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SIYE Time:7:42 on 23rd April 2021


The Hogwarts Liberation Front
By DoubleDoors

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Category: Ginny's Accomplishment Challenge (2012-2), Ginny's Accomplishment Challenge (2012-2)
Characters:All
Genres: Drama, Fluff, General, Humor
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 6
Summary: Harry Potter never came back for his final year at Hogwarts, but most of the students did, including Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. In a school ruled by Pureblood extremists and a greasy bat who is seemingly everywhere, what can Hogwarts do to regain its freedom? Fight back, of course!
Hitcount: Story Total: 2369



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.





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*~* Chapter One: Kicking the Dog *~*


“Muggles,” the croaking voice spat, as if the very word would sever her tongue and cast it into the fiery depths of hell, “are filth. They are the scum beneath our boots; the sewage beneath our towns; the rat to our serpent.” Anthony resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The woman had said essentially the same thing at the start of each lesson, each with an equal amount of venom and Pure-blood propaganda.

Alecto Carrow smashed her wand against the blackboard, causing small cracks to stem from the point of impact. A rough image of a man appeared, spun from invisible chalk. The distorted expression, portraying abject stupidity, would have been funny in any other situation, but in this classroom, it was disconcerting; terrifying, even. As the students watched, the man’s large hands drifted downwards to absently scratch at his groin as he clumsily fell into a sitting position, a wide, empty grin plastered across his face.

“From the work I have been receiving, it is clear that many of you are still under the mistaken belief that Muggles are…intelligent.” The scorn in her voice was clear, holding no room for argument. She slammed her fist against the desk and bellowed, “This. Is. A. Lie. The only thing Muggles are half good at is killing each other; something I and other decent people are only too willing to help them with.

“You!” she snapped, turning a yellowed finger towards Terry Boot. “You look uncomfortable. Do you perhaps disagree with what I am saying?”

“No, Professor.” while Terry’s voice was firm, Anthony, who had known the boy ever since being sorted into Ravenclaw all those years ago, could make out a faint trace of disgust, even anger, at the question. Carrow, despite her limited intelligence, seemed to pick up on it too, for she snorted loudly; an unpleasant croaking sound that reverberated around the silent classroom.

“You want to watch yourself, Boot. Wouldn’t want to get yourself expelled, or worse, now, would you?”

Carrow paced between the rows of desks, her loud footsteps clattering against the stone beneath.

“Do you know what I do to people I don’t like, dear students?” she asked suddenly. “I don’t mean like a casual thing — no, no, I mean like hate. Do you know what I do to them?”

“Oh, I don’t know, make them tea and biscuits? Perhaps knit them some woollen socks?”

Anthony’s eyes widened and he turned towards the direction the voice had come from. He should have known - Neville Longbottom sat slouched in his chair, his eyes showing no trace of fear or even horror at his outburst. A true Gryffindor, that one, Anthony thought. Not that it will do him any good.

Carrow erupted into a fit of wheezing giggles that filled the classroom for several long moments. Neville’s eyes never left hers, and Anthony’s respect for the wizard grew. At length, the wheezing sputtered out, leaving only cold rage behind.

Crucio!” Nobody had even seen her draw her wand.

Neville’s screams echoed through the solemn classroom. Nobody protested. Nobody even blinked an eye. Such scenes had become increasingly common throughout the year, and those of a kind-hearted disposition had quickly learned that attempting to intervene only resulted in a worse punishment, for both of them. Anthony let out a long breath, trying to ignore the Gryffindor writhing on the hard stone mere feet away. He did not succeed. The sight was perversely entrancing — one could not look away, no matter how much they might wish it.

Finally, Carrow lifted the curse and Neville slumped, exhausted, to the ground. She smiled, a chilling curl of her lips that held no warmth.

“No. I do that. Is that a sufficient explanation, Longbottom?”

Neville glared up at her, his eyes burning. “Go to hell,” he spat.

Carrow narrowed her eyes. “I’ve had enough of you, mudwallower. Get out of my sight!” She flicked her wand, and Neville was thrown backwards against the wall with a loud crash. Anthony winced in sympathy, but remained silent.

