𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗦

𝐕

❝ 𝖆 𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖐 𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖗 ❞

Harry looked down the list and found that he was expected in Professor McGonagall’s office at half-past two on Monday, which would mean missing most of Divination. He and the other fifth years spent a considerable part of the final weekend of the Easter break reading all the career information that had been left there for their perusal.

“Well, I don’t fancy Healing,” said Ron on the last evening of the holidays. He was immersed in a leaflet that carried the crossed bone-and-wand emblem of St. Mungo’s on its front. “It says here you need at least an E at N.E.W.T. level in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I mean . . . blimey. . . . Don’t want much, do they?”

“Well, it’s a very responsible job, isn’t it?” said Hermione absently. She was poring over a bright pink-and-orange leaflet that was headed so you think you’d like to work in muggle relations? “You don’t seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles. . . . All they want is an O.W.L. in Muggle Studies. . . . ‘Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience, and a good sense of fun!’ ”

“You’d need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle,” said Harry darkly. “Good sense of when to duck, more like . . .” He was halfway through a pamphlet on Wizard banking. “Listen to this: “ ‘Are you seeking a challenging career involving travel, adventure, and substantial, danger-related treasure bonuses? Then consider a position with Gringotts Wizarding Bank, who are currently recruiting Curse-Breakers for thrilling opportunities abroad. . . .’ They want Arithmancy, though. . . . You could do it, Hermione!”
“I don’t much fancy banking,” said Hermione vaguely, now immersed in have you got what it takes to train security trolls?
“Hey,” said a voice in Harry’s ear. He looked around; Fred and George had come to join them. “Ginny’s had a word with us about you,” said Fred, stretching out his legs on the table in front of them and causing several booklets on careers with the Ministry of Magic to slide off onto the floor. “She says you need to talk to Sirius?” Harry had forgotten about that. He immediately wanted to have a word with Sirius, one with Snape's memory, and secondly, and most importantly, Jennifer Potter.
“What?” said Hermione sharply, freezing with her hand halfway toward picking up make a bang at the department of magical accidents and catastrophes.
“Yeah . . .” said Harry, trying to sound casual, “yeah, I thought I’d like —”
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” said Hermione, straightening up and looking at him as though she could not believe her eyes. “With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?”
“Well, we think we can find a way around that,” said George, stretching and smiling. “It’s a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?”
“What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?” continued Fred. “No point at all, we answered ourselves. And of course, we’d have messed up people’s studying too, which would be the very last thing we’d want to do.”
He gave Hermione a sanctimonious little nod. She looked rather taken aback by this thoughtfulness.
“But it’s business as usual from tomorrow,” Fred continued briskly.
“And if we’re going to be causing a bit of uproar, why not do it so that Harry can have his chat with Sirius?”
“Yes, but still,” said Hermione with an air of explaining something very simple to somebody very obtuse, “even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?”
“Umbridge’s office,” said Harry quietly.
He had been thinking about it for a fortnight and could think of no alternative; Umbridge herself had told him that the only fire that was not being watched was her own.
“Are — you — insane?” said Hermione in a hushed voice.
Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the cultivated fungus trade and was watching the conversation warily.
“I don’t think so,” said Harry, shrugging.
“And how are you going to get in there in the first place?”
Harry was ready for this question.
“Sirius’s knife,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,” said Harry. “So even if she’s bewitched the door so Alohomora won’t work, which I bet she has —”
“What do you think about this?” Hermione demanded of Ron, and Harry was reminded irresistibly of Mrs. Weasley appealing to her husband during Harry’s first dinner in Grimmauld Place.
“I dunno,” said Ron, looking alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. “If Harry wants to do it, it’s up to him, isn’t it?”
“Spoken like a true friend and Weasley,” said Fred, clapping Ron hard on the back. “Right, then. We’re thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact if every-
body’s in the corridors — Harry, we’ll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office — I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?” he said, looking at George.
“Easy,” said George.
“What sort of diversion is it?” asked Ron.
“You’ll see, little bro,” said Fred, as he and George got up again. “At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy’s corridor round about five o’clock tomorrow.”