Chapter Text
Pre-meeting chatter filled the Room of Requirement, an energy Harry thought comparable to that of Gryffindor’s common room. Time and time again, though, this room’s interior had presented itself with a strictness that reminded of its purpose, with a floor lacking the softness of well-worn carpet and walls that were paneled with mirrors, rather than whimsical tapestries of lions and unicorns.
One end held a dais, from which he often addressed the rest of Dumbledore’s Army. Opposite this was a large door, its counterpart on the seventh-floor corridor only appearing when one wished for a place to practice magic. Training dummies and mats filled the corners, flanked by shelves that held an eclectic scattering of books and magical items, some of them so obscure that their names evaded even Hermione.
Intimidating, perhaps, during the first meeting he’d organized, but giggles and greetings now emanated from more than one of the intermingling groups of early arrivals, sounds that warmed the atmosphere.
Today’s meeting wasn’t scheduled for another ten minutes, and Harry was trying to use this time to help Neville with his wand work. Or he had been, until a clank and a conversation-silencing slam demanded his attention, the door having been thrown open with all the grandiosity of a deranged Ministry official. Heart sinking, he looked over, and wasn’t Cho’s face a relief!
“Sorry,” she called, out of breath and with a reddening face. A sheepish step took her away from closing doors, and her flustered smile gave life to a flutter in his chest. “Just had to run before Umbridge turned the corner. Heard her talking to the delegates down the hall.”
Her explanation mollified the room, some of Harry’s classmates mentioning similar struggles and others sharing a rowdy laugh at Umbridge’s inability to catch anything but the dust of their heels. This period of time, while members of the DA carefully trickled in from all corners of the castle, had quickly developed into a social exchange that was looked forward to almost as much as the actual practice they would soon dive into.
“Er, anyway,” Harry said as he turned to face Neville again, “I think you’re moving your wand too slow. Try what I’m doing here.”
“Like this?” Neville asked, his wand hesitantly jerking in his hand as he tried to follow Harry’s demonstration. Something about his attempt still looked a bit off.
“Your jab at the end, it’s not quite sharp enough.”
“Sharp?”
“Yes, you’ve got to-”
“Harry,” an anxious-sounding voice interrupted – Padma Patil, he discovered when he turned to face its source. She shuffled her feet and glanced at the room’s clock. “Lavender and Parvati aren’t here yet. They’ve never been late before.”
“I’ll bet they just got distracted by something,” he reassured after scanning the room to confirm her claim. This was far from the first time that a friend’s late arrival had been brought to his attention, and he found that these concerns were often settled by a projection of certainty. “If Umbridge had caught them then she wouldn’t still be wandering the halls.”
“But what if she’s making them show her where the room is?” Padma whispered, looking back at the door as though expecting it to burst open again any second, this time to admit Umbridge’s triumphant face.
Harry was pretty sure that this wasn’t the case. The Emperor – nearby, apparently – would’ve tried to warn him. “Hey, Cho,” he called, opting to wave the girl over from the other side of the room instead of betraying the true source of his confidence. “Did you happen to overhear what Umbridge was talking about out there? If she mentioned anything about looking for the DA?”
Cho shrugged as she walked up. “She wasn’t doing much of the talking, actually. Kronnis was going on about how he and the Emperor like to wander the seventh floor because they hardly ever see students here – something about not being bothered while they stretch their legs after lessons? Don’t know why they can’t just go outside.” She frowned. “It’s hard to dodge them, Umbridge, and Filch.”
A sigh of relief left Padma, and Harry mentally thanked Cho for her disgruntled explanation. That was one situation resolved, at least.
“Well, I’d rather run into them than Umbridge,” Padma then said, an embarrassed blush growing on her face as she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ve already done so, actually. Rounded that corner by the staircase and almost knocked Kronnis over last week.”
“Oh my god, no way,” Cho gushed. “What did he say?”
Clearing her throat and stifling a giggle, Padma adopted an accent vaguely recognizable as Kronnis’ musically rumbling lilt, the depth of his voice exaggerated for effect. “’Be careful up here, you can’t be sure that these halls are empty,’ or something like that. I was too busy being mortified to listen!”
Snickering devolved into full-blown laughter. Harry forced a chuckle. It was a bit of a funny impersonation, he had to admit, even if he’d felt strangely uncomfortable with Cho’s interest in it. “Have you seen the Emperor by that painting of a boat?” he asked, trying to seem like he hadn’t been awkwardly ignored during their impromptu change of topic. “The one on the east side?”
“The one he stares at for ages?” Padma asked as her laughter subsided.
“Yeah,” Cho said. “Dunno what’s up with that.”
Almost forgotten on the fringes of their group, Neville shrugged. “He’s probably never seen one that large before.”
Padma nodded as though Neville had shared sagely wisdom. “There’s really not much else interesting to look at up here. They must have every single stone and statue memorized by now,” she remarked, oblivious to Harry’s frustration.
Not only had he intended to impress Cho with his wit, following his observation up with a funny comment that had failed to materialize in time for him to voice it, but he also couldn’t correct Neville on his incorrect assumption – Baldur’s Gate had a lively harbor, he’d learned from the stories he’d been told at Grimmauld.
…in hindsight, perhaps it was better that he refrained from commenting on the illithid’s interests. One wrong word and the game was up, as he’d been sternly warned.
