EXIT

3. PITCH BLACK

3. PITCH BLACK

I don't know what perturbs me more: that the breakfast in the Resistance dining hall is so good it would be worth staying for that alone, or that I have to eat it under the watchful eyes of countless suspicious rebels, all of whom trickled into the room shortly after Blaise and I. Only the hunger ensures that the buttered sandwiches, the tender scrambled eggs and the sweet fruit salad find their way into my stomach without any of it getting stuck in my throat.

We've been sitting at one of the long tables for a full twenty minutes. It's no surprise that ours has remained mostly empty, while all the other tables are downright packed with rebels chatting loudly and sipping their coffee. Though everyone present is doing their best to pretend that I'm simply not there, the air in the room is thick with disapproval and a touch of bloodlust. And, of course, they certainly don't want to sit near me.

Still, I have to secretly congratulate Potter, because he seems to have his lot under control. I wouldn't have imagined my first breakfast in the heart of the Resistance to be nearly as peaceful. They pull themselves together and pay little attention to me. I'm merely the victim of a few frosty looks, which make it clear that if I'm ever allowed to walk through their headquarters alone, I'll definitely have to be careful.

In contrast to my inner unrest, I do my best to appear outwardly unaffected by chewing mechanically, avoiding every single one of the aforementioned looks, and remaining silent. Blaise fills this silence with useless and uninteresting information about world affairs, the weather, and the sore muscles he got from his last workout. I barely listen to him because I'm busy scanning the room for Resistance fighters I know from days gone by.

The first two familiar faces I spot are Longbottom and Lovegood. Aside from them, there are more former Hogwarts students among the rebels currently residing at Camp Black than I would have expected.

Sitting next to Lovegood and Longbottom are Katie Bell, Susan Bones, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and Dennis Creevey. The only reason I remember the latter's first name is that in the last few attacks I commanded, he did more damage than I ever thought possible.

Next row sits Ronald Weasley, flanked by two of his brothers — Charlie and George, if I'm not mistaken. The fact that Miss Delacour's widower doesn't seem to be around is probably my luck.

I see at least one Patil twin, but she immediately disappears back into the crowd and ultimately, I have no idea which of the two sisters it was. I also recognize Terry Boot, Cho Chang and Anthony Goldstein.

At the next table, the penultimate, Lee Jordan, Hannah Abbott, Oliver Wood and Alicia Spinnet catch my eye.

I can't see the last table, but there are already so many people I know from my school days that it would actually be reason enough for a blind panic. (Not that there's much left to worry about on my part.)

Aside from these faces, which I remember all too well, there are still enough Resistance fighters that I either don't know by name or that I've simply never seen before. To give a rough estimate, I'd say there are about fifty rebels dining here. Considering that this is only Camp Black and that, as I now know, there are at least two other quarters that may not be better but at least as well manned, that's extremely impressive. Then there would be the witches and wizards who are currently on their guard posts or doing other tasks.

The Resistance is in good shape, I have to admit. The number of their members is presumably quite comparable to the number of the Death Eaters, at least including those who claim to be one.

The moment I push my plate away, the door opens and Potter swaggers into the room, causing Blaise to shut up for a moment. The other tables fall silent as well, but when the rebels realize that Potter only pours himself a coffee and makes no move to open the meeting, the conversations continue.