Hermione made no mention of Harry giving Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons for two whole weeks after her original suggestion. Harry's detentions with Umbridge were finally over (he doubted whether the words now etched into the back of his hand would ever fade entirely); Ron had had four more Quidditch practices and not been shouted at during the last two; and all three of them had managed to Vanish their mice in Transfiguration (Hermione had actually progressed to Vanishing kittens), before the subject was broached again, on a wild, blustery evening at the end of September, when the three of them were sitting in the library, looking up potion ingredients for Snape.
‘I was wondering,’ Hermione said suddenly, ‘whether you'd thought any more about Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry.’
‘Course I have,’ said Harry grumpily, ‘can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us—’
‘I meant the idea Ron and I had—’ Ron cast her an alarmed, threatening kind of look. She frowned at him, ‘—Oh, all right, the idea I had, then—about you teaching us.’
Harry did not answer at once. He pretended to be perusing a page of Asiatic Anti-Venoms, because he did not want to say what was in his mind.
He had given the matter a great deal of thought over the past fortnight. Sometimes it seemed an insane idea, just as it had on the night Hermione had proposed it, but at others, he had found himself thinking about the spells that had served him best in his various encounters with Dark creatures and Death Eaters—found himself, in fact, subconsciously planning lessons ...
‘Well,’ he said slowly, when he could no longer pretend to find Asiatic Anti-Venoms interesting, ‘yeah, I—I've thought about it a bit.’
‘And?’ said Hermione eagerly.
‘I dunno,’ said Harry, playing for time. He looked up at Ron.
‘I thought it was a good idea from the start,’ said Ron, who seemed keener to join in this conversation now that he was sure Harry was not going to start shouting again.
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
‘You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?’
‘Yes, Harry,’ said Hermione gently, ‘but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said—’
Ron looked round at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, ‘Yeah? What did Vicky say?’
‘Ho ho,’ said Hermione in a bored voice. ‘He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang.’
Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously.
‘You're not still in contact with him, are you?’
‘So what if I am?’ said Hermione coolly, though her face was a little pink. ‘I can have a pen-pal if I—’
‘He didn't only want to be your pen-pal,’ said Ron accusingly.
Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, ‘Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?’
‘Just you and Ron, yeah?’
‘Well,’ said Hermione, looking a mite anxious again. ‘Well ... now, don't fly off the handle again, Harry, please ... but I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we're talking about defending ourselves against V-Voldemort. Oh, don't be pathetic, Ron. It doesn't seem fair if we don't offer the chance to other people.’
Harry considered this for a moment, then said, ‘Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?’
‘Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you've got to say,’ said Hermione seriously. ‘Look,’ she leaned towards him— Ron, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forwards to listen too—'you know the first weekend in October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?’
‘Why do we have to do it outside school?’ said Ron.
‘Because,’ said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, ‘I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to.’
Harry had been looking forward to the weekend trip into Hogsmeade, but there was one thing worrying him. Sirius had maintained a stony silence since he had appeared in the fire at the beginning of September; Harry knew they had made him angry by saying they didn't want him to come—but he still worried from time to time that Sirius might throw caution to the winds and turn up anyway. What were they going to do if the great black dog came bounding up the street towards them in Hogsmeade, perhaps under the nose of Draco Malfoy?
‘Well, you can't blame him for wanting to get out and about,’ said Ron, when Harry discussed his fears with him and Hermione. ‘I mean, he's been on the run for over two years, hasn't he, and I know that can't have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn't he? And now he's just shut up all the time with that ghastly elf.’
Hermione scowled at Ron, but otherwise ignored the slight on Kreacher.
‘The trouble is,’ she said to Harry, ‘until V-Voldemort—oh, for heaven's sake,Ron— comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn't he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn't going to realise Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore's been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again, it'll be obvious Sirius isn't one ... I mean, he hasn't got the Mark, for one thing.’
‘I don't reckon he'd be stupid enough to turn up,’ said Ron bracingly. ‘Dumbledore'd go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn't like what he hears.’
When Harry continued to look worried, Hermione said, ‘Listen, Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defence Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We've told them to meet us in Hogsmeade.’
‘Right,’ said Harry vaguely, his mind still on Sirius.
‘Don't worry, Harry,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘You've got enough on your plate without Sirius, too.’
She was quite right, of course, he was barely keeping up with his homework, though he was doing much better now that he was no longer spending every evening in detention with Umbridge. Ron was even further behind with his work than Harry, because while they both had Quidditch practice twice a week, Ron also had his prefect duties. However, Hermione, who was taking more subjects than either of them, had not only finished all her homework but was also finding time to knit more elf clothes. Harry had to admit that she was getting better; it was now almost always possible to distinguish between the hats and the socks.
The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. Alter breakfast they queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village. With a slight pang, Harry remembered that if it hadn't been for Sirius, he would not have been going at all.
When Harry reached Filch, the caretaker gave a great sniff as though trying to detect a whiff of something from Harry. Then he gave a curt nod that set his jowls aquiver again and Harry walked on, out on to the stone steps and the cold, sunlit day.
‘Er—why was Filch sniffing you?’ asked Ron, as he, Harry and Hermione set off at a brisk pace down the wide drive to the gates.
‘I suppose he was checking for the smell of Dungbombs,’ said Harry with a small laugh. ‘I forgot to tell you ...’
And he recounted the story of sending his letter to Sirius and Filch bursting in seconds later, demanding to see the letter. To his slight surprise, Hermione found this story highly interesting, much more, indeed, than he did himself.
‘He said he was tipped off you were ordering Dungbombs? But who tipped him off?’
‘I dunno,’ said Harry, shrugging. ‘Maybe Malfoy he'd think it was a laugh.’
They walked between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars and turned left on to the road into the village, the wind whip-, ping their hair into their eyes.
‘Malfoy?’ said Hermione, sceptically. ‘Well ... yes ... maybe ...’
And she remained deep in thought all the way into the outskirts of Hogsmeade.
‘Where are we going, anyway?’ Harry asked. ‘The Three Broomsticks?’
‘Oh—no,’ said Hermione, coming out of her reverie, ‘no, it's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us in the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit ... you know ... dodgy ... but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard.’
They walked down the main street past Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop, where they were not surprised to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan, past the post office, from which owls issued at regular intervals, and turned up a side-street at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture on it of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood on to the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached. All three of them hesitated outside the door.
‘Well, come on,’ said Hermione, slightly nervously. Harry led the way inside.