She continued to stare at Neville even as he gathered his scattered belongings, her gaze never straying until he departed the room, slamming the door behind him.

“I’ve never met a Muggle I didn’t like,” Carrow whispered darkly. “If you lot know what I mean. Now!” she roared. “Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four in your text books and list all the inaccuracies of Muggles that the author has made. To give you snivelling brats an example,”

Carrow strode back to her desk and picked up a thick tome. She opened it at a seemingly random page and stabbed it with a fingernail. “I quote: ‘Muggles more than make up for their magical ability with their ingenuity. Their metallic contraptions, known as ‘technology’ -” Carrow paused her rendition to snort loudly, “ - seem akin to goblin weaponry of centuries past — indeed, they certainly emit the same substances, and are almost as loud — but do not be fooled: ‘technology’ is much more varied and powerful than it may seem at first glance. A ‘helicopter’, for example, is a large vehicle that is able to carry small numbers of Muggles in the air.’” Carrow stopped, and sneered mockingly.

“Do you see, students, the depths of Muggle depravity? Not only do they leech ideas from filthy, disgusting creatures, but they have the gall to poison our air with dangerous chunks of metal!” She threw the book to a dusty corner of the room and promptly set it on fire. “I want at least thirty lies corrected by the end of the lesson, from each of you!” she said with gleeful relish, her eyes fixed on the burning parchment. When it had finally crumbled away, leaving only ash and an ugly blemish behind, she turned to find the class waiting in fearful silence, as if petrified. “Well? Get going!”

~*~

That,” grumbled Terry as he sank into a bench at the Ravenclaw table, “has to be her worst lesson yet.”

“I know,” sighed Michael. “My hand is absolutely killing me. Stupid bitch.”

“At least you’re better off than Neville,” muttered Anthony darkly. Nobody had seen the Gryffindor since his exit from the Muggle Studies classroom, and the rumours were already rising up to provide outlandish explanations.

“True. Poor bugger, that must be, what, the third Cruciatus in a day?” winced Michael.

“About that, yeah,” nodded Terry. “I admire the guy, but someone needs to get it through to him that his bravado isn’t helping anyone.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Anthony. “It’s reassuring to see someone here still defying them, even if he’s doomed to failure.”

He was about to go on, and likely make a right fool of himself with some sickeningly heart-wrenching speech, when an elbow to the ribs stopped him in his tracks. “Hey!” he hissed, scowling at an unrepentant Michael.

“Look sharp, Goldie,” he grinned, his eyes fixed on someone behind Anthony’s head.

Terry glanced up, and a smile spread over his face as well. Anthony had a pretty good idea of who was approaching by this point, and did his best to quell the flurry of butterflies that had suddenly invaded his stomach.

“Hi guys,” the voice of Padma Patil caressed Anthony’s ears, lingering pleasantly even with the loud chatter of the Great Hall in the background.

“Hey,” “Hi Padma,” Michael and Terry greeted Padma, utterly unperturbed by her presence. As she slipped into a small gap in the bench, she brushed against Anthony’s side, causing a flurry of prickles to dance along his arm.

“H-h-hi,” he managed to splutter out, pointedly ignoring Michael and Terry’s smirks. They were infuriating sometimes — a lot of times, if he was keeping count. Which he was.

Padma smiled — a small movement of her lips that seemed both demure and attractive at the same time that did nothing to quell Anthony’s nerves - and immediately began to talk. “Did you hear?” she asked eagerly.

“I’ve heard a lot of things today,” said Terry. “You’ll have to be more specific. Ow!” he exclaimed in mock anger as Padma slapped his shoulder.

“I mean, did you hear about Longbottom?” Not waiting for an answer, she drove on. “He’s apparently been expelled. The Carrows tried to throw him out — and probably kill him soon after, knowing them — but he managed to avoid them!”

“What?” gasped Michael. “Neville? Kicked out?”

“That is what I just said,” Padma rolled her eyes. “Honestly, do you ever listen to me, Michael?”

“You know I don’t,” grinned Michael, “But, seriously? They expelled him? Where is he now?”

