Chapter 9 - Dolores Jane Umbridge

As always, Daphne Greengrass awoke bright and early, despite the fact she'd fallen asleep late the previous night. She turned her head towards her pillow and with a swift move she removed her precious wand – Hawthorn with a Hebridean Black Heartstring core, 12 inches, very flexible – from a custom made socket on the side. A quick Tempus showed, much to her satisfaction, that it was six o'clock in the morning.

With her usual determination and energy, she promptly lifted herself from the bed and headed towards the showers. With swift, efficient motions every article of clothing was removed and left in a basket for the elves to collect, before she let the water run at her preferred temperature – which was ice cold. Daphne always believed a cold shower was the best thing to wake up to; the perfect alarm for the groggy body and the perfect remedy to a clouded mind. It was a belief she practised vigorously from a young age, every day.

Yet, for the first time, the cold shower failed spectacularly.

Daphne had fallen asleep wondering and worrying about Harry's condition. That same thought plagued her mind still, the moment she opened her eyes. The cold shower only served to send her spiralling further down the drain of feelings she had for him. Every single scenario and outcome came and went through her mind's eye and the only thing consistent was that she hoped he didn't get hurt.

'Knowing him, being lightly hurt is the best outcome he could get.'

Figuring she'd had enough of the cold water, she turned off the shower and headed towards the mirror, drying herself in the process. A long, weary sigh escaped her lips as she combed her golden curtain of luscious, almost glowing locks. A clean outfit had replaced her nightdress and she carefully donned every piece of clothing in order to keep it in pristine condition. After that, several self-maintenance routines were performed, as well as a light application of make-up before she deemed herself presentable. The whole routine only took ninety minutes.

With a confident stride she exited the showers, finding Pansy awake - and sluggish, as always. The girl was an extremely heavy sleeper and near impossible to function in the morning.

"Good morning, Parkinson," Daphne greeted.

"Mornin'," Pansy responded with a yawn. "Sleep well?"

"As well as one can sleep," was the curt, vague response. Yet, much to Daphne's curiosity, Pansy looked put off. It prompted her to keep speaking. "And you?"

"Eh… You know, it's just sleep," the dark-haired girl responded with a shrug.

Daphne's lips turned to a small frown. Something was bothering Pansy. She knew, she had almost grown up with her. Yet she wasn't in a position to help her. She hadn't been for a couple of years now.

"You shouldn't bottle up your feelings, Parkinson. It never helps," something moved her to respond.

Pansy chuckled lightly at her response. "I know, I know… I've heard that so much that it's basically in my nature at this point. But it's not that easy… You know?"

"Why is it not easy? You can always discuss your problems with your boyfriend," Daphne responded genuinely.

Pansy didn't respond. Her face darkened considerably and her dark hazel eyes had a lost quality to them. A moment of silence passed before her gaze got its life and lustre back. She turned to look at Daphne. "I'm glad you're happy. I mean it."

Several more moments of silence passed, with Pansy observing Daphne who stood still like a statue, her eyes stubbornly fixed upon Pansy. She was looking at Pansy, yet she couldn't quite focus, as if she was looking at nothing at all. Pansy smiled softly. It was a rare, genuine smile.

"Da- Greengrass. You're spacing out again."

That phrase ground Daphne's rapidly moving thoughts to a halt, bringing awareness back to her sapphire orbs. Almost as if she'd just woken up. Daphne straightened her back. "Thank you, Parkinson. I appreciate it."

Pansy nodded slightly and Daphne turned on her heel to exit the dormitory.

Despite the embarrassment of her brain effectively shutting down in order to process a million things at the same time - something that occasionally still happened when something genuinely shocked her - she couldn't help but try to decipher Pansy's words.

Despite being great friends since childhood, they'd drifted apart during second year because she had started kissing up to Draco. Daphne and Draco were rivals, both trying to gain control of the political climate of Slytherin from a young age; Pansy kissing up to him was seen as a direct betrayal against her. It had meant a severe loss of respect from her House, that she couldn't keep the loyalty of even those meant to be closest to her. Thankfully, the Devil's Snare helped to rectify that blow to her image.

So why did Pansy genuinely seem happy for her, after all that time? Furthermore, she never expected her to remember that specific phrase she used when they were kids.

'You're spacing out again.'

It was something that needed to be deciphered, post haste. Not breaking her stride, she pulled out a golden coloured notebook with an intricate, vine-like engraving covering it, as well as a modified Quick-Quotes Quill that accurately wrote down her thoughts. The quill immediately started writing on its own and text appeared on the blank page.

I need information on Pansy Parkinson and her current social group. Everything from her mannerisms to her timetable should be monitored and documented.

As soon as the quill stopped writing, the text seemed to melt into the paper and disappear. With swift, efficient movements she collected the quill and closed the notebook. The message appeared on thirty three other notebooks of the same design, albeit with different colours.

Surprises kept on coming for Daphne, for when she entered the common room she found almost all of her house around the notice-board, whereup she saw a massive announcement that dominated it.

Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

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

"Finally he's gone," Draco commented loudly, turning the attention on him, yet his attention turned to Daphne.

She did not like that look. Somewhere down the line, Draco stopped chasing after her; most notably after the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Furthermore, his attitude against her had turned especially nasty since the fight a couple of months ago.

"I believe your boyfriend has nowhere to hide anymore," he sneered as his followers chuckled lightly. "I honestly didn't have you for someone fraternising with blood-traitors and half-bloods, Greengrass."

"It has been two months, Malfoy, you should really drop it. I don't see how going on a date with Harry Potter has any impact upon my image; I'd even say he's boosting it."

Thankfully, Daphne still had plenty of support within her own house, giving her the ability to speak her mind without getting lynched.

"You're out of your mind, Greengrass. His family isn't even one of the Noble and Most Ancient families anymore."

"He is still a Lord, that's more than you can say, but let's just take that fact out of the equation," Daphne started, a sinister grin cracking her face in half like a broken egg.

The legendary Ice Queen had the visage of one, that much was true. Being expressionless, however, wasn't her only expression. She was cold, like ice, but she also bit and burned, just like ice does. Everyone knew that when she expressed true malice against you, you'd get frostbite.

"We're talking about your supposed 'rival' in this institution, yes? The fact he doesn't even recognise you as someone of equal level matters not. What matters is how you've been humbled - continuously, I might add - in front of him, by him," Daphne said with a cold delivery, the positively predatory grin never leaving her face.

Draco scoffed. "Potter has never-"

"Do you really want me to bring forth facts?" Daphne smoothly interjected, cutting off Draco's flow completely. All he could do was glare. "Answer me, Malfoy. Or I'll start proving to the house what a truly miserable clown you are."

"Try it," Draco grit through his teeth.

"Alright then. I'll start chronologically, the moment you lost every shred of honour and dignity that you, and thus the Malfoys as a whole possessed," she said, drawing the curiosity of most onlookers.

Draco caught on and he paled slightly. It was something he had worked extremely hard to keep hidden, yet that error was currently hanging in front of him, ready to be unleashed inside his house.

"So, during first year, you challenged Potter to a midnight duel inside the trophy room and-"

"Shut it!" Draco yelled, not risking anything at that point. Yet both he and Daphne knew he'd lost the confrontation. The crowd knew that, as well.

The silence of the room was deafening. Daphne's grin grew at the sight. 

"Good. Am I to believe you'll think twice before involving yourself with my affairs henceforth?" Her voice, oozing faux-sweetness, cut through the silence like the sharpest blade.

"Whatever. It's your funeral," Draco responded with a dismissive wave of his hand that Daphne barely registered, already starting to walk towards the exit of the common room.

Her powerplay worked magnificently, buying her precious time and influence within her house. Draco would be weakened as well as bothered with questions about the time he dodged a duel he himself had demanded, something he would never admit.

In hindsight, Draco could easily deny everything and attempt to make her claims null and void, an act that would bring their skirmish to a stalemate. Daphne, however, gambled on the fact that her network was infamous and respected by both sides of the divide for the accurate information it always provided. Draco was quite unable to deny her claims, so he chose what she wanted. Indirect admission by trying to silence her.

Checkmate.

With a certain spring in her step she headed towards the Great Hall, her mind revelling in the feeling of victory.

X

Harry woke up earlier than usual that day. For the first time in two months he'd slept in the Gryffindor dormitories instead of the Room of Requirement, just in case someone decided to blast the walls off again.

That was something that vexed him to no end; how did Umbridge, of all people, manage to destroy the wall of the Room of Requirement, a wall that by virtue of being part of the castle, let alone the Room, was virtually unbreakable? Then again, thinking back to the events of the previous day, Umbridge hadn't been alone, she had her whole squad with her. Perhaps she'd ordered some help from the elves too. It was something to look into at a later time.

Harry found sleeping in the dormitory nearly impossible. He was constantly tossing and turning without rest, his mind running through the events of the day without a break. In the end, he had resorted to stunning himself in order to finally sleep, but even that failed to keep him asleep, and he'd been conscious again by at least seven minutes past midnight. In fact, he'd only slept three hours at most, sleeping around three AM and waking up at six. Worse yet, he was mad.

He couldn't follow his morning routine of exercise since he lacked the tool called the Room of Requirement, and had to stay silent, instead. Even the shower wasn't up to his newly discovered standards and he found himself feeling cramped inside the tiny booth. He couldn't just expand it with a mere thought as he could on the seventh floor. He felt trapped during the whole ordeal with several unpleasant thoughts of fat relatives and an obnoxious giraffe barking orders, invading his fractured peace. While could easily go there with his cloak and the Map, he didn't want to risk Umbridge targeting someone else simply because he was not where he was supposed to be.