Cho giggled again. “Dumbledore really ought to redecorate sometime, don’t you think, Harry?” she asked, twirling her hair when she turned to face him.
“Er, right,” he smartly agreed, before shutting his mouth and immediately wishing for the room to swallow him whole.
“Oh, I know!” Padma exclaimed. “Some of the things on the walls are just so dated.”
“They should start with that tapestry right outside. Trolls doing ballet isn’t very tasteful.”
Padma’s head shook. “I actually think that one’s funny!” she argued. “Better than the one by our common room with that horrendously rude knight. Do you know what called me the other day? A damsel! As though I were some princess stuck in a- oh!”
A creaking door had drawn her attention, and when Harry followed Padma’s gaze he saw that Parvati and Lavender had finally arrived, loudly complaining about the transfiguration essay due tomorrow. “Well, it’s about time,” she huffed, hiding her obvious relief with exasperation over her sister’s tardiness.
Harry did a quick headcount. “I think that’s everyone then,” he said, both glad and disappointed to cut the conversation short. “Sorry Neville, we’ll pick this up again during practice – I’d best get everyone started.”
It wasn’t that he’d been unconcerned about their missing classmates, Harry thought as he left the group to head to room’s dais. Umbridge’s threat of expulsion certainly weighed heavily in his mind, even if Ron and Hermione’s arguments on whether the Ministry could get away with expelling nearly an entire year’s worth of students had cast doubt on its enforceability. Months of detention would certainly be in their futures, if expulsion wasn’t.
And with such peril hanging over their heads, who wouldn’t be anxious, wandering the seventh floor and dodging Hogwarts’ visiting diplomats, its caretaker, and its High Inquisitor, all at once? No, Harry was perhaps the most concerned of all, because he had to worry about Umbridge finding the DA and realizing that those very same diplomats were actually helping students break her rules.
Nearly every meeting Harry scheduled birthed new stories with a familiar theme – narrow avoidance of Umbridge or Filch, usually with either Kronnis or the Emperor nearby, the pair of them only just subtle enough to avoid suspicion of sabotage, and gaining a bit of an unfair reputation for obliviousness in the process.
It had started with Dean and Seamus. They’d snuck past Kronnis as he admired a statue in the hall, a subterfuge that Harry encouraged, hoping that an emphasized need to avoid any and all witnesses of the group’s comings and goings would help maintain their secrecy. Only, they’d admitted to doing a shoddy job of it, Seamus laughing sheepishly as Dean told early attendees how his friend had nearly tripped over his own robe. Colin had then walked through the same corridor not five minutes later, rushing by in his haste to avoid Umbridge’s pursuant footsteps.
He made himself sound like a master of stealth in his exaggerated storytelling, but Harry had his doubts – Umbridge must’ve had a reason to be following Colin’s trail. In any case, Kronnis had supposedly missed him but noticed Umbridge, stopping her to ask if she just so happened to know which wizard the statue represented. A statue that Harry was fairly certain had a nameplate at the bottom of its pedestal.
They’d had much closer calls since, and Umbridge had actually managed to corner Katie Bell once, asking with vicious delight if she had any reason to be on the seventh floor. The flash of a black robe at the end of the hall had then caught both their attentions before any answers could be squeezed out, and Umbridge had all but sprinted after the distant figure, her footwear clacking out an urgent rhythm against the stone floor.
In Katie’s later retelling of the story, she’d been certain that it had been Harry at the other end of the corridor. An impossibility, he’d claimed in confused response, as he’d already been waiting in the Room of Requirement with the rest of the DA. The suspicious timing left little doubt in his mind that she’d seen the Emperor under an illusion, but he let the rest of Katie’s audience believe that Umbridge had chased some other poor schmuck with black hair who just so happened to have been wandering by.
And it was just last week that Filch had been heard cursing and screaming himself hoarse in fury, clearly having encountered the concerning explosion of bubbling green ooze that Harry had carefully edged past on his way to that evening’s meeting. An acid of some sort, it had already eaten chunks of carpet and stone, a new feature whose origins would leave future residents of the castle scratching their heads. Spending the entire evening cleaning it before it could get worse, Filch and his foul mouth had been easy to avoid.
The Weasley twins had seemed just as surprised by the incident as everyone else, so the rest of the DA simply chalked it up to Peeves, though Harry privately considered two other culprits. Well, maybe only one – the Emperor didn’t seem like the kind of bloke who’d fling acid around.
He wished that the stakes weren’t too high for honesty. While Harry would love to give credit where credit was due – he simply couldn’t imagine the torture of making small talk with Umbridge whenever she wandered up to the seventh floor – he feared that the Emperor would be furious if Harry let it slip that he and Kronnis were actually helping. As it was, only Ron and Hermione knew.
“Alright,” he called out once he reached the end of the room, his voice silencing conversations. “We’re going to practice stunners again. I saw a lot of improvement last time, and I think today we can get everyone casting the spell properly. Come up here if you’ve got any questions or want another demonstration, and if the rest of you could set up the cushions again – yes just like that.”
The room shuffled into action. Ron directed the gathering of soft, fall-breaking mats, and groups of students paired up for that evening’s practice. Only a handful of people remained gathered before him. It was to the background noise of a dozen voices shouting ‘Stupefy’ that he helped his struggling classmates figure out where they might be going wrong.
