Educational Decree Twenty Three
“She gave me a detention!” Harry slammed his bag down on the table and threw himself onto the bench. There was no need to ask who.
“For what?” Hermione asked.
“For saying werewolves aren’t inherently dangerous!”
“Is that actually what you said?”
“At first,” Harry said, scowling at the potatoes. “Then she gave me a detention and I don’t remember what I said.”
“Call Sirius,” Hermione recommended. “He needs to know what’s going on. When did this even happen?”
“She found me in the hallway! I wasn’t doing anything!”
Hermione watched students scatter from the doorway to the Great Hall like a rampaging centaur was about to come through. “Harry, you need to pretend everything is fine.”
The tone of her voice must have been serious because Harry scooped his things off the table, dumped them onto the bench, and then started to serve himself potatoes with a remarkably neutral face.
“She’s watching you,” Hermione said. “It’s a bit creepy.”
“Can she give me a detention for saying werewolves are not inherently dangerous?”
“Do we have a right to political speech in magical schools?” Heather piped up.
“What?” Another first-year asked. Hermione had yet to remember her name.
“The right to political speech,” Heather repeated.
“What is that?”
“It’s like we can say what we want as long as it’s not illegal but about politics. It’s part of our freedoms of expression.”
“What?”
“Common law?” Hermione prompted. She received blank stares. She looked back down at her book. “I hate unregulated home-education.”
“So do we?” Heather asked.
“I would assume so,” Hermione said, looking back up from her book. “We are technically under the British Government.”
“No,” Ron said, “we aren’t.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione closed her book, set it on the table, and folded her hands in her lap.
“You meant the muggles are in charge,” Ron checked. At her nod, he continued, “They don’t know about us, how could they be in charge?”
“The prime minister is the prime minister for everyone,” Hermione said. “Our minister of magic has to report to the prime minister.”
“We don’t vote!” Ron said. “Isn’t that a thing for muggles? Also, the muggle prime minister can't stop the minister of magic from doing anything. He has no control here.”
“You could vote,” Dean said. “You just have to register with the muggle government.”
“But I’m not a muggle!”
“This makes no sense,” Heather decided. “Wizards are bad at this.”
Ron turned purple and very determinedly asked, “Does anyone know the next quidditch game?”
Hermione blinked at the subject change.
Dean hesitantly said he didn’t, but he thought it might be the Tornados.
“It’s the Cannons,” Ron said. “Do we have homework?”
“I don’t think he wants to talk about the government anymore,” Heather whispered to Hermione. “Does this mean I’m right?”
Hermione nodded at her, grinning at her grin. “I think so.”
---
“Are you insane?” Remus burst into the study that was slowly starting to feel like Sirius’s.
“Not any more,” Sirius said cheerfully. He didn’t even flinch when the door bounced off the wall. Progress.
“Funding Wolfsbane?” Remus flung his hands in the air. “I can’t believe you!”
Remus stalked out of the room. Sirius stumbled out of his chair to follow.
“Of all of the crazy, irresponsible, dangerous things to do,” Remus ranted as he took off down the hallway with the eyes.
“Wotcher,” Tonks said, bemused. “Is he always like this?”
“Yes,” Sirius said fondly.
They walked briskly after Remus, he was already a full rotation down the spiral staircase when they got to the top.
“I told James! I told him, 'This is political suicide,'” Remus stopped to turn and jab a finger at Sirius. “I won’t be responsible for this. I refuse.”
“I figured you would say that,” Sirius said.
“And?” Remus demanded.
Sirius shrugged. “I just thought you would say that.”
“Unbelievable!” Remus shouted and resumed his march down the stairs.
“Why is this a bad thing?” Tonks asked.
Remus whirled on her. “No one is going to work with Sirius!”
“That’s not true,” Tonks said in her I-am-an-auror-and-I-am-calm voice. “At least thirty-eight people want to work with Sirius.”
Remus froze, finger still in the air.
“We got Ollivander?” Sirius asked happily.
“It’s anonymous, but it’s a safe assumption,” Tonks said with a shrug. “At this rate we can fund the housing program.”
“Thirty eight people?”
“Houses,” Tonks corrected cheerfully, “so I don’t have an individual head count but it’s at least thirty-eight.”
Remus stared speechless. Sirius waited. Tonks raised one purple eyebrow.
Remus turned and walked down the stairs. He crossed the entrance hall to the floo. Without a word the flames snapped green and he disappeared.
“Did you let him in?” Sirius asked.
“Should I not have?”
“Nah, I trust him. Regardless, the wards wouldn’t let him do anything.”
“Cool. Pub?”
--
“And then - and then she says that werewolves need to be put down! She can’t say that!”