When he was a mere eleven year old boy, Hogwarts offered him freedom. Now, at fifteen, the Room of Requirement provided him freedom from Hogwarts.

If Harry valued one thing above all else, it was his freedom, no matter how small or insignificant that freedom may be. In a life where he didn't even have freedom of choice in the most important aspects of his life, he found himself unwilling to part with his spacious shower and personal chamber.

After the re-discovery of insufficient dormitory arrangements, Harry went to the common room in order to further sour his already fragile mood, courtesy of Educational Decree Number Who Cares At This Point.

Thus, he entered the Great Hall with an expressionless face and swiftly sat down at the corner of the Gryffindor table alone with his back to the wall, serving himself an English Breakfast with a generous amount of eggs and bacon as his eyes observed the early risers of Hogwarts. His eyes landed on the staff table where every professor except Umbridge was present. He locked eyes with Severus Snape, who gave him a tiny, imperceptible nod. 

He ate his food silently as more students started filing in. One thing he noticed that every single student, and perhaps even the teachers shared, was a feeling of gloom, of an impending doom that had set its sights upon the school. He couldn't fault them; even he was scared of Umbridge becoming the Headmistress of Hogwarts, who still hadn't made an appearance at the staff table.

His thoughts ground to a halt, however, when a beautiful blonde entered the Great Hall. Almost instantly emerald green connected with sapphire blue, and a warm feeling welled up inside him. It almost died, however, when he saw her moving towards him. His eyes widened and recognition flashed in her eyes before she - rather hurriedly - turned on her heels and marched towards the Slytherin table, passing by Umbridge who happened to enter a few moments after her. A weary sigh escaped Harry's lips as he saw the blonde sit at the complete opposite side of the hall in order to be able to look at each other. A small act that made Harry inexplicably happy.

"This place is going to the dogs, I tell you mate," Ron said as he groggily sat down and started eating anything he could lay his eyes on.

"Not that it came as a shock, mind you," Hermione rather unhelpfully added as she looked at Umbridge with what could pass as pure loathing.

Harry grunted as a response and decided to zone out and ignore everyone in order to visit his mindscape.

"Hem, hem."

With his face twisted into a mean scowl Harry opened his eyes in order to look at the podium where Umbridge stood with a sickening-sweet smile.

$Stupid cunt,$ Harry hissed in Parseltongue, startling Hermione, Ron and Neville - whom he never noticed sitting down with them.

"Please don't do that randomly," his bushy haired friend whispered as she shuddered.

Effects of Parseltongue on people became yet another issue for him to look into at a later date.

"Hem, hem. Good, I have your attention. Good morning, students," the ugly toad greeted the hall, getting no response in the process. Behind her, Snape sneered at her back.

"That simply won't do! You should greet your superiors with respect, children. Now, when I say 'Good morning, students', you respond with 'Good morning, Headmistress Umbridge'. Now, let's try again."

"Why do I have to go through this again," Neville grunted as his head fell onto his open palms.

"Good morning, students."

"Good morning, Headmistress Umbridge," the hall said in unison with the appropriate lack of enthusiasm.

"Much better. Now, as I'm sure you're all aware, I have become the Headmistress of Hogwarts. Finally, together, we can usher Wizarding Britain onto heights never before seen. Together with the Ministry, we will create the best environment for young souls such as you to thrive in. Slowly, but surely, we'll be rid of the mistakes that plague this legendary institution, mistakes that were bred and nurtured under the negligence of former Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

The silence inside the Great Hall was so thick it was practically asphyxiating. Not a single student dare speak or react, other than sending hateful glares at their 'Headmistress'. Even the members of the Inquisitorial Squad looked at her with derision, as if she was the butt of a particularly distasteful joke.

Harry found himself agreeing with that comparison.

"Together, we will return this school to greatness as the greatest educational institution of wizards in the world, and you, my dear students, will be the first graduates of the renewed and reformed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Our beloved Minister expects brilliant results from all of you and cannot wait for you to go out into the world to make this school - and our country - proud."

As the ministry stooge finished her delirious spiel, she looked at them expectantly. Slowly, but rather unwillingly, some students started clapping. After barely a few seconds, the applause was over.

"Now, for some announcements. I have started rectifying the previous Headmaster's errors by starting with his latest. Please, welcome back a beloved student unjustly suspended; Mister Vincent Crabbe."

Harry's irritation spiked as he saw Crabbe enter the Great Hall, looking as clueless as ever. A small group of people politely clapped - all of them Slytherins of his group, rather, Malfoy's group.

"Reckon he realised he's been gone for two months? Can't put it past him to not realise, you know?" Ron asked with a wicked sneer.

"Mr. Crabbe, being the diligent student he is, offered himself as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. For that, Slytherin house is awarded two hundred points."

Not even the Slytherins applauded that but Umbridge continued undeterred.

"And now, for the final announcement," she said as her eyes landed on Harry's. His irritation that bordered on rage was halted momentarily. He knew what was going to happen, her gaze spoke volumes. The question that came to the forefront of his mind was more pressing.

'Dumbledore's charm failed?'

"Mister Harry Potter will not attend any classes today, as he will spend detention with me. Mr. Potter, please stand up."

Without much of a choice, he stood up under the fearful gazes of his friends. A quick scan around the hall showed a handful of people looking at him with fear and many more with slight concern. At the Slytherin table, looks of glee and plenty of sneers could be seen, with one notable expression.

Daphne's face looked frozen in time, but her sapphire orbs held an unhealthy amount of panic in them.

He turned his eyes towards the staff table, where his teachers looked pained - except Snape, who looked completely emotionless. Harry held no ill will, he knew they could do nothing. Not at this time, at least.

"Yes, Headmistress Umbridge?" he asked in a carefree tone, almost bored. If he didn't act like that, he'd probably curse her where she stood. Dumbledore wouldn't approve; at least not fully.

"Your punishment starts now. Breakfast is over for you and you will be escorted to my office by a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. Miss Parkinson, be a dear and escort him please."

Pansy Parkinson stood up with a positively gleeful expression and she sauntered towards him.

"Ready, Potter?" she asked in a malicious tone. She was ignored as Harry turned on his heel and exited the Great Hall, ignoring everyone within it in an attempt to calm himself down and reign in his boiling temper.

Shortly after him Pansy exited and the double doors closed once more, plunging the hallowed halls of Hogwarts in silence, broken only by the sounds of boots and heels moving towards the third floor.

"My, my, Potter, what did you do to get detention so fast by the new Headmistress?" Pansy mocked as she fell in line next to him.

"Be quiet or I'll throttle you, instead," Harry hissed dangerously, his voice barely above a whisper yet powerful enough to be heard clearly. As he reached the third floor, he turned towards the hallway where the Defence classroom was situated. Idly, he noticed that every single painting in the hallway was gone, probably collected by Umbridge.

"I mean, you could-" Pansy was cut off by a yelp of surprise and slight pain as she found herself pinned to the wall by a rough, calloused hand holding her by the throat. His holly wand was pointing right between her eyes, causing them to cross in order to look at the tip.

"What part of 'be quiet' did you not understand, Parkinson?" Harry hissed as he held her to the wall. In reality, he had half a mind to start hexing her till she couldn't even walk properly.

"I- I-... Just…" Pansy croaked as she tried to speak, the lack of oxygen making it nigh impossible. "P- Potter…"

Harry, realising that he probably took it too far, hastily removed his hand from around her neck, letting her breathe greedily. "I'm sorry. It's just… I can't keep dealing with this, Parkinson. All of this. Someday, probably soon, I'll snap. I don't want to snap," he said, not caring that he shouldn't even be talking to her.

Still pinned on the wall - this time of her own volition - Pansy looked at the Boy-Who-Lived. Her eyes suddenly dulled and she looked down. "I understand."

"You understand nothing!" Harry yelled in response, his fury and temper back at full force. He turned his eyes to her and was momentarily taken aback by the nearly depressed look on her usually haughty face. Yet, he didn't really care. "You fools think this is all fun and games, don't you? Of course, it is fun for your lot. Now that your dearest Dark Lord is back, your Death Eater mummies and daddies are itching to please him, serving the Ministry and Britain as a whole to him on a silver platter. Worse yet, you Death Eater spawns look as eager to please him as your parents are!"

She refused to look him in the eyes. Oh how very wrong he was, at least where it concerned her.

"I've been treated like shit my whole life, Parkinson. From being raised by muggles to being treated like a god walking the Earth as a mere eleven year old child. Treated with disgust, fear and loathing the year after simply because I can talk to snakes, to being looked at with pity because Sirius fucking Black escaped from Azkaban. From all of that, to being treated as a cheat and an outcast because one of your father's friends decided to put me in the Tournament, only to be served as a sacrificial lamb for your newborn Dark Lord - Look at me when I speak."

Suddenly, he lifted his hand and grabbed Pansy by her chin - not with excessive force, this time - and lifted her head up. Her dark hazel eyes locked with his swirling emerald vortexes.

"Standing in a graveyard in fuck-knows where, with a dead friend beside my feet while your daddy dearest was kissing his daddy dearest's feet, alongside the rest of your friends' fathers. Mulciber, Macnair, Crabbe, Goyle, Yaxley, Avery, your father's boss Malfoy," he said the last name with a sneer. Pansy did not falter; she still looked him straight in the eyes.

"Then this year came. Even during summer, I was being treated like shit. Not just by the students here for once, but by the wizarding community as a whole. Ridiculed by worthless, inconsequential entities like you that knew I was telling the truth, yet your daddies and their daddy find it convenient for me to be considered a lunatic."