Two failed castings were enough to determine that Micheal Corner’s pronunciation was a bit off, and while Hannah Abbot’s was perfect, she just couldn’t seem to muster up the intent needed to cast the spell. He had them practice with each other, reassuring them that he’d be back soon, and then helped Neville improve his wand work until the boy was no longer loosely swirling it as though afraid it might bite him. Hermione would be a good partner to run some drills with, Harry thought, so he set her up with Neville in a corner before walking around to check on the rest of his classmates.
On one side of the room, he found that Fred and George had started a competition. People had been divided into two teams, lined up against the wall, with points being awarded to the winners of matches. Cheers broke out as Luna ducked under Zacharias Smith’s spell and nailed him with her own.
In another corner, Cho and her friend Marietta were giggling about something whilst taking turns dodging each other’s spells, and he saw that Angelina Johnson had incorporated shields into her practice with Alicia Spinnet, making for an impressive mock duel.
When he glanced back to Neville and Hermione, he saw that his friend had been knocked back onto the mats, and an ecstatic smile had taken over Neville’s face. It didn’t last long – he was profusely apologizing for his success one reviving charm later. Micheal had also managed a weak Stupefy by the time Harry returned, and another hour of coaching saw both him and Hannah casting proper stunners on nearly every attempt.
Gone was the withdrawn reservation that Harry had witnessed during the group’s first few meetings. Everywhere he looked, he was met with an eager comradery. People were showing up not just because they had spells to practice, but because they’d made friends here, across houses and years.
He was loathe to call the meeting to an end, but it was already past curfew, and Harry felt guilty keeping Kronnis and the Emperor waiting on them. His whistle captured the room’s attention. “Great work everyone! Absolutely fantastic, you’ve all got the stunning spell down. I’m thinking next time we can practice the Impediment jinx-”
“What about Quidditch practice?” Angelina interrupted.
“Our match against Slytherin is coming up next week,” added Katie.
Harry couldn’t believe that he’d nearly forgotten. “Right,” he said. “How about we take a break until after the match?”
Disappointed groans sounded through the room. Primarily for theatrical effect, as nearly every person in Hogwarts had been delightedly awaiting the return of Quidditch, infecting corridors and classes with competitive spirit. Harry even saw Cho and Zacharias, both on the Quidditch teams of other houses, exchanging excited looks.
“Next week then – Friday?” A chorus of agreement met his words. “Alright, now you lot better get going…”
Small groups formed, housemates clustering together so Harry could send them out in staggered intervals after checking the Marauder’s map for Filch and Umbridge.
“It’s weird, you know,” George said once it was just the twins, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione left, the group of them sitting on the last pile of cushions. He pointed at the map with a grin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think they had a reason to be hanging around here all the time.”
“Who?” Ginny asked, too far away to see the map.
“Why, our most esteemed delegates, of course!” Fred crowed, tilting Harry’s hands to show Kronnis and the Emperor’s names huddled in a hidden alcove. “Always lurking around on the seventh floor, just waiting to ambush Umbridge for seemingly random conversations.”
“Right,” added George, “One might think they’re… up to something.”
Harry frowned. “It’s just a coincidence.”
“Oh, Harry...” Fred shook his head. “Was it you that put them up to this, or Dumbledore?”
“Not that we don’t appreciate their help-”
“-we think it’s rather funny, actually.”
“Do you think they could help us set up a trick for Filch next time?”
“We had this fantastic idea of leaving some chocolates laced with puking pastilles-”
“Alright, alright,” Harry cut Fred off. “Yes, I asked them to help, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to get them involved in anything else. You’ve obviously already figured it out, and they’re going to be angry if other people do.” He suddenly had a horrible thought. “…Do you think anyone has?”
“No,” Fred laughed. “I actually think people are getting rather irritated. They make getting here more stressful – who knows if they might blab about who they see around here to Umbridge, right? Since they’re so buddy-buddy with her?” He nudged George, sharing a smile.
“If it makes you feel better,” Ginny said, “I really did think that they were just trying to stay friendly with Umbridge. And by the sounds of it, they’re usually only around when the stragglers are showing up. These guys,” she jabbed a finger at her brothers, “are habitually late, so they probably see those two around more often.”
Hermione set down the book on wandless magic she’d been so ardently reading. “You should make an effort to get here on time,” she said to the twins. “It’s less risky.”
“Ah,” George started, holding up a finger to refute her point. “But wouldn’t it be weird if twenty students all head up to the seventh floor at once?”
“Right,” added Fred. “We’re staggering our arrival, just like how you plan our departures to be less suspicious.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Speaking of which,” he then said brightly, waving the map in their direction, “looks like it’s your turn to head out.”
Ginny giggled as she stood. “I’ll make sure they don’t cause any trouble. Come on boys!”
“See you soon Harry,” George said before faking a shudder on his way to the door. “I expect Angelina is going to have us practicing every day until the match.”
With the three of them gone, Harry was left with just Hermione and Ron, who shuffled over to look more closely at where Kronnis and the Emperor’s names were printed on the map. “What are they doing, anyway?”
“Keeping an eye out in case Umbridge comes back, I suppose.” It didn’t look like they’d moved much from the hidden alcove they seemed to favour. Well, maybe Kronnis was now a foot to the left? It was hard to tell.
