Chapter 47: ForeshadowingSummary:Some things are foreshadowed. Hazel is busy yet nothing really gets done. Is this what they call a slump?
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextThat night, after she and Pansy were satisfied, she was dragged out of herself again…
A 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 inserted into Fudge's new militia?"
One of the cloaked figures spoke up quickly, his voice familiar… "My Lord, we have inserted Jugson, Rookwood, Avery, Crabbe and Goyle, under disguises of course. Rookwood is making efforts to get close to the Department of Mysteries. Those whom we rescued are still training to recover from Azkaban."
The pale fingers squeezed tighter on the arm rests… "And you cannot accelerate their recovery any faster?"
"No, my Lord. Already we are pushing them too hard, and we risk losing their service altogether."
"Very well, very well. You, at least, have been most loyal, and far more efficient than… others."
The first cloaked figure bowed deeply… "You honor me, my Lord."
The pale fingers flexed, then the body attached to them stood up… "Rise, Severus. Prepare our nightly potions, then send that fool Malfoy to us."
The cloaked figure rose, bowed and departed from the room… The other cloaked figure shifted… It seemed diminutive beneath the cloak… "M-Master… what about me…?"
"What about you, Wormtail~?"
"Y-You… you summoned me, M-Master… did you n-not?"
"Do you have anything to report, or shall we use you for entertainment?"
The figure flinched… "Master, I dare not get too close to Hogwarts, but I have spoken to other rats coming in and out of the castle. The Potter girl continues to resist the Umbridge hag, though her authority is limited without Fudge's power being secure."
"Of course. Our efforts to infiltrate Fudge's militia must continue apace."
"A-As you say, Master."
A taller cloaked figure entered the room, hesitantly, as if it knew what was coming… "I am here, my Lord."
"Indeed you are, Malfoy." The pale fingers rose, pointed… the figure fell to the floor, writhing and screaming…
Hazel opened her eyes. She had been right; Voldemort was totally using Fudge's continued downfall to get closer to the levers of power, by infiltrating the ranks of mercenaries and dark wizards he was hiring. And what was that about Rookwood and Avery? Hadn't Madam Bones' forces captured Avery? Ugh, if he was loose again that would spell trouble.
She had to reach out to Sirius, but not where Pansy could overhear. So she got out of bed, extracting herself from her lover. Despite her efforts, Pansy stirred and whined. "Where goin?"
"Just to the loo, take it easy."
Pansy grumbled something and fell back asleep, and Hazel quickly extracted the two-way mirror and threw a nightgown on, flicking a few Warming Charms on with her fingers and heading to the loo. Inside, she locked herself in a stall, casting some Muffling Charms and sat down. "Sirius? Remus?"
Like before, it took a few moments, but Sirius appeared. "Hazel? Is everything okay?"
"No, Sirius, it isn't." She told him about her new vision, and he frowned.
"Dammit, Avery was supposed to be in custody, we should have been warned if any of them escaped Madam Bones. I'll make sure the right people find out, kiddo."
"Thanks, Sirius. Is everything else going alright?"
"Not really." He yawned hugely. "We can't seem to locate the escapees, and Bones' people have been too busy keeping the lights on and scuffling with Fudge's hired thugs to help us out anymore. Fudge is clamping down with every last scrap of authority he has left, and it's getting bad enough that some of us are talking about taking him out."
Assassinating a sitting government leader, even one as terrible as Fudge, was a hellaciously terrible idea. But Hazel assumed he was aware of that so she let it go without comment. "Right. And the Department of Mysteries?"
He shrugged and yawned again. "Fuck, kid, it's 1am… uh, Rookwood used to work down there, so if he's able to get back into the Ministry he could get close. But the Unspeakables have their own tricks. I doubt he'll get anywhere near what he's really after."
"And what's he really after? Come on, Sirius, don't tell me you guys haven't figured out anything."
He yawned again and flipped her off. "Brat. We've got a few leads, but Dumbledore's given strict orders not to let you in on them. He's afraid of Voldemort's connection to you, and if he finds out what we know from your head, it could spell trouble for all of us."
She had to scoff. "Sirius, I know shit that could put more than this at risk, and he hasn't gotten anything out of my head. I've got Occlumency going practically 24/7! Now fucking spill!"
He hesitated again, then reluctantly shook his head. "Sorry, kiddo, really, but I can't go against Dumbledore. No one goes against Dumbledore."
She scowled, wanted to threaten not to say anything next time she had a vision. But that was childish, and she stifled the urge quickly. "Alright, well, I guess that's everything. Next time I'll ring at a reasonable hour just to say hello."
That brought a laugh. "Sure you will, kiddo, sure you will. Love you, g'night."
"G'night." The mirror went dark, and she finished her business in the loo and went back to bed.
She didn't get it. Sometimes adults were useful, sometimes they were useless. Actually, most of the time they were useless. No, she had to be fair, Sirius had really come through for her quite a few times this year, it wasn't his fault Fudge was being a tyrant about this shit. Dammit, it really would be nice if dealing with enemies was as easy as murdering them.
She yawned and cuddled close to Pansy, who mumbled in her sleep and wiggled closer too. She could plan who had to die in the morning.
Morning came, and Hazel stirred to find Daphne had snuck into bed with them at some point. Little gremlin. She turned and kissed her until she woke up. "Did you get cold or something?"
"No, just lonely." She kissed Hazel back, in a sleepy sort of way. "It's a Saturday, let's shag."
"My kind of wake up." She got Pansy awake too, and they whiled away a few hours in each others' arms. Hours well spent, Hazel thought afterward as she pried herself out of bed and went about her day.
It was nearly time for her gaslighting campaign. Her control of wandless and nonverbal magic was complete; Umbridge was busy running all over Hogwarts playing the part of High Inquisitor, looking for a professor, any professor, to sack. She was stretched thin trying to enforce countless contradictory Educational Decrees, and everyone knew her authority would only last as long as Fudge clung to office by the skin of his teeth. But like him, she was also clinging to power.
As far as which professor would be first against the wall, everyone agreed it would be Professor Trelawney, who had predicted her own removal from her post at the start of the year. And certainly she played the part of a woman on the ropes, smelling of sherry and making melodramatic proclamations whenever she was seen in public. But Hazel had her doubts; for one thing, she was being seen in public more often than before, and for another, she was an effective Head of Ravenclaw House behind the scenes.
Then there was the exact wording of her prediction: "And come what may, I myself will be forced to depart before Christmas." Forced to depart. That could mean any number of things. Depart from where? Her post, the castle? How long would this departure last?
She got dressed and went upstairs, and the first thing she noticed was the nervous muttering around the Great Hall, the heads bent over newspapers. What happened now? Another breakout? One of Fudge's goons went off the rails? Or was it just more mundane bullshit? She sat down at the Slytherin table, where her own morning paper was waiting for her.
GRINDELWALD RELEASED FROM NURMENGARD!screamed the headline. Hazel was both alarmed and not remotely surprised; alarmed that they actually did it, but on the other hand they'd been baying about it in this same paper for months on end. Well, since May, if her memory served. Was that fast for a war criminal's parole hearings?
Hazel skimmed the article, noting the statements made by German officials. They all sounded canned and rehearsed. Interestingly, no British authorities had given a statement, and the article went out of the way to subtly make them look bad for it. That wasn't surprising; in the absence of official statements, British editors and tabloids were forced to fill parchment somehow, especially with dire news like this.
Then again, those same British authorities probably had nothing to do with Grindelwald's release. They were either at war with their own government, or too busy struggling to keep the lights on. Hazel was more concerned about which specific mercenaries and dark wizards had been hired as part of Fudge's personal militia of mercenaries and dark wizards, but obviously the Daily Prophet wouldn't have access to that information. Either way, Hazel decided to ignore it; unless the old warlord came to England, he wasn't anything she'd have to deal with.
