Chapter 42: Mass BreakoutSummary:The outside world continues its descent into fascism, while Hazel and her friends are stuck inside Hogwarts.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextA dark chamber, cloaked figures… in the corner of sight, pale fingers gripped arm rests…
A high, cold voice… "How many of our people have been captured, Severus?"
One of the cloaked figures spoke up quickly, his voice familiar… "My Lord, at least ten."
The pale fingers squeezed tighter on the armrests… "And you cannot ascertain where they are being held?"
"No, my Lord. For the reasons we have discussed before."
Another cloaked figure stirred… "Again you tolerate his failures, my Lord! Why have you not struck him down for his impudence?"
The pale fingers lifted, pointed, flicked… the cloaked figure writhed and screamed… "We tire of repeating ourselves, Lucius. How is it a failure of Severus' that we cannot pierce the Fidelius Charm and the other defenses around… that location? We demand your silence."
The cloaked figure withdrew, not daring even to mutter…
The first cloaked figure stood straight… "Our numbers grow thin, my Lord. We must recruit."
"And that has gone so well thus far, has it not?" The pale fingers gripped the armrest so hard it creaked… "We should have killed the girl, Severus. All our failures, all our setbacks, can be traced back to her meddling. We are losing our agents, the mission in Bucharest is a failure. And we are weak, we are not our true self."
"It is regrettable, my Lord, but given your current restrictions, there is nothing more I can do."
The high, cold voice chuckled… "Indeed, Severus. We are not yet willing to allow you into our mind. For now, however." The pale fingers loosened their hold… "It is clear to us that we must intervene directly. Arrange passage to Azkaban, we shall consort with the Dementors and release our most faithful servants."
"A brilliant plan, my Lord. I shall make the arrangements as soon as I have milked Nagini and brewed your potions for the night." The cloaked figure bowed and backed out of the room…
The high, cold voice sighed, and the owner turned aside, gazed at a cracked mirror on the stone wall… a bald, pale head, slitted nostrils, gleaming red eyes… "I know you're in there, Hazel Potter, spying and lurking. Well, spy away, it is too late now…"
The connection was severed…
Hazel opened her eyes, breathing hard. They were going to Azkaban, they were going to break out other Death Eaters! Her first instinct was to warn Sirius, but then she hesitated. It was dangerous to act, Voldemort himself would be going there and he was still immortal. But she couldn't simply do nothing.
She hesitated over the mirror, mind racing. Voldemort and his forces would move out as soon as Snape was done with those potions, with milking Nagini. If he was on their side, he would drag his feet, perhaps attempt to warn others who were better placed to act without the rashness Sirius was known for. But if he was Voldemort's man he would move with all speed to brew the potions his master required.
So really it came down to: could she trust Snape?
Yes, her gut insisted. She could absolutely trust Snape. Her history with the man, everything he had done to keep her safe, told her she could trust him.
Reluctantly she put the mirror down, reasserted her Occlumency barriers, and went back to sleep.
In the morning she awoke with a cold feeling in her guts, though she forced it aside to focus on her routine. Workout, shower, brush teeth, get dressed. Her vision from last night consumed her thoughts, as did her previous musings about her potential status as a Horcrux. She should have predicted it, honestly. She knew the only way to save the piece of soul while destroying a Horcrux was for the creator to be there, or else for another Horcrux to be there, so that the loose piece would have another piece to latch onto. And for three years and change, she'd been destroying Horcruxes and letting them latch onto her!
Hell, she probably had more of Voldemort's soul in her head than he had in his whole body.
The morning's Daily Prophet eclipsed those thoughts, however. MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN the headline screamed. Hazel snatched her paper from the owl and opened it across the table, while terrified whispers spread across the Great Hall. She ignored the whispers and read the article:
The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.
Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.
"We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were one and a half years ago when the traitor Peter Pettigrew escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Peter Pettigrew, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Bellatrix Lestrange and Patricia Rakepick, have rallied around Pettigrew as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached."
There were pictures of the escapees. Bellatrix Lestrange was at the top of the list, and Patricia Rakepick was next to her: Lestrange looked quite mad, ranting and raving silently at the camera, while Rakepick stood stock still, glaring at the camera, occasionally flipping her middle finger. Both women had been imprisoned for over a decade, but still had some trace of grace that indicated they were once quite beautiful.
Beneath the pictures was a short synopsis indicating what they had been imprisoned for: Lestrange, along with her husband Rodolphus and brother-in-law Rabastan, had been "convicted of the torture and permanent incapacitation of Frank and Alice Longbottom." Antonin Dolohov, meanwhile, had been "convicted of the brutal murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett." And Rakepick had originally been imprisoned after being "convicted of the cold-hearted murder of Rowan Khanna and for tampering with the Cursed Vaults at Hogwarts."
"Cursed Vaults?" That threw Hazel off for a few moments. "Looks like I'm gonna have to have a chat with our new professors, when I get a moment."
Draco was focused on other parts of the article. "I can't believe they're pinning it on Pettigrew. Have they forgotten he only escaped because of Lockhart and my father?"
Pansy sniffed disdainfully. "Yes, well, your father is disgraced and dishonored, and Lockhart is dead. Neither of them were in any position to help break these people out, now, were they?"
Hazel sighed and put the paper away. "What I wanna know is why they brought that Rakepick woman with them. She's no Death Eater."
Her friends all shrugged, more concerned with the other escapees. Hazel glanced up at the front of the Great Hall. McGonagall and Flitwick were deep in conversation, both looking extremely grave. Professor Sprout had the Prophet propped against a bottle of ketchup and was reading the front page with such concentration that she was not noticing the gentle drip of egg yolk falling into her lap from her stationary spoon. Meanwhile, at the far end of the table, Professor Umbridge was tucking into a bowl of porridge. For once her pouchy toad's eyes were not sweeping the Great Hall looking for misbehaving students. She scowled as she gulped down her food and every now and then she shot a malevolent glance up the table to where McGonagall and Flitwick were talking so intently. Penny, Ismelda, Talbott, Barnaby and Charlie were grouped at the other end, having a whispered conference; Hazel assumed it was about Rakepick.
Hazel waited for Umbridge to crack down, but nothing happened for several days, other than an ineffective Educational Decree stating that, "Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach." That was more than enough time for the news to spread around Hogwarts, for even the staunchest Ministry defender to lose faith and begin to question the official line. Many students, like Susan Bones, had relatives who had been killed by one of those escapees, and they found themselves subjected to a gruesome sort of reflected fame, much like Hazel herself whose whole life had been haunted by the deaths of her parents.
Luckily, Susan was still steadfast in her support for Hazel and The Study Group, as she affirmed during Herbology one day. "Don't think this changes anything, Auntie wouldn't give up on you and I won't either." She dumped a bit too much dragon dung on the Screechsnap seedlings they were repotting, and they wriggled and squeaked in discomfort. "Oh, sorry, little guys."
Hazel herself was subject to much renewed whispering and pointing, but it was nothing she wasn't used to. She had never shied away from the truth, from making sure people knew what really happened. And she had allies to defend her when some moron got a bit cheeky; Ron surprised her when she overheard him telling off some Hufflepuffs for saying mad things about her. "Oi, you lot! Don't go saying that shit about Hazel, she's a real hero and you know it!"
"Manners, Weasley." There were Crabbe and Goyle, looking smug with tiny silver badges in the shape of an I on their robes. "Gotta dock a few points."
"Five points from Gryffindor for being rude."
"And another five for being an ugly ginger git!"
Ron looked gobsmacked as the Hufflepuffs he'd been telling off turned and ran. "You can't do that!"
"Oh yeah? Ten points for questioning our authority!"
"Wanna keep going, Weasel King?"
Goyle noticed Hazel and guffawed, yanking Crabbe around. "Want some of this too, Potter?"
