Harry Potter 05 - Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

can talk it over?’
    ‘Why do we have to do it outside school?’ said Ron.
    ‘Because,’ said Hermione, returning to the diagram of the Chinese Chomping Cabbage she was copying, ‘I don’t think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to.’
    *
    Harry had been looking forward to the weekend trip into Hogsmeade, but there was one thing worrying him. Sirius had maintained a stony silence since he had appeared in the fire at the beginning of September; Harry knew they had made him angry by saying they didn’t want him to come – but he still worried from time to time that Sirius might throw caution to the winds and turn up anyway. What were they going to do if the great black dog came bounding up the street towards them in Hogsmeade, perhaps under the nose of Draco Malfoy?
    ‘Well, you can’t blame him for wanting to get out and about,’ said Ron, when Harry discussed his fears with him and Hermione. ‘I mean, he’s been on the run for over two years, hasn’t he, and I know that can’t have been a laugh, but at least he was free, wasn’t he? And now he’s just shut up all the time with that ghastly elf.’
    Hermione scowled at Ron, but otherwise ignored the slight on Kreacher.
    ‘The trouble is,’ she said to Harry, ‘until V-Voldemort – oh, for heaven’s sake , Ron – comes out into the open, Sirius is going to have to stay hidden, isn’t he? I mean, the stupid Ministry isn’t going to realise Sirius is innocent until they accept that Dumbledore’s been telling the truth about him all along. And once the fools start catching real Death Eaters again, it’ll be obvious Sirius isn’t one … I mean, he hasn’t got the Mark, for one thing.’
    ‘I don’t reckon he’d be stupid enough to turn up,’ said Ron bracingly. ‘Dumbledore’d go mad if he did and Sirius listens to Dumbledore even if he doesn’t like what he hears.’
    When Harry continued to look worried, Hermione said, ‘Listen, Ron and I have been sounding out people who we thought might want to learn some proper Defence Against the Dark Arts, and there are a couple who seem interested. We’ve told them to meet us in Hogsmeade.’
    ‘Right,’ said Harry vaguely, his mind still on Sirius.
    ‘Don’t worry, Harry,’ Hermione said quietly. ‘You’ve got enough on your plate without Sirius, too.’
    She was quite right, of course, he was barely keeping up with his homework, though he was doing much better now that he was no longer spending every evening in detention with Umbridge. Ron was even further behind with his work than Harry, because while they both had Quidditch practice twice a week, Ron also had his prefect duties. However, Hermione, who was taking more subjects than either of them, had not only finished all her homework but was also finding time to knit more elf clothes. Harry had to admit that she was getting better; it was now almost always possible to distinguish between the hats and the socks.
    The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. After breakfast they queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission from their parents or guardian to visit the village. With a slight pang, Harry remembered that if it hadn’t been for Sirius, he would not have been going at all.
    When Harry reached Filch, the caretaker gave a great sniff as though trying to detect a whiff of something from Harry. Then he gave a curt nod that set his jowls aquiver again and Harry walked on, out on to the stone steps and the cold, sunlit day.
    ‘Er – why was Filch sniffing you?’ asked Ron, as he, Harry and Hermione set off at a brisk pace down the wide drive to the gates.
    ‘I suppose he was checking for the smell of Dungbombs,’ said Harry with a small laugh. ‘I forgot to tell you …’
    And he recounted the story of sending his letter to Sirius and Filch bursting in seconds later, demanding to see the letter. To his slight surprise, Hermione found this story highly interesting, much more, indeed, than he did himself.
    ‘He said he was tipped off you were ordering Dungbombs? But who tipped him off?’
    ‘I dunno,’ said Harry, shrugging. ‘Maybe Malfoy, he’d think it was a laugh.’
    They walked between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars and turned left on to the road into the village, the wind whipping their hair into their eyes.
    ‘Malfoy?’ said Hermione, sceptically. ‘Well … yes … maybe …’
    And she