Chapter 77: The Decree and the Last Meeting
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
Argus Filch stood on his stepladder, swinging his hammer with grim satisfaction. With each blow, the new Educational Decree was nailed more firmly to the stone wall of the Entrance Hall. A small crowd of students had gathered, watching silently as yet another rule was added to the growing collection.
The wall, now unofficially known as the 'Umbridge Decree Wall,' was becoming a tapestry of oppressive bureaucracy. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before it was completely covered. Filch, his chest puffed out so that the badge of Umbridge's 'Inquisitorial Squad' shone prominently, gave the parchment a final, precise adjustment before climbing down. He strode away, his expression a mix of pride and malicious glee.
Hermione stepped closer, her brow furrowed as she read the fresh decree aloud, her voice low and tense. "'Educational Decree Number Twenty-Six: By order of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, teachers are prohibited from providing students with any information not directly related to their subject's approved curriculum.'"
Elian let out a soft, incredulous breath. It sounded dry, but its meaning was chilling. Read another way, it forbade teachers from talking to students about anything else—no guidance, no warnings, certainly no mention of the dark truths swirling outside the castle walls.
"Is she completely mad?" Hermione whispered, turning to Elian with wide, frustrated eyes.
The surrounding students muttered in agreement, their faces a mix of anger and defeat.
Elian shook his head slightly. "Trust me, Hermione," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Umbridge's reign won't last much longer." Christmas was approaching, and with it, the end of term. He could feel the precarious balance of the year shifting, like a snow-laden branch about to snap.
As the holidays neared, the meetings of Dumbledore's Army had become more frequent, sometimes two or three times a week. A new, intense energy fueled them, and Elian knew he was the cause. Since his brutal, eye-opening lesson, the Room of Requirement had transformed more often into a training ground than a classroom. The room itself had adapted, growing larger, its walls more padded, to accommodate duels that were less about elegant spellwork and more about pragmatic, sometimes ruthless, combat.
The news of the Azkaban breakout had been a cold shock that galvanized them further. The Ministry's story about Sirius Black was laughable to most D.A. members now. They trained with a grim understanding that the world outside was not playing by school rules.
Tonight was to be the last meeting of the term. Elian leaned against a padded wall, observing as small groups sparred. He occasionally called out advice, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
"Seamus, don't let him get his footing! Stun him while he's off-balance!"
"Ron, decisiveness! Lavender's more decisive than you right now!"
"Padma, Parvati, good use of misdirection! Keep moving, don't let them pin you down!"
The Patil twins shot him a grateful, synchronised smile. Elian had to admit, the twin witches of Gryffindor were a formidable pair when they embraced clever tactics over brute force. He had, somewhat reluctantly, helped the entire D.A. shed their hesitation about 'unsporting' behaviour. Even Hermione, after being bested by a cunning feint from Neville, had abandoned any high-minded notions of duelling etiquette. Survival, it turned out, was a great motivator.
As the session wound down, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered everyone. Elian stayed back, absently turning his unique sandalwood wand over in his fingers, feeling the faint hum of its Zouwu hair core.
"Shouldn't we call him over?" Ron muttered to Hermione, nodding toward Elian.
Hermione glanced over, a complex flutter in her stomach at the sight of him—part fondness, part lingering frustration over the Christmas invitation mess. "He's not an official member, remember?" she said, a bit more sharply than she intended.
"Oh, right," Ron said, looking away. His gaze accidentally met Lavender Brown's across the room. She smiled brightly at him. Ron blinked, a faint pink tinge rising to his ears. Harry noticed and nudged him.
"Ahem," Harry began, addressing the room. "This is our last meeting this term. Happy Christmas, everyone, and we'll see you next year."
A round of applause broke out, warm and sincere. One by one, members began to filter out, calling their goodbyes.
"Merry Christmas, Harry!"
"See you next term, Hermione!"
"Happy holidays!"
To Elian's surprise, almost every single member, as they passed him on their way to the door, paused to wish him a Merry Christmas too. He received nods, smiles, and murmured thanks. He returned each one with a slight, genuine smile of his own, touched by the unspoken acknowledgment of his role in their strange, secret army.
Soon, only a handful remained. Elian noticed Cho Chang lingering near the bookshelves, her eyes seeking Harry's. Hermione saw it too. She trotted over to Elian, who was still looking somewhat bemused by the well-wishes.
"Come on," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "We should go."
"What?" Elian asked, not quite following.
Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured subtly with her chin toward Cho and Harry. "Honestly. They're waiting to talk. Let's not be… conspicuous."
"Oh! Right, of course," Elian said, comprehension dawning. He raised his voice just enough to be heard across the room. "Well, Harry, Cho… don't stay up too late. Hermione and I are off."
Hermione flushed, swatting his arm lightly. "You are so obvious," she hissed, dragging him toward the door.
"What? I was just being considerate!"
"You were being loud!"
Their bickering faded as the door to the Room of Requirement slid shut behind them, leaving Harry and Cho in a suddenly very quiet, and very awkward, room.
Harry scratched the back of his neck.
Cho offered a shy smile.
(End of Chapter)
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