With a subtle flick of her finger, Hazel cast a wandless, non-verbal Silencing Charm on both boys. "Oh by all means, make my day, you morons."
Naturally they couldn't manage it no matter how hard they tried, and she giggled. "Right then, how about ten points apiece from Hufflepuff for causing a scene, and another ten points apiece for holding up the queue? Run along, both of you."
Defeated, they had no choice but to retreat. Ron watched them go, then glanced at her. "Did you silence them?"
"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. But they're too stupid to recognize a Silencing Charm anyway, so I'll be fine. Anyway, you should run along yourself, we really are holding up the queue."
"Ah, right, see ya." Ron took off, and after checking the area, Hazel made her own exit.
Sure enough, Crabbe and Goyle were unable to pinpoint why they had suddenly lost their voices. Umbridge knew Hazel had done it, but without proof she could do nothing against her. And McGonagall resisted when she tried to put Inquisitorial Squad members above the prefects' authority to dock points. Hazel had the pleasure of overhearing. "To place any student above our prefects would undermine the very purpose for which we entrust them with additional authority over their peers, Dolores. You are on thin ice as it is with these enforcers of yours."
Umbridge seethed, but with Fudge unable to back her up with further Educational Decrees, she was helpless.
The news from outside was mixed. The Wizengamot had finally mustered the votes to overcome Fudge's press blackout, and in response he had invoked yet more emergency powers and dissolved that body entirely, before they could initiate a vote of no confidence. He had further tried to have Amelia Bones removed from office, and she had told him to go fuck himself; the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement had gone rogue, though in their view Fudge and his cabinet were the rogue ones. Confidence in the government was at an all-time low, and without the Aurors, Fudge had resorted to hiring mercenaries and dark wizards to enforce his rule.
"Mercenaries and dark wizards?" Hazel stared at the article in the Daily Prophet, and shook her head. "Ten sickles says Death Eaters will get hired on."
Draco smirked. "That's a fool's bet and you know it."
Hazel put the paper down. "We have to get rid of the Umbitch. I had a plan to deal with her, but now it looks like I'll have to accelerate. And no, I'm not gonna tell you what it is, just keep doing what you've been doing."
Umbridge was looking more frazzled than ever, though she struggled to keep it hidden. Finally free of the Wizengamot, Fudge had written a few more Educational Decrees, proclaiming Umbridge as Hogwarts High Inquisitor (whatever the fuck that meant) and placing her Inquisitorial Squad above the authority of the other prefects. Umbridge had given up on teaching and assigned a series of proctors to ensure the students were reading quietly from the assigned texts; she was spending all her time as High Inquisitor, policing and evaluating the other professors. At first she focused on the newer ones, perhaps hoping their youth would present a weakness for her to latch onto, or maybe she thought she could accuse them of loyalty to Dumbledore and have them ousted that way.
But it was almost comical watching her deal with them. Hazel watched with glee as she sat in on a particularly gruesome History of Magic lesson, the gruesomeness of which she was certain Ismelda was exaggerating. "Professor Murk, your enthusiasm for history is noteworthy, but perhaps these students are a bit too young for these details?"
Ismelda shrugged, and the projected images on the wall behind her continued playing. "I was their age when one of my best friends was murdered in cold blood, Dolores. The hard truths of the world don't wait for us to grow up."
Umbridge schooled her face into a brief expression of sorrow. "My sympathies." The tone of her voice and the look in her eye gave it away as a lie, however, and the expression gave way quickly. "However, I must insist that you tone it down to a more age-appropriate curriculum. You are familiar with the Ministry-approved course aims, of course."
Ismelda sneered. "Sure, and we're getting to it. But it's taken me this long to undo the damage Binns did with his teaching, so your 'age-appropriate' curriculum will have to wait a little longer."
Umbridge's eyes hardened. "Professor Binns had a perfectly appropriate teaching style, Professor Murk. You are strongly encouraged to emulate him to the best of your abilities, do I make myself clear?"
Ismelda laughed one of her dark, creepy laughs. "I teach history as it is, Dolores, not as a bedtime story for the faint-hearted. If the truth is too much for you, that's your failing, not mine."
Umbridge's face turned pink, and she scribbled even harder on her clipboard. "Your insubordination is noted, Professor. Good day." She stormed out of the room; the class burst into cheers and clapping the moment the door snapped shut behind her. Ismelda just smirked and waved, acknowledging their applause.
Notes:This weekend was shitty! I wouldn't even call it a weekend! Hope you all had a better one.
Also I don't really like this chapter, so maybe I was subconsciously dragging my feet on posting it. Oh well~
Chapter 43: Burbage is a BadassSummary:Umbridge continues to fail. Hazel enjoys every second of it. Professor Burbage is hot.
Notes:Part 2 of "Tell me you know nothing about England without telling me you know nothing about England!"
Chapter TextUmbridge had no better luck with the other professors either. Talbott Winger stood his ground, teaching as if nothing was amiss while Umbridge lurked in the corner. "Right then, everyone hand in your essays and we'll get started with a quick review on Vanishing. Miss Brown, pass these mice around and don't be silly about it. Mr Weasley, if I catch you and Mr Thomas abusing your mice again you'll both be in detention."
Umbridge tried to interrupt with her dainty, annoying cough, but Winger ignored her. "Miss Potter, if you wouldn't mind demonstrating the basic Vanishing Spell?"
"Of course, Professor." She cleared her throat and flicked her wand, slowly and precisely. "Evanesco." Her mouse disappeared with nary a peep. "It's important to enunciate carefully and perform the wand motions with precision when Vanishing living creatures. You can be a bit sloppier with inanimate objects, but it's not recommended to make it a habit."
Talbott nodded, and the ghost of a smile curved his lips. "Very good, ten points to Slytherin."
Umbridge did her stupid cough again, and Talbott turned to her, his face a mask of politeness. "Can I offer you a cough drop, Professor Umbridge?"
"Ah, no, Professor Winger, I was merely curious if you had received my note~?"
"I did receive it, yes. If I had not, I would have inquired as to your presence in my classroom. Now please sit down, you won't get a very good idea of my teaching methods if you keep interrupting."
Umbridge went pink, but she did sit down, and the lesson proceeded apace. Afterwards, as Hazel knelt and pretended to tie her boots, the pink hag approached the desk. "You are new to teaching, correct, Professor?"
Talbott nodded. "Indeed, just started this year. Professor McGonagall personally recommended me, and I've had no complaints yet."
"Professor Dumbledore had nothing to do with your appointment?"
He shrugged. "Not that I'm aware of. I'm sure he approved before he resigned, but I doubt it was anything personal."
Umbridge looked him in the eye, no small feat for someone so short. "Do you not think it strange that so many students who once belonged to the same unofficial club have been hired on at Hogwarts?"
He shrugged again. "What, the Circle of Khanna? It was a study group, formed after our friend was killed. It wasn't anything nefarious, I promise you."
She made another note on her clipboard. "Very well, Professor Winger, that will be all." She turned and saw Hazel still kneeling on the floor. "Eavesdropping, Miss Potter?"
"No, Professor, I had a knot in my laces. Just got it sorted, I'm leaving." She stood up, swung her bag over her shoulder, and walked out the door.
Penny's evaluation was equally satisfying, though for verydifferent reasons. "You'll notice we have a guest today, class." She indicated the corner, where Umbridge lurked. "I expect all of you to focus on your work as usual, however! Today we'll go over the Wit-Sharpening Potion; you can follow the instructions on the board or go by the book, whichever you're more comfortable with!"
Penny flicked her wand and instructions appeared on the board, which Hazel knew were from Snape's personal notes. Umbridge sat in the corner for a while, making notes on the class's performance, then stood up and approached Penny. "This class seems quite competent and advanced for their level, Professor Haywood, you should be proud of your teaching ability~"
Hazel cocked an eyebrow; praise wasn't something she had expected from the hag. But Penny laughed it off. "I appreciate the kind words, but you know as well as I do that I've only been teaching for a few months. Professor Snape is the one responsible for their high level of achievement."