Later that afternoon Hazel had Quidditch practice to lead, so she whiled away the time by flying around the castle grounds and above the Forbidden Forest. The air was clear and crisp, and she busied herself with stunts and dives, flips and tricks and other dangerous maneuvers. There was no one around, but that didn't matter; she was her own best and worst audience.
When it was almost time for practice she flew down to the pitch and changed into her gear, still feeling proud of herself for how practical and sexy the new robes were. The corset and skirt still felt amazing and boosted her confidence in herself, and the stockings were sleek as opposed to the awkward wool things that originally came with her school uniform. And of course, she tactically forgot her spats; if Umbridge was in the stands watching, she may as well get a head start on her gaslighting campaign~
Hazel made sure the balls were ready, then made a last minute inspection of the pitch and stadium while waiting for the others. They showed up soon enough: the main squad, the reserves, and the trainees. The older students all had the new uniforms, while the younger ones had cut down versions of the older uniforms to preserve their modesty.
Time to get started, she reckoned. "Bring it in, you lot! Our match against Hufflepuff is coming up, and Smith's got a shitty team with no cohesion. But that's no reason to slack off, so we're gonna keep training hard!"
Millicent cracked her knuckles. "Crabbe and Goyle are the only ones worth a damn, take them and Smith down and the rest won't know which way is up."
"Exactly, so you and Bletchley focus on incapacitating those three and we'll run the game on the rest of them. I want a solid lead on them before I go after the Snitch, understand? Let's knock them clean out of the running!"
Her team cheered and got to work, and she was her usual drill sergeant self, pushing them all without mercy, even the reserves and the firsties. Aria continued to shine, and Hazel anticipated having her on the main squad next year.
Glancing down at the stands, she was disappointed that Umbridge wasn't watching, but there were plenty of spectators anyway, and she got a thrill from showing off in all her spats-free glory for them. And this is why a girl always wore her best knickers!
After practice, she brought the balls down and waved everyone in. "Right then, I think we're at a level where we can crush Hufflepuff in January. But we're not easing up! Now cool off, hit the showers and fuck off to bed!"
Everyone cheered, and as usual Hazel was the last one off the pitch. Ginny, Luna and Cho were waiting for her after everyone else left, and she led the way to the showers with a smirk.
Notes:I feel like this chapter is a bit shorter than others. Oh well~
Chapter 48: PrecociousSummary:Hazel begins her gaslighting campaign, and has a very interesting History lesson.
Chapter TextIt was finally December, and finally time for her gaslighting campaign to commence. She had been practicing in secret for this day for months, and fuck if she wasn't ready. There was a lot going on this month: her little campaign, her various duties and assignments, Quidditch practice, The Study Group, the ongoing anarchy of the outside world, and figuring out what the hell Voldemort was after now.
She remembered what Kreacher said once, when she asked what he had overheard. Voldemort was interested in finding a weapon. Combined with everything else, she had to assume the weapon was hidden in the Ministry, down in the Department of Mysteries. It would thus behoove her to learn as much as she could about the Department, and figure out what sort of research went on down there. Professor Winger could tell her a thing or two, she hoped, he wasn't a member of the Order and thus was not bound by Dumbledore's rules.
Finally, she still had motorcycle lessons in Muggle Studies, which had been delayed due to a scheduling conflict with the instructors Professor Burbage could get hold of. However, Hazel had her provisional license, so as soon as everything was sorted out, she could get started immediately. Not everyone was taking practical lessons; some students had chosen helicopters or warships, for which Burbage had leaned on her Royal Marine friends to provide live demonstrations instead of instruction.
On the other hand, some of them had chosen buses or lorries, and those were much more complicated than motorcycles. One student had picked locomotives, and she was studying the Hogwarts Express in detail in preparation for making a couple practice runs in May. Most of them had picked regular cars or motorcycles, and Hazel was studying cars on the side since it was usually expected to get a driver's license with a motorcycle endorsement. Obviously Hazel planned on getting a Category A license when she came of age.
Some might scoff at her ambition to master Muggle transportation, and she would scoff right back. Apparition was incredibly dangerous even for skilled mages, Portkeys and the Floo network were regulated and monitored by the Ministry and other governmental bodies, and there was no easy way to move large objects by magic. Sure, one could shrink it or pack it into a container bearing space compression charms, but even those had limits. And moving many people at once across large distances was also awkward; she still remembered the Durmstrang ship and Beauxbatons carriage from the Triwizard Tournament, which had been as much about showing off as for moving all those students and their minders to Hogwarts.
In any event, it was almost time. Hazel made sure to dress the part, in some of the girly things Narcissa had bought for her. She was surprised at her foresight, and wondered if perhaps the older woman had a bit of the Sight; blouses that outwardly conformed to the dress code but came undone easier, and could be redone with a flick of a finger, as well as bras and knickers that also came off and on with ease. She dithered over her hair, then shrugged and used some of the styling charms she had picked up to make it seem softer and fuller; normally she just brushed it straight and let it flop over her shoulder, since having one whole side of one's head burnt to a crisp made it pointless to spend much time styling, but today was different.
The others noticed right away that something was different as she walked into the common room. Pansy narrowed her eyes. "Who are you trying to impress today, Hazel?"
Hazel shrugged. "Maybe I just felt like being a bit girly today~?"
"Bullshit, you've never been girly a day in your life." That was Draco, trying his best to sound like he spoke from experience. "Hell, you're manlier than some men I've known!"
Hazel had to laugh at that. "You dork, I am not. I can't exactly have a body like this and be manly, can I?" She spun in place to emphasize her figure.
Daphne smirked slowly. "She's got you there, Malfoy. And so what if she wants to look different? That'll just make it even more amazing when whatever she has planned goes off without a hitch."
"Bold of you to assume I've got anything planned, Daph. But if I were you, I'd pay close attention in Defense today."
She went on to breakfast after that, and her skin tingled at the attention everyone was giving her. Maybe she should have been a bit more subtle? Too late now, doubt would only slow her down. She looked up at the staff table; most of the professors didn't seem to notice, though Umbridge was looking right at her with fury and horror.
Hazel smirked back and sat down to eat, and predictably the pink hag came storming over. "What is the meaning of this, Potter?"
"Meaning of what?" She looked up with an innocent expression on her face. "You've been after me all year for not being girly enough. Well, today I decided to try it. So what's the problem?"
The pink hag's face turned purple, and she glanced around, seeing nothing but uninterested students more concerned with breakfast and classes than whatever Hazel Potter was wearing. "Your clothing is distracting, Potter! It won't stand, I demand you change immediately!"
Hazel turned and faced her directly. "I will do no such thing, Professor. This is exactly how you've been trying to make me dress since the very first day of class. Girly and feminine, remember?"
Umbridge opened her mouth to say something else, and that was when Hazel began. A flick of her finger summoned a chilly draft that caught her ugly pink scarf and nearly unwound it; the hag was too busy trying to get her clothes under control to notice no one else was affected by the sudden gust. Hazel flicked her finger a second time and the woman's clothes grew insufferably warm.
And then Sinistra to the rescue, of course, always looking out for her snakes. "Is there a problem, Dolores?"
"I… Potter… clothes… can't…" Umbridge was too busy trying to figure out what was wrong with her gaudy pink robes to answer properly.
Sinistra cocked an eyebrow and gave Hazel a once-over. "I see nothing about her current uniform that is out of regulation. Please stop harassing one of my brightest students for no reason, Dolores."