“Nobody knows,” said Padma. “But we — Parvati and I — think he must still be in the castle, somewhere.”

“Then it’s only a matter of time before the Carrows catch up to him then,” said Terry. “There are only so many places you can hide in here, none of which…” he trailed off, a thoughtful look on his face.

“What?” asked Anthony.

“What if…” muttered Terry. “What if he’s gone to that room, where the DA meetings were?”

“That’s what Parvati thought,” said Padma dismissively. “I’ll repeat the same thing I said to her — Malfoy and his gang of thugs know where to find it. It’s not safe. Even Longbottom’ll have more sense than to go there, especially as his name was on Granger’s list.”

“Not if it could hide itself somewhere else,” put in Michael. “I mean, I had no idea that room existed before Potter told us about it. The door wasn’t even there unless there was a meeting! There’s nothing to suggest that it has to stay in that corridor, is there?”

“I suppose not…” said Padma. “But still, would Longbottom know how to do it? Potter obviously would, and Weasley and Granger; they were the leaders, after all, but Longbottom?”

“I think Padma’s right,” said Anthony. He valiantly ignored Michael’s sudden coughing fit, in which he could just make out the words “suck-up!” “He can’t go there…and think about it, where else in the castle is safe from the Carrows? I reckon he’s going to have to leave somehow.”

“Have you considered the lake?” an airy voice butted in.

“No, Luna, we haven’t,” sighed Padma, rolling her eyes. Sure enough, standing behind them was Luna Lovegood, wand tucked behind her ear and dirty blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders. She was staring blankly at them, an air of calm and indifference surrounding her. Beside Anthony, Michael and Terry were struggling to hold in their laughter.

“You shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it,” said Luna. “The Black Lake is a big place.”

“Yes,” scowled Padma irritably. “But in case you’ve forgotten, Luna, we can’t breathe underwater for long enough to hide there.”

“But you can!” Luna exclaimed brightly. “You just need to cover your entire body in the pus of a snickering zonksouse.”

At that, Michael lost his internal battle and guffawed loudly. “Snickering zonksouse?!” he chortled. “What on earth is that?”

“It’s a small creature that lives underwater,” said Luna seriously. “Tiny little things, really. Of course, you have to be immunized against their pus before you can use it. They’re poisonous, you see.”

“And how do you go about that, then?” asked Michael. “Seems a bit inconvenient.”

“Not at all, actually.” With that, Luna grabbed Michael’s hand, drew it to her lips and bit it.

Ouch!” Michael reared back immediately, cradling his hand. “What — what was that for?!”

“You’re immune,” smiled Luna, her eyes sparkling. “It’s a very simple antidote, but it can only be transferred through the teeth of someone who has already received it. Would you like me to make you immune, too?” she asked the others.

Anthony shook his head solemnly, while Terry barely managed to get out a “No!” on account of his own laughter. Padma’s scowl, on the other hand, was now dominating her forehead, her eyes narrowed into angry slits. Anthony recognised it as that look — he had only seen it once — not directed towards him, thankfully - during the Yule Ball in their Fourth Year. It was a sure sign that someone was going to be on the receiving end of a rather nasty curse or a scathing lecture, usually both.

“Is there a point to this, Luna?” Padma asked through gritted teeth, her voice dripping with annoyance.

“Oh yes,” nodded Luna. “Neville wanted me to tell you to meet him in the library tomorrow, two hours before curfew. Well, him and Ginny. There were plenty of Blibbering Humdingers surrounding them, so it must be important.”

Anthony frowned, ignoring the mention of another creature he had never heard of. “But hasn’t Neville been expelled?”

“You’ll see,” she said mysteriously. “Well, must dash, see you tomorrow!” Her message delivered, Luna skipped away, humming a merry tune as she went.

Anthony blinked. “Well…uh…”

“This sounds intriguing,” said Terry excitedly. “We should check it out, at least. And not only because we’d be in the library at that time anyway.”

Nodding, Anthony glanced towards Michael, who was staring at his hand in a state of shock.

“Michael?” Padma gently prodded the static boy, who promptly looked up, surprise still etched across his face.

“I…I cannot believe that she bit me!”
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