid, legal reason as to why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously, Fudge is in total, cowardly denial about... You-Know-Who's return, but to give us an instructor... who is actively trying to prevent us from ever using defensive spells—"
"Well, we actually think the real reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in practical magic," Hermione cut in, clarifying the political landscape, "is that Cornelius Fudge has gotten some... some mad, paranoid idea in his head that Albus Dumbledore could use the students inside this castle as a kind of private, revolutionary army. He thinks the Headmaster will mobilize us to storm the Ministry."
Nearly every student looked completely stunned at this news, their jaws dropping. Everyone, that is, except Luna, who calmly piped up, "Well, that makes perfect sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has already gotten his own private army."
"What?" Harry asked, seemingly completely thrown by her statement.
"Yes, he's got an entire secret army of Heliopaths," Luna said solemnly.
"Well, if he does, they're no match for me," Lucifer said with a lazy shrug.
"That's very true, they wouldn't be a match for you at all..." Luna said in quiet admiration, trying her absolute best to not show her blatant favoritism in front of the others, well, he was her family, so she couldn't help but smile dreamily at his confidence.
"So, once a week for the meeting, yes?" Hermione asked, steering the room back to logistics. A low hum of collective agreement sounded out from the tables. "Okay, the next question is, where exactly do we meet?"
Lucifer sat perfectly still, falling into deep thought for a good while. While he analyzed the castle's secret ward lines, others offered rapid suggestions.
"The library?" Katie Bell suggested after a few moments of thought.
"I can't see Madam Pince being too chuffed with us doing active hexes and jinxes between the shelves," Harry said dryly.
"Maybe an unused classroom on the fourth floor?" Dean Thomas suggested.
"Yeah, Professor McGonagall might let us have hers," Ron said enthusiastically. "She did during our fourth year when Harry was practicing his casting for Triwizard Tournament tasks."
"Well, we'll try and find a—" Hermione started to say.
Lucifer smoothly cut her off, his dark eyes snapping open. "I think I might know a specific place..."
"Where?" Harry asked, turning to face him.
"I can't be too sure of the exact coordinates yet... I need to actually find the physical first," Lucifer said, thinking of the 'Room of Requirement,' "But when I do, I'll send a secret message round to everyone's house tables when I've found it."
"And the precise time we'll be gathering for our first meeting," Hermione tacked on efficiently. She rummaged deep inside her school bag and produced a long, heavy roll of parchment and a silver quill. Then, she seemed to hesitate for a brief second, like she was actively steeling her nerves to ask a difficult, dangerous question of the entire room.
"I—I think that... everybody here should write their name down on this sheet, just so we know exactly who was present today," She said, taking a deep, steadying breath. "But I also think that we all ought to not shout or whisper about what we're doing in the corridors... So, if you choose to sign this paper, you are making a binding agreement not to tell Umbridge, Filch, or anyone not currently inside this room exactly what we're up to."
A few of them, Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Neville, and basically the entire Gryffindor huddle, plus Luna cheerfully reached out and put their signatures down on the ink line without a single worry.
Lucifer, however, noticed that some of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were suddenly no longer nearly as keen on the idea as they once were the moment a physical paper list was introduced.
"Er..." Zacharias Smith said slowly, pointedly pulling his hands back and refusing to take the parchment from George, who was trying to pass it across his table. "Well... I'm completely sure Ernie Macmillan will just tell me when the first meeting is scheduled."
'Why am I not even slightly surprised...' Lucifer thought, his jaw clenching. But Ernie himself was looking rather hesitant too, his fingers twisting his robes.
When both Hermione and Lucifer turned their eyes to lock onto him, the Hufflepuff Prefect began to stammer under the weight of their glares. "I--well, we are official house Prefects," Ernie burst out defensively, his face flushing. "And if this specific list was ever found by the caretaker... well, I mean to say... you stated yourself, Hermione, if Umbridge finds out about a secret club..."
"You literally just agreed with Rolf a minute ago that this group was the single most important thing you'd do this entire year, Ernie," Harry reminded him, his green eyes hard behind his glasses.
"I—yes," Ernie said, stuttering as he realized he couldn't logically stumble his way out of his own past words. "Yes, I do believe that, it's just the risk of a paper trail..."
"Alright, listen up, all of you," Lucifer said, standing up to his full height. His ancient presence became immensely menacing and heavy by the second, the ambient room temperature plummeting so sharply that even the barman Aberforth and the hidden patrons in the corners found him to be thoroughly intimidating.
He pointed a long, firm finger directly toward the heavy wooden exit doors. "Hermione and I are house Prefects too, and we are doing exactly what we know is right for our survival and for the future of the wizarding world. If Voldemort is allowed to return to full power unchecked, then every single little simple-minded, stupid, pathetic thing you care about right now—your house points, your clean records, your perfect little prefect badges will mean absolutely jack-shit. If you aren't going to sign this paper today, you stand the fuck up right now, and you walk right out that door... I will not tolerate our precious time being wasted by cowards. So I will say this once more, and only once more to this room... Sign or Walk."
