"Here it comes," Scorpius muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Let me assure you," Grudje went on, raising his voice over a wave of mutinous muttering. "No one regrets these changes more than we, your teachers and administrators. Mr. Filch, especially, has repeatedly expressed his most heartfelt wish for a return to simpler, bygone days."
James glanced toward the rear of the Great Hall, where Filch stood with Mrs. Norris cradled in the crook of his arm, his cursed cane clutched in his right fist. A tight smile creased his sallow face.
"The only simpler time he wants to return to," Rose muttered boldly, "is the time when he didn't have to hide his tortures under a thin pretence of punishment."
This statement was met with a chorus of harsh, disgruntled whispers, echoing the noises coming from each of the other tables.
"However," Grudje continued, and then paused, cocking his narrow head slightly and narrowing his eyes. "I do believe it is customary to show the respect of silence when the headmaster is speaking. Or am I mistaken, Mr. Filch?"
This last was addressed to the rear of the Hall, where Filch stood watching.
"Taking mental notes as needed, Headmaster," Filch replied in his cracked, wheezing voice. He swept his gaze meaningfully over the house tables, quelling the chorus of whispers and mutterings. In their wake, the entire room rang with a sort of mute, electric anger.
"However," Grudje said again, lowering his voice to a gravelly monotone. "We are not utterly without compassion. Hogsmeade weekends provide a healthy outlet for youthful vigour. One that we, your guardians, would be loath to forbid. As a result, we have determined to allow the tradition to continue as usual."
A palpable sense of relief flooded the hall. James glanced at Rose, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Grudje, however, was not finished.
"We will, nonetheless," he said, raising one pale, knuckly hand, "institute certain… reasonable requirements. For instance, only students with no current or scheduled detentions may enjoy the privilege of Hogsmeade weekends."
Around the room, a scattering of shoulders slumped and brows furrowed. There were, of course, a large number of students currently scheduled for detentions.
"Furthermore," Grudje went on, "We would hate to see any of you fall behind in your studies. Therefore, only students who are current on all homework assignments, including those due the following Monday, will be eligible for the trip to Hogsmeade."
Another wave of angry mutterings washed over the room at this, even louder than before. This time, Grudje seemed to allow it. He smiled slowly, indulgently.
"Professors will be stationed in the courtyard tomorrow morning, ready to accept any outstanding homework assignments and bid you a good trip. Until then, do enjoy your evening, students," he said, spreading his arms in a display of gracious magnanimity.
Graham Warton leaned over the table furiously. "He knows Corsica slapped us with a fourteen inch essay on the uses of Hazel and Helledore! There's no way we can have that done by tomorrow morning!"
"He's setting us up!" Deirdre Finnegan agreed hopelessly. "Between detentions and homework, there's no way any of us can go to Hogsmeade."
"That's not entirely true," Scorpius mused, glancing back at the Slytherin table. "None of them look particularly unhappy, do they?"
James followed Scorpius' gaze and saw that it was true. Ralph, Trenton Bloch and Albus sat near the head of the table, their heads together in hushed conversation. Along the rest of the Slytherin table, however students were grinning, talking animatedly, even offering each other congratulatory nods and back slaps.
"Looks like it's true that Professor Corsica is giving her house a little 'helping hand' with their Herbology assignments," Scorpius sighed.
"I told you!" Graham exclaimed. "We should tell McGonagall!"
Rose shook her head derisively. "Don't be an idiot. We don't have any proof. Even if she believed us, Tabitha would just deny it, turning that infuriating charm of hers up to full power." Here, Rose sat up straight, widened her eyes in a parody of wounded innocence and adopted a tone of oily sweetness, "Why Professor McGonagall, I would never endanger the academic development of my students by providing them with answers. That would be unethical!"
Deirdre snorted despite herself. "That's totally what Corsica would say. And the thing is, everyone would know she was lying."
"Just like everyone would know there was no way to prove it," Scorpius added.
"Maybe we're looking at this all wrong," James said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully as he gazed across the Great Hall.
