Disclaimer: I am not J.K Rowling, and these are not my characters. I just wanted to explore a story. That said, the bold and italicized section is directly quoted from pages 746-747 of OotP.

1

"You're forcing me, Potter…. I do not want to," said Umbridge, still moving restlessly on the spot, "but sometimes circumstances justify the use…. I'm sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice…."

Malfoy was watching her with a hungry expression on his face.

"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," said Umbridge quietly.

"No!" Shrieked Hermione, "Professor Umbridge, - its illegal"- but Umbridge took no notice. There was a nasty, eager, excited look on her face that Harry had never seen before. She raised her wand.

"The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!" Cried Hermione.

"What Cornelius doesn't know won't hurt him," said Umbridge, who was now panting as she pointed her wad at different parts of Harry's body in turn, apparently trying to decide what would hurt the most. "He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same…."

It was you?" gasped Harry. "You sent the dementors after me?"

"Somebody had to act,' breathed Umbridge, as her wand came to a rest pointing directly at Harry's forehead. "They were all bleating about silencing you somehow - discrediting you- but I was the only one who actually did something about it….Only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you, Potter? Not today though, not now…"

And taking a deep breath, she cried "Cruc-"

"NO!" Shouted Hermione in a cracked voice from behind Millicent Bulstrode. "No- Harry- Harry, we have to tell her!"

"No Way!" yelled Harry at what little he could see of Hermione.

That was enough for Umbridge who triumphantly yelled "Crucio!"

Harry fell to the ground curling in on himself. Pain exploded from his limbs, from the small bones in his fingers down to his toes. His forehead exploded. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. It ended after a few seconds, and Umbridge, while angry, held nothing on Voldemort. He trembled but got back on his feet glaring at her. He could feel blood running down his fingertips and knew his hand must have split back open.

He gritted his teeth. Sirius was hurting- maybe dying- and this was wasting time. Harry's head echoed with Sirius's screams. He needed to help him. Harry stumbled closer to the fireplace. A plan was beginning to form. The floo powder was just on the floor. It was right by his feet where he had been kneeling before they were caught.

"Harry…" pleaded Hermione, "please, Harry, let's just tell her." Her eyes were wide and wet.

"Er-my-o-knee," Ron choked. Unable speak, he shook he head desperately. He looked at Harry looking for direction.

"I'm- so- sorry" gasped Hermione from her squashed position. Umbridge had her wand pointed at Harry again.

"You're hurting your friends, Harry." She admonished in a voice suited for scolding two year olds. "If you stopped telling lies and answered my questions all of this could end." Harry didn't respond. Her eyes and wand focused on his bleeding hand. She looked at it with curiosity.

"Hurts doesn't it," she whispered mockingly, repeating herself from their first detention together. "Crucio"-

Again, the pain was all encompassing. He tried to focus on where he had landed, on how close the floo powder was. He wanted to focus on feeling, on seeing, it had to be near his hand. He couldn't focus on anything though. Thinking hurt. All that was, was pain. It stopped suddenly, unexpectedly. Harry lay on the ground twitching.

"YOU BITCH!" Screeched Hermione.

"50 points from Gryffindor, Ms. Granger." Umbridge barked. Hermione's eyes were wide, shocked at the language she had used.

"Who were you trying to contact?!" Umbridge yelled again.

Harry used his reprieve to focus on breathing. He took big gulps of air. The ground under him hurt, the fibers of the pink rug stabbing at his oversensitive skin. He opened his eyes again. Seeing the floo powder jar on his left he let his hand tip it over, grasping a small handful as he pulled himself to his elbows. He glared at Umbridge, lips in a thin line of defiance. He was steeling himself, bracing for what he knew was next. Torture was repetitive. At least, in his experience it was. Well, he wasn't going to talk, or beg, or do anything to give her the satisfaction. Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, repeated in his head. Ron, though standing resolutely, had tears dripping down his cheek and onto the fabric of his gag.

Harry returned his gaze to Umbridge expectantly. Defiantly- He had faced Voldemort four times now, and she was just a stupid, power-hungry toad.

"Don't worry about biting back your screams, Mr. Potter, there's a silencing charm on my office. No one will wonder where you and your friends are for quite some time, I think." Her voice was sweet, annoyingly placating again. Ginny stomped on her captor's foot, but it did no good. Snape knows, thought Harry. But then, why would Snape care? Harry had given him the clue, and he hadn't done anything. He hated Sirius and Harry. He had no reason to help them. Umbridge's wand was once again on Harry, pointed at his heart.

