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The headmaster was silent for a while, looking at me.
"I know that you, Mr. Knight, will not unnecessarily interfere in such things, but I also know that you want to comprehend magic in its most extreme forms. I would like to ask you to help Mr. Potter when it comes to… To business, no matter how it sounds. In addition to the fact that it is beneficial to you, I will also provide you with a service that, believe me, is difficult to overestimate.
"What service, may I ask?"
"I'm going to introduce you to a wizard you can hardly ever reach. If you can persuade him to teach you, believe me, he will teach you what no one else knows."
"You've intrigued me, Headmaster."
"I have no other choice. Absolutely no one from the powerful of this world, and not very strong, does not want and will not help England and us in solving the brewing conflict. Wizards have been living in enclaves for a long time, and the bubbling cauldron in the neighboring enclave does not interest them exactly until it promises to thoroughly splash them."
"I have to think about it, Headmaster. Don't get me wrong, but I don't consider myself incapable of comprehending knowledge on my own."
"I understand," Dumbledore smiled. "I'm like that myself. But, as my friend once told me: The stockpile does not pull the pocket."
"But at what cost does that stockpile come? What are the risks?"
"Our whole life is a risk. The only question is, for what purposes are we taking risks? We can't change the world at the snap of our fingers, but we can keep it from getting worse. Think about it, Mr. Knight, but know that I will not reproach you in any way if you refuse."
We nodded to each other, and I went to the Gryffindor's common room. Maybe there really is something to think about? The offer is interesting, and I don't like Voldemort either. He and his Death Eaters still need to be dealt with.
***
The next morning, after talking to the headmaster, Hermione and I went to the Hog's Head. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I had asked Lady Greengrass to reschedule classes for a couple of hours in advance.
The place, both inside and out, was untrustworthy. It was gloomy and desolate. Outside hanging over the door was a ruined sign with a picture of a severed hog's head, with drops of blood dripping from it. Inside, there was not a pungent but a noticeable animal smell, and the tables, like the walls, were old and blackened with time.
It turned out that we came a little earlier than the others, so we took the far table, and I hid us with magic from the eyes of other people. The big bearded man behind the bar only grunted unhappily but didn't say a word against it.
After a few minutes, other students began to arrive, and soon there were twenty people, no less. Harry and Ron, the ones responsible for the festivities, showed up, too. They were the ones who were given the floor, and at first, they were hesitant, but after a couple of minutes, they were bravely talking about the need to study and so on. When it came to the question of who would teach them, someone suggested Harry as a candidate and said, "he had already fought the Dark Lord."
Having agreed on that, the boys moved on to organizational matters. It was decided to keep the gathering secret through a contract, and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff suggested this option. No wonder, since her aunt is the head of the DMLE and she knows such nuances. They decided to keep in touch with the help of Protean Charms, and the idea was given by Cho Chang — two notebooks work on these charms, through which she corresponds with Cedric. So it turns out that the means chosen were still the same.
The guys began to enthusiastically draw up a contract and sign it. They named their group, what idiots, "Dumbledore's Army." Several people from Hufflepuff doubted whether they needed it at all, but under the pressure of the public masses, they still signed it.
When the signatures were done, everyone gathered around Potter, and the obvious question sounded, "Where are we going to study?"
"Max promised to show the room," Ron answered with a satisfied face.
"Max?" one of the Ravenclaws asked. "Where is he, by the way?"
"Yes!" the twins said in unison.
Hermione and I stood up from the table in sync, and our disguises fell off. It was hard to see us, though - we were both in black, our robes black, our gloves black. It looked like Hermione was beginning to fall in love with the practicality of that color.
"You guys are funny," I smiled at the crowd, who flinched and turned sharply at our appearance. "Why the fuck did you call yourselves 'Dumbledore's Army'? And if you get found out, what will the Ministry think? Okay, someone two or three with us, I'll show you the room. There's no need for a whole crowd to be wandering around the castle."
"Hey, I don't get it!" resented Ernie Macmillan. "Why didn't these guys sign?"
Judging by the indignant murmurings, they agreed with him.
"I don't want to," I shrugged and looked at Hermione. "Do you?"
"What am I, stupid or something, to sign all sorts of weird contracts?"
The crowd rumbled again, and someone even jumped out of that crowd. Oh, Anthony Goldstein.
"But we all signed! What if you go and turn us in to Umbridge?"
"What's the point?" I smiled.
"What's there to argue about?" some of the older guys stood up from their seats. "There are a lot of us here. One minute and we have the signatures."
"You better try..."