"I don't see how," Graham groused. "No fourteen inch Herbology essay, no Hogsmeade. You have another way of looking at it?"
"Have you ever heard the phrase," James asked, a rueful smile breaking on his face, "'if you can't beat them, join them?'"
The next morning, James, Scorpius and Rose shuffled into the rather short queue of students lining up in the courtyard.
"She's totally going to know what we did," James muttered.
Several places ahead of them, Albus glanced back pointedly, his brow lowered.
"Who cares if she knows," Scorpius shrugged. "What can she do about it? If she accepts the essays from Albus and Ralph, she'll have to accept them from us, even if she knows we somehow winkled them."
"She'll know it was Albus," Rose murmured tensely. "Ralph says she refused to teach him the Duplicitus spell. My guess is that she's still peeved at him from their first year, when he turned on her and her stupid Progressive Element cronies."
"Deedle probably couldn't work the Duplicitus spell even if she did teach him," Scorpius commented. "With that hulking wand of his, he'd probably duplicate the entire castle right on top of us all."
Rose stamped her foot angrily. "Oh, I can't believe I let you talk me into this!" she hissed. "I've never cheated before in my entire life. I feel so filthy!"
James nudged her. "Let it go, already. It's not cheating if Corsica is allowing her own house to do it. We're just… you know… levelling the playing field."
"Just because cheating is second nature to you!" Rose seethed. "I should have given my copy to Graham. He was right furious we couldn't get him one."
Scorpius shushed both of them as Albus stepped forward to meet Tabitha Corsica. She smiled at him from behind a pair of stylish tortoiseshell sunglasses and held out her hand. He placed a roll of parchment into it and glanced back at James again, his face pinched in anger.
Corsica nodded at Albus without opening the parchment. He hunched his shoulders and stumped ahead, joining Ralph by the courtyard gate.
"This is it," Rose whined in a shrill whisper. "I can't do this! It's embarrassing! It's not worth it!"
"Ms. Weasley?" Corsica called lightly. "You have something for me?"
Rose hesitated, glancing back at James with a look of agonized indecision. Finally, she stalked forward and stabbed out her fist, handing Corsica a roll of parchment.
"Very nice, Ms. Weasley. You always were a quick study," Corsica admitted, her sunglasses glinting in the sunlight. In a lower voice, she added, "How nice you've found a way to compensate for the challenges of your heritage."
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Rose demanded.
"Nothing," James blurted out, anxious to get the affair over and avoid confrontation. "I think I'm next, Professor."
Corsica turned to him and her pleasant smile fell away. "James Potter?" she said suspiciously. "What are you…?" She glanced suddenly back at Rose. "This is very unbecoming of you, Ms. Weasley, assisting others in this fashion."
"Oh, does that sort of thing offend you, Professor?" Rose asked archly. "I wouldn't have guessed."
Corsica's expression hardened. "I'll have you before Mr. Filch in a heartbeat, my dear," she growled.
Rose grinned viciously. "Maybe you should take a look at James' essay before you do that, Professor."
Corsica paused, her neat eyebrows lowering behind her sunglasses. She turned back to James and held out her hand. James
stepped forward nervously and placed his parchment onto her palm. Without looking away from him, she ripped off the wax seal and unrolled it. Only then did she glance down at it, and freeze.
"What do you think, Professor," Rose asked sweetly. "Should we go talk to Mr. Filch? Perhaps we should suggest he take a look at all of the essays that have been handed in so far."
Corsica slowly rerolled the parchment, her face carefully expressionless. She glared at Rose for a long, thoughtful moment. To Rose's credit, she did not flinch from that gaze; in fact, she returned it.
"Enjoy your day, students," Corsica said suddenly, brightly. "And congratulations on your… resourcefulness."
"Thanks, Professor," Scorpius replied easily, handing her his copy of the essay with a slight bow. Rose didn't seem prepared to let the matter go, however. James grabbed her by the elbow and began to tug her toward the gates. Rose followed reluctantly. Just inside the gate, she stopped and whirled back.
