Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter, or anything in bold. So, now that you are quite assured that I am not JKR or any of her affiliated publishers and thus am not making any profit off of this, please read and review—just don't flame!

It was dinnertime at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and so most of the students and staff were in the Great Hall and enjoying the culinary expertise of the House Elves. The stone corridors of the old school were empty, save for one fifth-year student.

Harry James Potter didn't want to go to dinner; he wasn't feeling particularly hungry, nor did he wish to face the crowds of his whispering peers. He didn't want to hear the speculations on his sanity, or lack thereof, or even listen to his friends' halfhearted condolences on the matter. And he especially didn't want was another glimpse of the resident toad, dressed head-to-toe in sickening pink that would make the best of men want to vomit.

No, what Harry wanted was to actually do something—specifically, he wanted to do something to oust said toad in the most jarring and efficient way possible. It might have been contradictory, but he truly was halved on the matter; a part of him wanted to draw it out, to make her suffer as she had done to them, but the other part simply wanted to be rid of her as quickly as was humanly possible. But in either situation he faced the same problem: figuring out the first step; he knew that the entire DA would stand behind him if he could decide what to do, possibly with the rest of the school following suit.

Of course, Umbridge (as she would forever be called; she was even less deserving of the title "Professor" than Snape, who could at least manage to teach them a little) wasn't the only person he wanted out of his life, but she was the only one he could really do something about. Detention wasn't the worse he would face if Snape and/or Draco Malfoy were to meet their match, and heaven knew that the Order wouldn't let him near Voldemort…funny, really, how he faced the Dark Lord again and again every year yet the people in charge still refused to train him…all the more reason to train alone, he supposed…

And then, as he rounded the corner, it hit him—the solution to his problem. The answer to Step 1 was there, hanging on the wall of every corridor in the entire school, blaring in their faces every day—Umbridge's beloved Educational Decree Number Twenty-four.

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS

All student organisations, societies, teams, groups and clubs are henceforth disbanded.

An organisation, society, team, group or club is hereby defined as a regular meeting of three or more students.

Permission to re-form may be sought from the High Inquisitor (Professor Umbridge).

No student organisation, society, team, group or club may exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor.

Any student found to have formed, or to belong to, an organisa tion, society, team, group or club that has not been approved by the High Inquisitor will be expelled.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-four.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

Yes, Educational Decree Number Twenty-four would only be the beginning of her downfall. But how to put his plan in motion? For that he needed the DA—and for the DA he needed to speak with the Master Scheduler, Hermione Granger.

Perhaps dinner wouldn't be too terrible of an affair after all.

. . .

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said in an undertone as he slid into the seat beside her. She looked up from her book, surprised.

"Harry! I thought you weren't coming to dinner?" She didn't stop for an answer. "All the better, I suppose; you really need to stop skipping meals. You're skinny enough as it is." She started to pile food onto the plate in front of him. Harry groaned as Ron, Neville, and Ginny snickered.

"I think we need to write to Ron's parents—I think Mrs. Weasley keeled over and decided to possess Hermione," Harry joked. "I didn't come to eat—but since I'm here I might as well," he rushed on at Hermione's glare.

"Good," she huffed, causing their spectators to break into renewed rounds of laughter.

"So, Hermione, when's the next night we're all free?" he asked, digging in.

"D'you mean for a study session? Tonight, I think. Unless you went and got a detention while I wasn't looking. But why do you want to have one? We just met a couple nights ago?" she asked.

"I came up with something," Harry muttered, causing the others to lean in. He looked around. "I'll tell you at the meeting." He fingered his DA galleon, smirking in satisfaction when several people's hands went to their pockets.

. . .

"You want us to WHAT?" Hermione screeched. Harry found himself immensely grateful that the Room of Requirement was soundproof. "We can't boycott lessons! It's OWL year!"

"Or meals," Ron groaned in protest. "You've officially gone insane, mate."

Several others were muttering as well, while the Weasley twins looked as though all of their dreams had come true. Harry grabbed his whistle and blew it.

"ENOUGH!" he bellowed. "Just hear me out, alright?" He waited for the murmurs of agreement to die down. "Look, you can take meals in the kitchens, the elves would be ecstatic—" at Hermione's glare, he hurried on. "And I don't mean all the lessons; just the ones we don't learn anything in like Defence, or History of Magic, or Divination—"

"Or Potions," Dean put in. Harry shook his head violently.

"D'you have a death wish?" he demanded. "Look, we only cut the classes that we wouldn't be missing any education in or that Umbridge is observing." He sneered the word "observing" as though it were a filthy curse word. "She did technically ban them herself."

"How d'you mean?" Ron asked quickly.

"Educational Decree Number Twenty-four," Harry answered promptly. "It bans all 'student organizations, societies, teams, groups, or clubs'," he imitated in a nasally, falsetto voice, "and defines those as 'a regular meeting of three or more students'. Which also means that, technically, the DA is completely legal as we never meet regularly."

Harry grinned smugly as the group stared at him, open-mouthed. The Weasley twins had equally large grins on their faces. Finally, Hermione found her voice.

"Maybe they were intending that as classes and meals are overseen by teachers—" she began, but Harry shook his head, still smiling.

"So is the Gobstones club, and they needed permission to re-form," he retorted, aided by the emphatic bobbing of Dennis Creevey's head. "Plus, since we don't actually learn anything in those classes, it frees us up for independent studies that'll help us pass our exams. Is everybody in?"

And it was the small, only slightly unwilling smile on Hermione's face amongst the cheers from the rest of the DA that assured him he was good to go.