Umbridge had no choice but to retreat, students wincing in her wake at the heat from her robes, and Hazel subtly canceled the spells as she reached the staff table, leaving her looking even more confused. Sinistra gave her a smirk and a nod before heading back to her own seat, and Hazel finally sat down to finish eating.
Blaise leaned in, his expression guarded, but she could tell he had enjoyed the show. "You did that, didn't you?"
"What if I did?" She had a long sip of ice cold milk. "It'd take a sublime mastery of wandless and nonverbal magic to make the wind blow."
He chuckled low at that. "Her robes too, I felt the heat emanating off of them from where I sat."
"Well, keep whatever crazy theories you've got to yourself, understand? Accidents happen all the time around Hogwarts."
"Sure, sure." The rest of breakfast passed without incident, and Hazel went up to History of Magic, planning to ask Ismelda about Gellert Grindelwald after class.
Oddly, she seemed to have anticipated being asked about the old warlord. "Alright, you little shits, in light of recent events we're moving up in the curriculum and studying Gellert Grindelwald and the Global Wizarding War he instigated at the start of the century. I know you're all gonna ask me about it after class anyway, so I'll just answer your questions now so we don't violate some Decree or other."
She flicked her wand and conjured an illusion of a man with heterochromia and a weird-looking undercut hairstyle. Even in this false state, the man's face radiated power and charisma, and Hazel could well believe how he had gathered enough followers to wage a global war and threaten the very fabric of their world.
"Quills ready? Good. Now, no one is quite certain wherehe was born, although evidence points to when as being November of 1882; there's a village in Switzerland named Grindelwald, and the man was reported to have a Swiss accent in his youth, but that could just be a coincidence. His birth parents were illiterate miners who knew he was special and tried to provide better for him than they themselves had, and in 1887 he caught the attention of some Aurors in Vienna. By then he was… I think the word is precocious in his magical development, and his parents were quite happy to hand him off to people who could better guide his development."
A round of chuckles went off around the classroom at the thought of how they had succeeded in "guiding" Gellert Grindelwald, and Ismelda chuckled along with them. "Ironic, isn't it? Anyway, he was placed in foster care with some serious pureblood supremacists, who filled his head with nonsense about the superiority of wizardkind and how he must have been descended of nobility to be as powerful as he was. And by all accounts he ate it right up.
"And here's the thing, the man had genuine power even back then. Not just dueling, no, he has the Sight, he's a Seer. And he starts Seeing visions of the Muggle World Wars. Tanks, trenches, chemical weapons, the atomic bomb, all of it. And he Sees himself too, stopping all that pain and suffering by taking control of the entire world, shattering the Statute of Secrecy and installing wizardkind in their rightful place as rulers of all."
As usual, Hazel and the others were caught up in Ismelda's story; glancing around, she noticed the pureblood students were especially enthralled. "In the middle of these visions he gets sent to Durmstrang, and while they normally only accept pureblood students, his sheer power is enough to make them consider an exception. Either that or his foster family falsified his birth records and made a few behind-the-scenes threats to get them to accept him. And while there he learns about the Deathly Hallows."
Ismelda paused for effect and glanced around. The class was either clueless or skeptical, depending on how in the know they were. Except Hazel; she was leaning forward, eager to hear more, remembering Luna's dad telling them about the Hallows, remembering her own brief experiment with the Resurrection Stone. Ismelda winked at her and kept going. "It doesn't matter if they're real or not, not for our current purposes; what matters is Gellert believes they're real as he studies at Durmstrang. The Hallows Quest becomes his obsession, to the point that he adopts their sigil as his own personal emblem."
She slashed her wand through the air; a triangle of white fire formed itself before her, then a circle of purple fire held within the triangle, and finally a straight vertical line of red fire. "The Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone, and the Elder Wand. Unite them all, become Master of Death. What does that mean? No one really knows, and it's outside the scope of today's lesson anyway."
There was a collective groan, and she chuckled as she dismissed the fiery symbol. "Moving on! Grindelwald mastered everything Durmstrang threw at him, and his experiments into Dark Magic grew so intense and repulsive that they expelled him! Can you imagine? Being so dark even Durmstrang rejects you!"
Hazel couldn't help but speak up. "Sounds like something to aspire to, Professor."
"Doesn't it though?" Ismelda winked again and resumed her lecture. "Anyway, after his expulsion, Grindelwald came to England to continue looking into the Hallows. Specifically he descends on Godric's Hollow, where Ignotus Peverell was supposedly laid to rest. And he was hosted by our very own Madam Bathilda Bagshot, whom I studied under for several years before starting here; lovely woman of course, but going a bit batty these days."
Hazel remembered the mossy old gravestone she saw at the graveyard, the one with the Hallows sign carved in it, and knew that was the grave Grindelwald had been drawn to. She raised her hand. "Why did she agree to host him, Professor?"
Ismelda shrugged. "The commonly accepted story is that she was his great-aunt on his mother's side, and the old biddy certainly accepted it as fact herself. But that leaves a few lingering questions. Care to guess, Malfoy?"
Draco sat up straight. "I don't need to guess, Professor. It was fashionable back then for English families to marry into Continental blood, and wizard families were no exception, so it's perfectly reasonable for Madam Bagshot to be related to the Grindelwalds. But if his foster family adopted him to bring his power into their lineage, they were bound to be disappointed when he turned out to be a pouf."
"Indeed, ten points to Slytherin. Be that as it may, Grindelwald spent a summer with the old lady, and that's where he met everyone's hero, Albus Dumbledore. Poor Albus was quite pissed off at the world: just lost his mother, stuck with an unstable sister and a useless brother. Then along comes Grindelwald, full of ideas about The Greater Good and about how Muggles should be subservient to wizardkind! They were inseparable after that, to the point of becoming lovers and swearing a Blood Pact never to attack one another."
Ismelda conjured another illusion, of a young Grindelwald and a young Dumbledore, soundlessly discussing world domination over a spot of afternoon tea. Hazel raised her hand. "How did Kendra die, Professor?"
Ismelda seemed to hesitate for a split second, then she shrugged. "Well, eight years previously, three Muggle boys attacked his sister Ariana after they saw her using underage magic by accident; she was left badly traumatized, and his father Percival attacked them in retribution. He was sent to Azkaban for it, and he wouldn't say why he had attacked them because he feared Ariana would be taken to St Mungo's and locked away. A year after that, Kendra had to leave their hometown, Mould-on-the-Wold, and they settled in Godric's Hollow."
So that's why there weren't any more Dumbledore graves, Hazel thought triumphantly.
The professor was still speaking. "It was widely rumored that Ariana was kept in the cellar while Albus and Aberforth attended Hogwarts, and posthumous evidence suggested she had become an Obscurial as a result of the trauma of the attack and the shame she felt because of her magic. Anyway, Albus was all set to go on a Grand Tour of the world after his graduation from Hogwarts when Ariana caused an explosion that killed Kendra, forcing him to put his plans on hold and become head of a broken family."
Hazel nodded. "And that was when Grindelwald entered the picture."
"Right. Anyway, they spend two months plotting and scheming, and it all goes to shit when Aberforth catches wind and tries to knock some sense into his brother, right when he's about to leave with Grindelwald to start their war. A three-way duel breaks out, Ariana runs into the middle of it and gets killed; Grindelwald runs off and has Bagshot make him a Portkey back home, leaving the two brothers in the ruins of their home. How did they fight without violating the Blood Pact? Beats me, magic is bullshit sometimes and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise; maybe Grindelwald was attacking Aberforth and Albus goes to defend him and the spell backfires and that's how Ariana dies? I dunno, but the result is the same.
