Rule Exception and Owl Interception

(Y/N)'s POV

Pinned up to the noticeboard was a sign that read "An Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students. Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor.

'No Student Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor. Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an Organization, Society, Team, Group, or Club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.'

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four. Signed: High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge" We read the notice over the heads of some anxious looking second years.

"So, which one of us is going to beg Umbridge for permission to start our anti ministry club?" I said in a half whisper. "Think she'll make an exception for her favourite students?" Harry spoke angrily.

"She knows." "She can't," said Ron at once. "There were people listening in that pub. And let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust. . . . Any of them could have run off and told Umbridge. . . ." Considering what Hermione had warned me about, I doubted it, but I didn't tell them that.

"Zacharias Smith!" said Ron at once, punching a fist into his hand. "Or — I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look too —" "I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?" Harry said, looking around at the door to the girls' dormitories.

"Well, seeing as there aren't any banners erected campaigning for change, I doubt it." I said, looking around for any picket signs. "Let's go and tell her," said Ron. After we found her and told her she smirked.

"Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it." "What'll happen to them?" said Ron eagerly. "Well, put it this way," said Hermione, "it'll make Eloise Midgen's acne look like a couple of cute freckles."

"Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think. . . . I wonder whether this has been put up in all the Houses?" "Side note, can you people leave Eloise Midgen alone? I thought we were past this.." I said, they ignored me.

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read.

Umbridge had enforced this rule on every club in Hogwarts, even the Quidditch teams, I was waiting for her to show up in Binns class so I could give her a piece of my mind, but she didn't show up.

"I guess even that old bat finds Binns boring" I said to Hermione. She seemed to be preoccupied with something, I turned to see what, Hedwig was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing through the thick glass at Harry, a letter tied to her leg.

Everyone was pointing out Hedwig to each other too. "Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful," Lavender sighed to Parvati. Harry slipped quietly off his chair, crouched down, and hurried along the row to the window, where he slid the catch and opened it very slowly.

Once he gave the owl a once over, he said in a hushed panicked voice, "She's hurt!" bending his head low over her, my heart lurched. "Look — there's something wrong with her wing." Hedwig was quivering; when Harry made to touch the wing she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she was inflating herself, and gazed at him reproachfully.

"Professor Binns," said Harry loudly, and everyone in the class turned to look at him. "I'm not feeling well." Harry said, hurrying out of the room. We met him later after class in the common room.

"Is Hedwig okay?" asked Hermione anxiously, she had been pacing since he left class, no matter how much I tried to calm her down. "Where did you take her?" asked Ron. "To Grubbly-Plank," said Harry.

"And I met McGonagall. . . . Listen. . . ." And he told us that Professor McGonagall had warned him that communication to and from Hogwarts wasn't safe anymore. "I knew it, they intercepted her!" I whisper shouted, Hermione nodded grimly but we couldn't do anything about it now.

We trudged down the stone steps to the dungeons for Potions, but as they reached the bottom of the stairs we heard the ever irritating voice of Draco Malfoy, who was standing just outside Snape's classroom door.

"Yeah, Umbridge gave the Slytherin Quidditch team permission to continue playing straightaway, I went to ask her first thing this morning. Well, it was pretty much automatic, I mean, she knows my father well, he's always popping in and out of the Ministry. . . . It'll be interesting to see whether Gryffindor can keep playing, wont it?"

"Don't rise," Hermione whispered imploringly to Harry, Ron and I we were watching Malfoy, faces set, and fists clenched. "It's what he wants. . . ." "I mean," said Malfoy, raising his voice a little more, his grey eyes glittering malevolently in Harry and Ron's direction.

"-And as for Potter . . . My father says it's a matter of time before the Ministry has him carted off to St. Mungo's. . . . apparently they've got a special ward for people whose brains have been addled by magic. . . ."