It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave an impression of gleaming warmth and cleanliness. The Hog's Head bar comprised one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of something that might have been goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with the stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, though as Harry stepped on to it he realised that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.
Harry remembered Hagrid mentioning this pub in his first year: ‘Yeh get a lot o’ funny folk in the Hog's Head,’ he had said, explaining how he had won a dragon's egg from a hooded stranger there. At the time Harry had wondered why Hagrid had not found it odd that the stranger kept his face hidden throughout their encounter; now he saw that keeping your face hidden was something of a fashion in the Hog's Head. There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of some smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows; Harry might have thought them dementors if they had not been talking in strong Yorkshire accents, and in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes. They could just see the tip of her nose because it caused the veil to protrude slightly.
‘I don't know about this, Hermione,’ Harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. He was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. ‘Has it occurred to you Umbridge might be under that?’
Hermione cast an appraising eye over the veiled figure.
‘Umbridge is shorter than that woman,’ she said quietly. ‘And anyway, even if Umbridge does come in here there's nothing she can do to stop us, Harry, because I've double- and triple-checked the school rules. We're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students were allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me strongly to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea if we parade what we're doing.’
‘No,’ said Harry drily, ‘especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?’
The barman sidled towards them out of a back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to Harry.
‘What?’ he grunted.
‘Three Butterbeers, please,’ said Hermione.
The man reached beneath the counter and pulled up three very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.
‘Six Sickles,’ he said.
‘I'll get them,’ said Harry quickly, passing over the silver. The barman's eyes travelled over Harry, resting for a fraction of a second on his scar. Then he turned away and deposited Harry's money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. Harry, Ron and Hermione retreated to the furthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around. The man in the dirty grey bandages rapped the counter with his knuckles and received another smoking drink from the barman.
‘You know what?’ Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. ‘We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try Firewhisky—’
‘You—are—a—prefect,’ snarled Hermione.
‘Oh,’ said Ron, the smile fading from his face. ‘Yeah ...’
‘So, who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?’ Harry asked, wrenching open the rusty top of his Butterbeer and taking a swig.
‘Just a couple of people,’ Hermione repeated, checking her watch and looking anxiously towards the door. ‘I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is—oh, look, this might be them now.’
The door of the pub had opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room in two for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming rush of a crowd of people.
First came Neville with Dean and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with (Harry's stomach did a back-flip) Cho and one of her usually-giggling girlfriends, then (on her own and looking so dreamy she might have walked in by accident) Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff girl with a long plait clown her back whose name Harry did not know; three Ravenclaw boys he was pretty sure were called Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny, closely followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom Harry recognised vaguely as being a member of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and, bringing up the rear, Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan, all three of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with Zonko's merchandise.
‘A couple of people?’ said Harry hoarsely to Hermione. ‘A couple of people?’
‘Yes, well, the idea seemed quite popular,’ said Hermione happily. ‘Ron, do you want to pull up some more chairs?’
The barman had frozen in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so filthy it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.
‘Hi,’ said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting his companions quickly, ‘could we have ... twenty-five Butterbeers, please?’
The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.
‘Cheers,’ said Fred, handing them out. ‘Cough up, everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these ...’
Harry watched numbly as the large chattering group took their beers from Fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. He could not imagine what all these people had turned up for until the horrible thought occurred to him that they might be expecting same kind of speech, at which he rounded on Hermione.
‘What have you been telling people?’ he said in a low voice. ‘What are they expecting?’
‘I've told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say,’ said Hermione soothingly; but Harry continued to look at her so furiously that she added quickly, ‘you don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first.’
‘Hi, Harry,’ said Neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite him.
Harry tried to smile back, but did not speak; his mouth was exceptionally dry. Cho had just smiled at him and sat down on Ron's right. Her friend, who had curly reddish-blonde hair, did not smile, but gave Harry a thoroughly mistrustful look which plainly told him that, given her way, she would not be here at all.
In twos and threes the new arrivals settled around Harry, Ron and Hermione, some looking rather excited, others curious, Luna Lovegood gazing dreamily into space. When everybody had pulled up a chair, the chatter died out. Every eye was upon Harry.
‘Er,’ said Hermione, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. ‘Well—er—hi.’
The group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to Harry.
‘Well ... erm ... well, you know why you're here. Erm ... well, Harry here had the idea—I mean’ (Harry had thrown her a sharp look) ‘I had the idea—that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts—and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us— ‘(Hermione's voice became suddenly much stronger and more confident) ‘— because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts—’ ('Hear, hear,’ said Anthony Goldstein, and Hermione looked heartened) ‘—Well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands.’
She paused, looked sideways at Harry and went on, ‘And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory but doing the real spells—’
‘You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?’ said Michael Corner, who was watching her closely.
‘Of course I do,’ said Hermione at once. ‘But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because ... because ...’ she took a great breath and finished, ‘because Lord Voldemort is back.’
The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave a kind of involuntary twitch; Padma Patil shuddered, and Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough. All of them, however, looked fixedly, even eagerly, at Harry.
‘Well ... that's the plan, anyway,’ said Hermione. ‘If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to—’
‘Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?’ said the blond Hufflepuff player in a rather aggressive voice.
‘Well, Dumbledore believes it—’ Hermione began.
‘You mean, Dumbledore believes him,’ said the blond boy, nodding at Harry.
‘Who are you?’ said Ron, rather rudely.
‘Zacharias Smith,’ said the boy, ‘and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back.’
‘Look,’ said Hermione, intervening swiftly, ‘that's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—’
‘It's OK, Hermione,’ said Harry.
It had just dawned on him why there were so many people there. He thought Hermione should have seen this coming. Some of these people—maybe even most of them—had turned up in the hopes of hearing Harry's story firsthand.
‘What makes me say You-Know-Who's back?’ he repeated, looking Zacharias straight in the face. ‘I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.’
The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke. Harry had the impression that even the barman was listening. He was wiping the same glass with the filthy rag, making it steadily dirtier.
Zacharias said dismissively, ‘All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—’
‘If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone I can't help you,’ Harry said. His temper, always so close to the surface these days, was rising again. He did not take his eyes from Zacharias Smith's aggressive face, and was determined not to look at Cho. ‘I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right? So if that's what you're here for, you might as well clear out.’
He cast an angry look in Hermione's direction. This was, he felt, all her fault; she had decided to display him like some sort of freak and of course they had all turned up to see just now wild his story was. But none of them left their seats, not even Zacharias Smith, though he continued to gaze intently at Harry.
