Dreams Are Falling Short

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge’s sign (about Educational Decree Number Twenty-four – which stated that no student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor) had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read.

The four of us had barely take our seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon us.

“Did you see it?”

“D’you reckon she knows?”

“What are we going to do?”

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near us.

“We’re going to do it anyway, of course,” he said quietly.

“Knew you’d say that,” said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.

“The prefects as well?” said Fred, looking quizzingly at Ron and Hermione.

“Be nice,” I muttered to him, squeezing his arm.

“Of course,” said Hermione coolly to Fred.

“Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott,” said Ron, looking over his shoulder. “And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith... and no one looks very spotty.”

Hermione looked alarmed.

“Never mind spots, the idtios can’t come over here now, it’ll look really suspicious – sit down!” she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. “Later! We’ll – talk – to – you – later!”

“I’ll tell Michael,” said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench, “the fool, honestly...”

She hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table. As we were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic, Angelina came hurrying towards us, looking perfectly desperate.

“Harry! Corey! Ron!”

“It’s OK,” said Harry quickly, when she was near enough to hear him. “We’re still going to –“

“You realise she’s including Quidditch in this?” Angelina said over him. “We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!”

“What?” said Harry.

“No way,” I said, appalled.

“You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry... I am saying this for the last time... please, please don’t lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play any more!”

“OK, OK,” said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. “Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself...”

“Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic,” I said grimly, as we set off for Binns’ lesson. “She hasn’t inspected Binns yet... bet you anything she’s there...”

But I was wrong; the only teacher present when we entered was Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. I did not even attempt to follow what he was saying today; I doodled idly on my parchment.

-

“No Quidditch practice,” said Angelina in hollow tones when Harry, Ron, Hermione and I entered the common room after dinner that night.

“But I kept my temper!” said Harry, horrified. “I didn’t say anything to her, Angelina, I swear, I -“

“I know, I know,” said Angelina miserably. “She just said she needed a bit of time to consider.”

“Consider what?” said Ron angrily. “She’s given the Slytherins permission, why not us?”

But I could imagine how much Umbridge was enjoying holding the threat of no Gryffindor Quidditch team over our heads and could easily understand why she would not want to relinquish that weapon over us too soon.

“Well,” said Hermione, “look on the bright side – at least now you’ll have time to do Snape’s essay!”

“That’s a bright side, is it?” snapped Harry, while Ron stared incredulously at Hermione. “No Quidditch practice, and extra Potions?”

“Corey, come here!”

I turned and walked over to Fred, George and Lee, who had a little crowd around them. I smiled and stood in between the Weasley boys.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” Lee said.

We had finally perfected one type of Skiving Snackbox, which the boys now took turns to demonstrate to the cheering and whooping crowd.

First, Fred would take a bite out of the orange end of a chew, at which he would vomit spectacularly into a bucket we had placed in front of him. (“To think I’ve kissed that mouth,” I joked.) The he would force down the purple end of the chew, at which the vomiting would immediately cease. Lee, who was assisting the demonstration, was lazily Vanishing the vomit at regular intervals with the same Vanishing Spell Snape used on bad potions.

We then watched George projectile-vomit into the bucket, gulp down the rest of the chew and straighten up, beaming with his arms wide to protected applause.

“There you are ladies and gentlemen – Weasley Wizard Wheezes’ new product, the Puking Pastille!” I announced.

“The Puking Pastille should be your number one choice –“ Fred said.

“- for whenever you want to get out of class –“ George said.

“- and want to pursue the leisure activity of your choice instead,” I finished.

The crowd cheered and I took advanced orders from the crowd, while the boys carried on with their demonstrations. The soon finished and announced that they were going to be showing the crowd another product.

“Corey, if you would please come up here,” George said.

“Front and centre, love,” Fred added in.

“What else are you showing us?” A little first year said, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“First Love Beguiling Bubbles,” George said.

“Love Potions,” I said, seeing some of the confused faces in the crowd.

Lee brought forward a little pink bottle and I watched the liquid catch the light when he handed it over to Fred, who held it up for everyone to see.

“Don’t worry, lads, they’re not as bad as you think,” I said.

“And they really do work,” George said.

“How else do you think I would’ve been able to get Corey?” Fred said with a wink, which made the crowd laugh.

“This, ladies and gentlemen, is one of our best Love Potions. Brewed them ourselves.”

“They wear off after about twenty-four hours, so be careful who you give them to,” George warned before starting on a happier note. “Now, who wants to force Corey to drink one?”

I froze.

“What? We didn’t talk about this,” I hissed at him.

“Well we have to prove it works, don’t we, pet?” George said. “So who wants to have none other than Corey Samuels be in love with them for the next twenty-four hours?”

A couple of guys put their hands up in the air, but others looked around, as if they didn’t really want to be picked.

“You pick one, Corey,” George said. “After all, you do have to live with the memories afterwards.”

“I – ugh – I,” I struggled for words. “Fred, pass it here.”

Fred complied, handing me the bottle. I held it in my hand, looking over the crowd in thought. What I did next, I did without thought.

Quickly, I raised the glass bottle to my lips. The sweet smell overpowered me. Here goes nothing, I thought, and tilted my head back, letting the content of the glass bottle empty itself into my mouth and slide down my throat.