“Harry, that’s terrible. You should write Ted,” Sirius was lounging back in his chair, mirror angled so Harry could see where he was resting his head against the back of his chair.
“Ted?”
“He’s going to do something about it.”
“Fine, I’ll write Ted. Also -”
“Sirius Black III, what have you done?”
“Oy vey,” Sirius lolled his head to the side. Harry turned his head too before remembering he couldn’t actually see Mrs. Tonks in his dormitory.
“A pub, Sirius?”
“It wasn’t my idea, Andy, you should really take this up with her.”
“Head of House Black and cousin serenade the crowds?”
“We could have blown something up!”
“Did you?”
“No!”
“Good!”
“That’s the point I’m trying to make!”
“Hi, Mrs. Tonks,” Harry said when the pause made it seem like he should let her know that he was there.
“Hello, Harry,” Mrs. Tonk’s tired and begrudgingly amused voice said. “How is school?”
“Well, I think, except for Umbridge.”
“What’s she done?”
Thirty minutes later Mrs. Tonks rolled up her scroll with a nod.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I’ll send a copy to Ted, of course, but I’m working on a few other projects.”
Harry was curious about what kinds of projects would required detailed notes on Umbridge but also knew if he asked before Mrs. Tonks was prepared to speak about it he’d only get a mysterious smile. “Let me know if I can help.”
“Of course, Harry.”
--
“Does your Godfather regularly get drunk, Mr. Potter?” Professor Umbridge asked, voice dripping with fake sympathy as she turned the front page of the prophet to him. Sirius singing drunkenly with Tonks and a third person Harry didn’t know stopped to wave at him.
“I wouldn’t know, Professor,” Harry tried to keep his voice icily polite like Mrs. Tonks does. “He hasn’t been able to do much of anything regularly since he was imprisoned without a trial by your employer. He’s hoping to develop hobbies now that his rights have been restored to him.”
Professor Umbridge turned purple.
--
“Mr. Potter, there’s no rough housing in the corridors,” Umbridge chided.
“Oh, it’s no big deal Professor, you don’t need to punish them. I’m sure it was an accident,” Harry said through gritted teeth as he picked himself up off the ground. , I can’t punch her I can’t punch her I can’t punch her I can’t -
“I’m sure accidentally tripping and then stepping on the only other person using the staircase has happened to everyone at least once,” George said cheerfully, gathering the contents of Harry’s spilled bag. “Really Professor, if we start assigning detentions for that we might as well go after sneezing next.”
“Hm,” Umbridge sniffed before flouncing off down the hallway.
“You alright mate?” George slung an arm around him and guided them the opposite. “That looked like a nasty fall.”
Harry shrugged. “Had worse I suppose.”
“Right, not as bad as a baskilisk.”
Harry laughed, his terrible mood melting away under George’s unending warmth. He let him deposit him in the window and watched as George knelt in from of him.
“Right,” George said. “Top to toes, just like quidditch.”
Harry considered himself. “My shoulder.”
George murmured a healing spell carefully. Only when the throbbing stopped did Harry realize how much it had been hurting.
“My side,” Harry said. He’d landed on his side and elbow before rolling to his knees. The spell tingled with cold before it faded back to normal. George even took the time to fix the tear in Harry’s sleeve.
“Good as new,” George clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder before standing. “Where are you off to?”
“Great Hall,” Harry said with a sigh. “I need to eat.”
“I’ll walk you,” George declared, sweeping his arm out. “After you.”
Harry rolled his eyes and started walking. “You listening to the game today?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a radio in our dorm. You want to listen with us?”
---
“Don’t shout in the hallway, Mr. Potter,” Umbridge admonished.
---
“Don’t jump down the stairs, Mr. Potter.”
---
“Mr. Potter, please put your hand down, it is not a time for questions. Yes, Mr. Malfoy?”
---
“Werewolves, class, are horrific creatures. Please take careful notes on the best way to dispatch this type of beast on page one hundred and fourteen.”
--
“Where are you going at a time like this, Mr. Potter? You must be attentive to the image you are creating of yourself.”
---
“That’s a detention, Mr. Potter. No magic in the corridor.”
Harry took a deep breath and held it. He kept the blue shimmering shield up between him and where ever the stinging hex had come from. I can’t punch her in the face I can’t punch her in the face I can’t punch her in the face I can’t punch her in the face I can’t -
“Hmmmm.”
Harry jerked around. Ted stood in the doorway and took notes by hand with an elegant quill on a scroll of parchment. A copy of the Hogwarts Student Handbook floated open, nearby.
Umbridge’s eyes widened and then narrowed before marching toward him. “Hem hem.”
Ted did not look up from his notes. Harry leaned against the wall, settling in to watch. Hermione and Ginny joined him behind his shield, wands out and scanning the hallway for any more curses flying towards them.
