“You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Harry,” said Hermione gently, “but all the same, there’s no point pretending that you’re not good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse completely, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can’t, Viktor always said—”
Ron looked round at her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, “Yeah? What did Vicky say?”
“Ho ho,” said Hermione in a bored voice. “He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn’t, and he was in the final year at Durmstrang.”
Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously.
“You’re not still in contact with him, are you?”
“So what if I am?” said Hermione coolly, though her face was a little pink. “I can have a pen-pal if I—”
“He didn’t only want to be your pen-pal,” said Ron accusingly.
Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was continuing to watch her, said to Harry, “Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?”
“Just you and Ron, yeah?”
“Well,” said Hermione, looking a mite anxious again. “Well… now, don’t fly off the handle again, Harry, please… but I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we’re talking about defending ourselves against V-Voldemort. Oh, don’t be pathetic, Ron. It doesn’t seem fair if we don’t offer the chance to other people.”
Harry considered this for a moment, then said, “Yeah, but I doubt anyone except you two would want to be taught by me. I’m a nutter, remember?”
“Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in hearing what you’ve got to say,” said Hermione seriously. “Look,” she leaned towards him—Ron, who was still watching her with a frown on his face, leaned forwards to listen too—“you know the first weekend in October’s a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who’s interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?”
“Why do we have to do it outside school?” said Ron.
“Because,” said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, “I don’t think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to.”
* * *
Harry had been looking forward to the weekend trip into Hogsmeade, but there was one thing worrying him. Sirius had maintained a stony silence since he had appeared in the fire at the beginning of September; Harry knew they had made him angry by saying they didn’t want him to come—but he still worried from time to time that Sirius might throw caution to the winds and turn up anyway. What were they going to do if the great black dog came bounding up the street towards them in Hogsmeade, perhaps under the nose of Draco Malfoy?
“Well, you can’t blame him for wanting to get out and about,” said Ron, when Harry discussed his fears with him and Hermione. “I mean, he’s been on the run for over two years, hasn’t he, and I know that can’t have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn’t he? And now he’s just shut up all the time with that ghastly elf.”