Pansy's earlier thought had long since died under his delirious, rage induced tirade. She realised that she didn't understand at all. Whilst she always knew that Harry Potter wasn't what Draco claimed, she still never imagined him to be walking with such burdens. She was only now beginning to understand and she hadn't learned anything of value. Just his public life from his own point of view. A painful sob escaped Pansy's throat, yet her eyes refused to look anywhere except the bottomless pits of rage and undiluted power that were Harry Potter's eyes.

"The term didn't even start before I was attacked by dementors in a muggle neighbourhood. I was attacked by the guards of Azkaban only to be brought inside a Wizengamot chamber in order to be tried for defending my very life. I was tried by the same people that laughed at me and ridiculed my weakness in that Merlin forsaken graveyard. Then I come back inside this shithole for yet another shit-filled term with a ministry puppet that has made it her life's goal to make my life worse than it already is, backed by little shits like you. And guess what, Parkinson?"

The girl didn't respond as she kept looking at him with resignation and sadness.

"I said, guess what, Parkinson," Harry hissed as his magic flared slightly, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"What?" Pansy breathed out.

"She succeeded," he said with a malicious smile as he lifted his left arm in order to show her his marks.

The black haired Slytherin's eyes widened in shock.

"You act as if your life as a pampered pureblood princess can compare. Thankfully, despite his involvement, Lord Parkinson seemed rather unwilling to be involved, yet too weak willed to fight. Yes, Emeric Parkinson's only fault is his weakness. For that, I gave you my truth, Parkinson. After all, I must not tell lies." Harry spat as he turned around and walked towards the toad's classroom. "Perhaps now you can claim to understand."

With a wave of his hand - something only he failed to register - the door was blown open and he disappeared inside, the door slamming shut behind him shortly after.

Pansy did not move from her spot at the wall. Her eyes were still locked at the entrance to the classroom into which he had disappeared, as her mind refused to think about anything other than his eyes. The raw, primal power that rolled off the Boy-Who-Lived in spades. A teen forced to grow into a man because of all the shit he'd been through; herself being an active participant in at some of that said shit.

Pansy Parkinson was never a brave woman. Her strengths lay in strategy and acting. Yes, Pansy was an incredible actress; her resume spoke for itself. She managed to convince the entire school that she was hanging off Draco Malfoy's robes, hopelessly in love with him. She managed to convince Daphne that she chose him over her childhood best friend. She managed to even convince her father that she was a perfect Pureblood daughter, one that was fully in line with the pureblood agenda that the Dark Lord pushed.

The truth was, Pansy always loved her daddy. Her mother had died to a curse whilst giving birth to her, so he was all the family she'd ever known - simple relatives did not count as family in her eyes. That simple fact pushed her to strive to make him proud and happy. Everything she ever did was a product of that. Even acting to be completely in love with Draco was a product of her trying to make her father look good, as she tried to not think twice about his decisions.

Emeric Parkinson agreed on a marriage contract between her and Draco, unwilling to lose funding and allies should he deny Lucius Malfoy. Pansy, having overheard that, decided to act happy with his choice, as a good daughter would. That simple, life-changing decision resulted in her diving deeper than she ever expected to. She had given herself wholly to her 'betrothed', not thinking twice whether she wanted to or not, acting as a perfect Pureblood wife would. She never refused anything Draco asked of her, no matter how much she screamed inside her mind, no matter how much she hated being subject to his whims.

With a soft exhale of a breath she never knew she held, she moved towards the other end of the hallway.

Despite degrading herself in order to make her only family happy without him even knowing, she kept her humanity. Harry Potter made her realise that Wizarding Britain was losing that very same humanity she had. Her eyes were opened to the truth, for her father, the man she tried her whole life to help, was a Death Eater. She couldn't help but believe Potter when he spoke of her father's weakness. No matter how hard she tried to look the other way, she no longer could. The man she had always tried to help was a member of the same group of fanatics that had cursed her mother in the pursuit of their deranged ideology. 

She straightened her back as she reached the Grand Staircase. She looked ahead with an iron resolve, determination flaring within her. She could stand by her father no longer. Her father, no matter how much and how deeply she loved him, was weak. Too weak to fight for himself or for her. Too weak to fight for her mother's memory. It was now time to fight for herself and her happiness - the same happiness Daphne felt - despite the fact that she was too far deep into her father's affairs to leave yet.

Pansy Parkinson was still not a brave woman, but now she would fight for herself in the only way she knew how; by plotting and acting.

X

"Hem, hem…" the overly irritating voice of Dolores Umbridge broke Harry's incessant musings as he waited for her to come to her office.

It was just as pink and just as hideous as everytime Harry was summoned there - always for detentions. Apart from a wooden plaque outside her office that now said 'Headmistress of Hogwarts', nothing really changed.

'At least she is under compulsion charms.'

 The door behind the temporary headmistress was locked shut and Harry noticed her wave her short wand in odd patterns, probably to ward it. He stiffened slightly.

"As you can see, I have to ward my own office… It saddens me that the wards of this prestigious institution refuse to obey me. I am the rightful Headmistress after all. Yet I cannot access the office that belongs to me," Umbridge lamented, speaking to no one in particular until her eyes landed on Harry. "You will help me with that, Potter."

He stiffened. "I don't understand you, Professor. How can I help you with the wards of Hogwarts?"

"You are Dumbledore's pawn, his right hand man," Umbridge bristled as she closed up to the seated Harry, slightly bending in an attempt to intimidate him. "You, of all people, should know how to give me my rightful powers."

"That's impossible, Professor. I am merely a student."

A sharp, whip-like crack was heard in the office as her palm connected with his cheek. "Liar!" she screamed, her face slowly turning red. "You have been in that office multiple times. You will escort me there."

He looked at her with pure loathing and rage in his emerald eyes. "I cannot enter the Headmaster's office without permission," he gritted through his teeth, only to be met with yet another slap.

'That's not normal. She isn't normal.'

"Perhaps you do not understand, Mr. Potter," the woman suddenly simpered with a sickly sweet voice, completely contrasting her frankly deranged speech moments earlier. "You have too much at stake here. You will be punished, don't get me wrong. I would have suspended you myself two months ago if it wasn't for the old goat arriving at the scene first. I am certain that upstanding members of our society didn't ask for trouble with you that day, hence the only one capable of causing that chaos was you."

Harry suppressed his scoff, despite knowing that he actually cast the first spell, with malicious intent on top of it. He knew he could not tip-toe the line with her anymore. Dumbledore's compulsion charms somehow failed on her. Umbridge was more than inclined to hurt him, disgustingly so.

"Unfortunately, I have use for you yet. You will do the utmost to get me into my rightful office and you'll do it now."

"I am sorry, Professor. But I do not have that kind of power." Harry braced himself for a slap that never came. Instead, she looked at him with a completely fake smile and a slightly shaking pair of eyes that only translated to pure, undiluted madness.

"Very well. It seems I will have to loosen up your tongue. I believe this ought to do the trick," with a flick of her wand, a rolled up parchment floated towards the desk along with a Blood Quill. The parchment in question opened up and started rolling… and rolling, and rolling. A shiver went down Harry's spine as he couldn't figure out where the parchment actually ended. "You're a liar, Harry Potter. It seems that a few lines didn't do the trick. You will write the line 'I must not tell lies', without stopping until curfew on this parchment. When curfew begins you will return to your common room. Should you get caught out during curfew, you will be punished."

Harry was barely maintaining his composure. With the entirety of his being he wanted to curse - no, kill the woman in front of him. He was looking at eleven hours minimum of writing lines with a Blood Quill. There had to be a limit, a certain threshold where it had more negative effects other than scaring. He did not want to find it.

"And don't even attempt to evade your punishment, Mr. Potter. If you do, your friends should be adequate substitutes to finish your task. You don't want that, do you?"

Harry did not answer. He kept looking at her with his intense, hateful gaze. He earned yet another slap for his efforts.

"Isaid, you don't want that, do you, Mr. Potter?" the woman screamed.

"No, Professor," Harry snarled and picked up the accursed artefact. Umbridge seemed pleased.

"Good. Now, get to it. I have other business to attend to as Headmistress. I shall come to judge your progress on curfew," the Headmistress announced and exited the office.

Harry, for his part, silently bristled in the deafening silence. With a certain amount of trepidation, he started writing, Occluding his mind with the single goal of mindlessly writing the lines and trying to avoid the pain, at least until it became unbearable. The all too familiar crimson red script made itself known on parchment as he wrote.

At one point, having written the same line over a hundred times, he took a look at the back of his hand.

Not a single drop of blood was visible. Not even any form of irritation; his skin was completely clean aside from the older scar he gained in that very same office. He stopped writing if only to examine his hand, the parchment and the quill. Without a doubt, the quill was indeed using blood to write, only, not his own. The momentary thought of using someone else's blood to complete his punishment filled him with dread, but was completely dismissed. Umbridge wouldn't attempt to blackmail him in order to fulfil the punishment if that was the case, nor would she claim that the punishment would loosen up his tongue. No, that must be the work of Dumbledore. A small smile adorned his face before the next thought wiped it off.

He needed to somehow convince Umbridge that the quill was working. He didn't know whether the compulsion failed for him or the school as a whole, but she hadn't punished anyone else to find out. If she did start punishing the students with Blood Quills, then he wouldn't hesitate to attack her.

