harry's detentions with umbridge were finally over; ron had had four more quidditch practices and not been shouted at during the last two; and all four of them had managed to vanish their mice in transfiguration (elara and 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 four 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 defense against the dark Arts, harry."

"'course 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 and lara teaching us."

there was a pause.

"well," harry said slowly "yeah, i — i've thought about it a bit."

"and?" said hermione eagerly.

"i dunno," said harry.

"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 that 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 defense against the dark arts, because you are. you and lara were the only people last year who could throw off the imperius curse completely, you two can produce a patronus, you both can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, viktor always said —"

ron looked around 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 lara and 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 help teach us with lara?"

"wait, just you and ron, right?" said elara.

"well," said hermione, now looking a mite anxious again. "well . . . now, don't fly off the handle again, harry, please. . . . but i really think you both 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."

"nope," said elara. "if its other people, no. they'll ask why, then i'll have to explain that i fought death eaters, and they'll ask when, then i'll have to say in this graveyard with harry, and they'll ask how, then i'll have to admit i'm a seer. no way, now how."

"could you just help with a patronus charm? please?" said hermione.

"i'll help with just the patronus charm, then."

hermione, looking the slightest bit relieved then turned to harry. "what do you say, harry?"

harry considered this for a moment, then said, "yeah, but with elara gone, i doubt anyone except you two — well, three — 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 toward him; ron and elara leaned forward 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 voiced his concerns about sirius doing something stupid. after all, he had been silent since early september after they wished for him to stay inside since the ministry now knew that sirius was in, fact, in londom.

"i mean, you can't blame him for wanting to get out," said elara. "he's been on the run for over two years, and that couldn't've been fun, but at least he was free, wasn't he? now he's just shut up all the time with that creepy elf."

hermione scowled at elara, but otherwise ignored the slight on kreacher.

"the trouble is," hermione 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 realize 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 defense 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.

"don't worry, you two," hermione said quietly. "harry, you've got enough on your plate without sirius. lara, you too, you need to focus on your visions and avoiding getting hurt.

hermione was quite right, of course; elara was struggling keeping up with her homework, as her visions had become more and more frequent. harry was behind in his homework as well, but with help from elara and hermione (plus the fact that he no longer had detentions with umbridge) he'd been doing okay. but ron was even further behind with his work than harry, because while harry and ron both had quidditch practices twice a week, ron also had prefect duties. however, hermione, who was taking more subjects than the three of them, had not only finished all her homework but was also finding time to knit more elf clothes. elara had to admit that hermione 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. after 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.

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 onto the stone steps and the cold, sunlit day.

"that was weird," said elara as she, harry, ron, and hermione set off at a brisk pace down the wide drive to the gates. "why did filch sniff you?"

"i suppose he was checking for the smell of dungbombs," said harry with a small laugh. "i forgot to tell you . . ."

harry told the story of sending his letter to sirius and filch bursting in seconds later, demanding to see the letter. hermione found this story highly interesting.

"he said he was tipped off you were ordering dungbombs? but who had tipped him off?"

"i dunno," said harry, shrugging. "maybe malfoy, he'd think it was a laugh."

"sounds like him," said ron.

they walked between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars and turned left onto the road into the village, the wind whipping their hair into their eyes.

"malfoy?" said hermione, very skeptically. "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 joke shop, where they were unsurprised to see fred, george, aurora, 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 upon it of a wild boar's severed head leaking blood onto the white cloth around it. the sign creaked in the wind as they approached. all four 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 earthy, though as harry stepped onto it he realized that there was stone beneath what seemed to be the accumulated filth of centuries.

there was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty gray 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; elara might have thought them dementors if they had not been talking in strong yorkshire accents; 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," harry muttered, as they crossed to the bar. he was looking particularly at the heavily veiled witch. "has it occurred to any of you that umbridge might be under that?"

hermione cast an appraising eye at 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 dryly, "especially as it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?"

the barman sidled toward them out of a back room. he was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long gray hair and beard. he was tall and thin and looked vaguely familiar to elara.

"what?" he grunted.

"four butterbeers, please," said hermione.

the man reached beneath the counter and pulled up four very dusty, very dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.

"eight sickles," he said.

"i'll get them," said harry quickly, passing over the silver. the barman turned away and deposited harry's money in an ancient wooden till whose drawer slid open automatically to receive it. elara, harry, ron, and hermione retreated to the farthest table from the bar and sat down, looking around, while the man in the dirty gray 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 . . ."

"who did you say is supposed to be meeting us?" elara asked, wrenching open the rusty top of her butterbeer and taking a swig.

"just a couple of people," hermione repeated, checking her watch and then looking anxiously toward 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 aspen, dean, and lavender, who were closely followed by parvati and padma patil with cho change and one of her usually giggling girlfriends, then luna lovegood; then katie bell and angelina johnson, colin and dennis creevey, ernie macmillan, justin finch-fletchley, hannah abbott, susan bones, and a girl who's name elara thought to be clover knight; three ravenclaw boys called anthony goldstein, michael corner, and terry boot; ginny, followed by a tall skinny blond boy with an upturned nose whom elara recognized vaguely as being a member of the hufflepuff quidditch team, jane lancaster, and bringing up the rear, fred, george, aurora, and lee jordan, all four of whom were carrying large paper bags crammed with zonko's merchandise.

"a couple of people?" said harry hoarsely. "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-eight 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. . . ."

elara watched as the large chattering group took their beers from fred and rummaged in their robes to find coins. elara was happy that so many agreed on the blatant fact that umbridge was a terrible teacher and person.

"what have you two been telling people?" harry 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.

harry looked furious again.

"you don't have to do anything yet, i can speak to them first," added elara quickly.

"hi, harry," said neville, beaming and taking a seat opposite harry.

in twos and threes the new arrivals settled around elara, 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.

"hello, everyone!" said elara cheerfully.

the group focused its attention on her instead, though eyes continued to dart back regularly to harry.

"harry'll be speaking in a moment. patience is a virtue. anyways, you know why you're here. hermione had the absolutely brilliant idea that it might be good if people who wanted to study defense against the dark arts — and i mean, practice spells and fun stuff because nobody could call that defense against the dark arts." —

"hear, hear," said anthony goldstein, earning a few laughs.

"and well, since its always the teenagers that have to take matter into their own hands because modern government is idiotic, here we are. we'll be doing practical stuff, not reading."

"are you even stable enough to do that?" said the blonde hufflepuff boy. "you've been passing out left and right — and i think we'd all like to know why."

"i do not owe anyone here an explanation about anything in my personal life," said elara briskly.

"but you're the daughter of death eaters — "

"we've been over this a million fucking times," said elara, cutting off cho. cho's statement hurt as elara always considered cho an aquaintance if not friends. "i am nothing like my parents, and if you want proof — " elara dragged up the sleeve of her left arm " — there it is. the next person who mentions my genealogy gets my mum set on them. next question!"

"you want to pass your defense against the dark arts o.w.l. too though, i bet?" said michael corner.

"of course," said elara at once. "but we should want more than that, we should be properly trained in defense because voldemort's back."

quick and easy, like ripping off a band-aid. 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.

"so, that's the plan," said elara. "become one of us, rise up against the government, be taught sufficiently in defense, it'll be fun —"

"where's the proof you-know-who's back?" said the blond hufflepuff player again in a rather aggressive voice.

"for starters, dumbledore believes it —" elara began.

"you mean, dumbledore believes him," said the blond boy, nodding at harry.