"Ah, of course, my mistake. Speaking of Professor Snape, have you been in contact with him?"
Penny shook her head. "Apart from some notes he left before his departure, I have not been in contact with him. I believe he recommended me for the position, however."
Umbridge smiled slowly. "And you believe the word of a Death Eater should carry weight, Professor?"
Penny frowned. "Former Death Eater, Dolores. And I do not, however I do believe that the word of Britain's youngest Potions Master should carry weight. Whatever his faults, Professor Snape was an excellent teacher for several years, and it is unfair to allow youthful mistakes to overshadow such a record of excellence."
For a fleeting moment, Umbridge seemed taken aback at the fierce defense of a predecessor, but she rallied herself quickly. "Your devotion to your old teacher is admirable, Professor. One may wonder how far such devotion runs, hm~?"
The room went silent, and Penny's frown deepened, almost becoming a snarl. "I have no idea what you mean, Professor Umbridge. This evaluation is over, you may remove yourself from my classroom at your earliest convenience." The sudden icy formality was more shocking than any slap in the face.
Hazel felt sick. Had Umbridge really just accused Penny of sleeping with Snape to get his old job? The pink hag looked smug and sleek as she retreated from the classroom, leaving a mutinous stench behind her.
Pansy was beside herself. "The nerve of that bitch! Don't listen to her, Professor, we know you got this job honestly! Right, everyone?" The whole class cheered, even the Gryffindors.
Penny couldn't help but smile at the show of support, and she took a deep breath. "Thank you, everyone. Baseless accusations deserve no air, so let us move on with class, shall we?"
Hazel took great pleasure in brewing a perfect Wit-Sharpening Potion before class ended, and she lingered to have a word with Penny afterward. She was tidying her papers, and though she seemed outwardly cheerful, Hazel could see tension in her shoulders. "Are you alright, Penny?"
"Hm? Ah, Hazel, yes, I'm fine." Penny huffed a deep sigh. "It's not the first time I've had such accusations thrown at my face, and it won't be the last. It comes with being a beautiful woman in a male-dominated career, you'll face similar smears yourself in time."
"It's still bullshit. No one should have to deal with that, regardless of their looks."
"True, but we deal with the world as it is, not as we wish it to be. Run along now, or you'll be late for lunch."
"Yes ma'am." Hazel bowed and left the room, heading upstairs for lunch.
Umbridge had worse luck with Charlie and Barnaby. Barnaby, eyes wide and innocent, talked her ear off the whole class, looming earnestly over her as he babbled about bowtruckles and thestrals and nifflers and things. Hazel knew he meant no harm, but as big as he was, no doubt Umbridge was quite intimidated.
Most of the other teachers were too bland, and so determined not to take sides that Umbridge was forced to leave them alone. Vector was her usual brisk, apolitical self during the evaluation; Babbling was in the guise of the old woman, pretending to be deaf and making her shout her questions; Sinistra, ever the Slytherin, was careful to give non-answers that meant nothing at all.
Burbage's class, however, was interesting. Hazel walked in and found the Professor in her Muggle dress uniform, standing at rest with her hair tightly bound behind her head so she could wear a green beret. On the table before her were a variety of… of firearms? Hazel couldn't suppress a grin; this was going to be an interesting lesson, indeed.
Burbage remained still as a statute until the class was filed in and seated, then she swept her gaze from side to side. "Good afternoon, class. As some of you may be aware, I am an officer in Her Majesty's Royal Marines Reserve, having once served in the regular Marines. I am also a fully qualified firearms instructor, and today we shall be exploring Muggle weaponry."
Hazel put her hand up. "Is Professor Umbridge scheduled to evaluate today's lesson, ma'am? I wasn't aware guns were on the OWL-level Muggle Studies curriculum."
Burbage smiled coldly. "Indeed she is, but she seems to be running late. As for the curriculum, you are correct that I usually hold off on firearms training until seventh year, but given the current circumstances, I thought it would be beneficial to accelerate your instruction."
Just then the door opened and Umbridge bustled in. "Do forgive me, Professor Burbage, I had to-" The sight of Burbage in her military uniform, and of the plethora of guns on display, was enough to shock her into a brief silence. "W-What is the meaning of this?!"
The professor's smile grew colder. "You are late, Professor Umbridge. Tardiness is not tolerated in this classroom, take your seat at the back and do not interrupt." Her attitude was sharp and brisk, and Umbridge, still shocked at the sight of guns, fumbled for her seat.
"Very good. Now, who can tell me the four rules of gun safety?"
Hazel raised her hand, and Burbage acknowledged her with a nod. "Potter."
"Yes ma'am. The four rules are as follows: Treat all firearms as if they are always loaded, never aim a firearm at any target you are not prepared and willing to destroy, keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are centered and you have decided to shoot, and be sure of your target and who or what is behind it. A fifth rule is to keep your weapons secured and out of reach of unauthorized persons."
"Very good, twenty points to Slytherin. Now then, quills out." Burbage proceeded to pick up a variety of weapons and briefly explain each one, from handguns to larger rifles and shotguns. Some were older, and Hazel wondered if they were grandfathered in under current Muggle laws as she took notes on the various weapons being explained.
Afterward, she returned to the middle. "Now, would anyone care to give it a go?"
Umbridge made an ungainly shrieking noise as she shot to her feet. "Give it a go?! Absolutely not, I forbid it! These are children, not hired murderers!"
"Professor Umbridge, were you or were you not specifically instructed not to interrupt today's lesson?"
"Who are you to instruct me!? I am the High Inquisitor! I have the Minister's ear! I'll have you sacked within the hour and-!"
Burbage clicked her heels and stood straight. "You will do no such thing, now sit down or I will remove you from my class!" The women glared at one another, then Umbridge turned and fled without another word.
When the door slammed shut, Burbage took a deep breath and relaxed. "As I was saying, would anyone care to give it a go?"
Hazel put her hand up, and the professor nodded her way; she rose to her feet and went to the front of the class, where she picked out a large revolver similar to the one she owned. "Interesting choice, Miss Potter. Are you certain you want to wield that one?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very well." Burbage flicked her wand and a few targets floated up into the air. "At your ready."
Hazel smirked, cast a hearing charm, gripped the gun and checked the cylinders, then aimed and fired. All the targets fell in seconds. "There! How's that?"
Burbage chuckled. "Someone's had practice, I see. Very well, reload and let's try a more challenging course!"
Hazel reloaded the weapon quickly as Burbage called more targets into the air. These were smaller and moved erratically, and she was hard-pressed to keep up, but she managed to shoot them all down without wasting a bullet.
Everyone clapped, and Burbage was clearly impressed. "Well shot, Miss Potter. May I ask where you learned to shoot so well?"
Hazel hesitated, then shrugged. "Mad-Eye showed me a thing or two over the summer."
"More than a thing or two, I'd say. Well, since you're so good, you can help me while the others have their turn!"
"Yes, Professor." She emptied the revolver and carefully put the brass away, then did as she was told and helped the other students in their attempts to shoot. Some did better than others, though not by much; the purebloods in particular made a point of scoffing and shooting badly, if they deigned to pick up a weapon at all.
Afterward, Burbage waved everyone off and checked all the weapons, even the ones that hadn't been used. "Homework, two feet on how you think firearms and other Muggle weapons affect the Statute of Secrecy and wizards' attempts to avoid contact with Muggles. Class dismissed."
Chapter 44: Targeting TrelawneySummary:Our hapless Seer is in the crosshairs! Can she withstand, or will she give in?
Chapter TextWhile the others filed out, Hazel stuck around to help Burbage put the weapons away. "Professor, why aren't you worried about what Umbridge might do to you?"