The only reason he hadn't so far was that the wellbeing of his friends depended on him fulfilling his punishment without error, as well as the trust he had in Dumbledore. If even that went out of the window, then he would fight; without a plan from Dumbledore, without innocent bystanders being liable for getting hurt in the crossfire. He had cowed and lost to arrogant ponces and insufferable Ministry lackeys long enough this year and his patience was wearing dangerously thin, as evidenced by his earlier explosion on Parkinson.

For now, however, he needed to proceed cautiously without blowing everything up. His mind worked for some minutes, thinking of ways to convince her the quill was functional. He was woefully inadequate when it came to illusory spells and it wouldn't matter if Umbridge tried to examine his hand; cancelling potential spells was a tool she could use as well.

He needed to make it real, to make it as if the artefact worked. So, his decision was made. He took a deep breath as he retracted his wand from its holster and pushed his magic into it, giving it an extremely sharp and pointy shape.

Slowly, but surely, Harry moved the sharp tip to his scarred hand and started retracing the phrase he loathed, stifling a groan of pain in the process. It hurt significantly more than he expected, as he had worse injuries and scars that hurt less than a simple flesh wound.

The reality of the matter was that magic was sentient. Magic considered self-harm an extreme crime against itself, thus hurting twice, even thrice more.

Having finished his disgusting handiwork, Harry looked at his hand. He smiled despite himself; the wound looked exactly as the original did the first time he wrote the lines. Satisfied with the untraceable results, Harry started writing once more, committed to completing as many lines as possible if only to keep the charade. A weak stasis charm kept the wound fresh and he could easily cancel it with one of the three wandless spells he was capable of; Finite, Lumos and Accio, and that barely and on an extremely small scale.

Around five pre midnight Umbridge graced him with her hated presence and immediately tried to judge his lines. She completely bought the act and Harry let a sigh escape his lips the moment she exited.

The moment curfew started, signified by the bell ringing for the last time that day, Umbridge entered the office again.

"It seems you can be cooperative when you want, Mr. Potter," the toad-like woman simpered as she examined his hand again, as well as the endless parchment. "Do you have anything to share?"

"No, Professor," Harry said in a tired and dejected voice - of which only the tired tone was truthful.

"What a shame," she responded with a certain amount of coldness. "I will see you again soon. Saturday, you will report to me after breakfast for your detention."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said in the same tone and exited the office. The moment the door closed behind him, a mean scowl became visible. As fast as his legs could take him he rushed towards the Gryffindor common room.

"Now, Potter. You're out of bed, what a shame," a voice drawled from the corridor next to him. Of course, it was Malfoy, along with two Ravenclaw members of the Inquisitorial Squad who Harry didn't know at all. They seemed older.

"That's fifty points for being out during curfew," one of the no-name thugs said.

"Actually, fifty points from each of us, Potter. You should do well to remember that next time you're polluting a space in which you don't belong," Malfoy drawled and, much to his confusion, Harry smiled.

"Thank you, Malfoy. I will take that into consideration," the Boy-Who-Lived announced coldly and left them behind in order to enter his common room.

A chilly, deafening silence greeted him as every single conversation stopped, while every single pair of eyes swivelled in their sockets to look at him as if he was some kind of alien. A few gasps were heard as people took a better look at his state.

He was dishevelled and looked tired - extremely so - with dark bags under his eyes as well as a scowl that dared anyone to try and bother him.

"Harry…?" Hermione's small voice was heard.

"I'm alright, Hermione. As for what happened, do not bother yourselves with it. Keep going with your lives, focus on your studies and keep your heads low. That is all I ask. I knew I'd be targeted by Umbridge, you knew it too. I just spent twelve hours writing lines so please don't bother me with questions. Just evade Umbridge and her squad as much as possible," Harry announced at large and moved towards the armchair he usually occupied near the fireplace. He lazily erected a privacy charm around himself, Ron, Hermione and Neville, who was apparently hanging out with them. That got no complaints from Harry - the opposite, in fact. He was quite happy Neville joined them, no matter how incapable he was of showing it at the time.

"Did- Did she…?" Hermione started, not able to ask about the Blood Quills bluntly.

Harry shook his head. "No. Dumbledore must have done something to it and it didn't use my blood. It did use blood, just not mine. If you find anyone having scars like mine, please let me know."

"Then why do you have your hand hidden?" Ron asked.

Harry actually looked sheepish for once and explicitly avoided Hermione's eyes. "Well… I needed to convince her that it did work."

"Harry," Hermione started in a threatening tone.

"So, I had to reopen the scar myself," Harry said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione shrieked and hit his bicep with a stinging hex. "How could you do that?"

He sent a semi-playful glare towards his best friend, ignoring Ron's snickering. "It was either that, or letting her know her toy is useless and forcing her hand with worse methods."

"I'm sorry, but I'm quite lost," Neville interrupted, looking quite shy doing so. While his confidence had grown in spades, he was still socially awkward and conscious. Much like Harry at first. He sent his friend a kind smile.

"A Blood Quill. Umbridge owns one and forced me to do lines with it at the start of the term."

Neville's eyes widened at the revelation, but before he could speak Harry raised a hand up. "Don't bother. It doesn't work, at least not properly. I'm perfectly fine and we can't do anything about the past detentions. All we can do is move forward with care."

Neville seemed kinda placated with that and gave a small smile as he fiddled with his wand. Harry suddenly remembered something about it.

"Neville, that's not your wand, is it?"

"Huh? Oh, no, it's my father's. Gran believes that I can make him proud by using it," Neville said with a small smile. Yet Harry did not smile.

"I'm sorry Neville, but your wand is the cause of your problems," Harry stated in a no nonsense tone, catching Neville by surprise. "The wand chooses the wizard, Neville. That wand chose your father. You are not your father. You are a product of both your parents, I hope you realise that. Ron had the same problem until he broke it." Ron bobbed his head in agreement.

"I… You sure? That's all I have left of him…"

"You're wrong, Neville. No matter what happens, you always carry their love. Don't forget that, they loved you more than anything. I'm sure your grandmother told you all about that," Harry responded with a kind smile. The blonde boy smiled back with a significantly higher amount of confidence.

"Alright Harry. I'll speak to my grandmother and go to Diagon as soon as possible."

"Well…" Ron responded sheepishly. "I don't know about that mate. I mean, it's Umbridge we're talking about."

"Right."

"By the way Harry, since you were holed up in Umbidge's office, we informed everyone you sent to the Chamber of what happened yesterday," said Hermione, effectively changing the current topic into another that weighed on Harry's mind.

"Good, that's good," he responded with a sigh as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

"Don't rest yet," Ron teased.

"I mean, Daphne did not take the news lightly. She wants to speak to you as soon as possible, or so she says. She was livid when you got punished." Neville supplied.

Harry, for his part, groaned, yet he couldn't fight the smile that crept on his face.

"Alright, I'll talk to her soon."

X

Despite Harry's intentions, he could not talk to Daphne soon. Their only communication was through enchanted papers, although Daphne had promised to give him a special textbook through which they could chat to their heart's content.

The reason they couldn't meet was Umbridge, who ruled Hogwarts with an iron fist, causing the institution's descent into something resembling an army. Every single portrait was removed from the hallowed halls of Hogwarts - except the four unreachable portraits at an odd balcony above the seventh floor - and the enchanted suits of armour were under stasis charms. Students were gathered by their Heads of House at precisely 7:30 am for breakfast and were required to move in lines by order of year. Morning mail was cancelled as any form of communication was to go through Umbridge herself. Members of the Inquisitorial Squad then had to shepherd all students to their classes by year. Not a single student was allowed to roam the halls alone between classes, except during free hours. The usual rules against groups applied. The Quidditch Cup was also cancelled under the guise of violence ("A violent sport like Quidditch does not fit within this prestigious institution!"). That routine was enforced throughout the whole day. These rules were enforced by Educational Decrees that Fudge signed off on at Umbridge's behest, and failure to comply would have you facing punishment from the Headmistress herself.

Of course, if you were Halfblood, Muggleborn or a blood traitor, punishments were severe. Such was the nature of Dolores Jane Umbridge.

That was the case since mid April and now June was creeping up on the population of Hogwarts.

Overall, the castle felt dead, cold and empty. Students were always walking with their heads down. There was no excitement, no joy, no spark in the eyes of the students as they mindlessly tried to answer questions in classes or recite spells - those that had attended detentions were extra downcast. There was no mischief, no mystery, no suspense and above all, no happiness. Days passed by impossibly fast and dull, each more meaningless than the last one. The usually full of life castle was deathly silent, despite the presence of students and faculty. With OWLs right around the corner, school felt wrong and the will to succeed was drained from students. Of course, they would all study and do their best. Yet no one could deny the feeling of numbness.

Occasionally, bursts of action happened. Pranks, bombs and fireworks were sometimes deployed as an act of defiance against the regime. Some people thought that even professors were involved. Peeves was often seen messing with Umrbidge and Filch, making their lives as inconvenient as possible. Two curse-breakers were called in order to exorcise the Poltergeist and they failed - apparently, Peeves was tied to the wards of Hogwarts and could not be released without access. That specific reminder of Umbridge's lack of control over the castle's wards made Harry's life slightly worse.

"Meaningless. Her detentions are meaningless," Harry muttered the moment he sat down on the couch in front of the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room. The moment he touched the soft cushion he tilted his head back in resignation as he rubbed his tired eyes.

"What did she ask this time?" Ron asked quietly from the couch opposite to him.

