Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Gryffindor Edition

“how is Winky?” asked Harry.
Dobby’s ears drooped slightly.
“Winky is still drinking lots, sir,” he said sadly, his enormous round green eyes, large as tennis balls, downcast. “She still does not care for clothes, Harry Potter. Nor do the other house-elves. None of them will clean Gryffindor Tower anymore, not with the hats and socks hidden everywhere, they finds them insulting, sir. Dobby does it all himself, sir,

and tonight, sir, he has got his wish!”

“Umbridge is watching the owls and the fires, remember?”

There was a pause. The wind and rain lashed at the building.

“I’m not making prophecies,” said Harry.
“No, <…>” Ron said, sounding both scared and impressed. “Harry, you’re reading You-Know-Who’s mind. . . .”

“You don’t think he has become . . . sort of . . . reckless . . . since he’s been cooped up in Grimmauld Place? You don’t think he’s . . . kind of . . . living through us?”

“I’ve got permission!” she said. “To re-form the Quidditch team!”
<…>
So I want you down at the pitch at seven o’clock tonight, all right, because we’ve got to make up time, you realize we’re only three weeks away from our first match?”

Charms was always one of the best lessons in which to enjoy a private chat: There was generally so much movement and activity that the danger of being overheard was very slight. Today, with the room full of croaking bullfrogs and cawing ravens, and with a heavy downpour of rain clattering and pounding against the classroom windows, Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s whispered discussion about how Umbridge had nearly caught Sirius went quite unnoticed.

“Watch your frog, it’s escaping.”

But there are twenty-eight of us and none of us is an Animagus, so we wouldn’t need so much an Invisibility Cloak as an Invisibility Marquee