‘So,’ said Hermione, her voice very high-pitched again. ‘So ... like I was saying ... if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet and where we're going to—’
‘Is it true,’ interrupted the girl with the long plait down her back, looking at Harry, ‘that you can produce a Patronus?’
There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.
‘Yeah,’ said Harry slightly defensively.
‘A corporeal Patronus?’
The phrase stirred something in Harry's memory.
‘Er—you don't know Madam Bones, do you?’ he asked.
The girl smiled.
‘She's my auntie,’ she said. ‘I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So—is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?’
‘Yes,’ said Harry.
‘Blimey, Harry!’ said Lee, looking deeply impressed. ‘I never knew that!’
‘Mum told Ron not to spread it around,’ said Fred, grinning at Harry. ‘She said you got enough attention as it was.’
‘She's not wrong,’ mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed.
The veiled witch sitting alone shifted very slightly in her seat.
‘And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?’ demanded Terry Boot. ‘That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year ...’
‘Er—yeah, I did, yeah,’ said Harry.
Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender Brown said ‘Wow!’ softly. Harry was feeling slightly hot around the collar now; he was determinedly looking anywhere but at Cho.
‘And in our first year,’ said Neville to the group at large, ‘he saved that Philological Stone— ’
‘Philosopher's,’ hissed Hermione.
‘Yes, that—from You-Know-Who,’ finished Neville.
Hannah Abbotts eyes were as round as Galleons.
‘And that's not to mention,’ said Cho (Harry's eyes snapped across to her; she was looking at him, smiling; his stomach did another somersault) ‘all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year—getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things ...’
There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. Harry's insides were squirming. He was trying to arrange his face so that he did not look too pleased with himself. The fact that Cho had just praised him made it much, much harder for him to say the thing he had sworn to himself he would tell them.
‘Look,’ he said, and everyone fell silent at once, ‘I ... I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but ... I had a lot of help with all that stuff ...’
‘Not with the dragon, you didn't,’ said Michael Corner at once. ‘That was a seriously cool bit of flying ...’
‘Yeah, well—’ said Harry, feeling it would be churlish to disagree.
‘And nobody helped you get rid of those dementors this summer,’ said Susan Bones.
‘No,’ said Harry, ‘no, OK, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is—’
‘Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?’ said Zacharias Smith.
‘Here's an idea,’ said Ron loudly, before Harry could speak, ‘why don't you shut your mouth?’
Perhaps the word ‘weasel’ had affected Ron particularly strongly. In any case, he was now looking at Zacharias as though he would like nothing better than to thump him. Zacharias flushed.
‘Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it,’ he said.
‘That's not what he said,’ snarled Fred.
‘Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?’ enquired Greorge, pulling a long and lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of the Zonko's bags.
‘Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this,’ said Fred.
‘Yes, well,’ said Hermione hastily, moving on ...'the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?’
There was a murmur of general agreement. Zacharias folded his arms and said nothing, though perhaps this was because he was too busy keeping an eye on the instrument in Fred's hand.
‘Right,’ said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. ‘Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week—’
‘Hang on,’ said Angelina, ‘we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice.’
‘No,’ said Cho, ‘nor with ours.’
‘Nor ours,’ added Zacharias Smith.
‘I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone,’ said Hermione, slightly impatiently, ‘but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V-Voldemort's Death Eaters—’
‘Well said!’ barked Ernie Macmillan, who Harry had been expecting to speak long before this. ‘Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up!’
He looked around impressively, as though waiting for people to cry ‘Surely not!’ When nobody spoke, he went on, ‘I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at this critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively prevent us from using defensive spells—’
‘We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts,’ said Hermione, ‘is that she's got some ... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilise us against the Ministry.’
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?’
‘Well, that's why he and his friends came, I think—well, they're obviously interested in learning defence, but if Ginny hadn't told Michael what was going on—’
‘When did this— when did she—?’
‘They met at the Yule Ball and got together at the end of last year,’ said Hermione composedly. They had turned into the High Street and she paused outside Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, where there was a handsome display of pheasant feather quills in the window. ‘Hmm ... I could do with a new quill.’
She turned into the shop. Harry and Ron followed her.
‘Which one was Michael Corner?’ Ron demanded furiously.
‘The dark one,’ said Hermione.
‘I didn't like him,’ said Ron at once.
‘Big surprise,’ said Hermione under her breath.
‘But,’ said Ron, following Hermione along a row of quills in copper pots, ‘I thought Ginny fancied Harry!’
Hermione looked at him rather pityingly and shook her head.
‘Ginny used to fancy Harry, but she gave up on him months ago. Not that she doesn't like you, of course,’ she added kindly to Harry while she examined a long black and gold quill.
Harry, whose head was still full of Cho's parting wave, did not find this subject quite as interesting as Ron, who was positively quivering with indignation, but it did bring something home to him that until now he had not really registered.
‘So that's why she talks now?’ he asked Hermione. ‘She never used to talk in front of me.’
‘Exactly,’ said Hermione. ‘Yes, I think I'll have this one ...’
She went up to the counter and handed over fifteen Sickles and two Knuts, with Ron still breathing down her neck.
‘Ron,’ she said severely as she turned and trod on his feet, ‘this is exactly why Ginny hasn't told you she's seeing Michael, she knew you'd take it badly. So don't harp on about it, for heaven's sake.’
‘What d'you mean? Who's taking anything badly? I'm not going to harp on about anything ...’ Ron continued to chunter under his breath all the way down the street.
Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry and then said in an undertone, while Ron was still muttering imprecations about Michael Corner, ‘And talking about Michael and Ginny ... what about Cho and you?’
‘What d'you mean?’ said Harry quickly.
It was as though boiling water was rising rapidly inside him; a burning sensation that was causing his face to smart in the cold—had he been that obvious?
‘Well,’ said Hermione, smiling slightly, ‘she just couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?’
Harry had never before appreciated just how beautiful the village of Hogsmeade was.