"The usual. Where's Dumbledore, who works with Dumbledore, is the Order of The Phoenix active again, when will we attack the Ministry, where's Sirius Black…" Harry recited in a bored drawl. "The same shite she asks every week. I got hit with a couple bludgeoners for my efforts." Harry suddenly opened his bag and removed a vial of Wiggenweld, which he promptly downed. After his first detention with the pink toad, Snape provided him with several doses of Wiggenweld in order to combat the effects of Umbridge's interrogations. Snape suddenly proved an invaluable ally in the hostile state of the school. Whether it was under Dumbledore's orders or out of the good will of his own black heart, he neither knew nor cared.

"Some people would expect her to give up. It's been, what, one and a half months since Dumbledore left," Neville piped up from his seat next to Ron. He wasn't in a better situation himself; he was constantly getting set up by the Inquisitorial Squad, resulting in him getting detentions nonstop.

One good came from Neville's predicament - Harry knew the compulsion charms had only failed for him specifically. Snape was trying to understand how that happened and the topic was often discussed in their on-going Occlumency sessions.

"Doesn't matter to her. She's barmy, I tell you," Harry responded with a bored tone. He also didn't want to continue the topic, so he changed it. "I can't believe I'm that excited for OWLs. Something, anything to break the monotony please."

"Oh, you've got more to be excited about tomorrow," Ron suddenly said with a cryptic tone and mischief in his eyes. Harry eyed him critically.

"What do you mean? What'll happen tomorrow?"

"The Twins are ready to leave," was the simple response.

"Us three, Hermione and Ginny know. They will go out with a bang," Neville said with a knowing smirk. "They will mark the start of the rebellion."

"Why do you make everything so dramatic?" Harry asked with narrowed eyes. "I mean, sure there are plans to rise up against Umbridge, but it's not like we'll fight. While it might be deserved, open warfare in the Great Hall isn't the best idea."

"Just trying to cope mate," Neville shrugged. "Thinking of it as a rebellion just gives some meaning to it."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"He's right, ya know?" Ron interjected. "It's better to think of it as a rebellion. To be honest, maybe we should make this a proper rebellion."

"And do what? Fight?"

"Well, yes!"

"Well, no!" Harry snarled in response. "This isn't just about us, Ron. If we do fight, other students will be caught in the crossfire. Students not as trained as us, younger than us. The only thing we can do is to exploit opportunities. To pick members of the Inquisitorial Squad off. If, and only if we find a chance to stop Umbridge, we'll do so." Harry let out a frustrated sigh and kept speaking. "Even if we do stop Umbridge, what then? We hand her to the Aurors? Do we lock her up? Do we give her the Lockhart treatment? Will we kill her? Which of those options sounds logical to you?"

Ron had no answer to that. Not knowing what else to do since he was already perfectly prepared for his Charms OWL, Harry bid goodnight to his friends and retired for the night.

The next day looked the same as before. The students were heralded to the Great Hall for breakfast. Notably, the Twins were absent and their house lost one hundred meaningless points.

After a monotone greeting to professor Umbridge ("Good morning, students!" - "Good morning, Headmistress Umbridge.") and a full breakfast, all students were heralded out of the Great Hall, where the fifth and seventh years were supposed to wait for their exams. Some time later the doors opened and the fifth years were ushered inside.

"Hem, hem… Do remember that anyone caught cheating will be expelled from Hogwarts," Umbridge simpered as every student took a seat and looked at their papers.

Harry almost snorted as he reviewed the laughably easy questions.

'I really should have applied myself to my studies since I stepped foot here. There is merit to studies, after all.'

A massive hourglass on the head table was flipped by Umbridge's wand. "Begin."

She didn't even need to say it, Harry had already filled a third of the exam ridiculously fast - his writing was nearly indecipherable, of course, but he couldn't care less. He would ace the exam and a feeling of immense pride filled him.

As Harry wrote the final answer and folded the paper in order to wait for the examination to end, a deep rumble was heard in the Great Hall. He smirked at Umbridge's momentary flinch.

Another rumble, that time louder followed a few moments later, accompanied by the walls vibrating slightly. That was followed by a loud crash from somewhere within the castle and now students were looking around them.

Surprisingly, most of them had already finished with their papers and were waiting, just like him. Hermione was looking at him with pride, but his eyes lingered on a specific blonde that was smiling warmly at him.

Another crash, this time closer to the hall was heard once more and the windows, the door and the desks were rattled.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Umbridge screeched as she opened the double doors of the Great Hall with her wand. Her eyes widened as she saw the area outside completely empty of students that were supposed to wait for their exams. The only thing out of place was a single orange box, right in front of the hall. "Filch!"

Nobody answered. Umbridge yelled louder for the squib caretaker and was met with silence once more. With a huff of annoyance, she made a move towards the box herself.

"Keep writing!" she ordered, yet no one cared to obey. With a whip of her wand, the box opened and a single, red letter flew from inside only for it to float in front of Umbridge.

"A Howler?" a confused female voice was heard in the Great Hall - Hannah Abbott, Harry recognised idly - yet no one paid any mind as their attention was focused solely on the letter that formed a mouth only for the most bizarre sequence of speech to be heard.

"Greetings-"

"Headmistress Umrbidge!"

"Or is it Professor?"

"Maybe Madam?"

"Maybe Toad!"

"Yes, Pink Toad!"

"Ugly Pink Toad!"

Umbridge screamed the incantation of the Fire-Creation-Spell and it did nothing.

"Anyway, -"

"- we felt the need to inform you -"

"- that we no longer care about Hogwarts."

"Not with you, at least."

"So, we will do -"

"- what we do best."

"Create chaos -"

"- mayhem -"

"- destruction -"

"- benevolent destruction, that is -"

"- and laughs."

"Surely, you need to help on that front -"

"- you're a laughing stock in the first place!"

Umridge kept screaming random spells in her attempts to destroy the offending letter. Nothing worked.

"So, we bid you farewell, Dolores Umbridge."

"We sincerely hope you visit our store, coming this July to your nearest Diagon Alley!"

The offending letter finally burst into flames and Umbridge was left panting, her face flushed from the overexertion and the copious amounts of rage she felt.

"And another thing," the voice of one of the Twins was heard suddenly, shocking the Headmistress. The students stared in wonder as some boxes - marked as firework boxes - started materialising in rows along the walls of the Great Hall.

"We have a gift for you, one for consumption and the other for your visual pleasure," the second twin was heard as they dropped their Disillusionment Charms. They were floating on their brooms, flanking Umbridge's sides. Her eyes widened in abject horror as rows upon rows of primed fireworks started appearing from the courtyard all the way to the staircase.

The twin on the left - George - threw a piece of candy to Fred who deftly caught it, inspected it, broke it in half and gave the orange half to Umbridge. He then aimed his wand at his own throat before reciting an unknown spell.

"It's condensed Calming Draught, Headmistress," Fred spoke in Snape's voice, much to the shock and confusion of the students. The shock only intensified as Umbridge somehow bought it and ate the candy. If it was due to her shock, her anger, her confusion or her fear that Umbridge fell for the pathetic ploy, Harry didn't know nor care. All he knew was that she consumed a Puking Pastille while the cure for it was vanished by the one who fed her.

As Umbridge started puking, the Twins rotated on their brooms towards the shocked Great Hall and bowed.

"Welcome to the first official promotion of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" The twins announced in unison and all hell broke loose. Students started cheering and rushing out of the Hall, fireworks of all kinds were released and the twins were launching more from their brooms. More students of all ages started descending the staircase in fear, awe and happiness and all of them moved to the courtyard. A small smile graced Harry's features as he saw a semblance of chaos in the unnatural order Umbridge had brought, yet he had no intention of joining the impromptu festivities. His gaze had never left a certain Slytherin throughout the entire show, and the moment he could, he quickly grabbed her wrist and moved towards the stairs leading to the first floor. Daphne complied with a bright smile and they swiftly entered an empty classroom.

"That's going well," Harry idly commented as he closed the door and turned to look at Daphne.

"It's going very well since you finally decided to pay me some attention," she said with a mischievous grin.

"Ah yes, I should have approached you publicly under the tyrannical regime of the toad," he responded sarcastically, with an equally mischievous countenance.

Daphne smacked his arm before she suddenly hugged him tightly. "Prat," she murmured fondly.

Harry stiffened slightly despite his arms snaking around her waist, his eyes slightly widened as heat started travelling from his neck upwards. "I, uh… Didn't expect that… you know?"

Daphne pulled her head back slightly - they were relatively the same height, Harry having reached 5 '7 after his multiple growth spurts and her being 5' 5 - and locked her sapphire blue eyes with his. "With your penchant for extremely dangerous situations, I believe a hug was in order," she explained in a haughty tone.

Amusement danced in Harry's emerald orbs. "You won't get rid of me that easily, Greengrass. My penchant for danger is accompanied by my penchant for getting saved by luck and circumstances."

"Watch yourself, Potter. I'll be very cross with you if you get hurt again," she said with a scowl.

"I'm fairly certain I can't possibly promise that, but for you I'll do my best," was his response. For a moment, they had their eyes locked in a silent battle, each getting lost in the other's gaze as they each marvelled at the beauty held by their companion - the beauty held in the twin sapphire oceans for Harry and the dangerous allure of the emerald flames for Daphne.

They both realised they were very close, extremely so. Yet neither wanted to back away. Harry inched forward slightly and Daphne mirrored him slightly. A breathless whisper left Daphne's pink lips as they moved.

"Harry…"

Before anyone could move further, the door swung open and a familiar snort was heard as they both jumped back.

"Are we interrupting?" Ron asked with Hermione and Neville following him as he took a seat on a desk while Daphne hurriedly released her hug with a blush.

"It would be polite to knock," Harry said with a seemingly nonchalant attitude, despite the fact he was blushing as hard as Daphne.