Burbage laughed her pretty Irish laugh, the one that made Hazel's heart race. "She's just an idiot, Hazel. A poor fool strutting and fretting upon the stage, full of sound and fury, yet signifying nothing."
Hazel giggled at the reference. "That's quite the perspective, Professor."
"Well, it's true." Burbage paused while putting away a rifle. "The Ministry is falling apart around Fudge's ears, and once he's gone, Umbridge will have no power here either. As you know, Amelia Bones has led the DMLE in open defiance of Fudge, and all her subordinates are backing her. The only Departments not on her side are the ones who haven't taken a side at all, who are too busy keeping the lights on and the government running to worry about politics."
"But Law Enforcement is the largest and most powerful Department, right? So what's the hold-up? Why can't Madam Bones simply declare martial law and have Fudge removed?"
Burbage shrugged. "Maybe she's too busy helping Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix, or maybe she's too busy doing her actual job without official support. There's a lot that goes on at that level of governance, and I imagine she's not used to dealing with the minutiae of her Department anymore."
Hazel could scarcely imagine it. An entire governmental body, gone rogue from the rest of it as the regime crumbled. Whole thriller novels could be written about that kind of fuckery.
"Here, give this a try." Burbage handed her the rifle she'd paused over. "It's an antique, a Mauser K98k. Did Mad-Eye go over bolt-action guns with you?"
"No, we focused mainly on handguns." Hazel took the rifle, marveling at the weight. The wood was worn but well-maintained, and the metal parts were dull with age but smooth and sturdy. "You'll have to show me how it works."
"Alright, let's start with the basics." She took the rifle back and stood at the target range. "Now, this is a bolt-action weapon, so you have to cycle it between each shot, like a revolver. Watch carefully." She demonstrated opening and closing the bolt a few times, then showed her how to load a charger clip full of ammo. "Americans call these stripper clips, and don't ask me why."
Hazel giggled. "I wouldn't know, I've never met a stripper."
Burbage rolled her eyes. "You're not missing out, young Hazel. Anyway, pay attention. Now that it's loaded, you shoulder it like so." She brought the gun up, aimed, breathed in and out, and slowly pulled the trigger; the gun cracked and jerked, but her body absorbed the force, and the bullet struck dead center on the furthest target.
Hazel was more interested in what the absorbed recoil did to the professor's body in that uniform of hers, and she brought her eyes up quickly. "Wow, you, uh, make it look so easy."
She just cocked an eyebrow, and Hazel grew flustered. "W-What? What's that look for?" The eyebrow went higher, and Hazel grew more flustered yet. "What! Stop looking at me that way!"
"I could say the same to you." Burbage didn't raise her voice or show any disappointment, but Hazel still felt a flood of shame as she realized the irony. "Oh, don't get all worked up. I was young too, you know." She put the gun down and put a firm hand on Hazel's shoulder. "It's natural to feel this way, understand? I've dealt with it my whole career here at Hogwarts. But I'm your teacher and that can't happen between us, got that?"
"Y-Yeah, I know, I get it." She couldn't help her feelings, though, or the tangle of shame and arousal that was currently clogging up her chest.
"Here, I know what you need." Burbage flicked her wand, and the targets became larger, man-sized, and took on the face and shape of Gilderoy Lockhart. "Pop a few rounds into that wanker, I promise you'll feel better."
"Yes, Professor." Just the sight of that man's face brought a snarl of rage, driving off the confused mash of emotions. She grabbed a revolver, checked it, cast a hearing charm, and went to work. Center mass for the farther targets, but the ones close up she aimed for the head; she knew that wasn't protocol, but she didn't give a fuck about protocol right then.
After a few shots, Burbage handed her the rifle again. "Remember what I showed you."
"Yes, Professor." Stripper clip, load, bolt, shoulder, aim, breathe. Trigger. The weapon cracked and kicked, and in her state of angry focus she hardly noticed it. The target's chest was blown apart. "Fuck yeah!"
"Very good! Keep going."
Hazel worked the bolt and fired at more targets, and each one struck. Maybe not perfectly, but it didn't need to hit dead center. "You're right, Professor, I do feel better now."
"See? What did I tell you?" Burbage took the rifle back and secured it before putting it away. "How are you coming on your motorcycle project?"
"Pretty good, I've got a decent grasp of safety laws in Muggle England and I think I'm ready to learn how to ride!"
"Excellent. Next week I shall arrange for lessons, for you and for the others who have progressed in their projects. For now, you should be off."
"Yes, Professor." She made to leave, then hesitated. "Erm, are hugs okay?"
Burbage rolled her eyes but opened her arms, and Hazel happily fell into them, hugging her tightly for a moment before letting go. "Thanks, Professor. Have a good day!"
"You too, Potter." She shook her head and returned to her duties as Hazel skipped out of the room, feeling good about things for once. Amazing what a hug can do for a person's mood!
Over the next week, Umbridge seemed determined to force some kind of compliance from the school. She had finally made it to Professor Trelawney in her list of evaluations, and Hazel was afraid she had finally found the weak link in the faculty; the poor Divination teacher had not been prepared for the stress of being a Head of House, and her alcoholism had come back in force. The added pressure of Umbridge's evaluations would surely push her over the edge.
Then again, Hazel remembered her prophecy from earlier in the year, about how she would wind up forced out before Christmas. Perhaps it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy?
It was a bitterly cold day in the Divination Tower when Umbridge came up the steps for her first evaluation of Trelawney. The class went silent; Trelawney had just settled into her armchair by the fire for a lecture on rune stones. "You're late, Professor Umbridge."
Umbridge frowned and checked her watch; it was hardly a minute past. She shook her head and smiled. "My apologies, of course. You got my note, I trust?"
Trelawney made a noise in her nose that was neither here nor there. "Sit in the back, if you please, you bring a nasty aura that will disrupt the vibrations of the unknown."
Umbridge smiled one of her insincere toadlike smiles. "Oh, no, I simply must be up front, so I can get a real feeling for how you conduct your class, Professor Trelawney. I assure you I won't be a bother~"
Trelawney made that noise again and turned her back on Umbridge, who proceeded to drag a spare chair up behind her own and set herself down with a great deal of shifting and rustling and muttering. "Well? Carry on~"
Trelawney took to pacing back and forth instead of sitting by the fire. "So! Rune stones. How many of you study Ancient Runes with dear Bathsheda?" Hazel and a few others raised their hands. "Excellent, you'll recognize many of the symbols in this lesson. You all have a set of stones, please open your books to page 157 and study the runes and their meanings, making notes as necessary."
Rune stones, or rune casting, was notoriously vague even among Seers, prophets and diviners, and generally considered the domain of the desperate and the charlatan. There were many ways it could work, so far as Hazel could tell. One could draw stones from a bag and place them in order, or toss them at random one by one, or simply grab a handful and scatter them about. From there, one interpreted the runes in order to divine what they meant. One had to know the various meanings of the runes, how they interacted with other runes, how their meanings changed in these interactions, how the number and orientation of the runes further changed their meanings and all the other interactions…
There was room for bullshit, in other words.
Nonetheless, Hazel took it seriously while keeping one eye on the professors, watching as Umbridge made notes and then got up to follow Trelawney around the cluttered classroom.
Next to her, Ron was pretending to cast his stones while actually flirting with Lavender Brown. She caught Lavender's gaze and rolled her eyes; Lavender scoffed quietly and kicked Ron under the table, making him yelp.
"Ah, Mr Weasley, got a bad throw of the stones, did we?" Trelawney was hurrying over.
"Uh…" Ron threw Lavender a dirty look and quickly cast his runes. His eyes went from stone to stone, trying to discern meaning. "Well, not me, they say someone I dislike is in for some bad news in the next month or so."