"After that, things get political. Grindelwald spends years tracking the Elder Wand, steals it from Mykew Gregorovitch; yes, that Gregorovitch, the famous wandmaker; and uses its power to begin terrorizing Muggles all over Europe. He gathers followers, using the power of his predictions and his charisma, convincing them that Muggles have to be subjugated for our own good. And frankly he didn't have to try very hard, because as most of you know, Muggles suck!"
Hazel snorted, remembering the Dursleys and their homophobia. Well no, to be fair it was mostly Vernon, Petunia had shown signs of trying to be better over the summer and Dudley had always been fair with her. But yeah, Muggles definitely suck.
"Grindelwald wanted to prevent the Second World War, and I'm sure the plans he had made with Albus could have done so, but without his help he had to both plan for his war and try to come up with a way to neutralize Albus in a way that didn't violate their Blood Pact, and he wound up weaponizing another Obscurial to attack Albus. But the lad turned out to be Aberforth's bastard son, Aurellius! And right when Grindelwald was about to be elected Supreme Mugwump, Aurelius and Aberforth show up, Grindelwald attacks them both, and it's when Albus steps in to defend his family that the Blood Pact is broken. Again, how this duel broke the Pact but the last one didn't is beyond me; magic, like I said, is bullshit."
She checked the clock and sighed. "We're almost out of time, so I'll wrap this up. Grindelwald fails to stop the Second World War, but he and his followers begin their own Global Wizarding War at nearly the same time. He almost wins too, until Dumbledore gets over himself and goes to deal with his ex. Why did he wait so long? I have no idea; maybe he still loved him, maybe he was afraid of the truth, maybe he had indigestion. Either way, they fight, it's a real banger, Dumbledore wins and imprisons Grindelwald in his own fortress prison; fifty years later Germany lets him out again, and here the fuck we are!"
Hazel raised her hand. "Professor, if Dumbledore won that final duel, did he win the Elder Wand too?"
Ismelda started to answer, but the bell rang. "Oops. Try again next week, Potter~"
"Dammit." But Hazel felt she already knew the answer, and as the rest of the class packed their things, she was already caught up in the whirlwind of a new scheme. She had two of the Deathly Hallows, all she had to do was track down Albus Dumbledore and defeat him in a duel and she'd be Mistress of Death, whatever the hell that meant.
Piece of fucking cake!
Chapter 49: Lessons & LecturesSummary:Hazel endures an awkward conversation with Professor Trelawney, though she can't say she didn't bring it on herself. Afterward her day is much more satisfying.
Chapter TextPotions went by alright. Penny had managed to avoid the worst of Umbridge's efforts by simply doing her best and staying cheerful and sunny, and staying supremely competent at her job. In truth Hazel enjoyed the class with her as professor more than she ever had under Snape, and not just because she was so much easier on the eyes; it was clear she had a genuine passion for Potions, and a knack for enforcing safety and security measures without resorting to demeaning outbursts at the slightest misstep. Snape was passionate too, in his own sour Northern way, and maybe Penny would turn bitter and contemptuous after thirteen years spent teaching dunderheads, but Hazel doubted it.
Divination was more of the same too. Trelawney kept up her performance, and most of the students were eating it up, but Hazel wasn't fooled. She still hadn't personally seen her drinking anything stronger than butterbeer, and Ravenclaw continued to click along like a well-greased clock.
The bell rang, and Hazel started packing her things, until Trelawney spoke up. "Homework! Continue maintaining your dream diaries! Miss Potter, remain behind please."
Confused, Hazel shrugged at her mates and stayed in her seat until everyone was gone, whereupon the professor dropped the act and assumed her businesslike persona. "What did you need, Professor?"
"Potter, you're planning something." It was a statement, not a question, Hazel noticed. "I wanted to urge you to be cautious. Umbridge might be on the edge, but she's still dangerous, and you might regret pushing her too far."
Hazel nodded. "That's actually what I'm counting on, Professor. I'd rather not say exactly what I have planned, but I'm trying to push her into something drastic. She doesn't have the political clout to threaten me anymore, after all."
Trelawney regarded her shrewdly. "I see. You intend to force her true colors into the open?"
"That's exactly what I intend. I really don't want to discuss exactly how I plan on it, but suffice to say, no one will see it coming when it all culminates."
Trelawney made a noncommittal noise, and her gaze flicked over Hazel's weirdly feminine appearance. Not for the first time did she wonder if she should have started a bit more subtly. "Well. I don't foresee any drastic consequences for failure, but you should exercise caution all the same. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Professor. Was that all?"
"Not quite. I did want to comment on the contents of your dream diary."
Hazel felt her cheeks flush. "Those are my honest dreams, Professor, I swear I'm not making it up!"
"I wasn't going to accuse you of falsifying your diary, Miss Potter. I wanted to express concern, that's all; that you should be having such dreams with such frequency could be something to worry about."
Hazel wanted to accuse her of prying, but she had no leg to stand on; she had written those dreams down, Trelawney had every right to discuss them with her. It still made her squirm slightly to discuss such things with an adult. "It's… I'm not pent up, if that's what you're implying. Most of those dreams are… I mean, I don't have any problem making them come true…?"
"Bear with me, Miss Potter, I realize this is awkward." Trelawney flicked her wand and brought a tea tray over; something sharpened in her gaze as she leaned forward, regarding Hazel directly. "You enjoy an active sex life, I assume?"
Hazel thought her cheeks might combust from how hard she was blushing, but she made herself answer honestly. "Y-Yes, Professor, I do."
Trelawney remained calm and neutral, and that steadied her somewhat. "And you are not involved with any… inappropriate partners? Professors, authority figures, students much older than yourself?"
She thought of Hermione and Cho, both of whom were already 16, and tried not to wince. "I'm not sleeping with any adults, no. Just peers."
"Good. Your academic performance indicates to me that you are not allowing sexual pursuits to interfere in worthwhile endeavors, either." Apparently satisfied, Trelawney leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea. "To get back into a more comfortable realm, dreams have power, and yours are more powerful than most. It's not even the content, but the vividness, the realism."
"And… you believe me when I say I didn't make them up?"
"Of course. Made-up dreams are terribly obvious, Miss Potter." Then she smirked knowingly. "Besides, very few would admit to having these kinds of dreams to a professor, now would they?"
Hazel smirked back. "I've never been shy about who I am, ma'am. Why should I be ashamed?"
"Exactly. The vividness of your dreams points to the power they hold. Keep recording them, no matter how lurid the details may become. Now, drink your tea."
Hazel frowned but did so. It was good tea, and the biscuits went well with it. "What do the dreams actually mean?"
"Nothing bad, I assure you. I can't reveal more; in this case, revealing too much would interfere with the events they are predicting."
That sounded like an excuse to Hazel, but what did she know? Sometimes, horny dreams were just horny dreams, even if she had the ability to make them come true upon waking up. She finished her tea and stood. "Thank you for the tea, Professor, but I should be going. I don't want to be late for Professor Umbridge's class."
"Of course not. Take care, my dear." She scrawled a note explaining Hazel's absence and handed it to her.
Hazel accepted the note, bowed and went down the rope ladder, for once eager to see what Defense had in store. Even if Umbridge had chickened out and assigned a proctor, they could still have some fun.
But luck was on her side, for Umbridge herself was at the front of class. "So nice of you to join us, Miss Potter. Do you have an excuse for being late?"
"Yes, Professor, I was helping Professor Trelawney with something." She handed over the note with a bland expression, scrambling the letters with a subtle twitch of her finger so it came across as a sloppy mess.
Sure enough, Umbridge scowled at the nonsensical writing, and looked up to scowl at Hazel. "What is the meaning of this, Potter?"
