"Right then," Fred announced, striding purposefully to the bar and conducting a quick headcount of the assembled crowd. "We'll be needing... twenty-five Butterbeers, if you'd be so kind."
Aberforth fixed him with a withering stare that could have curdled milk, then irritably hurled his grimy black rag onto the bar with unnecessary force. He began extracting bottle after dust-coated bottle from beneath the counter, each one looking like it had been excavated from an archaeological dig. Orli patted her bag again with growing desperation—her emergency potion supply would barely make a dent in this crowd's potential digestive disasters.
"Cheers, everyone," Fred called out cheerfully, distributing bottles with practiced efficiency. "Don't forget to settle your own tabs—I'm still operating on a shoestring budget here!"
Orli watched the animated crowd accept their questionable beverages while fumbling through robes for coins, the collective chatter filling the dingy space with nervous energy. Her stomach performed an uncomfortable somersault as she hastily finished her remaining tart, though the sweetness suddenly felt cloying. The horrible realization dawned that she might actually have to address this entire gathering...
The thought made her extremities go numb with panic. She immediately resolved to delegate all speaking responsibilities to Harry.
"What exactly did you tell these people?" Harry hissed to Hermione, his complexion matching the tavern's sickly lighting.
"I've already explained—they simply want to learn proper Defense Against the Dark Arts, anything beyond Umbridge's useless curriculum," Hermione replied with forced reassurance. Harry's thunderous expression prompted her to add quickly, "You don't need to do anything immediately. I'll handle the introductions."
"Alright, Harry?" Neville beamed, claiming the seat beside him with obvious pleasure. Ginny flashed a radiant smile as she settled across from Harry, while Cho Chang and Cedric positioned themselves at a neighboring table. A sharp-featured Ravenclaw girl flanked Cho, regarding Harry and Orli with undisguised suspicion.
The remaining students arranged themselves in loose clusters around the core group—some practically vibrating with excitement, others displaying frank curiosity, and a few wearing expressions of careful evaluation.
Once the seating arrangements concluded, conversations gradually faded into expectant silence. Most gazes gravitated toward Harry like compass needles seeking magnetic north.
"Well—" Hermione began, her voice pitched higher than usual as she cleared her throat with obvious nervousness. "Hello, everyone."
Every head swiveled toward her with synchronized precision.
"Right, so you all understand why we're gathered here. I had this notion—that perhaps people genuinely interested in studying Defense Against the Dark Arts—and I mean actually studying it, not the absolute rubbish Umbridge inflicts upon us—"
Her voice gained strength and conviction with each word.
"Because nobody could seriously call her methods 'defending' against anything whatsoever—"
"Bloody right!" Angelina shouted enthusiastically, and Hermione visibly brightened at the support.
"Well, I thought it might be beneficial if we took matters into our own hands."
She paused, casting meaningful glances at Harry and Orli before continuing:
"By which I mean learning genuine defensive techniques—not merely theoretical knowledge, but practical counter-curses and combat applications—"
"Are we talking about O.W.L. preparation?" interrupted a lanky Ravenclaw boy.
"Certainly," Hermione responded immediately, "but this extends far beyond examinations. We're discussing proper combat training, because..."
She drew a steadying breath before delivering the words with ringing clarity:
"...because You-Know-Who has returned."
The reaction rippled through the assembled students like a stone dropped in still water. Cho's companion released a piercing shriek, sending Butterbeer cascading down her robes; several Hufflepuffs went rigid as statues; Padma shuddered visibly; Neville emitted a strangled yelp that he desperately attempted to disguise as a coughing fit.
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