Lemon Grass and Sleep

EDUCATIONAL DECREE NUMBER TWENTY FOUR

"Merlin's beard, what's the rush?" I whispered quickly, feet stumbling forward as Glinda dragged me around a corner by my sleeve. She didn't respond, her face stony with determination as she peered around corners and scurried up the grand staircase to the seventh floor.

"I'm going to fucking kill that woman," she finally mustered, pushing open the gray door and slinging her bag to the floor angrily. "Educational decree number twenty-four."

"What?" I sputtered.

"By order of the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts all student organizations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded," Glinda spoke snippily, "Students are no longer allowed to gather in groups of three or more."

"How can she do that?" I angrily retorted, feeling myself get fired up.

"Nobody's stopping her," she fumed, crossing her arms and glaring at the fireplace like it had something to do with the new decree.

"The meeting--how are we gonna pull that off?"

"Well, some of the others think that maybe Umbridge somehow got wind of the Hog's Head."

"Ugh, of course she did, I wouldn't be surprised if-"

"She outlawed the quidditch team!" Fred burst into the room, angrily waving his hands around. George stomped in behind him, taking off his robe as Fred continued to rant and rave about Umbridge.

"She what!" Glinda roared, letting out a squeal of rage as she snatched a throw pillow off the couch and threw it to the ground.

"But, get this," George huffed, "Slytherin's fine! They're so dandy they get to keep on with it."

I flinched as the three of them continued to shout about Umbridge and her stupid rules, empathizing with them despite their furious nature. Behind the couch was good, it was safe. A nice little barrier that made me feel a bit better as I worriedly watched them, that feeling of fire dimming inside of me to a tiny little ember.

"Whatever," Fred muttered eventually, throwing himself down onto the couch and tilting his head back to glance up at me, "How are you today?"

"Fine," I gave a half-hearted smile. "We read a particularly interesting chapter in D.A.D.A. today."

"Hopefully we'll be doing something more interesting once Hermione can figure a way to get these meetings started," Glinda grumbled, plopping down into an armchair.

"She'll come up with something," George waved off, "She always does."

"So are we just supposed to wait?"

"Well, yeah," Fred said softly, looking down at the ground.

"I'm angry," Glinda finally said, still staring into the flames. "I feel like beating someone up."

George slowly slid farther away from her on the couch, leaning over the armrest carefully.

"Well, unfortunately, we can't beat anyone up," Fred sighed, "Not unless we want to be whipped or something."

"She's reinstated whipping?" Glinda deadpanned.

"Of course she has, not too long before Filch convinces her to bring back hanging kids by their toes as well."

"Anyways, do you guys want to see the new formula for Skiving Snack-" Fred leaned over and reached into his satchel.

"No, no, no," Glinda shook her head and leaned backward. "I have no desire to see either of you puking your guts out again."

"Well, we could go get a bucket," George offered, like that made it any better.

"Really, I don't know if I can stomach seeing that again," I persuaded, feeling a little sad as I watched Fred dejectedly slump back into his seat.