"Meaning of what? It's the note from Trelawney, let me see." Umbridge shoved the note back into her hands, and she undid the spell with another twitch. "Hm, it's easy enough. Please excuse Miss Potter for being tardy, I required her assistance with some dire omens. -Prof Trelawney."
"Give me that!" The pink hag snatched the parchment back, and the letters were correctly arranged. "But…"
"Are you feeling quite alright, Professor? Do you need a lie-in at the hospital wing?" She made to check Umbridge's temperature, and she slapped her hand away. "Just trying to help~"
"Take your seat immediately, Potter!"
Hazel rolled her eyes when her back was to Umbridge, and the other students suppressed giggles. She sat down as Umbridge was visibly trying to calm herself, which seemed a futile effort. "Hem-hem. Please return to your reading, class. There will be no need to talk~"
Hazel smirked. She didn't need to talk to make the hag's life miserable. She pretended to bend over the book, but her attention was on Umbridge as she prowled the class, making sure everyone had their noses to the material. She started small, knocking one of the cat plates off the wall; it fell to the floor and shattered, and Umbridge gave an ungainly shriek as she hurried up front to repair it with her wand. "Hem-hem. Carry on, class~"
Five minutes later, Hazel made a piece of chalk snap. Umbridge frowned and checked the broken piece, picking up one of the halves in her fingers; Hazel broke that smaller piece and made one of the halves fly up her nose! She shrieked again and tried to pull it out, only succeeding in shoving it further up; the class laughed at her before they could stop themselves, and that only made her even madder. By chance Madam Pomfrey happened to be bustling by outside; she heard the laughter, poked her head in, saw what was happening and had the chalk out of Umbridge's nose in a moment. "Do be careful around the chalk, Professor, hm?"
She left before Umbridge could reply, and the laughter died down as she composed herself and glared at everyone. "Hem-hem. An extra three feet of parchment on your homework tonight, I think. And when I find out who's been messing with our class, you'll serve detention every night from now until the end of the year!"
Hazel bit back a smirk and pretended to keep reading, but inside she was ecstatic. It was really working! She wouldn't have dared try anything so audacious if Umbridge still had the full authority of the Ministry behind her, but she barely had her own authority as High Inquisitor; everyone knew it was just a matter of time before the Ministry collapsed under the weight of Fudge's greed and hubris, and then she'd be long fucking gone.
But Hazel was determined to get rid of her sooner. And she knew she was on the right track.
The rest of the week went by pleasantly enough, despite the burden of homework and the extra work she had to do as part of her prefect duties. This included helping to decorate the castle, made unnecessarily difficult by Peeves messing around with tinsel and strangling students with it; minding the firsties and second-years who couldn't handle the cold, and while Aria and the Slytherins were polite enough, the Gryffindors were right little pests; the worst of it was the extra patrols she had to endure alongside querulous old Filch, who was even nastier in the winter as the cold exacerbated some kind of old-person ailment or other, and he grumbled about his joints and about the duels he swore up and down were going on right around the corner.
"Haven't you got Mrs Norris to prowl around and snitch on students?" She remembered that old cat ratting her out in her first year, at least.
The look he gave her was like he'd just stabbed her in front of him. "Let her out? In all this?! You're mad, Potter, she's staying in where it's warm 'n toasty!"
"Wish we could stay in." She pretended to be cold, but her warming charms were in full bloom and she felt just fucking fine.
During Muggle Studies (for which she and the other girls in class had been warned to wear leggings beneath their skirts) she finally had a chance to ride a motorcycle, and had to laugh when one of the instructors Burbage had come up with was Sirius. "You cheeky bastard, why didn't you say anything?"
He shrugged and hugged her briefly. "Can't a fella surprise his favorite goddaughter? Simmer down now."
They went outside, where Burbage had cleared a wide space of snow and ice, and McGonagall had put up a weather dome to keep more snow from ruining the practice area. Umbridge lurked impotently on the periphery; there was nothing she could do as this was part of the curriculum, and she didn't have the authority to change it.
Burbage gave a speech on safety and rules and things, and then Sirius was finally beckoning her forward with a wink. "Technically you can only do mopeds, but those are no fun, and Charity and I aren't the fun police so we found some A1 bikes for you kids to ride."
He handed helmets around, and Hazel had to waste a few moments tying her hair up and out of the way before she could put hers on. When she finally got to sit on the bike she learned why they'd been asked to put leggings on; anyone would have a nice view of her bum or her thighs if she hadn't worn them.
Sirius was speaking. "When you're riding among Muggles you'll be expected to abide by ATGATT; All The Gear, All The Time. But puttering around on these things, you'll be just fine. Now, start your engines!"
Finally! Hazel turned the key and kicked the bike to life, and it started quickly with a high-pitched whine. Not exactly the throaty roar of Sirius' bike, but his was probably three times the size of this thing. Big enough to seat Hagrid, if she believed the story.
Okay, clutch, put it in gear, throttle, let off clutch, friction zone… and she was moving! This wasn't so bad! She quickly shifted up a few times to get more speed, the thrill of riding going through her. It was exactly what she had imagined!
She came to a stop and looked around. The other bikers weren't so lucky; a few of them had wiped out entirely, and one or two were struggling to even get their bikes started. Sirius was patiently helping everyone, flicking his wand with a healing charm whenever necessary. Everyone else in today's practical lesson was at the other end of the cleared space, puttering around in the little cars Burbage and the instructors had gathered.
Hazel spent the rest of class puttering around, trying to resist the urge to go speeding. Well, as much as this little bike would go speeding anyway. When it was nearly over, Burbage blew a whistle and brought everyone in. "Good job, all of you. Some of you did better than the rest, and you'll have the privilege of no homework tonight! The rest of you, write me a foot and a half on where you went wrong and how you can improve for our next practice."
Hazel grinned; one class without homework wouldn't make much difference to her mountain, but every little bit helped.
That weekend after breakfast, Ron was all worked up into a tizzy over something or other. Hazel went up to Hermione. "What's up with him?"
Hermione grinned excitedly. "Hagrid's back!"
"No shit!" Hazel liked Hagrid, but she'd forgotten all about him because of everything going on these past few months. "You're planning to visit, I presume?"
"Yeah, you want to come along?"
"Eh, I might as well. I'll see if Draco wants to come too." She went and told Draco what was going on, and he agreed it might be fun. So she cast her warming charms and waited for the boys to get bundled up.
Hermione, to her delight, had decided to follow her example, and they walked out to Hagrid's cabin in their usual weekend things while the boys trooped along in their layers. The grounds were snowed over once again, the cleared area from Muggle Studies not even visible anymore; Hazel and Hermione had to blast a path with their magic to make it through.
Finally they made it to the cabin, which was cheerfully smoking from the chimney. Hazel was first so she knocked firmly, three times; Fang began barking immediately. "Who 'zere?"
"Hagrid, open up, it's us!"
"'Course it is!" Heavy footfalls came to the door, then the sound of a bolt being dragged back, and the door was thrown open. "Oy, kids!"
Chapter 50: The Carpathian CaperSummary:In which Hagrid explains where he's been since summer, and gets his first real taste of Umbridge.
Chapter TextHagrid was as vast as ever, and he had a wide grin on his hairy face. "Bin a sight, eh?"
"It sure has." Hazel squeezed inside as he stepped back, and the others filed in behind her; Hermione, Ron, and Draco all in a line. "How was Belarus?"
Hagrid chuckled in a pleased way as he prepared tea and lunch. "Arr, we done good, Olympe 'n me. Tell yer wha', I were glad I had me magic back!"