"Indeed!" Trelawney swooped down and inspected the runes closely. "Fascinating, fascinating, I haven't seen such an unfortunate throw of the runes in seven years!" She straightened and regarded Umbridge with wide eyes. "You, my dear, are the target of these runes! Oh yes, I would mind your belongings closely until the New Year!"
Umbridge smiled blandly and made a notation on her clipboard. "I'm certain I'll manage until then. Now, if you would indulge a few questions?"
"Certainly!" Trelawney swept back to the front of the room and stood before the fire. "Speak your questions, o child, and let the light of wisdom lift the scales from thine eyes!"
Hazel giggled; she was getting into fine fortune-teller form now, Umbridge had no idea what she was in for.
Umbridge had clearly wanted to do it quietly, but Trelawney's melodramatic manner prevented that. "Right, well, how long have you been teaching here at Hogwarts?"
"Sixteen years! Sixteen of the finest, most sheltered, most well-fed and -watered years of my life! Dumbledore himself hired me on, I'll have you know!"
"Quite the tenure. Now, you are yourself the great-great-granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney, the famous Seer?"
"Oh yes! Yes, the gift skipped several generations of my family only to reemerge in me! Four generations, to be exact!"
Umbridge smiled and made another notation. "Fascinating, I'm sure. Now, if you wouldn't mind making a small prediction for me?"
Trelawney stiffened. "You dare to command the Inner Eye?"
"Why, if you yourself cannot See, what business have you teaching others about Seeing~?"
Trelawney drew in a great breath through her nose and fixed Umbridge with her most piercing stare. "Hmm, hmm… Miss Potter! Cast your stones, if you would!"
Hazel scooped up her rune stones and made to throw them, but she was stopped. "No, my dear, with your left hand! And toss them by the fire, there!"
"Uh, okay." She transferred the stones to her left hand, shook them thrice, and let them sail through the air to clatter against the slate like marbles. Most of them came to rest just shy of the grate, though one bounced and skipped merrily onward into the flames.
"Oh my, that's not a good sign at all!" Trelawney pounced and scrutinized the stones. "Ahh, Dolores, it is the Sowilo stone that has been consumed by the flames! You, you are in for a period of intense weakness!"
"And just five minutes ago you threatened me with my belongings being taken." Umbridge made another notation on her clipboard. "Although I suppose they aren't exclusive of each other~"
"Quite right." Trelawney had dismissed her fortune-telling demeanor and resumed her everyday self, flicking her wand and scooping up Hazel's stones and levitating them back to her desk, even the Sowilo rune which was a bit charred but certainly not consumed. "I would not clean that stone, Miss Potter, rune stones must absorb the energy of their predictions to continue working. Only in the aftermath of a truly calamitous prediction is it acceptable to scour one's implements of Seeing! Except your crystal ball, of course, that must be kept polished at all times."
"Yes, Professor." She carefully stowed the rune stones as she thought about the so-called predictions she had heard today. Stolen belongings and great weakness… well, that would bode well for the resistance.
In any event, Umbridge seemed to have enough to go on for now, so she lurked in the corner making notes and trying to sound important. Trelawney acted unconcerned and went on teaching the lesson, and Umbridge wasted no time disappearing down the trap door the moment the bell rang. The others packed up and traipsed downstairs too, though Hazel lingered. "Professor? What was that?"
"What was what, Miss Potter?"
Hazel hesitated, wondering how to put her thoughts into words. "Everyone's been saying how you're falling apart again, but today you seemed…"
"Normal? Competent?" She made a dismissive gesture. "Surely you've caught on to the fact that Seeing is eighty-percent theater, no? Telling people what they want to hear? We discussed this before, I believe."
Hazel nodded, remembering her previous year. "True prophecies are rare, and the prophet rarely remembers them."
"Precisely. But one can read omens, use tools and incense to pierce the Veil and to See. And the public, well, they expect a certain demeanor from their fortune tellers, no? I did not lie when I told your class in your third year that books and exams mean little for true Seers. Either one has the Sight, or one does not."
"I think I get it. You can act a certain way around certain people, but act differently with other people?"
"Essentially." She gave Hazel a very direct look. "Keep this in mind as you prosecute your own schemes, Potter. Now, you should be off."
"Yes ma'am." She bowed and left the tower, mind a whirl. She was very glad she had delegated many of her extracurricular responsibilities this year; if she had been forced to coach her squad, patrol the corridors, and attend meetings of The Study Group, she'd have gone mad like in third year.
Fortunately, Draco was a competent vice-captain for Quidditch, and her girls were getting better and better at leading study sessions. They balanced their weaknesses and helped each other improve; Pansy, for instance, was becoming more ambitious and assertive again, while Hannah was learning how to be hard and Hermione was learning how to bend the rules and set aside morality to be more effective in the real world. Cho was already a badass, and was leading her team just like she led Ravenclaw in Quidditch.
This week, though, Hazel made an effort to reconnect. She tried to go to the various meetings and practices to get a feeling for everyone's skill levels. Her squad was flourishing under her and Draco's leadership, while The Study Group was rapidly growing stronger all across the board; Marietta was providing plenty of intelligence on the movements of the Inquisitorial Squad, since she had Umbridge completely fooled as to her true loyalties.
All she had to do, really, was make sure Marietta didn't forget that. She was worried about her mother, true, and Hazel had done what she could by reaching out to Sirius, but with the Ministry falling apart it was really up to her mum to keep her head down; she worked as a Floo Network Regulator and used to help Umbridge monitor the school's Floos, but lately had withdrawn and focused on keeping the lights on around England.
As long as she kept that up, Hazel saw no reason why her life would be in danger. And as such, Marietta would continue to be their mole! She loved it when a plan came together.
Chapter 45: Demonstrating DarknessSummary:The Study Group thinks they're ready for 'the real shit', as Zacharias Smith puts it. Hazel obliges them.
Notes:This probably doesn't need a TW, but I'll put one here just to be safe: this chapter contains the Unforgivable Curses, and discussion of the ethics of same.
Chapter TextAt one of the few full meetings of The Study Group they could schedule with everyone's competing times, Zacharias was primed to be an asshole again the moment they were done warming up and working out. "Potter, I think I speak for everyone when I say we're good enough for the real shit." There was a general murmur of assent, and he looked even more self-important.
Hazel kept her cool. "And what do you suppose is 'the real shit', Smith?"
"The Unforgivable Curses, of course!" He scoffed. "Remember what you said at our first meeting, how we weren't gonna fuck about with kiddie stuff? Well, we've done nothing but kiddie stuff since then!"
"Because we have kiddies in the group who had to be brought up to speed with the rest of us. But you're right, I do think they're ready." She glanced at Blaise, who nodded once and put a hand on Aria's shoulder, and then at Colin, who shrugged nervously and pulled Dennis close to him. The other older siblings looked nervous too, but nodded in agreement. "Alright then, time to take off the kid gloves. Circle up, everyone, you know the drill!"
Everyone gathered around her in a ring, with titchy types up front and gangly goons in the back. "So, the Unforgivable Curses! The Imperius, Cruciatus, and Killing Curses. Who can tell me why they're called Unforgivable?"
Hermione raised her hand. "Because using any one of them on another human being is an instant trip to Azkaban."
"Correct. However, it's not that easy. They are only forbidden when used on another human being. Wizard, Muggle, half-blood, whatever, humans are off limits. Inhuman and subhuman creatures are exempt from this law, however. Centaurs, goblins, house-elves, leprechauns and the like are free game, and sometimes the Ministry can classify certain groups as subhuman to legalize the use of the Unforgivable Curses against them; this happened during the first war against Voldemort to allow the Aurors to respond in force against Death Eaters and their ilk."