"By the way, Professor," she called out. "In the second paragraph, Hellebore is not used for making the Elixir of Harmony. That would be the Draught of Peace. I assume you'll grade 'my' essay accordingly."
Corsica's face paled despite the streaming sunlight. She seemed to gather herself for a retort, drawing up to her full height. Before she could, however, James dragged Rose around the edge of the gate. They joined Albus, Ralph and Scorpius as they darted onto the path toward Hogsmeade.
"Corsica's totally going to kill me," Albus raged as they ran. "Now hand it over."
James nodded and dug in his jeans pocket, producing a folded envelope, addressed to their parents. Albus took it, examined it critically for a moment, and then brandished his wand. With a flourish, he tapped the envelope and made it vanish in a puff of fiery ash.
"If you ever threaten to tell mum and dad how that grindylow got into their laundry hamper again, I swear I'll make ten copies of myself and pound you into next year."
"Forget that," James panted, glancing aside at Rose as she fumed. "After what she said to Corsica back there, she's the only one whose bad side I'm worried about getting on."
After the stresses, misadventures, and painfully unanswered questions of the previous few months, that day in Hogsmeade was a blissfully welcome respite.
James, Ralph, Albus, Scorpius and Rose spent the entire morning leisurely browsing the shops lining the High Street, including stopovers in Gladrags (where Ralph purchased a new spring cloak with Christmas money he'd received from his grandmother on his deceased mother's side), Dervish & Banges, where they spent many awed minutes examining the new Thunderstreak Limited, which (according to the flashing sign in the window) came equipped with its own anti-inertia charms and slipstream enchantment, and Scrivenshafts, where James, Scorpius and Albus finally got bored waiting for Rose and Ralph, abandoning them in front of a display of self-inking quills while they stole across the street to Honeydukes. Half an hour later, pockets bulging with Fizzing Whizzbees, Jelly Slugs, and Pepper Imps, the five-some made their way to the Three Broomsticks for a late lunch. There, they ran into a gaggle of Slytherins clustered raucously around a large table. Several Slytherin girls glared suspiciously at Ralph and Albus.
"Gwynn and Chlorissa," Ralph moaned, trying rather pathetically to hide behind James. "They totally hate me."
"They don't hate you, Ralph," Albus said reassuringly. "They just think you're a big dumb oaf and a traitor to your magical heritage. That's all."
"That's loads better," Ralph sighed, trying to hide his face behind the collar of his new cloak.
Albus waved heartily at the table of Slytherins. "Hey everybody! Just slumming it with the brother and cousin Weasley. You can pick your friends, but you're stuck with the family you're dealt, right?"
Most of the Slytherins seemed to relax at this, their suspicious glares melting into crooked smiles. Albus ducked toward their table and threw an arm each over the shoulders of Beetlebrick and the tall girl called Chlorissa. He whispered something to them. As he did, the Slytherins glanced furtively back at James, Rose and Scorpius where they gathered near the bar.
"What'd you tell them?" Ralph asked as Albus returned.
"I told them you were building up confidences so James and Scorpius here would let slip with the Gryffindor Quidditch playbook for next match. Not that it matters," he added, elbowing James in the ribs. "You lot are about as threatening as a sack of dead Horklumps, what with that git Vassar chasing the Snitch."
As the sun began to lower and gusty winds pushed a low blanket of clouds overhead, dimming the streets and cooling the air, James, Rose and Scorpius parted from Albus and Ralph (who prudently decided to rejoin their Slytherin fellows). Reluctant to return to the castle just yet, they made their way to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for their favourite stop of the trip.
Uncle George met them at the counter and called Ted Lupin from the back room to join them. There, in hushed tones, the students described the latest happenings at Hogwarts, up to and including the new restrictions on Hogsmeade weekends, which they had narrowly bypassed.
"It was bad enough with Umbridge," George scowled, his usually jovial face dark. "She was vicious and deluded, but she seemed to truly believe she was operating for the good of the wizarding world. Fred once told me he thought it was better to live with an outright tyrant like Voldy than with a psychotic dogooder like Umbridge. But giving Filch that kind of authority…" he shook his head slowly. "He's neither an all-powerful tyrant or a deluded crusader. He's a petty bully whose suddenly been given a license to hurt people. Why would Grudje do such a thing?"