在最初那次提议由哈利来教授大家黑魔法防御课以后，整整二周荷米恩再也没有提起过这事。Umbridge给哈利的禁闭也终于结束了（他怀疑现在那个蚀刻进他手背的词是不是还会完全褪去。）。
罗恩又上了四次魁地奇训练课，并且在后两次里没人再对他发火了。而且他们三个人都成功的在变形课上让他们的老鼠消失了（荷米恩甚至成功地让一些小猫消失了）。在九月底一个狂风暴雨的夜晚，当他们三个坐在图书馆里，寻找斯内普要求的药剂成分时，这个话题又被提起了。
“我想，” 荷米恩突然说：“你是否考虑过黑魔法防御课，哈利？” “当然想过，”哈利粗暴的说：“忘得了吗，我们？有那个老巫婆来教我们——”
“我说的是上次罗恩和我提过的那个主意——”罗恩警惕又带点威胁地看了她一眼。
荷米恩对他皱了皱眉头，“——恩，好吧，我提过的那个主意，就是由你来教我们。”
哈利没有立刻回答。
他假装在仔细阅读亚洲解毒剂（Asiatic Anti-Venoms）的一页，因为他不想说出来他所想的。
在过去两周里他已经仔仔细细地考虑过了这个问题。有时候这看起来是个极愚蠢的主意，就象那天晚上荷米恩刚提出来时他觉得的那样，但另一方面，他不由想到当他在不同场合和黑魔王以及食死徒们遭遇的时候，那些咒语起了很大作用，事实上，他潜意识里打算去教……
“唔，”当再也不能假装在寻找亚洲解毒剂（Asiatic Anti-Venoms）时，他慢吞吞地说，“是的，我。。我想过一点”。
“然后呢？”荷米恩热切地说。
“我不知道，”哈利说，拖延着时间。他抬起头看着罗恩。
“我觉得这从一开始就是一个好主意，”罗恩说，既然已经确定哈利不会再大喊大叫了，现在他看上去更热心地加入这场讨论。
哈利象是不舒服似地在椅子上挪动了一下。
“你已经听我说过很多次了，那只是走运罢了，不是吗？”
“是的，哈利，”荷米恩轻声说：“但同样的，没必要装的你不擅长黑魔法防御术，你很擅长。在去年你是唯一一个能throw off the Imperius Curse的人，你能召唤来守护神（Patronus），你能做很多成年巫师也不能做的事，维特（VIKTOR）经常说—— ” 罗恩猛的转过头去看着她，动作太猛了他的脖子好象抽筋了。罗恩一边抚摩着脖子一边说：“是吗？维特说什么了？”
“噢，没什么，”荷米恩不耐烦的说：“他说哈利甚至能做一些他也作不到的事，要知道他已经在丹姆斯安（Durmstrang）读最后一年了。”
罗恩怀疑地看着荷米恩。
“你现在和他没联系了，是吧？”
“如果有联系又怎么样？”荷米恩冷冷地说，尽管她的脸有一点儿红：“我可以有一个笔友如果我——”
“他不仅仅想当你的笔友，”罗恩责难地说。
荷米恩恼火地摇了摇头，尽管罗恩依然盯着她，她不再理会罗恩，转而对哈利说：“那么，你在想什么？你会教我们吗？”
“只是你和罗恩，是吧？”
“唔，”荷米恩说，看上去又有一点紧张。“唔。。。现在，你别再控制不住自己了，哈利，求你了。。。不过我真的认为你应该教每一个想学的人。我的意思是，我们在谈的是怎么从伏地魔那里保护自己。哦，别闹情绪，罗恩。如果我们不把这个机会提供给每一个人这是不公平的。”
哈利考虑了一会，然后说：“好吧，但我怀疑除了你们还有没有人想跟我学，我是个疯子，记得吗？”
“唔，我想等知道有多少人对你将要说的话有兴趣，你会吃惊的。”荷米恩严肃地说。“那么，”她凑向罗恩——罗恩一直带着不满的表情看着她，这时也凑了上来——“你知道在十月的第一个周末我们将去霍格马得？你看如果我们告诉每个有兴趣的人，我们在村里碰面然后讨论这件事怎么样？”
“为什么我们必须在学校外做这件事情？”罗恩说。
“因为，”荷米恩回到她在摹写的中国咬人白菜（Chinese Chomping Cabbage）上，“我不认为Umbridge会很高兴，如果她知道我们想做什么的话。”
哈利开始盼望着这个周末到霍格马得去，但还有一件事困饶着他。自从九月初在壁炉的火中出现以后，天狼星一直没有音讯，哈利知道他们说不希望他来的话已经惹恼了他——但他仍时时担心天狼星会把谨慎扔到脑后，无论如何都要出现。如果那个大黑狗在霍格马得向他们跑来的话，甚至可能就在马尔夫的眼皮底下，那他们该怎么办呢？
“唔，你不应该责备他想出来或别的什么，”当哈利把担心的事和罗恩及荷米恩讨论的时候，罗恩说：“我的意思是，他已经逃亡两年多了，是吧。我知道这不会是什么好玩的事，但至少他是自由的，不是吗？可现在他却一直和那个可怕的小精灵关在一起。”
荷米恩怒视着罗恩，但却忽略了他对Kreacher的诬蔑。
“问题是，”她对哈利说：“直到伏地魔——哦，看在老天爷份上，罗恩——现身为止，天狼星不得不藏起来，不是吗？我的意思是，愚蠢的魔法部不可能认识到天狼星是清白的，除非他们承认丹伯多一直都在说真话。而一旦那些傻瓜又开始追捕真正的食死徒，很明显天狼星并不是其中之一。。。我是说，不管怎么样，他没有那个标记。”
“我不认为他会蠢到过来，”罗恩振奋的说：“如果他来的话，丹伯多会气疯的，而天狼星听丹伯多的，不管他爱不爱听。”
但哈利看上去还是很担心，荷米恩说：“听着，罗恩和我已经试探了一些可能想学些真正的黑魔法防御术的人，有几个人看上去感兴趣。我已经告诉他们在霍格马得和我们碰面。”
“好，”哈利含糊的说，他仍然想着天狼星的事。
“别担心，哈利。”荷米恩镇定地说：“即使不考虑天狼星，你也已经有太多事情要做了。”
她说的很对，显然，他几乎跟不上他的功课，尽管现在他不再每个晚上都被Umbridge关禁闭，已经好了很多。罗恩落下的功课比哈利还要多，因为他们都有每周两次的魁地奇练习，罗恩还要尽到级长的责任。而荷米恩尽管比他们两个选的科目都要多，却不仅作完了所有的功课，还总能挤出时间来编织更多的小精灵衣服。哈利不得不承认她已经做的好多了，现在几乎已经总能区分出帽子和袜子了。
