Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix - Rowling Joanne Kathleen - Страница 65

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Harry felt happier for the rest of the weekend than he had done all term. He and Ron spent much of Sunday catching up with all their homework again, and although this could hardly be called fun, the last burst of autumn sunshine persisted, so rather than sitting hunched over tables in the common room they took their work outside and lounged in the shade of a large beech tree on the edge of the lake. Hermione, who of course was up to date with all her work, brought more wool outside with her and bewitched her knitting needles so that they flashed and clicked in midair beside her, producing more hats and scarves.

Knowing they were doing something to resist Umbridge and the Ministry and that he was a key part of the rebellion, gave Harry a feeling of immense satisfaction. He kept reliving Saturdays meeting in his mind: all those people, coming to him to learn Defence Against the Dark Arts . . . and the looks on their faces as they had heard some of the things he had done . . . and Cho praising his performance in the Triwizard Tournament — knowing all those people did not think him a lying weirdo, but someone to be admired, buoyed him up so much that he was still cheerful on Monday morning, despite the imminent prospect of all his least favourite classes.

He and Ron headed downstairs from their dormitory, discussing Angelina's idea that they were to work on a new move called the Sloth Grip Roll during that nights Quidditch practice, and not until they were halfway across the sunlit common room did they notice the addition to the room that had already attracted the attention of a small group of people.

A large sign had been affixed to the Grffindor noticeboard, so large it covered everything else on it — the lists of secondhand spellbooks for sale, the regular reminders of school rules from Argus Filch, the Quidditch team training timetable, the offers to barter certain Chocolate Frog Cards for others, the Weasleys' latest advertisement for testers, the dates of the Hogsmeade weekends and the lost and found notices. The new sign was printed in large black letters and there was a highly official-looking seal at the bottom beside a neat and curly signature.

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are

henceforth disbanded.

An organisation, 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

(Professor Umbridge).

No student organisation, 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 organisation,

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: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

Harry and Ron read the notice over the heads of some anxious-looking second-years.

'Does this mean they're going to shut down the Gobstones Club?' one of them asked his friend.

'I reckon you'll be OK with Gobstones,' Ron said darkly, making the second-year jump. 'I don't think we're going to be as lucky, though, do you?' he asked Harry as the second-years hurried away.

Harry was reading the notice through again. The happiness that had filled him since Saturday was gone. His insides were pulsing with rage.

'This isn't a coincidence,' he said, his hands forming fists. '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 . . .'

And he had thought they believed him, thought they even admired him . . .

'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 round at the door to the girls' dormitories.

'Let's go and tell her,' said Ron. He bounded forwards, pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase.

He was on the sixth stair when there was a loud, wailing, klaxon-like sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide like a helter-skelter. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backwards and shot down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Harry's feet.

'Er — I don't think we're allowed in the girls' dormitories,' said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh.

Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.

'Oooh. who tried to get upstairs?' they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.

'Me,' said Ron, who was still rather dishevelled. 'I didn't realise that would happen. It's not fair!' he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. 'Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed — ?'

'Well, it's an old-fashioned rule,' said Hermione, who had just slid neatly on to a rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, 'but it says in Hogwarts: A History, that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?'

'To see you — look at this!' said Ron, dragging her over to the noticeboard.

Hermione's eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony.

'Someone must have blabbed to her!' Ron said angrily.

'They can't have done,' said Hermione in a low voice.

'You're so naive,' said Ron, 'you think just because you're all honourable and trustworthy — '

'No, they can't have done, because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed,' said Hermione grimly. '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 Midgeon'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?'

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. Harry, Ron and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon them.

'Did you see it?'

'D'you reckon she knows?'

'What are we going to do?'

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them.

'We're going to do it anyway, of course,' he said quietly.

'Knew you'd say that,' said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.

'The prefects as well?' said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.

'Of course,' said Hermione coolly.

'Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott,' said Ron, looking over his shoulder. 'And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith . . . and no one looks very spotty.'

Hermione looked alarmed.

'Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious — sit down!' she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. 'Later! We'll — talk — to — you — later!'

'I'll tell Michael,' said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench, 'the fool, honestly . . .'

She hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table; Harry watched her go. Cho was sitting not far away, talking to the curly-haired friend she had brought along to the Hog's Head. Would Umbridge's notice scare her off meeting them again?

But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until they were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic.

'Harry! Ron! '

It was Angelina and she was hurrying towards them looking perfectly desperate.

'It's OK,' said Harry quietly, when she was near enough to hear him. 'We're still going to — '

'You realise she's including Quidditch in this?' Angelina said over him. 'We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!'

'What? ' said Harry.

'No way,' said Ron, appalled.

'You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry . . . I am saying this for the last time . . . please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play any more!'

'OK, OK,' said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. 'Don't worry, I'll behave myself . . .'

'Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic,' said Ron grimly, as they set off for Binns's lesson. 'She hasn't inspected Binns yet . . . bet you anything she's there . . .'

But he was wrong; the only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. Harry did not even attempt to follow what he was saying today; he doodled idly on his parchment ignoring Hermione's frequent glares and nudges, until a particularly painful poke in the ribs made him look up angrily.

'What? '

She pointed at the window. Harry looked round. Hedwig was perched on the narrow window ledge, gazing through the thick glass at him, a letter tied to her leg. Harry could not understand it; they had just had breakfast, why on earth hadn't she delivered the letter then, as usual? Many of his classmates were pointing out Hedwig to each other, too.

'Oh, I've always loved that owl, she's so beautiful,' Harry heard Lavender sigh to Parvati.

He glanced round at Professor Binns who continued to read his notes, serenely unaware that the class's attention was even less focused upon him than usual. 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.

He had expected Hedwig to hold out her leg so that he could remove the letter and then fly off to the Owlery, but the moment the window was open wide enough she hopped inside, hooting dolefully. He closed the window with an anxious glance at Professor Binns, crouched low again and sped back to his seat with Hedwig on his shoulder. He regained his seat, transferred Hedwig to his lap and made to remove the letter tied to her leg.

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