At that moment, breaking through the lingering laughter and light-hearted atmosphere, Neville raised his hand again hesitantly from his position at the side of the group. His face showed noticeable worry and concern as he spoke up.
"Speaking of which, won't our scheduled meeting tomorrow be negatively affected by all this?" His voice carried anxiety. "Professor Umbridge seems to have been opposing our gatherings all along. She's made that quite clear."
As soon as those sobering words left his mouth, the cheerful laughter in the common room abruptly stopped as if someone had cast a Silencing Charm. The mood shifted instantly from playful to serious.
Ron was gently set back down on the solid ground by Flick, who seemed to sense the change in atmosphere.
"There's absolutely no problem," Harry said with firm reassurance, his voice carrying conviction he hoped was contagious. "Unless Professor Dumbledore himself orders us to stop, which he won't. We have his explicit approval."
"Yeah, exactly right," Ron chimed in, patting down his rumpled robes where Flick had grabbed him and straightened himself. "Dumbledore is the Headmaster of this school, the ultimate authority. As long as he doesn't speak up against us, Umbridge can jump around and make all the threats she wants—it won't actually matter."
"That's technically correct," Hermione picked up the thread of reasoning, though her voice carried a trace of worry that showed she wasn't entirely convinced. "Procedurally speaking, as long as Professor Dumbledore doesn't formally object, our meeting is completely compliant with school regulations. She has no grounds to shut us down."
"But what if she just comes to cause trouble anyway tomorrow?" Ginny couldn't help but speak up, saying what several others were thinking. "Rules haven't stopped her before. She can apparently even directly interrupt Professor McGonagall's class in front of everyone without consequences. I don't think she'll be particularly polite or respectful to a group of students."
Harry fell silent, pondering this valid concern deeply. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
This was indeed a genuine problem that needed addressing.
Umbridge had long been obviously displeased with their study group and everything it represented. From Harry's perspective and based on her behavior, the probability of Umbridge coming to disrupt or shut down tomorrow's meeting was genuinely very high.
They needed a plan.
At this crucial moment, George and Fred exchanged meaningful glances across the room, their expressions shifting into matching mischievous smiles that their friends knew meant trouble of the creative variety.
"Should we perhaps prepare some special surprises for her?" George suggested in a intentionally lowered, conspirative voice, leaning forward. "Something memorable? If she dares to come cause trouble and interfere, we still have quite a few Dungbombs left from our inventory..."
"We absolutely can't directly attack a professor," Harry immediately shook his head firmly, though a thoughtful, calculating gleam flickered in his green eyes. "That could get us expelled. But we can definitely think of a clever way to make sure she can't catch us in the act. If there's no evidence, there's no violation."
"How exactly do we do that?" Hermione asked with skepticism and concern. "Avoid a professor actively looking for us?"
Harry didn't immediately answer Hermione's question. His gaze moved slowly, thoughtfully around the room, finally landing and focusing on the small tree creature sitting contentedly beside the fireplace, who was currently gently curling a digestive biscuit with one thin branch and bringing it toward what might be considered its mouth.
"Perhaps," Harry said slowly, as an idea began forming and solidifying in his mind, "Flick can help us."
Everyone's curious eyes instantly followed his line of sight, all focusing intently on Flick at once with new interest.
"?"
Flick seemed to immediately sense with some kind of plant awareness that it had suddenly become the center of everyone's attention. The branch holding the half-eaten biscuit stopped frozen in mid-air.
The little Treant tilted its stump-like head in what might have been confusion or curiosity.
Its leaves rustled questioningly.
The Next Day
The next day arrived with gray skies and a chill in the air. It was the third Saturday of October—the exact day Harry and his friends had originally scheduled and planned their third official meeting.
And what Harry had feared most happened that very morning.
Early, well before most students had finished breakfast, Filch posted a brand new official notice at Hogwarts's main bulletin board in the entrance hall where everyone would see it.
The parchment was large, official-looking, sealed with the Ministry's crest.
The content was precisely, specifically about student gatherings and organizations.
The notice read in formal, bureaucratic language:
"By order of the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, Educational Decree Number Fourteen:
Effective immediately, all student societies, study groups, teams, clubs, and non-curricular gatherings of any kind must be formally reported in writing to the High Inquisitor (and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Dolores Jane Umbridge) and may only be held after receiving her explicit written approval.
Any form of gathering that has not been properly reported or has not received official approval will be considered a serious violation of school rules, and all participants will be subject to appropriate disciplinary punishment as determined by the High Inquisitor."
It was signed with Umbridge's signature.
The students who gathered in growing crowds in front of the notice board to read it began to whisper among themselves, their voices mixed into an anxious buzz.
Harry's expression darkened as he read and re-read the words, his jaw was tightening. Umbridge had really made her move, acting extremely swiftly and directly. And from the looks of the official Ministry seal and formal language, she seemed to have somehow bypassed Dumbledore totally, going straight to Fudge for authority.
Hermione squeezed through the crowd to Harry's side, her face had turned pale with concern. "She's coming specifically after us, after our group. What do we do? Should we cancel today's meeting?"
Harry was silent for a moment, his mind racing through options and consequences. Then he lowered his voice and said firmly to Hermione, Ron, and the others who had gathered around him, "No. Absolutely not. The meeting proceeds exactly as planned."
Hermione let out a breath, seeming to want to object and present logical arguments. But Harry raised his hand decisively to stop her before she could launch into a lecture.