Lucifer slowly sat back down, his breathing perfectly steady. The heavy, suffocating feeling vanished from the tavern air in an instant, and everyone soon let out a collective breath, feeling like they could finally breathe again without a weight crushing their chests.
When the room seemed calm enough for speech, Hermione spoke again, her voice smooth. "And besides, Ernie... do you honestly think I would be so incredibly careless as to leave a piece of enchanted parchment just lying around for a toad to find?"
She caught sight of Neville's face in the candlelight, noticing the boy flinch slightly. She realized his mind had immediately gone back to our third year, when he was still universally blamed by the tower for leaving a paper with the dormitory passwords written down even though it had actually been Crookshanks who stole them from his bag, a truth no student had ever discovered besides her, Lucifer Harry, and Ron.
She offered Neville a soft, reassuring nod, waiting for the silver quill to pass down the final row.
"No... n-no... no of course not..." Ernie said, stammering worse than before, his ears turning a bright pink under Lucifer's cold glare. "I-I'll s-s-sign..."
He did indeed sign his name, his hand shaking slightly as he pressed the ink onto the heavy parchment. Once Ernie had conceded, a sudden domino effect rippled through the rest of the hesitant students. No one got up to leave, even after Lucifer had issued his brutal ultimatum.
The absolute last person to reluctantly sign the line was Zacharias Smith, who glared sullenly at the table before handing the silver quill back.
The moment the final loop was inked, Hermione took the parchment back, blowing gently on it to dry the fluid before slipping it carefully into her bag.
An odd, heavy feeling suddenly drifted through the group, something completely unrelated to the dense, terrifying pressure Lucifer had cast over the room moments prior.
He and Hermione exchanged a brief, knowing glance, keeping the absolute truth about the parchment to themselves. It carried a dark, protective jinx. If anyone present dared to speak about the group's existence to Umbridge, Filch, or anyone of that bureaucratic nature, they would find something very bad, very painful, and very visible happening to their skin.
With more than thirty students packed inside a tiny, dingy bar like the 'Hog's Head,' a shady establishment where ordinary Hogwarts youth never chose to go, the gathering was guaranteed to draw immediate outside attention from the village gossips.
"Well, time's ticking on," Fred Weasley said briskly, shifting his weight to get to his feet. "George, Lee, and I have got a few items of a highly sensitive, explosive nature to purchase down the street. We'll be seeing you all later."
In twos and threes, rest of the massive group took their leave as well, whispering excitedly among themselves as they bundled back out into the gales.
Cho Chang made rather a long business of fastening the brass catch on her school bag before leaving, her long, dark curtain of hair swinging forward to fully hide her face.
But her friend Marietta stood right beside her with folded arms, loudly clicking her tongue in impatience, so that Cho had little choice but to finally walk out.
Lucifer noticed that as Marietta ruthlessly ushered her through the creaking door, Cho looked back over her shoulder and waved, and he could only assume the gesture was meant for Harry.
"Well, I think that went quite exceptionally well," Hermione said happily, her face beaming as she, Harry, Ron, and Lucifer walked out of the Hog's Head into the bright gades of afternoon sunlight a few moments later.
Her mind rapidly reviewed the names on the roster. Bones, Longbottom, Macmillan, Abbott, Potter, Weasley, Scamander, and so many others. Every single one of them could be matched with a powerful, high-ranking official or Auror head down at the Ministry of Magic.
The more Hermione had thought about the sheer political danger of the meeting earlier, the more alarmed she had become, which was exactly why she had secretly enchanted that parchment list in her dormitory.
There were members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, alongside traditional mainstays of the Ministry, all gathered under Dumbledore's hidden banner, forming a formidable domestic force that the government simply couldn't ignore if they were caught.
Walking down the cobbles, Harry and Ron were both still tightly clutching their dirty glass bottles of Butterbeer.
"That Zacharias bloke is a wart," Ron said fiercely, glowering down the main street toward the skinny figure of Smith, who was just discernible walking in the distance.
"I don't much like his attitude either," Hermione admitted freely as they navigated the path. "But he accidentally overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table earlier this week, and he seemed really interested in coming along, so what could I legally say to bar him? But realistically, the more people we have, the better it is for the group's defense... I mean, Michael Corner and his Ravenclaw friends wouldn't have even bothered to show up today if he hadn't been actively going out with Ginny—"
She stopped talking abruptly when Ron, who had been lazily draining the last few drops from his bottle, violently gagged, spraying a mouthful of sweet Butterbeer straight down the front of his robes.
"He's WHAT?!" Ron demanded in absolute, pure outrage, his chest heaving as his ears instantly turned a deep, dark red resembling curls of raw beef. "She's going out with—my sister is going---what on earth d'you mean, Michael Corner?!"
"Well, that's exactly why he and his friends came today, I think," Hermione explained composedly, entirely unbothered by his brotherly panic. "They are obviously interested in learning proper practical defense, but if Ginny hadn't explicitly told Michael what was going on down here—"
"When exactly did this happen?!" Ron interrupted her again, his voice rising into a high pitch. "When did she—?"