“No, I mean, yeah, I know that. But they’re always so close together.”
Hermione gave them a look of some significance. “They are together.”
“I know that too, thanks,” Ron said dryly, rolling his eyes, “I’m not blind, I can see them on the map.”
She sounded quite exasperated when she replied again. “No, they’re together together. Like a couple.”
Ron’s incredulous look was mirrored by Harry. “Don’t be daft Hermione,” he exclaimed while holding back laughter. “I think you’ve been listening to too many rumors!”
Harry voiced his agreement. The concept was absurd, even more so than the assumption that Kronnis might be having some sort of hushed affair with Umbridge or professor Tonks. The Emperor was a squid, after all, though he supposed the rest of the school didn’t know that. “People don’t actually think that’s true, do they?”
It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes. “Boys,” she muttered with exasperation, “I swear…”
“I wager they’re discussing other ways to keep Umbridge from influencing Hogwarts,” Harry said to Ron, holding up the map again and ignoring Hermione’s reaction.
“Well, they’re not doing a very good job of it – didn’t Filch just hang up another Educational Decree? Something about boys and girls not being allowed withing eight inches of each other? Don’t know how she’s going to enforce that, short of carrying a tape measure around everywhere.”
Hermione scoffed. “You really think that’s more important than stopping her from finding us out and e-expelling us?” she said, spitting out the word as though afraid it would come back to get her.
“I’m just saying Hermione, next she’ll pass a law telling us that we can’t even talk to you anymore!” Ron looked distraught at the very prospect. “Tyrannical, I say.”
“Let her pass her stupid rules,” Harry said darkly. “I’d rather she spend her time telling me what colour socks to wear than worry about the more serious changes she might make.” Down on the map, he saw that Ginny had made it back to the Gryffindor common room with Fred and George, and Umbridge was nowhere to be seen. He folded it up and stood. “Half of the professors have been walking around on eggshells ever since she sacked Binns.”
Umbridge’s presence during Hagrid’s next class wasn’t a surprise. Harry had figured that she’d come sniffing around as soon as possible, eager to find a reason to be rid of him. What was unusual was the sour look on her face, as though she had a mouthful of Dumbledore’s lemon drops. Trudging through last night’s snowfall to join the class gathering at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, her cheeks bulged froggishly with distaste.
“Of course. Of course she’d come immediately,” Hermione muttered next to him. She’d gone out of her way to plan lessons for Hagrid, ones that wouldn’t see him kicked out of Hogwarts by nightfall. All for naught, as he’d been unwilling to budge from whatever his surprise lesson entailed.
Malfoy was already moaning about how they were all in imminent peril. Harry wanted to insist that Hagrid would never put them in danger, but the entire carcass of a cow slung over his friend’s shoulder and the fact that their intended destination was clearly within the boundaries of the forest was difficult to argue against.
“I hope she falls into a snowdrift and freezes,” Ron added, watching as a gust of November air ruffled Umbridge’s tweed cloak.
Harry shook his head. “As if we’d be that lucky.”
They watched as she made her way over to Hagrid, clipboard in hand. “Good day,” she said, alarmingly polite. Her face had deflated, and the pinch of her lips indicated that she would rather not be speaking with him.
“Glad to see that yeh made it!” Hagrid boomed. “Been savin’ this lesson, it’s an excitin’ one. We’re just waitin’ on a few more…” he said slowly, pointing at students as he counted them.
“Exciting, yes,” Umbridge repeated unhappily. “The delegates from Baldur’s Gate – you know them?” Her frown worsened at Hagrid’s enthusiastic nod. Harry didn’t know why she’d asked – everyone had seen the three of them enter the Great Hall together earlier that week, Hagrid’s voice disrupting each conversation they’d walked by. Perhaps she was hoping he’d forgotten who they were? “Really? Well, I was speaking with them this morning,” she said, as though that meant something. “They’ll be joining us. Just had to make a detour to pick up gloves, as I understand it.”
Hagrid nodded. “Smart, that. The forest blocks most o’ the wind, but its ruddy cold this time o’ year.”
“Your class takes place in the Forbidden Forest?” Umbridge asked with raised eyebrows, her quill noting something on her clipboard.
“I can hardly relocate the entire herd. Best to see ‘em in their natural habitat, I find that it fosters an environment more conducive to, er, enriched learnin’.”
Ron turned to Hermione, whispering. “Did you tell him to say that?”
She looked as baffled as he did. “No, I told him to hold a lesson on knarls.”
Umbridge’s voice brought Harry’s attention away from his friends’ hushed conversation. “I believe I will be the judge of that,” she said viciously, her nose in the air. Short legs then took her away to the outskirts of the gathered students, where she busied herself with reviewing the paperwork that she’d brought along.
When the dark figures of Kronnis and the Emperor eventually did crest the hill, fighting against another flurry of snow that had been swept from the trees above, Harry had to wonder what sort of winter attire was appropriate in Baldur’s Gate. Given that Kronnis had joined the Emperor in wearing both a hood and a face covering, his new scarf pulled all the way up to his nose, one might be forgiven for assuming that shrouds were normal. And, actually, it looked like the Emperor now wore two scarves; an additional bundle of dark purple fabric swaddled around his neck and over his veil. With his broad shoulders and layered fabrics, he appeared incredibly top-heavy.