Malfoy made a grotesque face, his mouth sagging open and his eyes rolling. Crabbe and Goyle gave their usual grunts of laughter, Pansy Parkinson shrieked with glee. I heard it before I saw it, but I could only think of one thing.

I lunged forward towards Malfoy. Hermione all but shrieked "No!" but I wasn't going for him, I couldn't care less about what weasel face said to me. I lunged forward to stop my friend from making a mistake. I caught the edge of his robes before anything happened.

Neville had just charged past us, heading straight for Malfoy. "Neville, no!" I leapt forward and seized the back of Neville's robes; Neville struggled frantically, his fists flailing, trying desperately to get at Malfoy who looked, for a moment, extremely shocked,.

Neville was so strong, I couldn't hold him back for long. "Help me!" I called back, Harry managed to get an arm around Neville's neck and dragging him backward, away from the Slytherins.

Crabbe and Goyle were now flexing their arms, closing in front of Malfoy, ready for the fight. Ron hurried forward and seized Neville's arms. Together, the three of us succeeded in dragging Neville back into the Gryffindor line.

Neville's face was scarlet; the pressure Harry was exerting on his throat rendered him quite incomprehensible, but odd words spluttered from his mouth. "Not. . . funny . . . don't . . . Mungo's . . . show . . . him . . ."

Of course, I knew why he was so upset, and I don't blame him, I was trying to calm him down when the dungeon door opened. Snape appeared there. His black eyes swept up the Gryffindor line to the point where we were wrestling with Neville.

"Fighting, (Y/N), Potter, Weasley, Longbottom?" Snape said in his cold, sneering voice. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Release Longbottom, or it will be detention. Inside, all of you." We let go of Neville, who stood panting and glaring at us.

"I had to stop you," Harry gasped, picking up his bag. "Crabbe and Goyle would've torn you apart." "Yeah mate, plus Malfoys a prefect now, he'd milk it for all its worth, especially with Umbridge"

I put a hand on his shoulder "If you want to talk, just let me-" Neville said nothing, he merely snatched up his own bag and stalked off into the dungeon. I realised at that moment that me saying that would do nothing to help even if I wanted to and he had probably heard it a thousand times. I know I had.

"What in the name of Merlin," said Ron slowly, as we followed Neville, "was that about?" Harry did not answer, "Doesn't matter, not our business" I said as I stepped in the classroom, feeling like I had just wrestled a Norwegian Ridgeback.

The class was whispering about what Neville had just done, but when Snape closed the dungeon door with an echoing bang everybody fell silent immediately. "You will notice," said Snape in his low, sneering voice, "that we have a guest with us today."

He gestured toward the dim corner of the dungeon, Professor Umbridge sitting there, clipboard on her knee. "Lovely" I said under my breath, Snape and Umbridge, the two teachers who hated me most.

"We are continuing with our Strengthening Solutions today, you will find your mixtures as you left them last lesson, if correctly made they should have matured well over the weekend — instructions" — he waved his wand again — "on the board. Carry on."

Professor Umbridge spent the first half hour of the lesson making notes in her corner. As I brewed my potion I listened into their conversation, "You applied first for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape.

"Yes," said Snape quietly. "But you were unsuccessful?" Snape's lip curled. "Obviously" Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. I snorted so hard I almost dropped my cauldron, Snape glared at me.

"And you have applied regularly for the Defence Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" "Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. "Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge. "I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily.

"Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile. "I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers' — er — backgrounds. . . ." She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson and began questioning her about the lessons.

Professor Trelawney was handing out copies of The Dream Oracle yet again; but she was not in a good mood, which was odd or her, It was surprisingly entertaining, Professor Trelawney slammed a copy of the Oracle down on the table between Harry and Ron and swept away, then basically punched me with one in her hand.

Her lips pursed; she threw the next copy of the Oracle at Seamus and Dean, narrowly avoiding Seamus's head, and thrust the final one into Neville's chest with such force that he slipped off his pouf.