去霍格马得的那天黎明，天气晴朗但是刮着风。吃完早饭，他们在费格（Filch）面前排起长队，他从一张长长的名单上核对他们的名字，那上面列着所有得到父母或监护人许可去村里的人的名字。哈利感到一点良心不安，他想到要不是天狼星，他根本就不能去。
当哈利排到费格面前，这个管理员狠狠的闻了闻他，就象想从哈利身上查出什么味似的，然后他简单的点了点头，又扬起了下巴，哈利走过他，踏上了寒冷而阳光普照的石头路上。
“恩——为什么费格要那样闻你？”当他、哈利、荷米恩轻快地走在通向大门的马路上时罗恩问道。
“我想他在查臭弹的味道，”哈利微笑了一下：“我忘记告诉你了。。。”
然后他讲了他给天狼星发信，然后几秒钟后费格冲进来，要求看那封信的事。让他有点惊讶的是，荷米恩对他说的事非常感兴趣，甚至比他自己都更有兴趣。
“他说他得到消息你订购了臭弹？但谁告诉他的？”
“我不知道，”哈利耸了耸肩说：“也许是马尔夫，他会觉得这很可笑。”
他们从顶上装饰着有翼兽（winged boars） 的高高的石柱中间走过，然后右转走上了通向村里的路，风把他们的头发吹进了他们的眼睛里。 “马尔夫？”荷米恩怀疑地说：“恩。。是的。。也许。。。”
直到进入霍格马得的一路上她都在沉思着。
“我们到底去哪里？”哈利问：“三把扫帚（The Three Broomsticks）？”
“哦——不，”荷米恩说，从沉思中醒来：“不，那里总是挤满了人，而且很吵。我已经告诉其他人在猪头（Hog's Head）和我们会合，那是另一个酒吧，你知道的，它不在大路上。我想它有点。。。你知道。。。隐蔽。。。但学生通常不会去，所以我想不会有人偷听。”
他们沿大路走下去，经过了佐科玩笑商店（Zonko's Wizarding Joke Shop），毫不意外地，在那里他们遇见了弗来德、乔治和李？乔丹，路过了邮局，那里的猫头鹰会定时出发，然后拐入了一条小路，在它的尽头有一个小酒馆。一个碎裂的木头招牌挂在门上方一个生锈的支架上，上面画着一个严厉的野猪头，它的血滴在周围的白布上。当他们走近时，那招牌在风中吱吱作响，他们三个在门口犹豫住了。
“恩，来吧，”荷米恩有点紧张地说，哈利带头走了进去。
这里和三把扫帚完全不同，那里的大酒吧给人一种闪亮地温暖、清洁的感觉。而猪头酒吧是一个狭小、黑暗并且非常脏的房间，闻起来有一股强烈的类似山羊的味道。酒吧的窗户上有一层厚厚的污垢，因此只有一点微弱的日光能透进来，作为替代，房里粗糙的木头桌上点着短而秃的蜡烛。地板初看起来觉得是压紧的泥地，但当哈利一走上去就知道其实是石头地面，上面好象堆积了上千年的尘垢。
哈利记得在第一年里哈格力提过这个酒吧：“在猪头遇到了很多有趣的家伙”他曾经这样说过，来解释他怎么样从一个蒙着头巾的陌生人那里赢得了一个龙蛋。那时哈利曾经疑惑过，对于那个陌生人始终蒙着脸，哈格力怎么不感到奇怪，现在他发觉把脸蒙起来似乎在猪头很流行。酒吧里有个男人，他整个脑袋都被肮脏的灰色绷带绑着，可他还能成功地从嘴上的一个小口子里吞下无数杯冒烟的、炽热的东西。窗边的一张桌旁坐着两个把轮廓隐藏在头巾下的人，要不是他们用很浓的约克郡口音谈着话，哈利还以为他们是摄魂怪呢。在壁炉旁一个有阴影的角落坐着一个女巫，戴着厚的、黑色的直垂到脚的面纱。他们只能看见她的鼻子尖，因为它把面纱顶的微微突出。
“我不知道，荷米恩，”当他们穿过酒吧时，哈利咕哝着。他尤其注意那个戴着厚面纱的女巫：“你想到那个面纱下的可能是Umbridge了吗？”
荷米恩打量了那个戴面纱的女巫一眼。
“Umbridge比她矮，”她平静地说。“而且不管怎么样，即使Umbridge来了，她也没办法阻止我们，哈利，因为我再三查过了学校的规定。我们没有犯规，我还问了弗立维 （Flitwick）教授是不是允许学生到猪头来，他说可以，但是他强烈建议我们带上自己的杯子。而且我查了我能想到的所有关于学习社团和进修小组的规定，这是完全允许的。我只是认为我们不应该张扬我们所做的事。”
“不该，”哈利干巴巴地说，“特别当它并不是严格意义上的所谓学习小组，不是吗？”
酒吧招待从里间出来，悄悄走近他们。他是一个看起来性情暴躁的老头，留着长长的灰色头发和胡子。他又高又瘦而且暧昧的看着哈利，好象很熟悉他似的。
“要什么？”他咕哝着。
“请来三杯黄油啤酒，”哈利说。
那人伸手到柜台底下，拿出三个非常脏、满是灰尘的瓶子，砰的一声放在吧台上。
“六个镰刀币，”他说。
“谢了，”哈利很快地说，给了他银币。酒吧招待的目光扫视着哈利，在他的伤疤上停留了几秒钟。然后转身走开了，把哈利的钱放进了一个古老的木头柜里，那个柜子的抽屉会自动滑开来收钱。罗恩和荷米恩退到离吧台最远的一张桌子坐了下来，环顾四周。那个裹着肮脏的灰色绷带的男人用指关节敲着柜台，又从酒吧招待那里拿到一杯冒烟的饮料。
“你知道吗？”罗恩低声说，热中地望着整个酒吧。“在这里我们可以点任何想要的东西。我打赌那个伙计会卖给我们任何东西，他才不在乎呢。我一直想尝试一下火焰威士忌（Firewhisky）——”
“你——是——一个级长，”荷米恩不高兴的说。
“哦，”罗恩的笑容褪去了。“是啊。。。”
“那么，你说谁要在这里和我们会面？”哈利问，使劲拧开黄油啤酒生锈的盖子，喝了一大口。
“就几个人，”荷米恩重复说，看了看手表，又焦急的望着门外。“我让他们大概这个时候来这里，我想他们都认识，——喔，看，那大概是他们。”
酒吧的门开了，一团混着微尘的阳光把房间一分为二，几秒钟后又消失了，被一群进来的人挡住了。
