Someone had talked to Umbridge. It hadn't been one of the members of Dumbledore's Army, he'd checked every face that had been in the Hog's Head and none of them bore the work of Hermione's jinx.
That meant that one of the Ravenclaws that had left early had gone to talk to her, or someone that they had told, had done it instead.
Harry grinned. It made things much easier for him.
There had only been three students that had left early, Cho Chang he already knew, and it hadn't taken long to find out the names of her friends. Marietta Edgecombe, and Lisa Turpin. One of them had betrayed the group to Umbridge, and the Pink Professor had trusted their word enough to write to Fudge for help again.
One of them might prove very useful in the future.
It wasn't Cho Chang. Harry knew she loathed Umbridge as much as her boyfriend, Cedric did, but a couple of innocent questions about the attractive strawberry blonde at the Ravenclaw table and he knew that Edgecombe had a mother in the ministry, one who was quite outspoken in support of Fudge.
That had led him here, to sitting under his cloak on the table across the library from where Cho, Lisa and Marietta were studying, just before lunch began.
Harry fingered the tip of his wand. This was a risk, a huge risk, but one that was worth the gamble. If he knew who it was among the students that Umbridge trusted then he had one of his breadcrumbs ready made, and he could slip whatever he wanted into her ears via Marietta's mouth.
'Legilimens,' he whispered, surreptitiously pointing is wand at Marietta's back. He cast the spell as lightly as possible, knowing from the few times Creevey had actually been awake by the fire that a very underpowered attempt could pass unnoticed.
There was a brief flutter of unintelligible images; the connection was a fraction too faint.
'Legilimens,' he repeated, a little stronger this time, and the connection formed almost perfectly, not too weak to be useless, but not strong enough to be felt as anything more than a slight headache.
Marietta was gossiping about some boy in their house, his picture and hers were prevalent among her thoughts.
Harry slipped an impression of pink in among them. Too simple to seem foreign, too subtle to be detected. Pink made her think of Umbridge, of having tea in that ghastly office and talking about an organisation that her friends had chosen not to attend, but existed to flout what Umbridge was teaching.
Harry broke the connection, withdrawing from her mind. Marietta Edgecombe would be Umbridge's first breadcrumb when the time came.
Pulling the cloak off and folding it away under his robes he quietly left the library, leaving a concerned Cho Chang to ask her friend why she was suddenly pressing her fingers against her temples.
He met Katie on the way down to lunch, she was cheerful, buoyed by a good mark on her latest transfiguration essay. 'How was Arithmancy?' She asked him.
Harry twisted his lips in discontent. 'It's not easy, and it's not as interesting as I hoped, but it isn't boring either.'
'Like all subjects then,' Katie smiled. 'It's not your strongest area, so I wouldn't worry about it.'
'I wasn't it,' Harry assured her. 'I'm much better at Charms and Transfiguration, but Arithmancy is useful, it's very helpful in understanding why certain things happen in… some areas of magic.'
He'd almost said rituals, which made use of the magical properties of some numbers to channel, focus and amplify the magical qualities of the ritual, but at the last moment remembered the connotations of the word. Harry doubted Katie would judge him, but there were plenty of people around to do it for her. 'Have you inquired.
seen
the
Daily
Prophet?'
Harry
'No,' Katie gave him a worried look, 'did you do something?'
'It's not to do with me,' he screwed his face up, 'well, it's not directly to do with me. I'll show you at lunch, someone always has a copy lying around to read while they eat.'
She realised immediately that he really meant when there are fewer people nearby and quickened her pace, swiftly descending the stairs, bypassing the unfortunate younger Creevey who had somehow managed to get both his feet stuck in one of the trick steps.
'So what's happened?' Katie pressed, all but pushing him into the nearest empty seat and shooing a handful of second years further up the table. They didn't dare linger to argue. Harry glanced down the table, catching sight of an unattended paper, and summoned it, wordlessly and wandlessly into his hand. Katie blinked, then beamed.
'That's really impressive,' she gushed, 'you're so powerful and brilliant, my lord.'
'Hush you,' Harry remonstrated, grinning. 'It's taken me hours and hours of practise to be able to do that, I'm allowed to show it off.'
'How many hours?' She asked curiously, unfolding the Daily Prophet he'd so extravagantly summoned over a portion of the game pie that Harry had intended to be his. He cut himself another slice instead.
'At least ten,' Harry decided thoughtfully. There had been a lot of scattered summoning of things to get used to the movement of magic well enough for it to be remembered and form an instant mental association with the intent. 'It's like learning drills for quidditch, you have to do it so many times it sinks in and becomes a reflex.'
'So it probably took Dumbledore hours of practice to be able to light the candles on his lectern like he does to impress the first years every year.'
'I'd never thought about that,' Harry laughed, 'but yes, probably.'
'So what did you want to show me.' Katie was flicking through the pages from the wrong side, so Harry retrieved it from her and turned it over to show her the headline.
'Educational Decree twenty-five,' Katie read aloud. 'That doesn't sound good.'
'Every student run club or organisation has to apply to her for permission to continue,' Harry explained, taking a mouthful of pie.
'The quidditch team,' Katie realised, horrified, dropping her fortunately clean fork into her lap.
'The DA,' Harry whispered, trying not to laugh at the expression on her face. 'Someone went and told her and she must have written to Fudge to try and stop it forming.'
'Since when were we calling it the DA?' Katie asked quietly, retrieving her silverware.
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