"Well, carry on!" said Professor Trelawney loudly, her voice high pitched and somewhat hysterical. "You know what to do! Or am I such a substandard teacher that you have never learned how to open a book?"

As Professor Trelawney flounced back to the high-backed teacher's chair, her magnified eyes full of angry tears, Harry leaned his head closer to Ron and I and muttered, "I think she's got the results of her inspection back."

"Professor?" said Parvati Patil in a hushed voice, "Professor, is there anything — er — wrong?" "Wrong!" cried Professor Trelawney in a voice throbbing with emotion. "Certainly not! I have been insulted, certainly. . . . Insinuations have been made against me. . . . Unfounded accusations levelled . . . but no, there is nothing wrong, certainly not. . . ."

She took a great shuddering breath and looked away from Parvati, angry tears spilling from under her glasses. "I say nothing," she choked, "of sixteen years' devoted service. . . . It has passed, apparently, unnoticed. . . . But I shall not be insulted, no, I shall not!"

"But Professor, who's insulting you?" asked Parvati timidly. "The establishment!" said Professor Trelawney in a deep, dramatic, wavering voice. "Yes, those with eyes too clouded by the mundane to see as I see, to know as I know . . . Of course, we Seers have always been feared, always persecuted. . . . It is — alas — our fate. . . ."

She spent the rest of the class wailing about her persecution and how mistreated she was, honestly, I think she was milking it, but I still felt really bad for her. As we left the room, I passed her a chocolate frog that I kept in my pocket awkwardly. "Um...hope you feel better Professor" she nodded "Thank you dear" she said through her tears.

"Good afternoon, class." "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," we chanted drearily. "Wands away, please . . ." But there was no answering flurry of movement this time; nobody had bothered to take out their wands.

"Please turn to page thirty-four of Defensive Magical Theory and read the third chapter, entitled 'The Case for Non-Offensive Responses to Magical Attack.' There will be —" "— no need to talk," We all said together under our breaths.

"Hi," we greeted Sirius in the fireplace that night. Crookshanks purred loudly and approached the fire, trying, despite the heat, to put his face close to Sirius's. "How're things?" said Sirius. "Not that good," said Harry.

Hermione pulled Crookshanks back to stop him singeing his whiskers, Bones was mesmerised by the face, she was staring at it intently, cocking her head curiously every so often, I held her in my arms. "No, you can't eat it." I warned her in a hushed tone.

"The Ministry's forced through another decree, which means we're not allowed to have Quidditch teams —" "— or secret Defence Against the Dark Arts groups?" said Sirius. There was a short pause "Yeah, those too" I said.

"How did you know about that?" Harry demanded. "You want to choose your meeting places more carefully," said Sirius, grinning still more broadly. "The Hog's Head, I ask you . . ." "Well, it was better than the Three Broomsticks!" said Hermione defensively.

"That's always packed with people —" "— which means you'd have been harder to overhear," said Sirius. "You've got a lot to learn, Hermione." "Who overheard us?" Harry demanded. "Mundungus, of course," said Sirius "What was he doing in the Hog's Head?" Hermione enquired.

"Knowing him, being a sneak" I said. "Keeping an eye on you, of course." "I'm still being followed?" asked Harry angrily. "Yeah, you are," said Sirius, "and just as well, isn't it, if the first thing you're going to do on your weekend off is organise an illegal defence group."

But he looked neither angry nor worried; on the contrary, he was looking at Harry with distinct pride. "Why was Dung hiding from us?" asked Ron, sounding disappointed. "We'd've liked to've seen him."

"He was banned from the Hog's Head twenty years ago," said Sirius, "and that barman's got a long memory. We lost Moody's spare Invisibility Cloak when Sturgis was arrested, so Dung's been dressing as a witch a lot lately."