最先进拉的是纳威、Dean和Lavender，后面紧跟着Parvati、Padma Patil和（哈利的胃猛的一紧）秋以及一个一直和她在一起唧唧喳喳的女孩子，然后是（她看起来就好象在梦中偶然走进来似的）Luna Lovegood， 然后是Katie Bell、Alicia Spinnet和Angelina Johnson，Colin和Dennis Creevey、Ernie Macmillan、Justin Finch-Fletchley、Hannah Abbott，一个哈利不知道名字的留着长辫子的赫夫帕夫女孩，三个拉文克劳男孩，哈利确信他们叫Anthony Goldstein、Michael Corner和Terry Boot，金妮，一个高个子金发碧眼，长个朝天鼻的男孩紧跟着他，哈利隐约记得他是赫夫帕夫魁地奇队的一员，队伍的最后是弗来德？威斯里、乔治？威斯里和他们的朋友李？乔丹，他们三个都抱着装的满满的佐科的大纸袋。
“几个人，”哈利嘶哑地对荷米恩说，“几个人？”
“是啊，哦，这个主意看上去相当受欢迎，”荷米恩高兴地说：“罗恩，你可以再去拖几把椅子过来吗？”
那个酒吧招待呆住了，他正在用一块肮脏的，好象从来没洗过似的擦布擦拭一个玻璃杯，他还从没见过他的酒吧里来这么多人。
“好啊，”弗来德说，他第一个来到吧台边，飞快地数着同来的人，“请给我们。。。25杯黄油啤酒，可以吗？”
那个酒吧招待看了他一会，然后，暴躁地扔下他的擦布，好象他正在做什么重要的事而被打断了一样，他开始从柜台下取出肮脏的黄油啤酒来。
“干杯，”弗来德说，分发起啤酒来，“不过说起来，大伙，我没有足够的钱来付这么多。。。”
哈利呆呆地看着那些唧唧喳喳的人们从弗来德手里接过啤酒，并在长袍里摸索着钱币。他想象不出这么多人到这里来干什么，突然一个可怕的想法出现在他脑海里，他们也许期待着一个演讲什么的，想到这里他赶忙转向荷米恩。
“你跟他们说什么了？”他低声说。“他们期待什么？”
“我已经告诉过你了，他们只想听你将要说的，”荷米恩安慰的说。但哈利仍那样激烈的看着她，所以她很快补充说，“你不需要做任何事，我会先发言的。”
“嗨，哈利，”纳威说，喜气洋洋地在他对面坐下了。
哈利努力对他笑笑，但没说话。他的嘴里非常干。秋刚刚对他微笑并坐在罗恩的右边了。她的朋友，长着一头卷曲的红色头发，没有笑，十分怀疑地看了他一眼，那眼神很明白的表示，如果有办法的话，她才不会来这儿呢。
新来的人三三两两地坐在了哈利、罗恩和荷米恩周围，有些人看起来相当兴奋，还有的人很好奇，Luna Lovegood做梦似地望着上空。当所有的人都找到座位后，议论声平息了，大家都望着哈利。
“恩，”荷米恩说，出于紧张她的声音比平时高一点。“那么——哦——大家好。”
大家的注意力又转到了她身上，尽管目光仍不时的瞄着哈利。
“那么。。。恩。。。那么，大家都知道为什么来这里。恩。。。那么，哈利的那个主意——我是说（哈利尖锐地看了她一眼），我的那个主意——对那些想学习黑魔法防御术的人来说这可能是个好主意——我是说，真正的学习，你们知道，不是Umbridge教我们的垃圾”（荷米恩的声音突然变得更强也更自信了一点）——因为没有人能叫它黑魔法防御术——（“好哇！说得对！”Anthony Goldstein说，荷米恩看起来受到了鼓舞）——那么，我想那样会很好，如果我们，哦，把情况掌握在自己手里。”
她停住了，看了看旁边的哈利，接着说，“因此我打算学习怎么样正确地保护自己，不仅仅是理论上的，而是练习真正的咒语——”
“但是，我打赌你也想通过你黑魔法防御课的普通巫师等级考试吧？”Michael Corner说，紧盯着她。
“当然，”荷米恩立即说。“但更重要的，我想得到正确的防御训练，因为。。因为。。”她深吸了一口气说，“因为黑魔王伏地魔已经回来了。”
大家即时的反应是可预见的。秋的朋友尖叫着，把黄油啤酒溅到了身上。Terry Boot无意识地抽搐着，Padma Patil颤抖着，纳威发出了一声奇怪的喊声，他成功的把它转成了一阵咳嗽。总之，所有的人，都专注地，更加热切地看着哈利。
“恩。。。计划就是这样，不管怎么样”荷米恩说。“如果你想加入我们，我们需要决定怎么干——”
“有什么证据证明那个人回来了？”赫夫帕夫的金发魁地奇队员用一种攻击性地语调说。
“恩，丹伯多相信——”荷米恩开口道。
“你是说，丹伯多相信他，”金发男孩对哈利点了点头。
“你是谁？”罗恩相当粗鲁地说。
“Zacharias Smith，”那男孩说，“我想我们有权知道到底是什么让他认为那个人已经回来了。”
“看，”荷米恩很快打断他说，“这不是我们这次会议将要讨论的——”
“好了，荷米恩”哈利说。
他刚开始明白这里为什么会有这么多人。他认为荷米恩应该想到的。一些人——也许是大多数人——来是希望能听到他的第一手故事。
“是什么让我认为那个人回来了？”他重复说，直盯着Zacharias，“我看见了他。丹伯多告诉了全校发生了什么，如果你不相信他的话，你不必相信我，我也不会浪费一个下午来试图说服任何人。”
当哈利说话时，所有的人看上去都屏住了呼吸。哈利有个感觉，甚至那个酒吧招待也在听。他用那块肮脏的擦布擦着同一个玻璃杯，使它更脏了。
Zacharias轻视地说：“丹伯多去年只是告诉我们塞德里克·迪戈里 被那个人杀了，而你把迪戈里 的尸体带回了霍格瓦兹。他没告诉我们细节，他没说迪戈里 到底是怎么被谋杀的，我想我们都想知道——” “如果你来这里是想听到底伏地魔是怎么谋杀一个人的，我不能帮你，”哈利说。他的脾气，这些天来一直都很容易发作，这时又升了起来，他没把眼睛从Zacharias Smith挑衅的脸上挪开，并决定不去看秋。“我不想谈论塞德里克·迪戈里 ，知道吗？如果你来这里是为了这个，你最好赶快离开。” 他愤怒地往荷米恩那看了一眼，这全部，他感到，都是她的错。她决定把他当成一个怪人来展示，当然他们都会来看他的故事到底多么荒诞。但没有人离开他们的座位，连Zacharias Smith都没有，尽管他一直专心盯着哈利的脸。