The story, as far as Hazel could decipher through Hagrid's accent and the interruptions of her friends, was fairly straightforward. He and Madame Maxime met up in Paris and dithered around the south of France to make sure they weren't being tailed, then used a Portkey to travel to Minsk with their gifts in tow. Once in Minsk they got into a "disagreement" with a vampire, and it was easy to assume the vampire lost said "disagreement."
One way or another they made it to the giant colony, which was somewhere in the Carpathian Mountains of Ukraine. They presented the Gurg (their leader) with two gifts: a branch of Gubraithian Fire and a goblin-forged battle helmet.
Well, to be precise, they presented the branch first and promised to come back in the morning with the helmet. That part sort of went over Hazel's head, but apparently giants are mistrustful of wizards? They like magic, just not when wizards are using it on them. Either way, Hagrid and Olympe had to prove they were honorable, and that meant giving Karkus (the Gurg) one gift and swearing to return with another one.
Karkus didn't even speak English, but Olympe and a few older giants spoke Ukrainian, and they were able to translate. This went on for two days, with the two half-giants coming and presenting more gifts for Karkus; the enchanted branch first, then the helmet, and finally a big roll of dragonhide. Karkus grew to trust them more with each present, and apparently he had heard of Dumbledore, how he had argued against persecuting giants, and how he of all humans was most likely to honor a promise made to giants.
After the third present, they learned Death Eaters had been giving gifts to another giant, Golgomath, filling his ears with promises from Voldemort. But Karkus put a stop to that, reminding the other giants that Voldemort was a wizard supremacist who would only use them as tools and weapons. And that set them all off, because if there's one thing giants hate, it's lying, cowardly wizards! Macnair and his cronies were driven off, Golgomath was beaten to an inch of his life by Karkus' loyalists, and that was that.
Hazel frowned. "That can't have taken more than two weeks, Hagrid. Where've you been the rest of the time? It's December, and you've been gone since June!"
"Arr, yeah well, hadta stick aroun', make sure the message sunk in good 'n proper, yeah? Me 'n Olympe, we done our best, yeah? Acted all friendly-like, made 'em trus' us, showed 'em wha' magic was good fer 'sides fightin' 'n killin'."
Ron set his cup down with a clatter. "That makes sense, giants won't be won over in a few days. Not after the shit we've done to them."
"Yeah. An' also I was 'opin' I'd find me ol' mum up there, but she… Karkus said she'd been killed, years back…" Hagrid pulled out an enormous checkered handkerchief and blew his nose. "Giants like 'avin' big sons 'n daughters, yeah? But ol' Fridwulfa, all her kids was stunted, like, even th' full giants. So she were killed 'n none o' her other kids survived neither."
"Oh, Hagrid, that's awful." Hermione reached up as far as she could and patted his elbow. "How can they be so brutal?"
Hagrid could only shrug. "'S jus' how they are, Hermione, you knows 'at."
Hazel was doing math in her head again. "Hagrid, how long ago did Fridwulfa die?"
He shrugged yet again. "Dunno, never asked. An' them giants ain't so good wi' time."
"Hm." She knew Hagrid had been a contemporary of Tom Riddle, had very nearly been recruited into his inner circle had he not needed a scapegoat after the death of Myrtle Warren. So Hagrid was easily in his late 60s, maybe even his 70s. That was a long time for one giant woman known for birthing "stunted" children to survive.
Either way, she doubted Hagrid's ambition to find his mother had ever been more than a pipe dream. She had probably been rather young when meeting his father, too.
"Anyways, me 'n Olympe bin hangin' aroun' France since then, ain't caught up on th' news none. An' I jus' go' back las' nigh'!"
In the silence that followed, Hazel got up to stretch, and happened to glance out the window. She saw someone coming down from the castle, someone in a hideous pink cardigan and set of robes. "Huh, Umbridge is coming."
Hagrid looked confused, but the other three panicked. Ron shot to his feet. "Quick, let's head out the back before she-"
Hazel cut him off. "No, Ron, sit down! It's the weekend, we can visit Hagrid if we want to. We're not breaking curfew, it's not even lunch time yet!"
"Umbridge, ain't she th' Minister's toady?" Hagrid was still confused, and Hazel remembered he had been gone since July and wasn't up to snuff on recent developments.
"Long story short, the Ministry has been meddling at Hogwarts and Fudge forced her in as Defense professor, but she's been having a hard time because the Ministry is collapsing and she's the High Inquisitor and auditing professors and yeah."
Hagrid scoffed. "I ain't no professor!"
Umbridge was getting closer, so Hazel waved for everyone to settle down. "Pour us more tea, Hagrid, will you please?"
He was just pouring when there was a knock on the door, a fussy sort of rapping noise. Hagrid finished pouring and went to answer it. "'Lo?"
There was Umbridge, in all her diminutive "glory". "Rubeus Hagrid?"
"Arr, s'me. Who th' bloody 'ell're you?"
"My name is Dolores Umbridge, Hogwarts High Inquisitor and Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. May I come in, please?"
Hagrid shrugged and stepped aside, and Umbridge entered, her eyes zeroing in on Hazel and her friends as they sat there sipping tea. "What are you four doing here?"
Hazel set her cup down. "It's the weekend, Professor, we can be anywhere we like. And we heard Hagrid got back from France last night so we came to visit and catch up with him." She debated using her magic to continue gaslighting Umbridge, but decided against it for now; she was curious what the hag wanted with Hagrid.
Umbridge gave Hagrid the evil eye. "France? What were you doing in France, Mr Hagrid? Don't you have responsibilities around Hogwarts?"
"Sure, but I ain't 'ad a vacation since I became Gamekeeper 'n Groundskeeper, Professor. An' after meetin' Madame Maxime durin' th' Triwizard stuff, I figured I'd 'ave me a coupla months. Filed fer leave o' absence, picked a replacement n' ever'thin'."
The woman narrowed her eyes as if trying to find something to pick apart. She didn't find anything, because her wide mouth stretched into a frown. "Well. Part of my duties involves inspecting and auditing the performance of professors and staff around Hogwarts, and I have the authority to place unsatisfactory staff members on probation, pending dismissal. I daresay we'll meet again, Mr Hagrid."
Hagrid looked a bit nonplussed. "All staff? Even th' Gamekeeper?"
"Of course! It is my solemn duty to root out dissent and laziness. No corner of Hogwarts is safe from my scrutiny!"
"Huh. Well, can I offer yeh some tea?"
"That would be lovely, thank you." She made a show of settling into her chair and fussing with the tea that Hagrid poured for her, and Hazel noticed she dipped her nails into the liquid for a moment; she probably had a poison detection charm in them. She ignored the students completely while asking Hagrid many questions about his duties and origins, and he answered willingly enough. Clearly he knew his stuff, was enthusiastic about his job, and eager to get back to work after so long away.
After a while, once Hagrid had his guard down, Umbridge got to the point. "Now, I understand your mother was a giantess?"
"Aye, Fridwulfa 'er name was. So?"
"Are you aware of the reputation giants have around England, Mr Hagrid?"
"Sure, ever'one is. Ain't nothin' a' do wi' me, I bin 'ere fifty years 'r more, an' bin servin' fer thirty o' them years. Ain't never 'ad an hones' complaint against me yet."
"Oh? You've never had an honest complaint against you?"
"S'what I said! There bin a few dishones' complaints, 'specially after tha' Skeeter bitch published 'er hit piece on me 'n Olympe, but tha' weren't nothin' but noise."
Umbridge cocked an eyebrow. "I heard reports saying you locked yourself away for several days following the publication of that story, Mr Hagrid."
He chuckled at the reminder. "Arr, jus' ain't used ter th' 'ttention, s'all. Jus' layin' low waitin' fer th' gossip t' blow over, yeh?"