"Maybe for the same reason he's told all the teachers to pile on the schoolwork," James said, narrowing his eyes. "It's a distraction. Maybe he's trying to keep us all so busy that we don't have time to ask questions, to look around, to see what's going on right under our noses."
Ted shook his head in frustration. "But what is going on? Do you lot have any idea? Because the rest of us sure bloody don't. Between the assassination of the American vice president, the collapse of the laws of secrecy all over the world, and your dad getting frozen out of everything going on in his own office at the Auror Department, the whole world is just a big, confusing mess."
Rose shrugged helplessly. "It doesn't get any clearer on our side. There's some demented wizard in New Amsterdam, calls himself the Collector, who apparently is the new American vice president, although Uncle Harry says there's nothing he can do about it except try to warn the Magical Integration Bureau, and those blokes don't tend to trust him much."
"Not to mention the fact," Scorpius added in a low voice, "that this Collector person seemed to be working on a magical super weapon called the Morrigan Web, which everyone agrees is pretty awful, even if they have no idea what it does or if it's even possible."
James opened his mouth to remind them that the mysterious Durmstrang Professor Avior was, according to Rose's investigations, supposedly one of the world's only experts on the Morrigan Web. For some reason, however, he hesitated, and then closed his mouth again. Rose saw this, and frowned slightly.
"The difference between Umbridge's time and now," George exclaimed tensely, "is that back then we had the Order of the Phoenix."
Rose blinked at him. "But… just this past Christmas," she said, dropping her voice to a secretive near-whisper, "at Grimmauld Place, wasn't that the Order reconvened?"
George barked a harsh, mirthless laugh. "Oh, I suppose you could call it that. But look at us. Me, a jokester who never even finished my schooling. A half-giant who was forbidden for half of his adult life from even using magic. Bloody Draco Malfoy! Er, sorry Scorpius. I mean… your dad's helpful in his own way, but, well there's a lot of history there."
Scorpius shrugged and looked away.
"The most powerful person there is your dad, James," George went on, staring down at his own clenched fist. "And he's been stripped of any influence he might have, sent off on pointless busy-work, trotted out like some kind of tamed animal. They're embarrassed of him at th
e Ministry."
"George," Ted said. "I don't think--"
"It's true, though," George insisted stubbornly, meeting Ted's eyes. "And the sooner we all realize it, the better. The Order of the Phoenix is a pathetic shadow of what it once was. It's an insult to keep the name. Where's Sirius Black? Forgive me, Ted, but where are Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks? Where is my brother Fred?"
He looked around suddenly, switching his gaze from face to face, as if literally looking for those long departed heroes. "Gone, every one of them. Gone. Like Dumbledore, the one we all rallied behind, the one who made it seem like, against all odds, there was always a slim chance, always a shred of hope. Where is Dumbledore? Is he coming back?"
Uncle George's eyes looked very naked as they probed James' face. Finally, slowly, the ginger-haired man shook his head.
"No. Regardless of the drunken conspiracies that get tossed around at the Hog's Head, regardless what some of us whisper to each other to keep hope alive, Albus Dumbledore isn't coming back. There's a power-mongering crackpot sitting in his chair in the headmaster's office." He sighed deeply and dropped his gaze. "Dumbledore died. And the Order of the Phoenix died with him."
Rose stared at her Uncle, her face set in a mask of stubborn defiance. "Hope isn't dead," she said quietly. "Hope is never dead."
Uncle George didn't look up. Ted met Rose's eyes and nodded at her. Silently, he stepped around the counter and led the three students toward the door.
"Don't be too hard on your uncle," he said, leading them out onto the footpath as he stood in the doorway. "It's a dark time, and it's reminded him of everything he lost. I don't think any of us can understand what it means to him."
James looked puzzled. "But… you lost both your mum and dad at the Battle of Hogwarts."