Passing Umbridge with a nod and a wave – the only people to ever offer her a friendly face, as even Filch just looked at her with respect and deference – they extended Hagrid the same level of cordiality, apologizing for holding up the class. A vigorous clap on the Emperor’s back then had Harry afraid that the illithid’s disguise might be knocked right off, and the good-natured tone of the professor’s voice somehow summoned the presence of Umbridge, her head popping up next to Kronnis to needle Hagrid into getting the class going.
There was a great deal of hesitancy as students realized that Hagrid hadn’t been joking about taking them into the forest.
“Now see here,” Draco said, in an effort to either paint Hagrid’s lesson as hazardous or to preserve his own life. “I’ve been in there before, so I’m speaking from experience when I say that the only things in that forest are monsters.”
From Harry’s side, Ron struggled to hold back laughter. “Even the unicorns?”
“Aye.” Hagrid nodded approvingly at Ron’s comment. “Not everythin’ in the forest is out to get yeh,” he told Draco. “It’s safer than a lot o’ people think.”
Draco sputtered. “Haven’t you heard about the dragon?”
“That’s just a dumb rumor,” Harry said quickly, drowning out the excited gasp coming from Hagrid’s direction.
Umbridge’s voice cut through the discussion. “That’s enough now. Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter – your classmate has every right to be concerned.”
Upset, Harry opened his mouth to retort. “But he- oof.” An elbow in his back drove the words from him, the movement of bushy hair in the corner of his eye painting Hermione as the culprit.
“I’m not taking one step into that forest,” Draco continued smugly, looking emboldened by Umbridge’s intervention. “We’re not even allowed in!”
At his words, the Slytherins began sharing a conspiratorial look that boded ill – Hagrid was sure to fail his inspection if the entire class revolted.
“I thought there was an exception to that rule?” the Emperor then said, nearly forgotten and startling everyone as he added his two cents. “Staff are permitted to take students into the forest for class-related activities and detentions. Adding Kronnis and I, that makes four adult chaperones.”
“But-”
“What do you even have in there? Wolves?” Kronnis asked, cutting Draco off and craning his neck to peer through trees. “I’ve always wanted to see one of those.”
“Not just wolves,” Draco spat, the Slytherins behind him frantically nodding along. “Werewolves!”
Hagrid scoffed and pointed up at the sky. “Yeh won’t be seein’ any werewolves – the moon ain’t quite full, and it’s the middle o’ the day.”
“Historically,” Hermione chimed in, “no one’s been hurt in the forest for decades.”
“What would the mudblood know,” taunted the nasally voice of Pansy Parkinson, her words cutting shrilly through the air. “My family’s been going to Hogwarts for centuries, and the forest has always been dangerous.”
Harry only barely managed to grab a red-faced Ron. “Don’t,” he warned his friend as Hagrid sternly deducted points for foul language. “She’s not worth it.”
“She’s no right to say things like that,” Ron spat before turning to Hermione, the Slytherin contingent devolving into loud murmurs behind him as they directed complaints about safety in Umbridge’s direction. “I’ll bet you know more than all her family combined.”
Hermione, her lip stiff and her arms hugging her sides, was only able to offer a weak smile before Kronnis’ voice rang out, raised just high enough to temporarily silence the entire group. “Like my partner said; you’ve got four very capable chaperones,” he calmly reiterated. “And students at Hogwarts are never in any danger, right Umbridge?” The High Inquisitor supported his claim with a wide frown and a reluctant nod. “Right. I’d hate for anything to get in the way of your education, so if anyone’s still concerned, they can stick close to me. I know a few tricks.”
With a demonstratively crisp gesture and a grin that his scarf did a poor job of hiding, Kronnis followed this declaration up with the summoning of lightning between his palms, brightly lit and crackling with power. In Harry’s opinion, he then looked entirely too satisfied when a gaggle of Slytherins immediately rushed over to express their appreciation for his display of wandless magic, and if the Emperor’s suspiciously roll-like movement of the eyes was anything to go off of, he wasn’t the alone in harboring this sentiment.
Regardless, Kronnis had been effective in dispelling contrarian arguments, and Hagrid was finally allowed to lead an obedient class into the forest.
It was a long trudge. More tightly bunched than Harry had ever seen a mixed group of Slytherin and Gryffindor students, they overcame drifts of snow and melting piles of slush. Here and there were prints – hooves of varying sizes, paws larger than a hand with spread fingers, and a trail left by something many-legged and skittering.
Hagrid stopped once they reached a clearing, deep enough that trees dimmed the light. The dead cow was heaved off his shoulder and unceremoniously tossed to the ground. He then began making horrible bird-like shrieking noises, lasting until Harry spotted movement between the tree trunks.
What walked into the clearing was a grotesquerie, horse-shaped and winged. Not anything beautiful like the abraxans that Beauxbatons had brought last year, but the same unsettling creature that Harry had seen pulling the carriages at Hogsmeade. With dark, leathery, and hairless skin, it stood out against the white snow. Long legs brought it to the carcass, and it sniffed before using a razor-sharp beak to tear off a chunk of meat.
“What’re we waiting for?” Draco sneered, and Harry suddenly remembered that he’d been the only one of his friends to see the horse back when they’d arrived on the Hogwarts Express.