Hazel could tell Umbridge was getting frustrated; Hagrid wasn't giving her anything to bite into. "Regardless, Mr Hagrid, I'll be watching you closely for a while to ensure your performance is up to the standards we expect from Hogwarts faculty. Mr Lee has set an exemplary standard during his short time here, so you've got your work cut out for you."
"Ol' Barnaby? Ha! He's a good egg, 'e is, glad ter know Hogwarts 'as been in good 'ands since I bin gone."
Hazel sensed Umbridge wasn't getting anything else out of Hagrid, so she decided now was the time to meddle. She made the tea explode in her face just as she was raising the cup to her lips; the hag was immediately soaked in hot tea, and shrieked for several moments out of distress while Hagrid and the others tried not to laugh.
Eventually Hagrid pulled his umbrella from his coat and flicked it, casting a cleaning charm and removing the spilt tea. Shaken, Umbridge reached for a biscuit, only to recoil with another resounding shriek as it was suddenly infested with maggots! "Is this how you treat your betters, Mr Hagrid?! By feeding them tainted food?!"
"Tainted?" Hagrid seemed honestly confused; he hadn't noticed the maggots. He looked down at the biscuit, which had fallen to the floor, and there wasn't a maggot to be found. Umbridge looked down too, and fled without another word when she realized there were no maggots. "What were tha' all abou'..."
Hazel shrugged. "Who knows? She's under a lot of pressure since Fudge is barely hanging on."
"Ah yeh, tell me all 'bout it while I put a spot o' lunch together."
So Hazel and the others told the story of the Ministry's downfall, beginning with her hearing and winding through the fallout and outrage of that, Fudge's attempts to keep Hogwarts under heel and to evade accountability to the Wizengamot through various emergency powers, to when he dissolved the Wizengamot to keep them from calling a vote of no confidence, and finally to when the entire DMLE went rogue, forcing him to hire mercenaries and dark wizards to enforce his rule. Oh, and there was a mass breakout of Death Eaters from Azkaban before he started hiring mercenaries and dark wizards too, so odds were he had enemy spies in his little militia.
"Breakout, eh? I 'eard abou' tha'. Rakepick woman broke out too?" They nodded, and he looked glum. "Shame. If she's workin' fer You-Know-Who, we're in fer a bad time."
Draco leaned forward. "Everyone says she's brilliant and powerful, especially the new professors who had to deal with her at Hogwarts. But she's been in Azkaban for years, there's no way she's up and terrorizing England. None of them are, they have to recover and get their strength back."
By then Hagrid had a casserole plated and set down, and they all tucked in; his cooking had improved dramatically since he started practicing magic again. Hazel wondered if there was a correlation, or if it was just a coincidence.
On the way back to the castle, Ron snickered. "Can you imagine how much worse the Umbitch would have been if Hagrid had been a teacher? She'd tear him to shreds."
Draco nodded. "She really would, she can't stand part-human people. Right now, what can she do against a man who's been here forever and everyone loves? Follow him around asking weird questions where no one else can see?"
Hazel scoffed. "Yeah, I think he's safe. Besides, Barnaby can run interference if she gets too irritating, she doesn't seem to be able to handle him very well."
Chapter 51: Patronus, RevisitedSummary:Hazel passes on the Patronus Charm, and is jealous when some of the students catch onto it faster than she did.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextLater that evening a snowstorm drove everyone inside, and with Quidditch practice impossible Hazel decided to convene an impromptu full meeting of The Study Group. She was surprised when everyone appeared on short notice, and wondered how often she'd be able to get away with it.
She hadn't actually had a lesson plan, but as she watched everyone stretching and warming up, she was struck by an idea. "Who wants to try the Patronus Charm tonight?"
There was a sudden thrill in the air, and she could tell everyone was more excited by the idea of the Patronus Charm than they were of the Unforgivable Curses. Zacharias Smith, of course, was primed and ready to express skepticism. "We'd love to, Potter, but I'm not sure you're the one to teach us. I mean, you proved you're a Dark Witch before when you showed us the Unforgivable Curses, remember?"
Susan Bones spoke up before Hazel could retort. "Come off it, Smith, she was put on trial last summer for using that Charm in her Muggle neighborhood to fend off Dementors. Don't you remember?"
Clearly he had forgotten. Hazel rolled her eyes. "Now that our resident doubting Thomas has had his say, shall we move along with the lessons?"
"No, we won't!" Smith was still on his cynicism kick, apparently. "I don't think I'm out of line in thinking a demonstration is in order, am I?"
Reluctant murmurs of agreement broke out. Hazel rolled her eyes. "I was gonna demonstrate anyway, Smith, but since you're making a whole federal fucking issue out of it… Draco, your wand, please."
He seemed startled, but handed his wand over without comment. She held it in her off-hand, then drew her own wand in her dominant hand and pointed it toward the ceiling, focusing on the memory of torturing those Cornish pixies years ago. "Expecto Patronum!" The massive silver shape of her basilisk erupted from her wand, lighting up the whole room with its powerful glow. It coiled silently above them, and even though it wasn't a real basilisk, several people ducked or covered their eyes as it hissed silently and looked down upon them all.
But Hazel wasn't done. In quick succession she used Draco's wand to conjure a rat and cast all three Unforgivable Curses in a row. "Rodensortia! Imperio! Crucio! Avada Kedavra!" The rat appeared, did a Cossack dance, fell over screaming, then fell over dead. No maggots erupted from either wand, and the massive serpent only glowed brighter from the force of her magic.
She looked up at all of them, with the snake in the air and the dead rat at her feet, but especially she looked at Zacharias. "Any more questions?"
There were no more questions. Hazel gave Draco his wand back and dismissed her basilisk, and the room seemed a bit darker once its overwhelming glow faded. "Right then. The easy part is the incantation and wand movement. The hard part is finding a powerful memory inside yourself that can fuel the Patronus; not just any passing happiness, but something so deep and strong that a Dementor can't suck it out right away. If you can't find such a memory, it'll fail when you need it most, like when a Dementor is inches from sucking your soul out of your body."
She paused a moment to let that sink in, and was gratified to see everyone hanging off her every word. "That being said, you don't need a traditionally happymemory to conjure yours. A memory of safety, or of exultation, can work as well. Now, the wand movement is simple, so watch closely."
She showed them the wand movement, a simple circle in midair, then had everyone spread out to try conjuring their Patronuses with whatever memory they thought worthy of the effort. As she expected, many of them struggled with the spell, though Draco immediately conjured a brilliant silver peacock that made her think he'd had private lessons. Then again, so had she, from a certain point of view.
Luna surprised everyone by conjuring a giddy little jackrabbit nearly as fast, though Hazel was certain it was the first time she'd ever cast that spell. She surprised everyone again when the rabbit began darting around peering up girls' skirts; most of them yelped and tried to cover themselves, but a few just laughed and let the thing peek. Hazel laughed the hardest, and the way Luna smiled at her made her certain Luna's memory involved her in some way.
Out of everyone else, Hermione had the self-discipline to conjure her own in short order, a shining little otter. Cho followed shortly after with a graceful swan. Ron, after a great deal of muttering and cursing, managed to conjure a brief silvery critter, but it faded just as quickly. Hazel fought down a stab of jealousy; they had figured it out much faster than she had. She tried to reassure herself she hadn't been in a good headspace during her third year, and that helped, but only a little.
When their time was almost up, Hazel made a flash of light and brought everyone in. "Good work tonight, all of you. Even those of you who didn't quite get it. Keep practicing, especially during break when you're making more happy memories; I don't think we'll have another meeting until after the New Year, though Granger, Parkinson, Abbott or Chang might decide otherwise if they think your schedules will allow it. Now cool off and stretch out and fuck off to bed!"
