Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

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.

Only then did he realise that Hedwig’s feathers were oddly ruffled; some were bent the wrong way, and she was holding one of her wings at an odd angle.

“She’s hurt!” Harry whispered, bending his head low over her. Hermione and Ron leaned in closer; Hermione even put down her quill. “Look—there’s something wrong with her wing—”

Hedwig was quivering; when Harry made to touch the wing she gave a little jump, all her feathers on end as though she was inflating herself, and gazed at him reproachfully.

“Professor Binns,” said Harry loudly, and everyone in the class turned to look at him. “I’m not feeling well.”

Professor Binns raised his eyes from his notes, looking amazed, as always, to find the room in front of him full of people.

“Not feeling well?” he repeated hazily.

“Not at all well,” said Harry firmly getting to his feet with Hedwig concealed behind his back. “I think I need to go to the hospital wing.”