Hagrid was quick to answer. “Thestrals. There’s one here now.”
“Where?” gasped Lavender, fear in her eyes.
Harry pointed, feeling vindicated that he’d been right about their existence as more than a figment of his imagination. “Right there – its eating the cow.”
Several students screamed as they noticed how flesh was being stripped from bone. Hagrid ignored them to briefly look at Harry. “Right, figured ye’d be able to see ‘em,” he said, before eschewing elaboration to begin his lesson, explaining how Hogwarts had come to house the only domesticated herd in Britain.
They’d started with one male and five females, apparently, though when Umbridge asked for an updated count he only shrugged and said that he hadn’t been able to perform a new census, on account of his ‘extended summer vacation’. During next week’s lesson, he’d planned to have the students help him figure it out, and Harry really had to wonder about the wisdom of having students count creatures that they couldn’t seem to see.
Only three additional thestrals ended up creeping forth from deeper in the forest. The speed with which they feasted on the carcass was unnerving, and when Parvati started moaning about the misfortune they were said to bring, Hagrid had to pause mid-lesson to calm the class.
“Now hold yer horses,” he said. “That’s just superstition. An’ thestrals might be predators, but there’s no record that they’ve ever attacked a human in anythin’ but self-defense. I’ve worked with these ones for years – they’re not dangerous in the slightest!”
“The Ministry takes the security of students very seriously,” Umbridge chimed in, furiously writing on her clipboard. “Are you sure it’s safe to bring children into contact with these creatures?”
Hagrid nodded. “Positive. Plenty o’ wizards keep one or two to use as mounts – they’ve got an amazing sense of direction. These ones are so domesticated that yeh could walk right up and pet ‘em!” he exclaimed, flashing his audience a wide grin.
Clearly, this was some sort of invitation for them to interact with the thestrals, but it didn’t quite land as intended. And, well, given that most of the class couldn’t even see them, Harry could understand their hesitancy. He was still half convinced that he was hallucinating the creatures – Hagrid hadn’t yet explained why they were only visible to some people.
When the half-giant’s grin wavered after a few seconds of silence and awkward shuffling, it was Kronnis that walked forward to ease the tension, letting one sniff his hand before scratching under its jaw. “They are rather pretty,” he said, leaving Harry to wonder if the creatures also took different forms between those who could see them. “What do you think?” Kronnis continued, flashing a smile over his shoulder at the Emperor, who’d crossed his arms.
“We would not be able to accommodate their diets in the Underdark.”
Kronnis’ smile turned into a scowl, and then his head whipped around to glare in the direction of Harry’s classmates. “’Course he’d like them,” someone had whispered a bit too loudly, anonymous in the dense throng of huddled teenagers. “Got a lot in common with those flesh-eating monsters, hasn’t he?”
Harry could only roll his eyes. Typical of the student population to believe an outrageous lie printed by the Prophet. When that issue containing Rita’s article had arrived at Hogwarts, he and Ron had shared a dry laugh about how she’d missed by a fraction of an inch – they’d never seen Kronnis dine on raw organs before, after all. Harry still had no clue as to what the Emperor normally ate, but sharp teeth like those they’d briefly seen in the illithid’s mouth didn’t grow without reason.
“Er, anyway.” Hagrid cleared his throat, trying to move on with the lesson. “So who can see ‘em?”
Raising his hand, Harry watched as Neville and a Slytherin boy that he wasn’t familiar with followed suit. It was obvious that Kronnis could, and the Emperor voiced confirmation of his own ability. Only five people total. Well, six, with Hagrid himself.
“And can anyone tell me why some o’ yeh can and some can’t?”
Hermione rocketed her hand into the air, speaking once Hagrid nodded at her. “The only people who can see thestrals are those who’ve seen death.”
Oh. Harry shifted with unease, wishing that Hagrid hadn’t planned a lesson around something so personal. The whispers started again, stares burning into him.
“Correct!” Hagrid praised. “Now, this is probably where the superstition o’ thestrals bein’ a bad omen comes from. See, a couple hundred years back…” Breaking down the fallacies of some children’s tale that painted thestrals as harbingers of death, he likened their public reputation to that of the Grim. Only, where the Grim was a real prophetic omen, thestrals simply suffered from an unfortunate association with dead bodies, like vultures.
A disjointed summary of their history followed, along with an explanation of how to ride them. The best spot to sit was right behind the wing joints, which didn’t look comfortable at all, and then the rider would have to cling to the thestral’s scraggily and barely-existent mane for the duration of the journey. Umbridge added a comment here on how the Ministry preferred wizards and witches to use more standardized methods of travel, such as the floo.
Being a big believer in class engagement, Hagrid then asked the students who were able to see the thestrals to give their classmates a detailed description, but no one volunteered. Harry felt uncomfortable further highlighting his ability, while both Neville and that Slytherin boy looked too intimidated by the creatures to get close to them.
The Emperor ended up playing assistant, providing a clinical analysis of their features with assistance from Hagrid. After the third sentence, Harry had to admit to himself that thestrals looked the same to everyone, leading him to question Kronnis’ aesthetic preferences. Thestrals were not pretty.
He tried to take notes, but the strange dynamic between the four adults was rather distracting – it was almost like they’d forgotten about the class of students attending the lesson.