“那么，”荷米恩说，她的音调又高了上去。“那么。。。就象我说的。。。如果你们想学防御术，那我们需要计划出我们怎么学，我们多长时间碰头一次以及我们在哪里学——”
“那是真的吗，”那个有褐色长辫子的女孩打断了她，看着哈利：“你能召唤守护神？”
人群中发出一阵感兴趣的议论声。
“是的，”哈利有点自卫的说。
“一个有形状的守护神？”
这句话勾起了哈利的一些记忆。
“恩——你不认识Bones吧，认识吗？”他问。
那女孩笑了。
“她是我姑妈，”她说，“我是Susan Bones，她跟我说了你的听证会。所以——那是真的吗？你召唤了一个牡鹿守护神？”
“是的，”哈利说。
“啊呀，哈利，”李说，看上去深受震动，“我完全不知道这个！”
“妈妈叫罗恩不要到处传扬这个，”弗来德说，对哈利裂嘴笑着。“她说那样会有很多人注意你。”
“她说的没错，”哈利说，很多人笑了。
那个戴面纱独自坐着的女巫在座位上稍微挪动了一点。
“那么你是不是用丹伯多办公室里的宝剑杀了一条蛇怪？”Terry Boot问：“这是去年我在那儿的时候，墙上的一副肖像告诉我的。。。。”
“恩——是的，我做过，是的，”哈利说。
Justin Finch-Fletchley吹了声口哨，Creevey兄弟交换了一个敬畏的眼神，Lavender Brown轻叫了一声“太绝了！”哈利感到耳根有点发热，他决然地望着其他任何地方，只要不是秋。
“在他一年级的时候，”纳威大声对大家说，“他保护了魔法石——”
“哲人之石”荷米恩订正说。
“是的，从那个人手里，”纳威最后说。
Hannah Abbott的眼睛瞪的和帆船币一样大。
“更别说，”秋说（哈利猛的看向她，她正微笑地看着他，他的胃里又一阵翻腾）“去年他在勇士比赛中他完成的所有任务了，通过了龙、merpeople和Acromantula还有别的。”
桌旁响起了一阵赞同的议论声。哈利的肠胃在蠕动着，他试着调整表情以使自己看上去不那么兴高采烈。刚才秋对他的赞扬使他曾对自己发誓要告诉他们的事变的更加、更加难以出口。
“瞧，”他说，大家又立刻陷入了沉静，“我。。。我不想让我听起来好象在谦虚或什么的，但是。。。我从其他人那里得到了很多帮助。。。”
“通过龙的时候没有，”Michael Corner立刻说。“飞过去的时候真是相当酷。。。”
“是啊，唔——”哈利说，感到要否认的话会是很无礼的。
“而且今年夏天没人帮你除掉那些摄魂怪，”Susan Bones说。
“不，”哈利说：“不，好吧，我知道没人帮我的时候我做了一些事，不过我想说的重点是——”
“你是想逃避不向我们展示什么吗？”Zacharias Smith说。
“我有个主意，”在哈利开口前，罗恩大声说，“你为什么不闭嘴？”
也许“逃避”这个词给罗恩刺激特别大，不管怎么样，他看着Zacharias 就好象他现在最想做的事就是揍他一拳，Zacharias脸红了。
“好吧，我们到这里来跟他学，他却告诉我们他并不真的能干任何事，”他说。
“这不是他说的，”弗来德咆哮说。
“你想让我们帮你清理一下耳朵吗？”乔治质问说，从一个佐科的袋子里拉出一跟长的，看上去很致命的金属工具。
“或者你身上的任何一个部位，真的，我们不在乎把他戳在哪儿，”弗来德说。
“哦，好吧，”荷米恩急忙说，“接下去。。。要点是，我们是不是一致同意我们想跟哈利学？”
响起了一阵赞同的议论声。Zacharias把胳膊抱在胸前，没说什么，尽管这可能是由于他正忙着注意着弗来德手里的金属工具了。
“好，”荷米恩说，看上去因为事情终于决定了，松了一口气。“那么，然后，下一个问题是我们多久聚会一次。我真的认为我们至少要每周聚会一次——”
“那要看，”Angelina说，“我们需要确定它不会和我们的魁地奇练习冲突。”
“不，”秋说，“也不能和我们的冲突。”
“也不能和我们的，”Zacharias说。
“我相信我们能找到一个适合所有人的晚上，”荷米恩说，有点不耐烦，“但你们知道，这很重要，我们是在讨论怎么样从伏地魔的食死徒那里保护自己——”
“说的好！”Ernie Macmillan叫道，哈利还以为他会早就开口了；“我个人认为这真的很重要，也许比我们今年做的所有的事都重要，即使普通巫师等级考试要到了。”
他激动的环顾四周，象是等着人们喊“当然不！”可没人说话，于是他继续说：“我，个人来说我不明白在这个严峻的时刻，为什么魔法部把这样一个没用的老师塞给我们。显然，他们不承认那个人回来了，但是给我们一个积极阻止我们使用防御咒语的老师——”
“我们认为Umbridge之所以不想让我们接受黑魔法防御术的训练，”荷米恩说，“是因为她有种。。。有种疯狂的想法，认为丹伯多会把学校里的学生当成某种私人军队。她认为他会动员我们反对魔法部。”
几乎每个人听到这个说法都目瞪口呆，每个人，除了Luna Lovegood，她接着说，“是的，这很可能。不管怎么说，Cornelius Fudge 有他自己的军队。” “什么？”哈利说，被这条意想不到的消息弄晕了。
“真的，他有一支由火妖（Heliopaths）组成的军队，”Luna严肃地说。
“不，他没有，”荷米恩突然说。
“不，他有，”Luna说。
“火妖（Heliopaths）是什么？”纳威问，看上去很茫然。
“他们是火的精灵，”Luna说，她凸起的眼睛睁大了，使她看起来比平时更疯狂，“高大的，灼热的生物，当他们疾弛在土地上的时候会使面前的所有东西燃烧——”
“不存在这种东西，纳威，”荷米恩尖锐地说。
“哦，不，他们存在！”Luna生气地说。
“很抱歉，但证据在哪里？”荷米恩急促地说进。
“有很多目击者的报告。只是你太狭隘，你需要每样东西都挤到你的眼皮底下来——”
“恩哼，恩哼，”金妮说，模仿地那么象Umbridge，以至一些人向四周看了看，然后都笑了。“我们能决定一下到底多久聚一次并学习防御课吗？”