She paced back and forth as she spoke. "Make no mistake, I am going to teach you how to use them, the wand movements and incantations and all that. Now, it may be that you physically can't use them, and that's fine; they take real power and real hatred to cast properly, you have to want to kill, or inflict pain, or subjugate their will. You have to mean them. Some of you might not have the power or the sadism to do it properly, but we're gonna find out one way or another. Now, from the top."
She waved her wand and the Room provided a rat, conjured from nothing. "Watch carefully, all of you. The Killing Curse is the only one with a real wand movement necessary, and it's a sort of zig-zag like my scar used to resemble. I know it's fucked up, but it is what it is." There was a rush of nervous giggling and murmuring, and she let them get it out of their systems. "The Imperius and Cruciatus Curses don't require any specific movement, you just have to aim your wand at the victim. Like so."
She faced the rat, taking a moment to relax her Occlumency defenses so she wouldn't have to rebuild them afterward. A deep breath, and she aimed her wand, the runic symbols glinting in the light. "Imperio."
Instantly the rat rose on its hind legs and began doing the Cossack dance. It looked ridiculous, and the students laughed at the sight. "Funny, isn't it? Total control, total subjugation. I can make it do whatever I want it to do." She conjured a spool of thread, and the rat pounced on it and began tying a hangman's noose; the laughter stopped abruptly, and the younger students looked horrified.
Well, most of them anyway. Aria seemed fascinated, and Hazel could practically see the hero worship surging. "Are you really going to make it hang itself?"
Hazel smirked. "I could, my dear, I very easily could." The rat finished tying the noose and placed it around its own neck without hesitation. "Oops, no scaffold. Oh well." She lifted the curse and let the rat be a rat for a few moments. "That could have been any one of you. Some people have an innate resistance to the curse, others can learn Occlumency, but the majority of witches and wizards have no defense whatsoever. I can curse one of you and command you to murder everyone else in this room, and you would do exactly that, by any means necessary, until either you succeed or the others incapacitate you somehow."
Colin and Dennis looked like they'd be sick any moment. "That's awful."
"It is, and that's why the Imperius Curse is Unforgivable. One of the few legitimate defenses against being sent to Azkaban for using them on another human is if you were yourself under the influence of the Imperius, though this is easily proven or disproved by an examination of your memories, either through Legilimency or with the help of a Pensieve. And trust me when I say the Ministry has access to these things."
Hermione put her hand up. "What other legitimate defenses are there?"
"Well, like I said before, any governing body can reclassify certain groups of people as subhuman, which is similar to outlawry in the Middle Ages. As such, they do not enjoy legal protections, especially from the Unforgivable Curses."
Hermione put her hand up again. "How many legitimate uses are there for these curses, anyway?"
Hazel put up a finger. "Let me finish demonstrating, and I'll answer all your questions. Now, the Cruciatus Curse." She made eye contact with Neville, who steeled himself and nodded, then she turned back to the rat and jabbed her wand in its direction. "Crucio!"
Instantly the rat fell over, squeaking at the top of its tiny lungs, writhing on the floor and clawing at its own skin. Everyone recoiled from the sight, even Aria. Hazel kept her wand trained on the false creature, relishing the sensation of poison being drawn out of her soul to fuel the curse. "Pain. Endless, burning torment, like a thousand knives carving into every inch of skin, every nerve ending lit aflame. If the caster doesn't let up you'll go mad from the pain, as it reaches your brain and fries every thinking neuron you've got."
"That's what happened to my parents." Neville sounded very small, but he had a resolute look on his face. "That's what the Lestranges and Crouch Jr did to them, when they couldn't tell them where V-V-Voldemort was."
Everyone gasped, winced, recoiled or otherwise reacted to that name. Everyone except Hazel. She released the rat from its torment. "And they're free from Azkaban, along with seven other maniacs, free to serve that asshole as soon as they get back in shape. Now, I'll show you the Killing Curse, then we'll take a break and I'll answer any questions you might have."
She didn't waste time with fanfare or explanations, she just faced the rat and did the funny little zig-zag with her wand. "Avada Kedavra." A flash of green light, and the rat was instantly dead. "Instant death, plain and simple. There are plenty of ways to kill a person with magic: the Cutting Curse, the Blasting Curse, a Bubble-Head Charm full of chlorine gas, Sectumsempra. Really any spell if you're creative enough. But the Killing Curse is the only one with the sole purpose of killing, that requires total dedication to the death of your target. This is why it's Unforgivable."
She glanced around, saw the others absorbing what she had taught them. "Anyway, break time. Get some water or something to snack on, we'll reconvene in fifteen minutes."
The noise level rose as everyone scattered, and the room provided bean bags and chairs and such to relax on. Hazel remained in the center, looking down at the dead rat as she reimposed her mental defenses. She took a moment to take stock of herself too, making sure everything was correct inside; as much as she doubted the hype and propaganda around these curses, it didn't hurt to make sure every time she used them.
She had some water and an apple herself, and when the fifteen minutes were up she called everyone in. "So, Hermione asked what kind of legitimate uses the Unforgivable Curses have. Well, in wartime they're valuable tools, but in peacetime the Killing Curse is useful for euthanasia, like if an older relative is dying and doesn't want to wither away in their own piss, or if a creature cannot be treated and would be a danger to people while the pain of their injuries is driving them crazy. Imperio and Crucio are useful for crowd control and for dealing with prisoners as well.
"Now, I'm not saying you need to use them casually. In fact I'd be the first to argue against that; these are last resort spells, no question about it. But you need to know how, and you need to know when you can get away with it, so that if you ever find yourself in that kind of position, you'll know how to act rather than waste seconds prevaricating. Trust me, even one second can be too much time. Any other questions?"
Colin put his hand up. "Won't these spells corrupt us, Hazel?"
Hazel shrugged. "Not in the sense of literal corruption, no. What happens is when using the Unforgivable Curses, you have to draw on levels of intent and depravity that most people don't possess. Everyone has darkness in their souls, and using these curses siphons that darkness away; the corruption most people refer to is that it feels good to have that darkness drawn out. Like for me, using the Cruciatus Curse feels like poison being sucked out of my soul."
"What if you run out of darkness?"
She shrugged again. "Not sure. I haven't ran out yet, myself, and I've been using them pretty regularly since my third year." Those who knew her winced at the reminder of that relentless disaster of a term. "Anyway! The Room will provide critters to practice on, so put space between yourselves and start practicing!"
The Room expanded on her command, and everyone separated nervously; soon the room was full of incantations and swearing. Hazel didn't expect them to get it right immediately, or even at all; it really did require a certain level of sociopathy. As expected, most of the Gryffindors struggled, except Ron who took to it rather easily. Hazel suspected it was the resentment and sexism he harbored. Ginny struggled, but her experiences during the Chamber of Secrets thing helped her embrace her inner sociopath.
The Hufflepuffs had a harder time of it, and some of them refused outright to cast the curses. The only one who had it easy was Zacharias, the stuck-up prat. Hazel made sure to praise him and console the others. "Good work, Smith. The rest of you, don't feel bad, not everyone can use these curses."
Zacharias just nodded, and the others looked uneasy.
Hazel was surprised to see Luna using them easily and without issue, and wondered what that said about her. Had she absorbed more of Hazel's lessons than she let on? Or maybe her inner trauma had hardened her more than anyone would guess? Or maybe she was a sociopath like Hazel, capable of compartmentalizing her darker impulses at will. Hazel smiled and hugged her, and she smiled back with a kiss.
The Slytherins had it easy, whether because dark magic ran in their families or because they had embraced the questionable parts of their House. Either way, Hazel had little to say to them, so she had the more adept ones scatter to help the others.
When it was getting late, she called everyone in. "You all should be proud of yourselves. You're starting to see beyond the hysteria and propaganda, that these curses are just spells. Intent and meaning matter. Now, I want to end the night by pointing a few things out."
