The following weeks descended into a cold war fought in the corridors and classrooms of
Hogwarts. Professor Umbridge, unable to provoke Harry on the subject of Voldemort, changed her tactics. She became a creature of insidious, bureaucratic tyranny, implementing a flood of Educational Decrees that slowly strangled the school's freedoms. She found some kind of a joy stalking the halls with her clipboard, terrorizing other professors and looking for any infraction to punish.
Her primary target, however, remained Harry. She couldn't get him on ideology, so she began a campaign of relentless, petty harassment. She would deduct points from Gryffindor if his posture was "insubordinately slouchy." She would criticize his essays for "unhealthy fantasizing." She was constantly trying to bait him, to push him into a reaction she could punish.
Through it all, she continued to actively and pointedly ignore Ariana. It was a bizarre, chilling spectacle. If Ariana answered a question in another class, Umbridge, who was often observing from the back, would make a note and pointedly look away. If they passed in the corridor, Umbridge's eyes would slide right over her as if she were a ghost. She was treating Ariana not as a student, but as a rival politician, a non-state actor whose existence was to be acknowledged only by its complete and total avoidance. Ariana, for her part, simply observed, her mind a cold engine of analysis, waiting for Umbridge to make a mistake.
The mistake, when it came, was born of Umbridge's frustration.
The Gryffindor Quidditch team was holding its first practice of the season. Umbridge, in her capacity as a responsible Professor, was present to "observe." After a particularly nasty Bludger from a Slytherin Beater nearly knocked Harry off his broom, a heated argument broke out between the two teams on the pitch. Malfoy, as usual, hurled a series of vile insults about Harry's parents.
This time, Harry, remembering Ariana's counsel about controlling his reactions, did not rise to the bait. But George Weasley, seeing his Seeker insulted, did. He launched himself at Malfoy, and a full-blown brawl erupted.
It was exactly the opening Umbridge had been waiting for. She swooped in, her face alight with a triumphant, venomous glee.
"Fighting!" she simpered. "That will be a lifetime ban from Quidditch for the Weasley twins… and for you too, Mr. Potter, for provoking the incident!"
"Provoking it? I didn't do anything!" Harry yelled, his control finally snapping.
"And detention, Mr. Potter," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Every evening this week. In my office. We will work on your lines."
That evening, Harry trudged to Umbridge's office, his heart full of dread. He returned to the common room hours later, his face pale, his hand trembling. He refused to say what had happened, simply retreating to his dormitory in a stony silence.
The next evening, it was the same. When he returned, Hermione saw him trying to hide the back of his right hand.
"Harry, what's wrong with your hand?" she asked, her voice full of concern.
"Nothing," he mumbled.
Before he could pull away, Ariana was there. Her movements were swift and silent. She gently but firmly took his hand and turned it over.
The words I must not tell lies were carved into the back of his hand in angry red script, as if written in his own blood.
A collective gasp went through the small group of friends who had gathered. Hermione's eyes filled with horrified tears. Daphne's face became a mask of cold, aristocratic fury.
"What is this?" Hermione whispered, her voice shaking.
"It's a special quill she has," Harry said, his voice low and full of shame. "It uses… it uses my own blood for ink."
Ariana stared at the wound, her periwinkle eyes turning the colour of a storm-tossed sea. Her expression did not change, but a cold, terrifyingly calm anger settled deep within her. She had been observing Umbridge, waiting for her to overplay her hand. And she just had. In the most idiotic, arrogant way imaginable.
She had just handed Ariana a checkmate.
"This changes the equation," Ariana said, her voice quiet but ringing with a frightening finality. "This is no longer a matter of educational malpractice. This is the use of a dark artifact to torture a student. This is a criminal act."
She looked at Harry. "You will not be attending detention tomorrow."
"But she'll kill me!"
"She will not be in a position to do so," Ariana stated. She then turned and walked out of the common room without another word.
She went directly to the Headmaster's office. She did not request a meeting. She informed the gargoyle that her presence was required on a matter concerning the illegal torture of a student under the Ministry's care. The gargoyle sprang aside instantly.
Dumbledore and Amelia Bones, who had been in a late-night meeting about Ministry politics, looked up as she entered.
"Ariana," Dumbledore began.
She cut him off, walking directly to his desk. "I require a warrant," she said to Amelia Bones, her voice like ice.
"A warrant for what, Miss Dumbledore?" Amelia asked, taken aback by her tone.
"I have reason to believe that the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, Dolores Jane Umbridge, is in
possession of and is actively using an illegal, Class-B Dark Artifact. Specifically, a self-harming Blood Quill. She is using it to torture a student during detention."
Amelia Bones's face went rigid. The use of a Blood Quill was a serious offense, carrying a mandatory sentence in Azkaban.
"That is a very serious accusation," she said, her voice grim.
"Which is why you will have evidence," Ariana said. She removed a memory from her mind and used a projection spell to display it. A perfect, high fidelity moving image projected into the air, showing a close-up of the raw, bleeding words carved into Harry's hand.
Dumbledore's face became a mask of cold, terrible fury. Amelia Bones stood up so fast her chair scraped across the stone floor.
"That is all the warrant I need," she hissed. She immediately sent her Patronus, a fierce badger, to summon her most trusted Aurors.
The plan was swift and brutal. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, their faces grim appeared in Dumbledore's office.
"Where is her office?" Amelia demanded.
Ariana led the way. They marched through the silent castle, a small, grim army on a mission of justice. They reached Umbridge's office. Without knocking, Shacklebolt blasted the door open with a powerful curse.
They found Umbridge sitting at her desk, a sickly sweet smile on her face as she looked up. "I really don't know what the meaning of this is…" she began to simper.
Her eyes fell on Amelia Bones and the other Aurors, and her face went slack with terror.
"Dolores Jane Umbridge," Amelia Bones announced, her voice booming in the small, pink office, "you are under arrest for the possession of a proscribed dark artifact and for the magical assault and torture of a student."
"I… I have a permit!" she stammered, fumbling in her desk.
"There are no permits for Blood Quills," Amelia said coldly. She nodded to Tonks. "Search the premises."
Tonks found the quill in a locked drawer—a long, black, wicked-looking thing.
"Seize it as evidence," Amelia commanded. "Take her into custody."
As Shacklebolt and Tonks bound Umbridge in magical ropes, her simpering smile finally dissolving into a mask of pure, terrified rage, Ariana looked on, her expression unreadable.
She had waited. She had observed. She had allowed the enemy to feel secure, to become arrogant. And at the first clear, undeniable criminal act, she had brought the full, crushing weight of the law down upon her. She had not just defeated Umbridge; she had utterly and completely annihilated her, using the Ministry's own authority as the weapon. The pink toad had just learned a fatal lesson: you do not play games with a person who has already calculated every possible move to your checkmate.