"They first met at the Yule Ball last year, and they officially got together at the end of last term," She said smoothly, her voice a calm contrast to his screaming.
They had turned onto the busy High Street, and she paused her boots right outside 'Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop,' where there was a handsome, polished display of thick pheasant-feather quills glinting in the glass window.
Her eyes lit up as she looked at the ink sets. "Hmm... I could really do with a new quill for our Arithmancy charts... Lucifer, can I buy that one? Please....?"
"Of course, pet. I am glad you remember the rules of the vault," Lucifer smiled warmly, leaning down to nudge her shoulder.
Hermione walked into the quiet shop, followed closely by her two thoroughly confused friends.
"Why did you ask him for permission first?" Harry whispered to her, adjusting his glasses. "Sorry, I am just completely out of it and don't understand the arrangement? Is it... is it a couple thing?" He looked bewildered; it was her school money from her parents, so why couldn't she just buy the stationery herself without needing his explicit assent?
"Which one exactly was Michael Corner?!" Ron demanded furiously from behind them, completely ignoring Harry's question as his eyes darted around the shop counters.
"He was the only other dark-skinned boy in our year, Ron," Hermione said without looking back. She turned her face to look at Harry, a soft, knowing smirk on her lips. "And, yes. It's a couple thing, Harry. You will understand how the dynamic works one day when you're older."
"I didn't like him from the second he sat down," Ron said at once, crossing his arms.
"Only because you just found out he's actively dating your sister..." Hermione said under her breath, turning her attention back to the glass cases.
She continued browsing for an advanced quill set that Lucifer had given her full permission to purchase, while Ron continued talking loudly, following her around the narrow shelves like a lost, dramatic puppy. "But... I thought Ginny fiercely fancied Harry?! She's been red-faced around him for years!"
Hermione looked back at him rather pityingly and shook her head, letting out a soft sigh, "Ginny used to fancy Harry during our early years, Ron, but she completely gave up on that dream months ago. Not to say she doesn't still deeply like you, Harry, and see you as an excellent friend, of course," She added kindly as she examined a long, black-and-gold pheasant quill.
Harry, on the other hand, was not paying much attention to the romantic gossip at all, his green eyes staring blankly at a bottle of black ink. 'Probably stuck on Cho Chang...' Hermione thought to herself with an internal roll of her eyes. 'That pursuit will only end in heartbreak for him...'
"Wait," Harry said, apparently having finally caught the last bit of her explanation. "So... is that exactly why she actually talks normally now? In front of my face? She never used to be able to form a coherent sentence without squeaking..."
"Exactly," Hermione smiled triumphantly as she finalized her selection from the counter display. "Yes, I think I'll have this specific set..."
Lucifer smoothly swooped the boxed quills from the glass for her, walking over to the shopkeeper's counter. He handed over his card to process the payment. The total came to exactly fifteen Sickles and two Knuts.
He withdrew two heavy gold Galleons from his enchanted robe pouch, slid it across the wood, and calmly told the man to keep the change.
The entire time, Hermione had the distinct misfortune of Ron practically breathing down the back of her neck, muttering a series of dark threats to himself.
"You see, Ron, this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you a single word about her dating Corner. She knew for a fact you'd take the news badly, and you're currently the only one who is throwing a tantrum," Hermione said bluntly, grabbing her new parcel. "Fred and George both know about the relationship, but you don't see them muttering to themselves about what they will physically do to him if he breaks her heart.... I'm sure Michael Corner is very well aware of what Fred and George would probably do to his broomstick, so he likely got the protective message very quickly."
"Speaking of old flings..." Lucifer said smoothly, handing Hermione her new quill set, which she happily accepted with a bright smile. "What exactly is the situation with you and Cho Chang, Harry?"
"What d'you mean by that?" Harry asked quickly, his face flushing as he adjusted his collar.
"It was obvious she couldn't keep her eyes off your face today, could she?" Hermione asked him, leaning against Lucifer's arm as they walked.
Harry resorted to looking anywhere but at his friends' faces, choosing to say absolutely nothing as he and Ron hurriedly exited the shop to escape the interrogation.
Hermione and Lucifer followed them out onto the High Street, but they intentionally lagged a few paces behind the boys. "He should watch out for her..." Lucifer muttered quietly, his eyes tracking the crowd.
"Watch out for who? Cho?" She asked curiously, leaning closer.
"Yeah... I've got a distinct, heavy feeling that it's not nearly as clear-cut as it seems with her presence," he turned his face to look down into her amber eyes. "Remember, she and Cedric Diggory were a major thing in the second half of last year. Her underlying intentions with Harry may not be entirely free of malice or grief... she's looking for a replacement."
Hermione would have usually argued against the cynical logic, but Lucifer had been proven exactly right numerous times whenever he mentioned getting a bad feeling about someone's coordinates.
She quietly decided she would keep a sharp, protective eye on Harry and Cho's interactions throughout the term, just to be safe.
xxxxxx
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