Chapter 10
On Monday, Operation Eight (as it had come to be called, once Hermione determined that “Operation Eight-Inch” sounded a bit too suggestive and made the second- and third-years a bit too giggly at the mention) was underway. The Gryffindors gathered in the common room that morning so they could all walk to breakfast together, and the students who’d joined the effort from other houses waited outside the portrait hole. Fred overheard Luna telling Ginny later that the Fat Lady had serenaded them with songs from the latest Celestina Warbeck album while they stood in the corridor, though no one could get her to spill where she’d learned them from.
In the Great Hall, the layout of the tables had shifted overnight. Each table had become slightly wider and the aisles between them wider too, and the benches had been segregated. On the left side of each table, the benches were for boys only, and on the right, only for girls. Fred watched with a mixture of horror and hysterical disbelief as a poor Ravenclaw first-year with his head in a book attempted to sit down on the right side of the Ravenclaw table and yelped in surprise, dropping his copy of Modern Heroes of Herbology when the bench propelled him back by a few inches like a magnet.
“Merlin,” Lee muttered beside Fred. “She’s not messing around.”
That was for sure.
Dean and Seamus were the ones bold enough to signal the beginning of the Operation. The two of them had been attached at the hip for their entire Hogwarts careers, so it didn’t surprise anyone when they followed their friends into the hall together and squeezed side-by-side onto the very edge of the Gryffindor table boys’ bench. Less than a minute passed before Dean dropped his fork with a clatter, smacking his forehead against the table as he bent down to retrieve it. The commotion snagged some attention and a few students stifled laughter at the mishap—Dean’s height was something of a running joke at Hogwarts already, and this was doing nothing to douse those humorous fires. But it did surprise some people when Seamus, wincing in sympathy, took Dean’s head tenderly between his hands to examine the small indent the table had left, soothing it with the pads of his thumbs. It surprised most people when he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to the spot. And it surprised everyone when Dean, grinning, swooped up to cup his boyfriend’s face in his palms and kiss him back, right on the lips.
George wolf-whistled low in his throat. Several people sitting behind him laughed.
“Boys!” Professor Umbridge’s shrill voice cut through the air, followed closely by the click-clicking of her bubblegum pink heels on the floor. She was running down from the staff table, and looking delightfully enraged. “Boys, that is completely—”
Someone at the Hufflepuff table whooped with laughter, and she spun around on her heel to find everyone watching as Alicia Spinnet snogged Katie Bell.
“Girls!” Umbridge shrieked, making as if to move in their direction.
But then it was Luna and Ginny, Ron and Harry, Lavender and Parvati, Cho and Padma. Neville and George had agreed, and of course Fred turned around to kiss Lee. Gay couples, real and fake, were appearing by the dozens all across the Great Hall. Fred didn’t know many of their names, and some were catching on who hadn’t even been to the meeting or on the list. Professor Umbridge couldn’t possibly keep up with them all, though she looked like she might explode trying. Only the Slytherins sat stunned and silent, though a few of them looked as though they might want to join in.
At the staff table, the professors all seemed conveniently blind and deaf to the commotion—McGonagall continued her conversation with Flitwick, sipping her tea, Pomfrey and Sprout were laughing together, and even Snape stayed silent and picked at his eggs.
“ENOUGH!” Professor Umbridge screeched, and with a bang, sparks flew from the end of her wand and showered among the students. The couples, regrettably, sprang apart. All eyes in the room turned to her. “This is completely unacceptable! Students, report to your classrooms or your dormitories immediately!”
Down the table, Angelina Johnson was grinning.
Operation Eight continued. All the couples took seats at the back of the classrooms, blushing and making eyes at each other throughout the lesson. The professors did nothing to stop them, and Fred could’ve sworn he actually saw Professor McGonagall smile when no less than seven pairs of hand-holding students trooped into her classroom after a lunch that Umbridge simply did not show up to.
In the corridor before Defense, the seventh-years waited with mixed expressions of poorly-contained glee and poorly-contained apprehension. When, five minutes after the class was meant to start, the toad had not invited them in, Angelina knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again. “Hello? Professor?”
No answer.
“Professor? Professor Umbridge?”
In the silence, the click-clack of her pink kitten heels could be heard on the floor, and Angelina stepped back just in time for the classroom door to swing open and reveal the toad in all her simpering bubblegum glory.
“Well, hello, class, please come in!” She smiled widely. “I’m quite sorry to be late, just attending to some paperwork, I’m sure you’ll understand.”
Fred looked immediately to George and Lee, who looked back with similarly confused expressions. Dolores Umbridge? Being polite? That was never a good sign. And as George passed through the doorway, Fred could’ve sworn he saw her wink.