". . . Anyway . . . First of all, Ron — I've sworn to pass on a message from your mother." "Oh yeah?" said Ron, sounding apprehensive. "She says on no account whatsoever are you to take part in an illegal secret Defence Against the Dark Arts group."

"She says you'll be expelled for sure and your future will be ruined. She says there will be plenty of time to learn how to defend yourself later and that you are too young to be worrying about that right now."

"She also-" Sirius's eyes turned to us "-advises you four not to proceed with the group, though she accepts that she has no authority over you and simply begs them to remember that she has their best interests at heart.

She would have written all this to you, but if the owl had been intercepted, you'd all have been in real trouble, and she can't say it for herself because she's on duty tonight." "On duty doing what?" said Ron quickly.

"Never you mind, just stuff for the Order," said Sirius. Then his flaming head turned to me and I almost missed his message because Bones nearly shot off like a rocket towards him, if I hadn't caught her.

"-(Y/N), your mother said almost the same thing, with the added message of 'If you're going to do it, don't get caught, because if you end up in Azkaban it's your own fault.' And with a reminder that you 'aren't as invincible as you think you are' "

I nodded, a little bit of guilt welling up in my chest. "It's fallen to me to be the messenger and make sure you tell her I passed it all on, because I don't think Molly trusts me to." There was another pause in which Crookshanks, mewling, attempted to paw Sirius's head, and Ron fiddled with a hole in the hearthrug.

"So you want me to say I'm not going to take part in the defence group?" he muttered finally. "Me? Certainly not!" said Sirius, looking surprised. "I think it's an excellent idea!" "You do?" said Harry. "Of course I do!" said Sirius.

"D'you think your father and I would've lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?" "But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —" "Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!" said Sirius impatiently.

"This year we know that there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!" "And if we do get expelled?" Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face.

"Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!" said Harry, staring at her. "I know it was. . . . I just wondered what Sirius thought," she said, shrugging. "Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue," said Sirius.

"Hear, hear," said Harry and Ron enthusiastically. I was still on the fence, until Sirius said something that swayed me, clearly sensing my trepidation, "I reckon your brother would have loved the idea." He proclaimed.

"Well, I'll ask him the next time I see him." I said, putting a bit of a downer on the conversation because I still felt a little guilty about making mum worry so much. "So," said Sirius, trying to move on "how are you organising this group? Where are you meeting?"

"Well, that's a bit of a problem now," said Harry. "Dunno where we're going to be able to go. . . ." "How about the Shrieking Shack?" suggested Sirius. "Hey, that's an idea!" said Ron excitedly, but I interrupted.

"Too small," I stated, I had thought about it before, but It wouldn't work out "Fair point," said Sirius, looking slightly crestfallen. "Well, I'm sure you'll come up with somewhere. . . . There used to be a pretty roomy secret passageway behind that big mirror on the fourth floor, you might have enough space to practice jinxes in there —"

"Fred and George told me it's blocked," said Harry, shaking his head. "Caved in or something." "Oh . . ." said Sirius, frowning. "Well, I'll have a think and get back to —" He broke off. His face was suddenly tense, alarmed. He turned sideways, apparently looking into the solid brick wall of the fireplace.

"Sirius?" said Harry anxiously. Hermione gave a horrified gasp and leapt to her feet, still staring at the fire. A hand had appeared amongst the flames, groping as though to catch hold of something; a stubby, short-fingered hand.

Umbridge's hand was still making snatching movements amongst the flames, as though she knew exactly where Sirius's hair had been moments before and was determined to seize it. Out of panic, I kicked it.

It fizzled out. Bones mewled "Come back fire man!" as we darted into our dorms. Hermione had of course created several theories about the whole thing within an hour of it happening.

"Umbridge has been reading your mail, Harry. There's no other explanation." "You think Umbridge attacked Hedwig?" he said, outraged. "I'm almost certain of it," said Hermione grimly.

Charms was always one of the best lessons in which to enjoy a private chat: Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows.