"Someone I trust told me," A flash of determination and defiance crossed his eyes, making them bright, "as long as she doesn't actually catch us in the act, it doesn't technically count as a violation. We're not breaking rules if there's no proof. But we may need to limit the numbers for safety. Starting today, we won't add any new members to the group."
"But... will this really be okay?" Hermione's eyebrows remained deeply furrowed with worry. "What if—"
"Don't worry so much, Hermione," Ron interrupted with confidence. "Let's go notify all the others right now about the plan. The meeting goes on exactly as scheduled. We can't let that pink toad scare us into not even daring to hold our own wands, can we? That would mean she's already won."
About an hour later, members of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Study Group arrived one after another at their usual meeting place.
Harry had thought and worried that some people would choose to be absent today because of Umbridge's threatening notice and the risk of punishment. But to his surprise and genuinely touched feelings, absolutely all the members who received the notification showed up right on time.
It seemed he still had everyone's trust.
The professors also came as expected, but only Adrian arrived alone this time.
At the door of the activity classroom, Adrian pulled Harry aside briefly for a private word.
"Do you need my help today?" Adrian asked casually, his tone relaxed and unconcerned, making it clear through body language and voice that he wasn't particularly worried. "I can stay if you think it's necessary."
Clearly, he didn't take Umbridge and that pompous official notice seriously at all.
"Thank you for the offer, Professor," Harry replied, his voice carrying genuine gratitude but also revealing a confident composure. "However, I think we can manage well for now on our own. Professor Umbridge... I don't believe she'll be able to get in here to bother us."
He paused, and the corner of his mouth curved slightly into a small, knowing arc—almost a smirk.
"And... we have Flick helping us keep watch and guard."
Adrian's eyebrow twitched subtly with amusement and approval. His gaze swept casually over toward the corner of the corridor—there, partially hidden behind a suit of armor, Flick was perfectly disguising itself as an ordinary, unremarkable potted plant.
Flick waved one branch in a small gesture, greeting Adrian.
"Well, it seems you've thought this situation through quite thoroughly and prepared adequately," Adrian nodded, a distinct trace of something like pride and approval crossing his face. "In that case, I don't need to worry about you or stick around. I have some other important matters to handle today anyway, so I'll leave this entirely to you and your judgment."
He turned to leave, then paused and looked back.
"Also... try not to seriously injure or permanently damage Umbridge, no matter how tempting. That would create problems we don't need."
With that parting advice, Adrian turned and walked away down the corridor.
Harry also followed the last arriving students into the classroom, closing and securing the door behind them. The third meeting was officially beginning.
The meeting officially started on schedule. Their primary curriculum content today was focused on the Shield Charm—Protego—arguably the single most crucial and practical defensive spell for survival, and yet Umbridge stubbornly wouldn't teach them even the theory of it in her useless classes.
Harry even suspected, based on observation and her complete avoidance of practical demonstration, whether Umbridge could even cast a proper, functional Shield Charm herself.
In fact, he realized, he had hardly ever actually seen Umbridge cast any spells at all during class. She just read from textbooks and lectured about theory.
Sometimes Harry privately speculated—half-jokingly, half-seriously that she might not actually know any practical magic at all. She might be a complete fraud, just like Gilderoy Lockhart had been.
Regarding the Shield Charm specifically, most of those present had actually already learned it to some basic degree through their own study or previous instruction.
People like Ron, Hermione, George, Fred, and several others had long ago mastered the basic usage and could produce a functional barrier under calm conditions. Those who didn't know it at all were actually in the minority.
But in actual combat situations, under stress and pressure, very few students could react quickly enough and cast it successfully before being hit. That speed and instinct was what separated adequate from excellent.
This was precisely the critical focus of their practice today—reaction time and combat casting.
Harry stepped to the center of the cleared space and signaled Ron with a nod to shoot a Disarming Charm at him.
Ron raised his wand immediately, took aim, and cast. "Expelliarmus!"
The instant the bright red beam shot toward him through the air, Harry moved his wand almost at the very last possible moment with minimal motion, and a solid, shimmering magical barrier instantly formed right in front of him, steadily blocking the spell. The red light splashed against it like water against glass.
"Did everyone see that clearly?" Harry turned to address the watching students, most of whom looked surprised and impressed. "The timing, the minimal movement?"
Everyone responded with enthusiastic applause that echoed through the classroom.
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "The Shield Charm typically requires a complete verbal incantation and standard wand gestures according to the textbook. But your spellcasting was clearly far more concise and economical than the standard form."
"In actual combat against real opponents, nobody cares whether your gestures are perfectly standard or textbook-perfect," Harry explained. "What matters is the practical effect—whether the shield works. Try to speed up the incantation as much as possible, or even just say it silently in your mind. As long as your intent is firm enough and your will is focused, magic will respond to you."
"Yes, Professor Harry!" George called out from his position in the crowd with exaggerated formality and a mock salute, his voice was pitched high to sound overly respectful.
This prompted another round of genuine laughter—friendly, supportive laughter though.
Harry smiled slightly at everyone.
Next came the intensive practical drills and exercises.
Harry would attack each student in turn with the Disarming Charm at varying speeds and angles, while they would attempt to defend themselves by casting the Shield Charm quickly enough.
"Expelliarmus!" he called, sending a spell at Fred.
"Expelliarmus!" Another at Dean.
"Expelliarmus!" At George.
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