She took to pacing back and forth. "These Curses are powerful, but not insurmountable. Sufficient willpower or skill in Occlumency can render the Imperius Curse impotent, and similar skill can be used to stave off the full effect of the Cruciatus Curse. Most importantly, the Killing Curse cannot be cast silently or wandlessly; disarm or silence an opponent, and that particular weapon is taken away from them. But don't get complacent, they would still have many other spells at their disposal. Now, cool down, do your stretches, and take the secret passages back to your common rooms."
The noise level rose again as everyone scattered, and Hazel went to a corner to follow her own advice. Water, apple, stretch and cool off. Good. Ginny drifted over, a sly look on her face; Hazel looked back, but shook her head, indicating she didn't feel like it tonight; Ginny seemed surprised, then shrugged and drifted away.
Hermione came over too, but she didn't seem to want to fuck around. "That wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."
Hazel shrugged. "Yeah, well, I've had a lot of time to think about the safest way to expose people to the Unforgivable Curses. Not sure I did it right even now, but whatever."
Hermione nodded. "I still disagree with some of what you said, but I doubt that will ever change. Thank you for teaching us, Hazel."
"Sure thing." They hugged each other, and Hermione stepped off to the Gryffindor tunnel.
Ron approached her too, looking a bit nervous. "Hey."
She cocked an eyebrow and tried not to roll her eyes. "Ronald."
He stood there awkwardly for a moment. "I, um. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be."
"I noticed you didn't struggle with them."
"Does it- does it make me a bad person?"
She shrugged. "No, it just means you have issues, is all. You weren't the only one who had an easy time; Luna didn't struggle either, would you call her a bad person?"
"No way! Luna's sweet!" But he still looked troubled. "I dunno, I just…"
"I'm not gonna coddle you, Ronald. No, you're not a bad person, but you might have traits that others would say belong to bad people. But you're aware of that, I hope."
"Yeah yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, unable to look her in the eye. "I know this is something I should think about and work on, but I'm not sure how to start."
He really was being sincere, Hazel realized. "You can start by being honest about your issues, Ronald. Think about how you treat Hermione, or me. Think about what it means for you that this, of all things, is what triggered your epiphany. I can't do your thinking for you, I can only prod you in what I think is the right direction. Got that?"
He nodded resolutely. "Yeah, I get it. I've been a real prat, I know that. But if it means I can cast these curses effectively, is it something to be ashamed of?"
She shrugged again. "That's for you to decide. But the way you've treated Hermione in the past? The way you've spoken to her, to me? That is something to be ashamed of. You need to examine the root of that, on your own time."
"Right. Well, I can start by apologizing. So, I apologize for the things I've said and done to you, Hazel."
"I accept your apology, Ronald." They formally shook hands. "But words are empty without action to back them. Like you said, you can start by apologizing. Don't let it end there."
"I won't. G'night." He turned and went for the tunnel, his face set in a resolute expression.
Hazel waited until she was the last person in the Room, then flicked her wand to dim the lights and put everything away. "Thanks, Room." Like always the torches shimmered in acknowledgement, and she ducked away to her own common room.
Chapter 46: Hogwarts MysteriesSummary:Hazel learns about one of Hogwarts' other big heroes.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextThe rest of November went by in a similar fashion. Hazel and her friends trained, Hazel ran her Quidditch squad into the ground, Cho and Roger gave them a razor-close game but they won in the end, Hazel was busy balancing her prefect duties with making sure Umbridge and her goon squad were appeased and misled. Marietta continued being an amazing spy, and her own success was sufficient to dispel the unease, along with the continued health and safety of her mother.
Hazel's prefect duties extended to more than just patrolling corridors at night. She was something of a hero for the firsties, like Aria and her friends, and she took it upon herself to look after them as much as she could. Which wasn't as often as she would have liked, of course. She tried to be there for them at least as much as Gemma Farley had been there for her, and she appreciated anew how much busier these later years were.
There was a Hogsmeade visit scheduled for the final weekend of November, and Hazel wanted to catch up with Ismelda and the other new teachers to get their thoughts on the Death Eater breakout, and of the Rakepick woman going with them.
The grounds were covered in snow, and Hazel had to help keep order around the queue with the other prefects, but eventually she got free and went on down to the village, flicking her wand in a continuous pattern to melt the snow in front of her. Hermione and Draco did the same to either side of her.
Draco sniffled. "How'd you get away with not bundling up?"
Hazel giggled. "Warming charms, of course. Doesn't anyone use magic around here~?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Sure, but not everyone wants to spend it on trivial things when extra layers do just as well."
"Do they?" Hazel spun in place, and her skirt flared. "You can't exactly show off when you're bundled against the weather, can you?"
Draco's eyes bugged out at the sight, and Hazel giggled harder. "Down, boy. Look all you want, but no touching~"
They made it to Hogsmeade in time, and checked the Three Broomsticks. Lots of students, but no teachers. Hazel hoped they weren't at the Hogs Head, if they were she'd be sorely tempted to call it a day and head back to the castle.
Draco took her sleeve and tugged her to a table in the back. "Come on, let's sit and have lunch. They'll be by eventually, everyone comes through here during Hogsmeade weekends."
Hazel shrugged and ordered fish and chips, with a bottle of firewhiskey to chase it down with. Hermione gave her a dirty look but didn't try and rescind it, and got a ham sandwich for herself. Draco asked for roast beef and mash.
They were about done when the new teachers came through the door, all in a group. "Finally." Hazel stood and waved them over, and they all sat down: Ismelda, Penny, Talbott, Charlie and Barnaby. "You're not cutting me off today, Penny. We need answers."
Penny sighed. "We figured this was coming. About Rakepick, right?"
Hazel nodded. "Rakepick and your friend she killed."
Talbott frowned. "We're not the ones to ask. Copper should be here, but he ran off to America after he graduated from here." He frowned again at Hazel's curious look. "Ben Copper, he was one of Rowan's best friends, apart from Maya of course."
Ismelda rolled her eyes and waved for glasses of firewhiskey for all of them. Hermione frowned, but Ismelda cut her off. "Drink your booze like a woman, Granger, this is a long and annoying story and I'll not be dry for the telling of it."
The waitress brought the glasses and a whole bottle over, and Ismelda flicked her wand to spread the glasses around and pour the drink. Everyone threw their shot back, even Hermione after a moment of being glared at. "Right then. Penny, you knew them longest, you start."
The pretty blonde Potions Mistress refilled her glass and cleared her throat. "Right. So, back in 1984, there were two witches…"
Hazel, Draco and Hermione listened in silence as the five adults told them the unbelievable story of Maya Forthaven and Rowan Khanna, two of the most Slytherin Slytherins to ever Slytherin. They got caught up in Maya's older brother Jacob's obsession with the Cursed Vaults, that kept dark curses locked away; each year one of the five Vaults released their curse, forcing her and her friends to try and get ahead of those who sought to use the Vaults for their own purposes.
Ismelda looked glum. "I was a right little prat most of the time, helping Merula and her other goons go after them."
"Aw, it's okay, Ismelda! We forgave you a long time ago!" Barnaby laughed, and Ismelda's cheeks went a bit pink; Hazel felt an irrational sense of jealousy at how easily he made her blush.
The story went on, and Hazel was amazed Maya wasn't a school legend. She had done it all, apparently. Saved the school several times over, Quidditch captain, Prefect and Head Girl, perfect grades in all her classes, champion duelist, made friends or lovers with everyone.
Draco saw the awe in her eyes and smirked. "Sounds a bit like you, doesn't it?"
Hazel blushed, and the adults laughed. "So why haven't we heard about her before today? As accomplished as she was, we should have been hearing about her in Slytherin since day one."
Draco looked surprised. "We did, Hazel, you were just too far up your own arse with your own legend."
"Yeah, even I've heard about her before today, and I'm all the way up in Gryffindor." Hermione sounded smug, and pleased that she knew something Hazel didn't.