"I've been suspecting this ever since Filch accused you of ordering Dungbombs, because it seemed such a stupid lie," Hermione whispered. "I mean, once your letter had been read, it would have been quite clear you weren't ordering them, so you wouldn't have been in trouble at all — it's a bit of a feeble joke, isn't it?" I nodded.

"But then I thought, what if somebody just wanted an excuse to read your mail? Well then, it would be a perfect way for Umbridge to manage it — tip off Filch, let him do the dirty work and confiscate the letter, then either find a way of stealing it from him or else demand to see it"

"I don't think Filch would object, when's he ever stuck up for a student's rights" "It was a very, very close call last night," said Hermione. "If she'd caught Snuffles . . ." Harry finished the sentence for her. "He'd probably be back in Azkaban this morning."

Later that night we were hurriedly doing homework for Snape when I noticed something odd, Hermione hadn't even touched her essay, instead she was gazing at the window, but not as though she really saw it.

Her eyes were unfocused and there was a frown on her face. I stopped what I was doing and calmly walked up to her. "You ok?" I said, brushing some hair out of her eyes, "Just thinking . . ." she said quietly, still frowning at the rain-washed window.

I placed my hand on hers, "What's wrong?" "I was just wondering," she said, her voice stronger now, "whether we're doing the right thing, starting this Defence Against the Dark Arts group." "What!" said Harry and Ron together.

"Hermione, it was your idea in the first place!" said Ron indignantly, reiterating earlier. "I know," said Hermione, twisting her fingers together. "But after talking to Snuffles . . ." "But he's all for it!" said Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione, staring at the window again. "Yes, that's what made me think maybe it wasn't a good idea after all. . ." "Sirius agrees with us, so you don't think we should do it anymore?"

Hermione looked tense and rather miserable. Now staring at her own hands she said, "Do you honestly trust his judgement?" "Yes, I do!" said Harry at once. "He's always given us great advice!"

"You don't think he has become . . . sort of . . . reckless . . . since he's been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don't think he's . . . kind of . . . living through us?" "What d'you mean, 'living through us'?" Harry retorted.

"I mean . . . well, I think he'd love to be forming secret defence societies right under the nose of someone from the Ministry. . . . I think he's really frustrated at how little he can do where he is . . . so I think he's keen to kind of . . . egg us on."

Ron looked utterly perplexed. "Sirius is right," he said, "you do sound just like my mother." Hermione bit her lip and did not answer. Maybe it was because I was so close to her, maybe it was the comment about my brother, but part of me wondered if Hermione had a point.

The weather did not improve as the day wore on the sky was a deep, thundery grey, the common room was freezing, so that at seven o'clock that evening, when Harry and Ron went down to the Quidditch pitch for practice.

I stayed back with her, reassuring her we were doing the right thing and It would all work out in the end. By the end of the night we were curled up together on the sofa, "You smell like fireworks" Hermione commented as she rested her head into the crook of my neck.

"That makes sense" I smirked, thinking back to the 'gifts' I left in Filch's office earlier in the day, after I came back we had been staying up and talking...among other things too. "I'm so happy Ron made the Quidditch team" I murmured.

"If he hadn't it would be a lot harder to do this sort of thing" she nodded into my chest, "We need a better excuse then homework, they might clock it soon" "I'll think of something" she muttered.

We were lying there for quite a while, content in each other's company when I heard a noise I had been hoping to hear for a few weeks now. There was a distinct "Crack!" of thunder as lightning hit the ground.

At this moment, despite every urge a teenage boy can have being present in my body I had to go against them. "Sorry sexy, I have to leave, important delinquent stuff to do, I'll make it up to you I promise" I said, kissing her cheek and standing up.

She grumbled "Sexy?" she said like she was a bit disturbed, I shrugged "It's the first thing I could think of. I'll work on it" I said, I kissed her again and ran off to McGonagall's office.

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