"That's not fun, is it?" Hermione said with a glint in her eyes. Multiple people did a double take at Hermione's words, as they didn't expect the rule-abiding Hermione to be that mischievous during the beginning of a revolt. "But it's irrelevant. What's our next move?"

"There is no next move. I said that much yesterday. Apart from occasional pranks and the usual damage to property, we have nothing to do," Harry responded with a shrug. "Ron will probably spearhead the pranks in the twins' absence with help from the rest of us. If you really want a plan that much, focus on taking out members of their Squad."

"That will paint an obvious target on us," Neville grumbled.

"It's too late for that. We will be targeted as soon as the fireworks die down."

Harry felt Daphne squeezing his hand. "Will you be alright?"

He stayed silent for a few moments before he spoke up again. "I will try."

X

Several hours later, after the practical Charms OWLs concluded, Umbridge returned to her office, still seething in rage from the events of the morning. With trembling hands she opened a bag and withdrew tea leaves in order to make herself her favourite tea, even the tea itself gave her a sense of superiority since it was a gift from Corban Yaxley, his personal blend no less. He was a pureblood man of status within the Ministry and his blend was as rich as he was.

She had never tasted anything like it before. The taste was intoxicating.

The moment she drank the first sip of tea, she felt relaxed and sharper, although only momentarily. With a flick of her wand she summoned a piece of parchment from her drawer. It carried an odd sigil on it which she stroked reverently before opening and reading the letter for the hundredth time. Her mind was then swarmed with thought of exacting revenge against the students that dared defy her rule of the school. She was reminded of her failure in breaking Harry Potter and getting him to spill Dumbledore's secrets.

What's worse, she now had a deadline.

With each sip, the punishments she thought of grew darker and more extreme. She got up and took her tea with her as she returned to the classroom. Moments later, the door opened and several students filed in. The entire of Gryffindor'[s fifth year, and some of Hufflepuff's, alongside Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley, filed in. Harry Potter leading the entire group.

"Good. You're here. You will start writing "I must not disobey authority" in lines until midnight. For you, Potter, the usual lines will be sufficient. When one of you finally decides to come clean, you may come to my office and tell me everything you know about tonight's events."

Her announcement was met with silence and the hateful looks of her students. She did not care; the only thing she cared of was making them submit to her iron-heeled jackboot. She was the rightful ruler of Hogwarts and she would be respected and obeyed.

With one last sickening smile she returned to her office.

The students sat on their assigned desks. Harry found that Umbridge's Blood Quill was next to his infinite parchment. With a sigh, he took out his wand and carved his hand open yet again. The moment he did it, the ones who didn't know of Harry's punishments with Umbridge watched with revulsion and fear at his self-mutilation. A gasp was heard from Lavender Brown specifically.

Harry didn't care. It was just like a typical weekend for him. Not even bothered by his wound, Harry started writing mindlessly.

"Don't speak of this. The quill did this, not me," were the only words he spoke before he plunged inside his mindscape, as he had taken to doing during his punishments.

Hermione, ever vigilant, started spreading the word of Harry's punishment with a Blood Quill and how he needed to fake it working. The students slowly started ignoring the blood dripping from his hand and got to their own lines.

Not a single student broke that night.

X

Nothing out of order really happened until June the 17th. After their collective punishment and subsequent refusal to speak about the events of the departure of the twins, Umbridge left them alone - except Harry, of course. He was required to attend detentions everyday, studying be damned. He had no issue with that as he was already well studied and was aware he could ace them without trying as hard as Hermione.

June 17th was the only day Harry was 'allowed' to dodge detention in order to attend the Astronomy OWL practical exam. It was relatively boring, but something about the stars fascinated Harry - perhaps thanks to the Black family and their adoration for constellations and various other celestial bodies, evident by the names of the Black family members. 

The hours passed quietly with Harry observing planets and stars, before writing them down on his charts. His eyes often roamed towards a certain Slytherin blonde that had occupied a much larger portion of his thoughts than normal, ever since their little chat during the mayhem some days ago. Much to his delight, he had more than once caught her eyes roaming towards him, as well.

Midnight rolled past and the silence permeating the grounds was broken by the massive entrance of Hogwarts opening. A single, squat figure exited the candle-lit castle first, followed by a dozen other figures of various sizes - none of them were students - and then the doors closed once more, clouding the figures with the resulting darkness, aside from their own candles that they used to light the way in front of them, making them appear like shrouded shapes instead of humans. A chilling reminder of Dementors passed through Harry's mind before he squashed the errant thought.

Since his gaze was intently fixated upon the grounds, he garnered the attention of others who also turned to look at the blurry figures.

"You have twenty-five minutes left, Mr. Potter," Professor Tofty spoke from behind the boy in question, who barely turned to acknowledge the aged wizard.

"I'm almost finished, Professor," was the respectful reply and Tofty - thankfully - left him to his devices.

His eyes narrowed the moment he heard a hard, wooden knock followed by a muffled bark. The lights were on in Hagrid's hut, which meant he would answer the door. Sure enough, the door was opened and the thirteen people walked inside the hut, the door closing behind them. The blinds of the windows were suddenly pulled, blocking sight from the outside as darkness rolled across the lawns of Hogwarts once more.

Harry slowly started walking towards the parapet. By now, everyone was looking at him with various reactions. He cared not how they looked at him. He knew that the ones that mattered were already wary.

"Mister Potter?" Professor Tofty inquired, rather impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Prof-"

A loud crash was heard from the hut and every single head snapped towards the source of the noise. The front door of the hut was clearly broken, laying in splinters in front of the doorframe, with Hagrid's massive form on top of it, swinging his fists in an attempt to fight the twelve people surrounding him. Red lights were launched at crazy speeds, all bouncing off the half-giant's magic-resistant skin.

"HIT HIM WITH SOMETHING HARDER!" The shrill voice of Umbridge sounded out, being heard clearly by everyone attending their Astronomy OWL. The spells started changing colours and Hagrid roared in pain.

"Hagrid no!" Hermione gasped from somewhere behind him, yet he paid her no mind - not even the examiners that were witnesses to the brutality cared enough to chastise her. Just then, he saw the double doors of the castle open up once more and the figure of a very tall woman with a nightgown, her long shadow reaching far thanks to the light of the castle, spreading forth over the landscape.

"How dare you!" McGonagall shouted as she ran, her Scottish brogue thicker than Harry had perhaps ever heard it. "How dare you! Leave him alone! Alone, I say! On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such-"

Her voice was cut off suddenly, as more than half a dozen red lights soared towards her. The students gasped in horror, as the stunners slammed onto a bright silver shield. The sound, akin to a gong getting violated by mallet, was heard loudly atop the Astronomy Tower.

"An unprovoked attack against not one, but now two Hogwarts professors!" McGonagall bellowed as she brandished her wand. "This is a violation of the charter! By the Headmistress, no less!"

"This is a matter for the Ministry, Minerva. You are perverting the course of justice. You must not interfere," Umbridge said in return after a use of Sonorus.

Before McGonagall could respond, another wave of red light soared towards the Professor. This time - much to the continuing relief of the spectators - McGonagall raised a wall of stone to block the attacks.

The examination was over by that point, but neither the students nor the examiners were willing to leave the area in favour of observing the assault by twelve of the Ministry's Aurors on the lone Professor, defending her colleague in the darkness.

During the chaos, Hagrid had managed to escape, running through several of the Aurors and into the Forbidden Forest, carrying Fang upon his shoulders. The moment McGonagall saw that, she conjured a dome around her, through which the besieging Aurors could not see her, nor the spectators watching so far above. Moments later, a cat emerged from a hole in the blind spot of the dome and ran towards the border of the school's protective wards. The moment she passed through, the cat transformed back into the Transfiguration Mistress and with a loud crack later, she was gone.

Angry yelling was heard from Umbridge, as she shouted at the Aurors for their failure to capture Hagrid, or even subdue Professor McGonagall, and Harry decided he need not watch anymore. So he, followed by Neville, Susan, Daphne, Ron and Hermione descended the Astronomy Tower in complete silence as they processed the events that they had just been witness to.

Until they were intercepted, that is.

"Potter. You're coming with us to the Headmistress' office," a Slytherin - Montague, specifically - drawled as he twirled his wand in his hand.

"It is past midnight, this is no time for detention. We have our final exam tomorrow," Hermione immediately responded as they all moved towards Harry.

"Don't care. Headmistress' orders. You're coming with us," Montague replied as he and the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad members aimed their wands at them. They were severely outnumbered and under aim, Harry realised with a grim expression.

He had no choice, at that moment.

"He isn't going anywhere," Neville hissed in response.

"Fine then. You're coming with. Detention for all of you," the boy drawled in response.

'This is a bad idea,' Harry idly thought, yet he chose not to speak up. He had the feeling his friends wouldn't care either way.

A sinister glint went through Montague's eyes the moment he noticed Daphne with them. "It's a shame you're involved with them, Greengrass. You'd look better by my side," he said with a wink.

Daphne's face scrunched in disgust but didn't speak. With a silent agreement, everyone followed the Squad straight into Umbridge's office. Before they reached the door of her classroom, the excess Squad members left for other matters and only one member was assigned to each student.

Harry took his usual seat in front of the Headmistress' desk as his eyes roamed towards the ones that came with him to the Ministry stooge's office. Each student was paired with a member of the Inquisitorial Squad with them looking out for any funny business from his group - with some anger he saw that Montague was looking over Daphne, and ogling her with a possessive, and greedy look in his eyes.

Several minutes of silence passed before Umbridge finally came to her office, looking slightly dishevelled and red in the face. The commotion in her room did not help matters.

