Dumbledore's Army and the Year of Darkness

Chapter 3: Cat and Mouse

"Are you sure they're down, Dobby?"

The little elf nodded enthusiastically, his large ears flapping. "Yes, sir. We put the potion in their drinks just like you told us to, and they're all sleeping most soundly. Professor Snape fell asleep right on his desk!"

"I still wish we had Harry's map," Ginny muttered.

Neville shrugged dismissively. "We all wish a lot of things, but we're going to have to make do. Now, let's go over things one more time." He looked around at the circle of faces, then tapped his wand against the map of the school spread out on the table in front of him. "Does everyone know what names and classrooms they're taking?"

There were nods all around, and Neville made a small, satisfied noise, then held up his fake Galleon. "Something goes wrong, don't try to solve it. Squeeze it twice and get out of there. It'll turn cold for the rest of us, and that means one team has aborted and we have to be on alert. If something goes really wrong and you get caught or are about to, squeeze it four times, and it'll heat up for the rest of us -"

"- And that means we all run back to our common rooms like we had a herd of dragons on our heels," finished Lavender.

"Exactly. Now, there's fourteen pairs of us, and only the two Carrows and Snape. Even if you count in Filch on their side, that means no matter what, twenty of us will get away. Those are good numbers, so please," he cast an imploring look at his fellow Gryffindors in particular, "no one get any ideas about trying to rescue each other if you feel the Galleon heat up. Just run. Hopefully, nothing goes wrong, but if it does, we need to save as many people as possible to keep fighting them. Please."

After a reluctant pause, a murmured chorus of 'yes' and 'all right' broke out, and he took a deep breath as he stood up from his chair, reaching into the pocket of his robes for his scarf, no longer striped with the crimson and gold of Gryffindor, but solid black. "Everyone remember to cover your faces, just in case. And take your time with the Flagrate ... we want those names carved in good and deep. These last ten days have really taken a toll on morale, and we don't want them to be able to erase what we've done before everyone's had a chance to remember what's really at stake. Ginny, do you have the Garbling Gum?"

Ginny dug into her pocket and dumped a large fistful of brightly wrapped sweets onto the table, each emblazoned with the bold "W" of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. "It'll last about an hour," she informed them, "but if you spit it out, your voice goes back to normal instantly. It doesn't taste all that bad, either. Sort of a cinnamon-minty flavor."

They each took a piece, and as he popped it into his mouth, there was a bizarre fizzing sensation, as though he had just sucked the foam off a flagon of butterbeer. When he spoke again, his voice sounded as if he were talking through a mouth organ; tinny and unnatural, neither male nor female and utterly unrecognizable. "Let's get ready, then." He checked his watch. "We move out in five minutes."

There was a flurry of activity as all around him, people made last-second checks of wands, belts, and shoelaces, wrapping scarves around their faces and unwrapping gum. Neville was pleased to see that no one looked afraid, and although his own heart was pounding, it really seemed more out of excitement than fear. It felt good to be doing this, striking out and taking a real action after almost three weeks of this new, sick parody of the school they all loved. He grinned as he imagined the looks on the faces of Snape and the Carrows in the morning when they discovered that every single classroom and the Great Hall had been emblazoned with the names of the missing, the banished, the 'undesirable' and 'impure' that they all missed so much.

He wrapped the scarf around his face, checking in the large full-length mirrors that the Room of Requirement had sprouted for the occasion to ensure that nothing but his eyes were visible. Neville made sure the knot was tight so that it wouldn't slip down if he had to move quickly, then double-checked his partner, Ernie Macmillan, before submitting to the same scrutiny. There was no room for error here. They all knew that with the Cruciatus Curse being used so freely - a dozen times in ten days, and twice on helpless little first-years! - the penalty for getting caught at something like this did not bear thinking about.