“是的，”荷米恩立刻说“是的，我们正要这样做，你说的对，金妮。”
“恩，一周一次听起来不错，”李？乔丹说。
“只要——”Angelina开始说。
“是的，是的，我们知道魁地奇训练，”荷米恩用一种紧张的语气说。“那么，接下来要决定的就是我们在哪里见。。。”
要决定这个更困难，大家都沉默着。
“图书馆？”过了一会Katie Bell建议说。
“我不认为平斯（Pince）夫人会高兴我们破坏图书馆，”哈利说。
“也许某个不用的教室？”Dean说。
“是啊，”罗恩说，“麦格夫人（McGonagall）也许会让我们用她的，在哈利为勇士赛（Triwizard）做准备的时候她曾经借给过他。”
但哈利相当确信这次麦格夫人不会那么乐于助人。尽管荷米恩说过学习小组是允许的，但他直觉到这个小组可能会被认为是大逆不道的。
“好吧，那么，我们会试着找个地方，”荷米恩说。“当我们定了第一次聚会的时间和地点以后我们会给每个人发通知的。”
她从包里翻出一张羊皮纸和一支羽毛笔，然后犹豫了一会，好象要鼓起勇气开口似的。
“我——我认为每个人应该把名字下在这儿，这样我们就知道有谁来了。我还想，”她深呼吸了一口，“我们每个人都应该保证不去传扬我们在这里做的事。因此如果你签字了，就表示你不会去告诉Umbridge或其他任何人我们在做的事。”
弗来德拿过羊皮纸高兴地签了名，但哈利注意到一些人不太愿意把他们的名字写下来。
“恩。。。”Zacharias慢吞吞地说，没有接乔治想递给他的羊皮纸，“恩。。我想Ernie会告诉我什么时候聚会的。”
但Ernie看上去也很犹豫要不要签名。荷米恩扬起眉毛看着他。
“我——恩，我们是级长，”Ernie脱口而出，“如果这张羊皮纸被泄露出去的话。。。恩，我是说。。。你说说看，如果Umbridge发现这个——”
“你刚说这个小组是你今年要做的最重要的事，”哈利提醒他。
“我——是的，”Ernie说，“是的，我确实那么想，只是——”
“Ernie，你真的认为我会让这个名单流传出去吗？”荷米恩恼怒地说。
“不，不，当然不，”Ernie说，看上去不那么焦虑了。“我——是的，当然我会签的。”
Ernie之后没有人再提出异议，尽管哈利看见秋的朋友在签名之前非常责难地看着他。等最后一个人——Zacharias——签字之后，荷米恩拿回羊皮纸，小心地塞进包里。现在这群人有一种非常奇怪的感觉，就好象他们刚刚签了一个协议。
“好了，不耽搁时间了，”弗来德精神奕奕地站起来，“我和乔治、李还有一些东西要买，回见。”
其余的人也三三两两地离开了。
秋在离开前用了很多时间来系她的包带，她长长的帘子般的头发垂到前面挡住了她的脸，但她的朋友站在她边上，双臂抱在胸前，催促着她，因此秋别无选择，只得和她一起走了。当她朋友拽着她到门口时，秋回过头来对哈利摆手。
“好，我想这次很顺利，”当几分钟后她、哈利和罗恩走出猪头，来到明亮的阳光下之后，荷米恩高兴地说。哈利和罗恩抓着他们的黄油啤酒。
“那个叫Zacharias的家伙是个讨厌鬼，”罗恩说，他怒视着远方Smith模糊可辨的轮廓。
“我也不大喜欢他，”荷米恩说，“但我在赫夫帕夫桌旁跟Ernie和Hannah谈话的时候他正好听到，而且他看上去非常想来，所以我能说什么呢？而且确实是人越多越好——我是说，Michael Corner和他朋友不会来，要不是他和金妮出去了—— ” 罗恩正在喝光黄油啤酒的最后几滴，呛住了并把啤酒喷了出来。
“他什么？”罗恩仓促地说，他愤怒了，现在他的耳朵红的就象生牛肉卷，“她和别人出去——我妹妹和——你什么意思，和Michael Corner？”
“是的，所以他和他朋友来了，我想——恩，他们显然有兴趣学习防御术，但如果金妮没告诉Michael发生了什么——”
“什么时候——什么时候起她——？”
“他们在圣诞舞会碰到，然后去年年底在一起的，”荷米恩镇定地说。他们已经走上了大街，她在Scrivenshaft羽毛笔商店外停住，橱窗里展示着很多漂亮的野雉毛笔。“唔。。。我需要只新的羽毛笔。”
她走进了商店，哈利和罗恩跟着她。
“哪个是Michael Corner？”罗恩愤怒地问。
“深色皮肤的那个，”荷米恩说。
“我不喜欢他，”罗恩立刻说。
“大吃一惊，”荷米恩压低嗓音说
“但是，”罗恩说，跟着荷米恩从一排插在铜制墨水瓶里的羽毛笔前走过，“我以为金妮对哈利着迷！”
荷米恩同情地看着他，摇了摇头。
“金妮曾经喜欢过哈利，但几个月前她放弃了。当然，不是她不喜欢他了，”她善意地对哈利补充说，一边研究着一支长长的黑色和金色的羽毛笔。
哈利脑袋里都是秋离开时挥手的样子，对这个话题不象罗恩那么感兴趣，罗恩明显因为义愤填膺而颤抖着，但直到这时他才想起了更本质的问题。
“那么为什么她现在才说？”他问荷米恩，“她从来没在我面前提过。”
“对，”荷米恩说，“是的，我想要这支。。。”
她走到柜台，递过去15个镰刀币2肯特，罗恩仍然在她旁边喘着气。
“罗恩，”当她转身对着他时她严厉地说，“这就是金妮为什么没告诉你她看上了Michael，她知道你会觉难以接受。所以感谢上帝，别再喋喋不休了。”
“你是什么意思？谁难以接受了？我不想对任何事喋喋不休。。。”罗恩在回去路上一直都在咕哝着。
当罗恩仍然低声诅咒着Michael Corner时，荷米恩看了哈利一眼然后低声说，“说了金妮和Michael。。。你和秋怎么样？”
“你是什么意思？”哈利急忙说。
他心里就象是开水一样沸腾起来，一种强烈的感情使他的脸在寒风中滚烫——他表现的那么明显吗？
“好了，”荷米恩微笑着说，“她的眼睛简直没离开过你，不是吗？”
哈利从没感到霍格马得村是那么地漂亮。
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