"Secure them!" She shrieked and the Inquisitorial Squad members immediately grabbed each fifth year before relieving them off their wands.

'I knew this was a bad idea.'

"Why are they here?" Umbridge seethed, her face growing redder by the second.

"They refused to let Potter come alone, Headmistress," a Ravenclaw - probably a seventh year, Harry thought - said. Umbridge's eyes snapped towards Harry sitting in front of the desk.

"Yes. Potter. I have had enough of your lack of compliance," the Ministry pawn casually commented as she moved towards her tea stash. With precise, well-practised motions, she started the process of making her daily cup of tea. Something particularly foul permeated the air the moment the leaves started boiling, making every student scrunch their face in mild disgust as Umbridge took a deep breath of the abominable stench.

"The answer to my problems should arrive any minute now," the Headmistress said sweetly as she poured her tea before taking a piece of parchment from her drawer and started reading it.

Harry observed the letter silently, as he had every night for the past two and a half weeks. Umbridge had an unhealthy fixation with that specific letter, reading it every night the moment Harry's punishment began. He thought the sigil on the cover was oddly familiar and now it finally clicked. He saw it on 'The Pure-Blood Directory' which he had reread out of boredom before the Astronomy practical. It was the sigil of House Yaxley.

The door suddenly opened and Severus Snape strode in. His gaze quickly observed the assembled crowd before stopping on Harry. His gaze didn't linger long enough as he took notice of the stench permeating the air. His eyes widened imperceptibly.

"You asked for me, Headmistress?" Snape asked in a casual, emotionless tone. His usual sneer was glaringly absent.

"Yes, Severus. I need you to fetch me a vial of Veritaserum, post haste," Umbridge commanded as she drank her tea.

"I'm afraid that will be impossible," Snape smoothly objected. Umbridge turned her hate-filled eyes towards him.

"As the Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic himself, I demand you fetch me a vial of Veritaserum!" she screeched as her left hand trembled, slightly crushing the parchment she still held. Her equally shaking right hand lifted the tea cup and she took a sip from it.

"I'm afraid you misunderstood. I am unable to procure Veritaserum because I do not own any. Ownership of the potion is banned by the Ministry, with the sole permitted uses being by the Ministry and for study, and you have already used the vial meant for class study."

Harry nearly snorted; he knew well enough Snape owned more than enough Veritaserum to question the entirety of Hogwarts if he so pleased.

"Then make me some."

"I'm afraid that is impossible. Veritaserum requires a month to brew, at minimum," Snape objected yet again, the hint of a smirk creeping up his face. Umbridge huffed in frustration.

"You are on probation, Snape. Completely useless, just like everyone else in this- this pigsty of a castle! Begone with you. I have ways to do this without the need for Veritaserum," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. Snape's eyes flashed dangerously at the disrespect before he gave an ironic bow and immediately turned around to head towards the door, in front of which he stopped.

"I need to ask," Snape said before he left, turning his face slightly to look at Umbridge - his face a mask of stone betraying no emotion, perfectly fitting for the emotionless, no nonsense tone of voice he spoke with. "What are you brewing, exactly?"

"Just my usual tea, the one I drink every morning and every night," she casually responded as she took yet another sip.

Snape stayed completely still for several moments. "I see," he said silently before making an unnaturally hasty exit from the office.

Harry waited until Snape's footsteps stopped being heard - precisely after the door to the classroom was slammed shut. In the meantime, Umbridge started activating her wards before she aimed her wand at Harry with a determined nod. "This wouldn't be necessary if those foul beasts had taken your soul last summer."

Harry's eyes widened. "You did it? You were the one that tried to kill me with the Dementors?"

"I was the only one that had the guts to act," the witch seethed as her face turned red. "Everyone thought you were simply delusional and traumatised. Not me. I saw you for what you really are. A foul, filthy, dangerous beast! One that needed to be put down like a filthy, little mutt!"

"Don't you dare-"

"Crucio."

A gasp of pain was heard from the raven-haired boy as he started spasming in his chair. His own scream was muted by the screams of protest from his friends who immediately started fighting against the members of the Squad that were holding them in place. Several screams for her to stop were heard along with some foul expletives - from Ron, naturally. The curse was soon lifted, although it felt like it had lasted a lifetime to all the DA members there, as Harry greedily tried to inhale some oxygen through his throat. With some wonder, he realised that despite the fact the Torture Curse hurt, it was nowhere near the worst pain he had experienced in his short life.

'Guess those are the after-effects of being tortured by Voldemort himself, huh.'

"SILENCE!" Umbridge screamed towards the assembled students.

"You can't do this!"

"I will make sure my aunt shoves you in Azkaban by tomorrow!"

"Crucio."

Harry was once again put under the curse, yet this time he actively fought against the pain. With his body spasming irregularly, and his teeth clenched, he managed to not limit himself to even so much as grunts of pain, turning his glowing green eyes towards Umbridge. With the thoughts of the hatred he held for the Professor finally at the forefront of his mind, his remaining patience was snapped like a twig under a giant's foot. Anger, hate and a will to cause her irreversible harm was all he could think of as his irises accrued a red hue to them, mixed with the usual green. His magic flared in defiance of the curse that progressively got more painful and as he finally let out a howl of pain, his eyes still refused to leave the shaking brown eyes of the salmon-coloured toad.

The sight of two glowing vortexes, predominantly emerald with a streak of red mixing into them gave Umbridge pause. A feeling of dread and danger invaded her very soul as she broke the curse and back-pedalled, nearly tripping over her own desk.

Harry tried to get up, barely registering the scream that came from Umbridge as the spasms wracking his legs and hands made the effort significantly harder. Before he managed to get up, however, several stunners were shot towards him, launching him almost into Umbridge's fireplace, knocking the Gryffindor out cold.

The moment the members of the Inquisitorial Squad each shot a stunner towards Harry, his friends took the opportunity to fight back. Daphne took her wand from Montague and a Banishing charm launched him onto Warrington who was holding Ron. Susan from the other side did almost the same thing as she used the Seize-and-Pull Charm on the Ravenclaw holding Neville and using him to knock the fourth year Hufflepuff holding Hermione - her own captor was already stunned.

In the commotion, no one saw the dishevelled Umbridge sprinting towards the fireplace, summoning Harry by his shirt in the process. Daphne saw a moment too late and before she managed to reach her, the fireplace turned green.

"Ministry of Magic!" she shouted as she was whisked away along with Harry. Daphne grabbed a handful of Floo powder, ready to follow her into the Ministry before Hermione held her hand.

"Daphne no! We need to inform Snape. We cannot follow him like this."

Daphne contemplated ignoring her completely, but her rational side won out in the conflict within her. She lowered her hand.

"Hermione, go. We will follow him after you inform Snape so he can inform the Order," Ron said, gathering the curious glances of the rest of the room's occupants.

Neither of them cared and Hermione sprinted outside of the office. Ron sighed deeply before turning towards the others. "You don't need to go with us, guys. We have had our fair share of situations like these, you don't need to be dragged into this with us."

"Nonsense. Harry helped us when we needed it, didn't he?" Susan casually commented as she smiled brightly. "Surely, Aunt Amelia will understand when I explain."

"I am not backing down. Not now," Neville said resolutely. "Mine and Harry's families fought side by side for generations. I am not willing to stop that now."

Ron breathed out a sigh as he turned towards Daphne. "Don't s'pose I can talk you out of it either, huh?"

"Not a chance," Daphne replied as she turned towards the fireplace.

"Greengrass, don't-"

"I won't. We will go together when Granger comes. Before that happens, however, I have a duty as the Heiress of House Greengrass," she continued before she knelt towards the flames to initiate a floo-call. She tossed the powder in and the flames turned green.

"Greengrass Manor."

X

Hermione, for the first time in her life, barged into a Professor's office without a single warning. She found Snape manically rummaging his shelves in search of something. A cauldron was bubbling in front of his desk, with the same stench from Umbridge's tea permeating the office. Snape's head snapped towards her the moment she barged in.

"Granger, twenty-"

"Umbridge abducted Harry, she's taken him to the ministry!"

Snape's eyes widened as he looked at the Gryffindor prefect, almost as if looking at her for the first time.

"What?"

"She tortured him! With the Cruciatus!" Hermione frantically explained, anxiously grabbing tufts from her hair. "He- he somehow fought back and she got scared and- and she told the Inquisitorial Squad that held us to stun him and we fought to help and she took him and Floo'ed to the Ministry! And what is that stench?"

"Ten points from Gryffindor for rambling," Snape rather automatically responded as he suddenly bolted towards the cauldron. "Expired Draught of Madness reheated," he mumbled as he brandished his wand.

"Expecto Patronum. Go to Dumbledore. Albus, Umbridge has been consuming expired Draught of Madness laced in her tea. She has taken Potter to the Ministry around five minutes ago." The moment he ended the message, the beautiful doe that had been formed when he cast the spell galloped through the ceiling, no doubt on its way to wherever Dumbledore had hidden himself. "Granger, do not under any circumstances-"

Hermione had already left.

"Granger, get back here!" Snape bellowed after her. He was met with silence.

X

"Princess! What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Cyrus Greengrass fussed in front of the fireplace that held Daphne's face, like a worried mother hen. He was wearing his sleeping garments, having been rudely awakened by the ringing of the wards alerting them of a Floo call. Both he and Isabella - who currently was patiently waiting out of Daphne's sight - immediately woke up and rushed towards the fireplace, knowing full well that only their daughters could connect to the floo after the designated hours.