Amidst Hagrid’s attempts to keep them on track, dropping facts about proper husbandry and the bizarre personalities some of the thestrals had, Umbridge kept dragging everyone off-topic with a seemingly endless list of questions on other magical creatures, from nifflers to nogtails. Each of Hagrid’s knowledge-filled answers earned him approving nods from Kronnis and the Emperor, both boosting his confidence and deepening Umbridge’s scowl.
A mention of his time breeding blast-ended skrewts then almost got him in trouble. Umbridge’s face had lit up with malicious glee, blabbering on about the Ban on Experimental Breeding and looking ready to perform an arrest on the spot. This was quickly replaced by disappointment when Hagrid mentioned that he’d done it for the Triwizard Tournament, meaning that the Ministry had sanctioned his activities.
“Domesticating giant centipedes can’t be too different,” Kronnis commented once the misunderstanding had been cleared up. “Perhaps I could pass on some pointers to associates in Baldur’s Gate?”
Hagrid looked over the moon by this suggestion, but Umbridge was only three feet away, ready and waiting with another sharp critique to burst his bubble. “I’m looking over the OWL curriculum,” she said, flipping through the papers pinned to her clipboard, “and I don’t see thestrals anywhere on here. Don’t you think the students should be focusing on the material they’ll be tested on?”
Notably, neither Kronnis or the Emperor made a single peep at this, and Hagrid was forced to concede her point. They only spoke up again when Umbridge scrambled to capitalize on this unexpected headway, rebuking the irresponsibility of introducing students to an XXXX rated creature.
“Department Head Hawthorne explained that these ratings are given with consideration to both danger and the ease of which a creature can be handled or domesticated.” The Emperor interrupted. “A phoenix has the same classification, correct? And unicorns as well? The fact that Hagrid has tamed this herd should speak to his skill with magical creatures.”
While Harry had no idea who the Emperor had just name dropped, Umbridge yielded at their mention.
This back and forth continued all the way through the end of the lesson and on the way back to where Hagrid’s hut sat on the edge of the forest, the ambassadors mediating discussion between Harry’s friend and the High Inquisitor.
In the end, following a desperate series of questions on Hagrid’s qualifications, Umbridge reluctantly informed him that he’d passed inspection. “Please be sure to stick to the official OWL curriculum,” she’d gritted out before turning to march back to the castle, Kronnis and the Emperor hot on her heels.
The relief on Harry’s face was mirrored by his friends.
“After what happened with Binns, I really thought Hagrid was gonna get it next!” Ron half-whispered as they watched the other students wander off.
Hermione shook her head. “I’m sure he would’ve, but with the way Kronnis and the Emperor are acting, Umbridge’s hands were tied.”
Ron’s expression turned skeptical. “What, so she’s not going to sack a teacher just because they’re around? What’s stopping her?”
“Consider the pattern; what happened with Binns exactly?” Hermione asked, her finger held up in their direction and her books clutched to her chest.
“He… didn’t want to change his goblin rebellion lessons to a more ‘glorious summary of the Ministry’s history’?” Ron ventured, quoting something Fred had joked about weeks ago.
“No,” Harry said slowly, putting the pieces together. “Didn’t Kronnis and the Emperor stop showing up to his lessons?”
Bushy hair bobbed as Hermione nodded her head. “Yes! Well, you’re both right. His lesson plan gave her a reason to fire him, but it was only because Kronnis and the Emperor didn’t seem to care enough about his class to attend that she was able to get away with it.”
Harry furrowed his brows. “What do you mean by ‘get away with it’?”
“Think about it like this; Fudge needs allies against Dumbledore, and everyone in Magical Britain already has an opinion one way or the other. The easiest way for either of them to strengthen their position is to convert neutral parties to their side – the more influential the better.”
They stared blankly at her.
“I’m talking about Kronnis and the Emperor,” she huffed. “Their story of Baldur’s Gate might not be real, but Fudge thinks it is, ergo he’s under the impression that he has the opportunity to court a new political power to his side. Thing is, it doesn’t exactly look good if the Ministry starts sacking professors that the delegates think perfectly suitable for their jobs. He needs to appear reasonable.”
Ron knitted his eyebrows together in thought. “Y’know, that actually makes a bit of sense. After what Sirius told us about Umbridge making things harder for half-breeds, I thought she might’ve gone barmy, cozying up to Kronnis and the Emperor all semester long. What do you reckon that Fudge had to tell her to tough it out so he could get more pieces on his side of the board?”
“That’s a sucker’s bet,” Harry muttered. “It doesn’t matter much anyway – they’d no sooner help Fudge move against Dumbledore than they’d help a pack of blast-ended skrewts into the Gryffindor common room.” Excellent liars they might be – Harry was pretty sure Kronnis had purposely misled him when he’d asked again about the Emperor’s past – but they were honest where it counted, and actions spoke louder than words. If the pair actually wanted to work with Fudge, they could’ve sold Harry out weeks ago instead of running interference with Umbridge.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Hermione said hesitantly, chewing her lip. “Fudge’s been using them to get a lot of good press. I know there won’t be an election for another few years, but the polls-”
“So!” Hagrid’s voice boomed behind them, interrupting whatever she’d been about to say and startling Harry so badly that he nearly jumped a foot in the air. “What did yeh think?”
“Warn a guy, would you?” Ron gasped weakly, a hand clutched to his chest.