There was a general uptick in chatter as the students spread out, and Hazel followed her own orders by stretching and cooling off with some water. Ginny and the others sauntered over. "That was a neat lesson, I thought."
"Yeah, you guys definitely caught onto it a lot faster than I did."
"You didn't seem very happy about it." Ginny slid her arms around Hazel and held her close, and Luna did the same on her other side. "What's the matter? Are you jealous?"
"I… yes, actually, I am. Am I that easy to read?"
"For us, you are." Pansy hugged her from behind. "It makes sense though, our third year was kind of shitty for you. Definitely not a good time to be learning positive spells."
Hazel felt her heart melting as the other girls crowded around, and she felt certain she had a new memory she could draw on for her Patronus. "What would I do without you guys…"
Hannah giggled. "You couldn't even get out of bed without us, Potter, admit it."
"Alright alright, I admit it. I couldn't get out of bed without you guys. Now are we doing this or what?"
The answer was a resounding yes.
Afterwards, Hazel disentangled herself from the rest of them and flicked her fingers to cast a few cleaning and scouring charms on herself and her clothes before getting dressed. Hermione did the same, though without the wandless magic. "Are you going to tell us your big plan for dealing with Umbridge, or what?"
Hazel sighed, feeling like she'd had this conversation before. "Fine. I've mastered wandless and nonverbal magic so I can gaslight her into losing her mind, alright?"
"Yes, you told me already. I thought you had something else in mind, though."
"Not yet." That was a lie, but she wasn't about to let anyone in on her endgame.
Daphne sat up with a yawn. "What's gaslighting?"
Surprisingly it was Hannah who spoke up. "It's a form of emotional and psychological abuse where one person messes with the environment of someone else and denies anything is happening, thus making them go mad. It's not very nice, but if it's Umbridge, then anything goes; the sooner we're rid of her, the better."
Hazel felt a surge of pride; her Slytherin lessons were more effective than she had thought. "Right in one, Hannah."
Pansy had extricated herself from the cuddle puddle and was also getting dressed. "Can we help? I'm not too bad at wandless magic myself, you know."
Hazel considered it for a moment. "I don't see why not." She looked over the others. "Daphne, Hannah, Hermione, you might be better suited to helping me. The next phase is gonna require some, well, curves."
Pansy pouted, and Hazel hugged her. "Sorry babe, but it's true. You're still kinda thin, and that won't have the effect I want."
Daphne nodded. "I think I understand. You want to orchestrate wardrobe malfunctions, get the Umbitch all riled up, then reverse them when her back is turned and act like nothing was wrong."
"Pretty much, yeah. Which is why you and Hermione are best suited for it, since we're in the same class with the hag. Pansy's too flat and I'm not around the rest of you enough during the day to make a regular thing of it, much as I'd like to be. And Hannah's just got it going on, I'm not gonna lie~"
Hannah preened at the attention. And really, she deserved every bit of it, with a body like hers.
"Right then, I think that's enough fucking around for one night. You lot better get to bed." One more round of hugs and kisses, and everyone trickled off for the hidden passages. Hazel followed the Slytherin girls once she checked to make sure the Room was clean; it didn't matter that it could clean itself, she felt it was disrespectful to the castle to leave a mess behind.
Hazel started the next phase of the campaign the very next day at breakfast, by wearing a transparent shirt without a bra on as usual. Walking into the Great Hall, she caught Umbridge looking her way, and saw her eyes bug out when she looked down and saw her bare chest. Well, bare beneath the thin shirt she had on. She stood up in an outrage, but Flitwick said something that distracted her; quick as a wink Hazel flicked her finger and changed the transparency of her shirt, and conjured a comfortable bra beneath it.
She had reached her seat at the Slytherin table when the hag came bustling up, fussy and self-important as ever. "Detention for violating the dress code, Miss Potter!"
"Hm?" Innocently she turned to face her. "Violating it how, Professor?"
It was plain to see she was wearing a regulation shirt and bra, and Umbridge stared for a few crucial moments. Hazel pretended to be uncomfortable. "Um, what are you staring at, Professor?"
"You- I- I saw you, Potter! Walking in, bold as brass, without a bra on!"
"No way, Professor, she definitely was wearing a bra. We'd have noticed if she wasn't." That was Theo, acting smarmy; behind Umbridge's back he mouthed 'sorry' when Hazel glanced his way.
Umbridge didn't hear him. "I know what I saw! You were out of uniform, Potter!"
Sinistra and McGonagall came up then too. "What is the meaning of this, Dolores?" The hag repeated her accusation, and the Headmistress pursed her lips. "Anyone can see that Miss Potter is within regulations. She certainly isn't currently guilty of the specific violation you are accusing her of. I suggest you return to your seat at the staff table."
Umbridge continued to bluster, and Sinistra narrowed her eyes. "How am I expected to interpret this continued salacious interest in one of my students, Dolores? You wouldn't want to be accused of impropriety, now would you?"
That got through her thick skull, and with one final glare the pink troll turned and stomped back up to the top of the hall, telling off any student who so much as giggled on the way. McGonagall followed; Sinistra spared Hazel a wink before heading back herself. Hazel finally sat down to eat, feeling good about herself. She glanced at Theo, finally acknowledging his silent apology with a nod.
Defense that week was epically bad. Once again Umbridge was supervising, and once again Hazel was making her life miserable. Temperature fluctuations, chalk snapping, kitten platters breaking. Once or twice she made her knickers disappear before stretching, or else she'd wink at Daphne and make her bra disappear. Even Hermione got in on the act, though she was reluctant at first. Pansy helped with her own wandless magic.
Each malfunction would cause the hag to go off, and she'd rant and rave about dress codes and proper attire for young ladies. And when she'd turn to get a detention slip or some other student distracted her, Hazel or Pansy would reverse the effect and everything would be normal by the time the Umbitch turned back around. Then everyone would act innocent in the face of her bewilderment.
And she knew it was Hazel. She didn't have proof, but she knew Hazel was doing it, causing these things to happen. But she was so bound by her own bureaucracy that she couldn't act; the very rules that had been her strength for so long were now turned against her.
"Not much longer." Hazel was at dinner, watching Umbridge out the corner of her eye. She was jumpy, frazzled, gasping at shadows as she messed with her from across the Great Hall. Hot, cold, slight breezes, faint whispers. Sometimes her food would malfunction. It was so bad that the seats on either side of her were empty; no one wanted to sit next to her while she was combusting.
Hazel did feel bad about Trelawney, though. Umbridge only had one remaining outlet for her fury, and that was the supposedly inept Divination teacher. She played her part to perfection, acting more distressed by the day, yet she kept teaching with the same no-nonsense approach, at least when Umbridge wasn't around. Despite that, there was a real chance the hag would come for her job, if only to have something to show for weeks of skulking around as the Hogwarts High Inquisitor.
She could only assume her efforts to go after Hagrid had not born fruit. Was his job too remote and lonely for her to make an effective show of prosecuting and dismissing him? Or maybe "Gamekeeper" was subordinate enough that she didn't feel a half-breed was any threat? Who knew?
Hagrid or not, Umbridge was clearly working her way up to having Trelawney sacked. Hazel debated whether or not to let it happen. She decided to let it play out; Trelawney would be disappointed if she was deprived of a chance to indulge in some high theatrics.
Pansy leaned over with a smirk. "Turn her tea into mud, she'll freak out."
Hazel smiled and did exactly that, and Umbridge did indeed freak out. And dinner ended on a high note!
Notes:Gold star for anyone who can spot the Homestuck reference in this chapter~