Ismelda leaned forward. "You and Maya had another thing in common, Potter: both of you really got around. She wasn't as picky as you are, though; boy or girl, if she wanted you, she was having you."
If she wanted you, she was having you. Hazel was thrust back nine months to a different conversation in this same Inn. Hell, they were probably sitting at the same table! She caught Hermione's eye, and she knew she was thinking of the same conversation.
She shook the memories off and smirked. "Should I be worried that my teachers know so much about what I'm doing?"
Talbott chuckled slightly. "You can't keep secrets from us, Potter. Don't worry, Umbridge is still in the dark. She doesn't belong in Hogwarts anyway."
"Where's Maya now?" Draco seemed eager to move the conversation along for some reason.
The adults shrugged, and it was Talbott who answered. "Got snatched up right out of Hogwarts for a super-secret branch of DMLE, and that's all I can tell you." Hazel cocked an eyebrow at him, and he gave her a bland look in return. "What? That's literally all I can tell you, I don't know anything more."
"Then what happened to Rakepick? You lot glossed over that."
Penny sighed. "Well, none of us were there, but supposedly she cornered Maya, Ben, Jacob and Merula in the Sunken Vault beneath the Black Lake. They defeated her, but it took all four of them, and she was arrested and sent to Azkaban after that for all the things she had done. That was in 1990, and she's been inside ever since until the breakout."
"And now she's out there getting back in shape." Hazel sat back and drained the rest of her firewhiskey. "And I've heard Fudge is hiring mercenaries and dark wizards to enforce the law while the Aurors are in revolt."
Talbott scoffed. "You mean enforce his regime, right? There's nothing lawful about his actions right now, and everyone knows it. But they're too busy keeping the lights on to move against him, since technically he still has the proper government behind him."
Hazel felt they had learned as much as they could from the professors, at least for now. "Well, it was lovely talking to all of you, but we've got some errands to run before the village rolls up for the night."
She made one last toast and stood, Draco and Hermione doing the same. The adults stayed seated, probably to gossip about students or whine about their jobs, and the three of them stepped back out into the late November chill.
Draco turned up his collar. "Are you going to tell us what your big plan against Umbridge is?"
Hazel thought about it, then shrugged. "I won't tell you, but I can show you." A flick of her finger made Draco's tie squeeze around his neck like a noose; he panicked for a second, fumbling for his wand, but she released it before he could get anywhere. A second flick of her finger sent warm air blowing over all three of them, a secondary gust blowing upward to flutter Hermione's skirt.
"Hey!" She pressed down on the hem and glared at Hazel. "What was that for?"
"Showing you guys what my plan is." Hazel smirked unrepentantly. "I've been practicing wandless magic ever since this summer, and recently I've gotten the hang of it. Why else do you suppose I've been emphasizing in group meetings that you can't always count on your opponent having a wand?"
Draco looked impressed, and tried to hide it. "So what are you going to do to Umbridge?"
"Gaslight her, would be my guess." Hermione sniffed and looked away, still grumpy about the skirt thing. "At least, that's what I would do."
"Right in one, Hermione." Hazel swept in and held her close, kissing her neck until she giggled and dropped the sulky act. "Gonna gaslight the fuck out of her, yes I am. Temperature changes, wardrobe malfunctions, chalk writing by itself. All the Ministry's tracking methods rely on the target using wands, so I'll be able to move with impunity."
Draco nodded. "Except for the Trace, but that's worse than useless around Hogwarts."
"But what's the point? She's already on the edge of losing her mind, with all the stress from the Ministry."
Hazel shrugged. "Maybe, and this will push her over the edge. Then she'll do something drastic and McGonagall will be able to remove her by force."
The mention of 'something drastic' made the other two pause, but Hazel kept going. She had no intention of revealing that she really planned on subjecting herself to the Cruciatus Curse, of using her gaslighting spells to bring all of Umbridge's focus on her to the exclusion of everyone else. December was just around the corner, and with the chaos of the outside world weighing everyone down, it would be the perfect time to unleash her campaign.
Hazel played innocent at dinner, eating with both hands above the table to Pansy's confusion. Hazel smirked. "Do you actually want me to tease you under the table?"
Her face went through several shades of red and several expressions of outrage, while their immediate tablemates did their best to play dumb. "Y-You know what I want…"
"Well, I want you to tell me what you want~" She glanced at the staff table; Umbridge seemed busy eating, for now.
Pansy whined. "Come on, just… you know…"
"Nah ah. Say it."
Pansy went even redder, and Hazel could swear steam was coming out her ears. She mumbled something indistinct.
"What was that~?"
She was trembling, face turning purple, but managed to say it a little louder.
"There's my good girl." Hazel obliged her quickly, and she couldn't help but shiver. The others were doing an amazing job looking anywhere but at them, silently sparing Pansy the indignity of being noticed in such a moment of weakness.
Except Daphne, of course, the little gremlin. "You two enjoying yourselves?"
Pansy threw her a mortified death glare, but Hazel smirked and did something with her thumb to have her back to gasping and trembling again. Feeling magnanimous, she even pushed harder and finished Pansy off, and she barely kept herself from causing a scene. "You're terrible."
"You literally were begging for it, bitch, don't come at me like that~"
"You're still terrible."
Hazel shrugged and smirked. It was true, so why argue?
After dinner, they went downstairs to the common room, where Hazel sat down by the fire. Her friends spread out around her, with Pansy and Daphne settling on either side and getting cuddly. "How's your group coming along, Pansy?"
Pansy sniffed. "Not now, I want to relax." But Hazel threw her a cold look, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. They're doing great, I think. I'm not much of a teacher, really."
Daphne shook her head sharply. "Bullshit, Pansy, you're amazing. Not as good as Hazel, but you're getting there."
Draco smirked. "No one's as good as Hazel. Seriously though, we've got nothing to complain about. She's great."
"Stop!" Pansy buried her face in Hazel's shoulder, and the others laughed.
Hazel didn't laugh, though. "Pansy, do you really not like leading the group, or is this more of your weird little shy-yet-tough act?"
She sniffed. "No, I… it's fine, I guess…"
Hazel thought she knew what was going on. Pansy was scared to be assertive around her, to show what she was really capable of. More of her father's programming, no doubt. She knew from talking to the others that Pansy had struggled at first, but had improved alongside the rest as she learned from Hazel and internalized it so she could teach in turn. Or maybe she was wrong and this really was part of her weird little act to stay in Hazel's good graces. Or maybe it was both. Fuck, she wasn't a psychologist.
Blaise leaned forward. "Pansy, come on, you don't have to act like a little girl around Hazel. You're assertive when you're in charge, it's okay to be assertive here too."
But Pansy was shaking her head. "No way, Hazel's in charge even when she isn't around, I'm just acting on her behalf. I couldn't do it at all if it was only me." Hazel cocked an eyebrow, and she frowned. "Don't look at me like that, it's true. I could never have pulled this off if you hadn't started it."
"And you're doing a great job carrying it forward." Daphne put a supporting hand on her shoulder. "I'm learning stuff from you I never picked up on in class, even before the Umbitch stormed in."
After a moment, Draco shook his head. "Look at us, acting all soppy. If someone were to look in here right now, they'd think we were going soft."
Daphne scoffed. "Oh please, what's soft about making sure we're still hard enough to keep up with Hazel? She'll run us into the ground if we give her the chance."
Hazel smirked at that. "Run the boys into the ground, maybe. You girls are getting ridden into the ground~"
Everyone laughed at that, even Pansy managed a watery sort of chuckle. After that they were done propping each other up, and Hazel worked on homework until it was time for bed. Then she did her routine and took Pansy to bed with her, as a reward for her patience all day.
Notes:Maya Forthaven is the name I picked for the heroine of Hogwarts Mystery, just FYI.