"No, father. I simply wished to inform you of a decision I will be making as the Heiress of House Greengrass, being fully aware of the consequences and willing to face them without fear," Daphne responded in a formal tone, her infamous mask in full effect.

Cyrus' eyes hardened. He knew that eventually he would need to have this conversation with his daughter - not almost two hours after midnight, mind you, but if his daughter felt the need to discuss it at that god-forsaken hour, he wouldn't stop her.

"Speak, daughter. What is your decision?"

"I have decided to ally myself to House Potter and specifically Lord Harry Potter, publicly and unconditionally. I wish to aid him and be his ally in his endeavours as he would for me, for better or for worse," Daphne recited and took a deep breath. "You may chastise me, punish me, or even disown me. None of those repercussions are enough to change my decision. I have wished to do this for a long time now, and I have faith in myself that I can convince you to respect my decision."

Cyrus was deathly silent as he thought over Daphne's words. His concentration, however, was shattered the moment he heard Isabella's chuckles coming from his side. His lips stretched to a thin line before he responded.

"How do you intend to convince me of the wisdom in your choice?"

"We are no fools, father. Despite your complete dislike of the political stage, you are cunning enough to have a wide, nationwide network of information. You are the reason I have my own network in Hogwarts. You have heard the whispers as much as I have that the Dark Lord is back. We cannot remain neutral again. We will not be allowed to remain neutral. The Dark Lord's followers will reach us and attempt to gain your allegiance. Unlike the last war, you are not just a Lord of a House in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. You have been the World Duelling Champion for the last six years. Your power is envied and coveted, your help sought after. You must know by now that the Dark Lord would covet an asset as powerful as you. House Greengrass will have to pick a side. If you choose to pledge your allegiance to the Dark Lord, so magic be my witness I will renounce my place as your heir, and forsake the name and blood of House Greengrass." Daphne finished her speech with an air of finality and her promise cut through the parlour of Greengrass manor like the sharpest blade.

"The safety of-"

"To hell with our safety, father. If safety entails me being the arm candy of a vile murderer and rapist, I'd rather spend the rest of my days living in fear of mortal peril. If safety entails me wishing for a quick death, I'd rather die young and happy instead of old and broken."

Cyrus wisely remained silent. In his head and heart he knew that he would never join the Dark Lord. He had tried his best to avoid the last war like his mother, Lady Arabella Greengrass, avoided the Global Wizarding War against Grindelwald. He couldn't speak for his mother, but he knew that he would join the Order or the Ministry if he had no choice of neutrality. He wasn't averse to immoral actions himself; Merlin knew that he'd had to make some nasty choices, but he would never turn his wand against the innocent and helpless.

It was tedious work and nasty business, the war. He was forced to play dirty to simply remain neutral in the conflict. War went against everything Cyrus Greengrass stood for. He strived to live life to the fullest, always chasing happiness. A war was no place for living life as it should be lived.

He cared little of the political games his mother played or the businesses she owned. His heart laid in Duelling and that was the path he followed in his life. Despite that, he was aware of his duties and followed his mother's teachings as a proper Heir should, taking the mantle of Head of House Greengrass with his head held high, projecting the honour, integrity and dignity of his Most Ancient and Noble House.

The Wizengamot and Gringotts were not the places where he made his life as fulfilling as it currently was, however. Twenty years ago in Italy, during a European Duelling Tournament, he met his wife, Isabella DeLuca with whom he had two beautiful daughters. He felt loved and supported by his wife in every endeavour. The travels he made for his passion also solved the biggest fear of House Greengrass. During the International Duelling Tournament of 1985 in China, he had met a healer specialising in blood magic and maledictions. He brought his daughters to China later that summer after Astoria got diagnosed with the blood malediction active within her. His daughters were cleansed and cured, thus destroying forever the blood malediction that had been cursing his entire bloodline for generations.

He would never be as successful nor as happy as he currently was if he wasn't allowed to chase his dreams; to chase his happiness. That was the most important thing for Cyrus Greengrass.

"Are you happy, Daphne? Will your decision give you happiness?" Cyrus inquired in a quiet, soft tone.

"Yes, daddy," his eldest daughter responded with a soft sigh. "I'm positive I will not regret my decision."

"Then you have my blessing. And you're right. I doubt I will have the choice of neutrality this time around. The Dark Lord will not be the one my wand represents."

"Thank you, daddy. I love you," a teary eyed Daphne spoke through the floo.

"I love you too, princess. Just, please promise me you won't do anything too rash. Remember, you're a Slytherin."

A sheepish expression took over Daphne's face and Cyrus' heart sank.

'Oh no.'

Isabella stifled a laugh.

"I'm afraid it's a little too late for that. I might have been influenced by a Gryffindor," a bashful Daphne admitted before the floo call abruptly ended.

"I swear I will regret this at some point," Cyrus sighed as he rubbed his eyes. He felt his wife's arms hug him from behind.

"You did the right thing, husband. And I know how much you hate all that formal stuff, but it needed to happen for this," she whispered in his ear as she peppered kisses along his neck.

"I didn't even ask her why she called at this god-forsaken hour," he said with a sigh as he craned his neck. "Hell, how did she even find a fireplace with an active floo under Umbridge's hold?"

That gave Isabella pause. "You don't think…?"

Cyrus groaned in exasperation. "Merlin, what has she gotten herself into?"

Isabella chuckled. "Reminds me of you when I met you."

"That's beside the point. I know I will regret this at some point, but will I honestly regret it a few minutes after the fact?"

He would, in fact, regret it a few minutes after the fact.

X

The moment Daphne ended the floo call, Hermione entered the room in a rush. With a quick look around her, she saw the Inquisitorial Squad tied and discarded in a corner of the office.

"Snape knows. He informed Dumbledore," Hermione announced as she steadied herself on Ron's shoulder in order to regain the oxygen she lost.

"So, should we go or not? If Dumbledore's going, we don't need to be there, do we?" Ron commented. "He can handle Umbridge easily and I doubt anyone else is at the Ministry this late."

"Well… that makes sense…" Susan mattered, followed by some grunts of approval.

Daphne, however, spotted the crumpled parchment on Umbridge's desk - the same one she was reading before everything went down. She picked it up and immediately noticed the sigil of House Yaxley. A quick skim of the contents later, she handed it over to Hermione.

Everyone was silent for some moments before Hermione suddenly gasped.

"Yaxley…! He is a Death Eater! He was at the graveyard! Umbridge took Harry to him! Outside of the Department of Mysteries," Hermione quickly rambled, giving the letter to Ron and rushing towards the fireplace. With a quick toss and a call for "Ministry of Magic!" later, she was gone.

The letter landed in Susan's hand as Ron followed suit, immediately followed by Neville.

Daphne and Susan shared a look and they both had the same grim determination on their face. Daphne grabbed a handful of floo powder and disappeared in green flames.

Susan tossed the crumpled parchment behind her as she followed the rest and the last thing she heard before being whisked away was the door of the office getting blasted open.

The green flames and auburn hair was the only thing Severus Snape managed to see the moment he barged inside the ruined office, making him seeth in anger.

"Those insolent, adolescent brats," Snape hissed in irritation, ready to follow them to prevent them from doing anything - well, more foolish. A piece of crumpled parchment was floating towards the floor before it was snatched by the resident Potions Master, who started reading it.

June 1st, 1996

Dolores,

I am terribly sorry the Potter boy is giving you so much trouble. I cannot fathom your frustration with him as he refuses to cooperate and give information on Dumbledore. Sadly, I'm certain that we shall see an attempt at usurping our esteemed minister sooner rather than later, but I assure you they will be stopped.

I have a way to help you, however. You know you have my utmost respect for your integrity and dedication to our pure Ministry, I have already shown you my respect when I gave you my personal blend of tea, dating back hundreds of years. I will extend my hand to you once more in the form of interrogating the Potter boy. If you fail to learn anything from him by early morning of June 18th, do your best to bring him to the entrance of the Department of Mysteries. I have some errands to attend to at that hour and I can prove helpful in getting the truth out of him. Make sure to bring him alone, as we need to be discreet with interrogating him. Don't worry about any repercussions, your dedication to thwarting the plans of Dumbledore will be enough to ensure your safety. I will be waiting.

With respect,

Corban Yaxley.

Snape glanced towards the fireplace and sighed. Of course, he knew Yaxley was a Death Eater in the Inner Circle. He also knew that this entire thing was a setup for the prophecy. Which meant Death Eaters were waiting within the Ministry; the same Ministry that some students had just entered in order to chase their favourite danger magnet.

He had no knowledge of any of the Dark Lord's specific plans involving the Prophecy. Then again, it was natural as the Dark Lord ordered him to commit full time in working on a version of Calming Draught made to help his followers, victims of a lengthy exposure to the Dementors' aura.

It was, of course, impossible, as no potion could affect the soul, whilst Dementors caused scars to both the soul and the mind in equal measure. Severus used the experiment as a front while he trained Potter almost daily in the mind arts.

Now it gave him yet another boon in disguise. The fact that he had been misinformed meant that he couldn't be blamed for a leak.

With a sneer towards absolutely nothing, he pulled an invisible chain from around his neck and with a tap of his wand the object appeared properly; a silver chain carrying a silver phoenix medallion. Without taking his hand off the phoenix, he spoke.

"The boy was taken to the ministry by the toad. He was followed by some of his friends. His followers are waiting. The object and the children are in danger."

He took his wand off the medallion and disappeared once more before he returned it to within his robes.

He sneered at nothing - again - the moment the cold silver touched his torso and he swiftly left the office, completely ignoring the bound and unconscious students.