The next morning, Tuesday, I walked from the Slytherin dungeons to the Great Hall in a daze. Astoria and Theo were talking the hallway, practically hand in hand. I hadn't seen Draco all morning, and therefore was forced to leave without him. The Slytherins, as a whole, weren't acting much different than usual, but when we joined the other Houses in the entrance hall, they were all weary and tired, probably from whatever individual torments the Carrows had put them through the previous day. Nothing seemed to be able to brighten the mood until we all saw the words that had been written on the entrance hall's wall in inky black.
DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY: STILL RECRUITING
Murmurs trailed through the Great Hall as everyone entered, a new sense of anticipation among the crowd. The mood had been lifted and for once I saw hope on their faces. Snape, at the head of the room, attempted to silence everyone immediately, but there were still faint whispers as people took their seats. I'd known that Neville and Ginny were planning on restarting Dumbledore's Army, but I didn't think they were going to be quite so obvious about it.
A small part of me hoped they might let me back in.
As people gawk at the graffiti on the walls I take my seat next to Astoria and Theo, who haven't said a word to me this morning, and instead only talk to each other. The seat next to me that Draco normally occupies was empty. I wondered where he could be.
I'm suddenly snapped from my thoughts as Carl Vaisey slams the Daily Prophet on the table in front of Astoria and Theo. I had heard him complaining to some of the other chasers that it was unfair that Quidditch was canceled. I had been trying to avoid my Quidditch team because I knew they would beg me as Head Girl, and future Captain to plead with Snape to reconsider.
"Look who's been spotted at the ministry!" Vaisey jeers as heads turn toward the paper. I snatched it off the table and many heads peer over my shoulder. I read the headline out loud.
"Number 1 Desirable Spotted in London: How the Murderous Harry Potter Plots to Overthrow the Ministry." I laughed at the title. "Please, his killing curse barely gave me a nosebleed. Murderous my ass." I threw the prophet back down on the table. "Does anyone actually believe this rubbish?"
Vaisey snatches the paper back. "It's not rubbish!"
"Yeah," Theo nods his head agreeing. "Remember how him and his Dumbledore Army tried to overthrow Umbridge? I bet he's planning the same thing now!"
I roll my eyes. How stupid could these people be? But as I glanced around, I seemed to be the only one opposed to the title at the table. Their hate for Potter ran too deep. Before I could do anything rash, Draco Malfoy slid into the seat next to me.
"Seen the prophet?" he plucks an apple and bites into it. My face tells him I had. "Even I know Potter's not capable of such a feat."
"Seems you're the only one who doesn't believe it." I say as the prophet gets passed down the table. "Where were you yesterday? I came back down and looked for you but you were gone. And you didn't show for dinner either." I give him a pointed look.
"Snape wanted to talk to me." He says, "We caused too much of a scene in Dark Arts class. He says the Head Boy and Girl should be a better example." He nearly rolls his eyes. "Basically if we don't start following the rules better he'll replace us." He jabs a finger at me. "And you need to start acting like Head Girl. I'm the only one doing our job here."
"Hmm, I'll get right on it."
"I'm serious." He says, "Snape told me he only chose us because of our marks. I doubt he'd lose sleep replacing you with Pansy."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll do better." I say now getting irritated of the idea that I was replaceable, especially by Pansy.
I skipped most of the classes today. Not that it mattered. Most classes I was taking I didn't even want to take, or need to take. They were just there because Snape wants to fill my time up. I decided after lunch that I should at least attend one class today, considering it was only the second day I really should be putting in a little more effort.