“Hem hem.”
Ted did not look up.
“Excuse me,” Ted raised his eyebrows but didn’t look up. “Hogwarts is closed to outside visitors.”
Ted smiled pleasantly when he looked up to see Umbridge standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Oh, I’m not a visitor Professor Umbridge.”
Umbridge turned a dark pink to match her robes when Ted went back to his notes. “Excuse me!”
“Yes?” Ted looked up again.
“You do not work here.”
“Incorrect, Professor.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I am a Hogwarts Governor,” Ted said amiably. “In addition, I was appointed High Inquisitor.”
“High inquisitor?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Ted Tonks had courted Andromeda Black, lived to tell the tale, and then survived the war that ensued when they eloped. He’d done it all with good humor, a disarming smile, and a sensible disposition. Umbridge did not stand a chance.
“By whom?”
“The Wizengamot,” Ted said. “Three days ago.”
Hermione had said something about that. Harry had tuned it out once he realized that it meant Ted was the one in charge. The day had been overshadowed by Sirius and Tonks singing at him from the cover of every newspaper.
Umbridge seemed to be at a loss for words, jaw working. Her eyebrow quirked up and she opened her mouth.
“Would you say you regularly, occasionally, or never reference the guidelines laid out in the Hogwarts Student Handbook?” Ted cut her off.
“We have a student handbook?” a Hufflepuff who Harry would bet on being a fourth year asked.
Umbridge flounced off in a huff. Ted shot him a wink and meandered down the hallway after her. “Professor?”
“You ok Harry?” Hermione asked.
“Fine,” Harry said. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll walk you to your next class,” Ginny announced.
“Don’t you have Umbridge next?”
“So?”
“It’s in the complete opposite direction.”
“It’s only my fourth year,” Ginny said with a shrug. “I still get lost sometimes.”
---
The wall exploded next to Hermione’s head and she screamed as shards of stone shot into her hair. A blue shield slammed into existence as Harry threw himself in front of her, wand up. There was no need. Whoever had thrown the hex had already blended in to the rest of the crowd of students rushing to their next class.
“And Hogwarts is the safest place in Wizarding Britain,” Fred said in disgust as he hurried over.
“Alright, Hermione?” Katie asked, picking stone fragments out of her hair.
The safest place in Wizarding Britain.
“Take a deep breath, Hermione,” Katie instructed.
The safest place in Wizarding Britain.
“Hermione! Are you ok?” Heather and Jane ran up. “We can get a professor!”
The safest place in Wizarding Britain.
“I’m ok,” Hermione insisted, the world sounding far away.
Heather peered up at her doubtfully. “You’re shivering.”
“Another deep breath,” Katie said, summoning dust out of her hair. Fred rested a hand on her back and she pressed back into the warmth seeping into her.
Harry offered her his arm, once all the dust was gone. She grabbed on, raising her chin. They had places to be.
“What do you need?” Harry asked. It was a question he was starting to use more and more after Sirius had started asking him that regularly.
The safest place in Wizarding Britain.
“A favor,” the words rushed out of her.
“Anything,” Harry promised.
“The next time you go to the Potter library, can I come?”
If the request confused Harry, he didn’t show it. “Of course.”
“Will you come with me to talk to Ted and then McGonagall?”
“After we eat?” Harry asked. He had started to protect his time for meals. Insisting on having breakfast, lunch, and dinner, no matter what was going on or how many people stared.
“That works,” Hermione said. Harry kept himself between her and the crowd, eyeing everyone suspiciously. Fred and Katie led the way, chatting loudly and laughing louder, drawing most of the attention. Hermione had never felt like she had so many friends before.
“My mom’s magic was wonky for months,” Harry warned, after silence had settled between them.
“This is the safest place in Wizarding Britain,” she replied, sardonically. Ever since his tutoring, Harry had stopped hesitating to show his intelligence. Or maybe she was just better at recognizing it. Either way she couldn’t find it in her to be surprised he’d put together what she wanted. “There’s never going to be a better time.”
“It might not be until Christmas,” Harry added, “unless I asked Sirius.”
“Would the books be safe here?”
“We could ask Mrs. Tonks,” Harry said. “She probably knows a spell.”
“Or Tonks,” Hermione mused. “She might have taught a good spell in training.”
“Lunch, Ted, and then McGonagall,” Harry said with a nod. “Then charms.”
“Don’t forget the potions essay,”
Harry groaned. “I forgot the potions essay.”
“Library?”
“Food, Ted, McGonagall, Charms, then the Library,” Harry said with a nod.
The safest place in Wizarding Britain.
She would make it safe. Just like she’d made Harry safe. She had to.