Harry ignored him. “You did fantastic!” he exclaimed, the wide, infectious grin on Hagrid’s face spreading to his own. “I’ve never seen anyone shut Umbridge down like you did, even Snape looked like he had a terrible time when she paid him a visit.”
Hagrid shook his head vigorously. “Never you mind ‘bout Umbridge – how were the thestrals?”
Ron had recovered enough to laugh. “Better than Knarls! Did you see the look on Malfoy’s face? When they tore the leg right off that cow?”
“Oh,” Hermione groaned, turning a bit green in the face and shuddering. “That was rather revolting, though.”
“’S just life for yeh,” Hagrid replied nonchalantly. “Yeh kids want to come in for tea?”
Unanimous agreement was voiced. When they’d had last seen Hagrid, stopping by on the night of his return, the threat of Umbridge had loomed over their discussion like a foul odor. Harry missed the casual conversations they used to share.
In Hagrid’s hut, they sat around the table as he poured them scalding tea and pushed a plate of rock cakes their way. “Yeh know, the centaurs never mentioned a dragon.” His voice carried a thrum of exhilaration. “I spoke with ‘em the other day when I went to check on the thestrals.”
“There isn’t a dragon,” Hermione insisted dismissively. “Someone just saw a flash of light in the forest and, well, you know how Hogwarts is with rumors.”
“Really?” Hagrid frowned, taking a long slurp of his tea as he considered this. “But somethin’s out there – Aragog was telling me ‘bout how a monster throwin’ fire and lightnin’ had completely destroyed his nest! Poor guy’s had to rebuild the entire hollow.”
Harry, just about to settle the confusion and explain that it was only Kronnis clearing out the forest’s Acromantula infestation, shut his mouth with a guilty clack that drew Hermione’s suspicious gaze.
She’d realized something, judging by the significant look she was now giving him. Kronnis hadn’t exactly been subtle earlier, with his display of magical skill, though Harry supposed it was a rather large jump to assume visiting delegates responsible for the mysterious decline of local monsters. He just hoped that Hermione wouldn’t say anything to Hagrid.
While Harry didn’t personally disagree with getting rid of the forest’s Acromantula – they’d tried to eat him, after all – he didn’t think his friend would take kindly to the idea.
“Are you sure it wasn’t one of your skrewts?” Ron nervously suggested from the other side of the table. “Who knows how big those things have grown by now.”
“Nah, couldn’t have been. They only blast fire.” Hagrid paused to break a rock cake in half. “But if it was a dragon, the centaurs woulda seen it. Yeh can’t miss a dragon. Must be somethin’ else.”
“We could take a look in the library,” Hermione offered, slowly and uncomfortably. “Aragog’s the leader of the Acromantula colony, right? Did he have any other descriptions of this… creature?”
Hagrid shook his head. “He’s blind.”
“Oh, ah,” she stuttered. “Then I’ll just make do with ‘throws fire and lighting’.”
Their conversation soon turned to other matters, catching Hagrid up on Hogwarts’ news. Ron complained about Umbridge’s long list of educational decrees, their number recently reaching two dozen, and Harry mentioned the string of muggle disappearances that the Prophet reported on every week or so. Hagrid’s face grew dark at this, commenting that You-Know-Who had used the same strategy leading up to the first war.
After that, it was difficult to find a light-hearted topic to discuss. Harry clutched his cup of tea, gripped by a coldness that seemed to haunt both his waking hours and his dreams. No matter where he turned, looking for the warm wonder he’d felt during his first years at Hogwarts, he just couldn’t escape the unease that now lingered each day like a growing shadow on the horizon. Was this what growing up felt like?
They didn’t stay much longer.
“I can’t believe he took us into the forest anyway, knowing some sort of monster was lurking out there,” Ron muttered as they walked back to Hogwarts.
“It’s not a monster,” Harry said, looking around to see if anyone was nearby and catching Hermione’s eye. “Kronnis told me that he and the Emperor were killing Acromantula because Snape asked them to.”
While Hermione nodded thoughtfully, Ron stopped short, staring at him. “Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked, looking hurt.
“I forgot! It was when he came to join us for Quidditch practice a few weeks ago. We were trying to figure out where to hold meetings for the DA and it completely slipped my mind.”
“But what does Snape want the Acromantula gone for?” Hermione asked.
“Dunno,” Harry shrugged. “I didn’t ask.”
Ron snorted, a grin plastered on his face. “Doesn’t matter! Good riddance, if you ask me.”
“How can you say that?” The disapproval on Hermione’s face was scathing. “Hagrid looked awfully worried for Aragog.”
“In case you’ve forgotten,” Ron drawled with a roll of his eyes, “when Harry and I visited the colony, Aragog basically told them all to eat us! And I don’t care about what Snape has against them. The enemy of my enemy is still my enemy, as far as I’m concerned.” He waved his hand dismissively.
Harry had to voice his agreement. Whatever was going on in the forest wasn’t his problem to worry about. Those spiders had been nightmare-inducing.
Hermione chewed her lip. “What are we going to tell Hagrid?”
“Nothing,” Harry said. “We just say that we never found anything matching that description. It really isn’t enough to go on anyway. ‘Sides, we’ve got other things to worry about.” He turned to Ron. “Like that Quidditch match next week.”