"Nuuuuh!" Ron's voice, though strangled, was loud and desperate.

"What's that, Mr. Weasley, volunteering yourself?" She placed her finger on her chin, staring at Harry longer. "Perhaps it is better that way…What do you think, Mr. Potter, willing to talk under the threat of your friend's pain?"

"NO!" Harry looked desperately at Ron, how could this be happening? Harry had no choice, he couldn't explain Sirius, or Voldemort, or Dumbledore to Umbridge. Too many secrets, too many lives at stake. Ron stared into Harry's eyes with an unwavering gaze. Harry understood. Ron would give Harry a break, give him time to think of a cover story. Harry was horrified. Ron didn't understand what he was doing. He didn't know how much it hurt. Harry's mind raced, but he couldn't think of anything to say that would remove Ron from the awful situation.

"Un-be-lievable, Mr. Potter, first responsible for Mr. Diggory's death, and now you refuse to step up and prevent a classmates pain? The lengths your stubbornness goes to is astounding. Do you care so little for your friends?" Ron was pushed to the center of the room next to Harry. He pulled his gag down as his arms were released.

"I said no!" Harry was as close to begging as he'd ever been. "Please, Professor, he was just trying to help me! All of this is my fault, they've done nothing wrong."

"Yes, but you can't help him unless you tell me the truth." She spoke with sickening finality. "Watch this, Mr. Potter, see what your lies cost!" Umbridge spoke turning her wand from Harry's chest to Ron's, keeping eye-contact the entire time. Harry was about to launch himself across the room to tackle her when, just like that day in detention, Harry's scar burned. Then the world slipped out of focus and he was falling back into the Department of Mysteries…

He heard His voice. High, and cold, bereft of humanity. Harry saw the wand clasped in his pale hand. "Crucio!"

Sirius screamed, writhing on the floor. "See, Black, it's been hours, no one is saving you, no one is coming." Sirius looked up with haunted eyes, a taunt face.

"Kill me then," he swallowed, a drop of blood slowly streaking down from his nose and over his lips. "Please, just kill me, I can never do what you want."

"Bella," Voldemort whispered. She slid next to Him. Harry watched as she practically oozed devotion. Her chest rose with each gulp of air she took. She was practically panting. Harry raised one white hand and touched her warm cheek withdrawing as she leaned into him. She was so predictable.

"Help me coerce our captive." Bellatrix's lips spread into a garish smile revealing her blackened teeth. Harry laughed coldly as Sirius began screaming again, rolling on the floor in agony. As Sirius stilled Harry heard His voice ask for the Prophesy one last time. Sirius did nothing.

"Your time is up, Black." Voldemort whispered. "Your dear Godson hasn't come to save you, you know, I thought he loved you. But even I, Lord Voldemort, can be wrong" Sirius's eyes flicked up at the assessment of Harry's level of affection just as Voldemort screamed "Avada-Kedavra!" And Sirius lay still…open eyes staring at Voldemort in frozen horror.

Harry though, was not still. His scar burned as though he was being branded by a hot poker, as if his heart was being ripped from his chest. His entire body was trembling fiercely, and his head was spinning. He was too late, he was too late, he was too late, it was all his fault he was too late. Shaking uncontrollably he turned his head and vomited over Umbridge's stupid pink rug.

"MR. POTTER! Histrionics are not tolerated!" Her face was purple and from his position on the floor the resemblance to Uncle Vernon was uncanny. It would have been had Harry been paying attention, but he was numb. He could barely breathe, blood pumped in his ears, he could feel tear tracks down his face, and he was so cold. It couldn't be real. He could not have been too late. After Cedric he had vowed to never be too late again. Ron reached over terrified gripping Harry's frozen hands. Harry's scar was bright, enflamed on his forehead.

"Wow, Potter," sneered Malfoy, "Didn't know you and the Weasel were so…intimate. Gonna kiss him better, Weasley?" Whatever retort Ron might have made was lost as Umbridge opened her mouth.

"MR. POTTER!" Umbridge shrieked, "You will pull yourself together, and clean up this mess!" But Harry couldn't hear her. For a second only Ron existed in Harry's anguish. His brown eyes were wide and afraid.

"Harry, mate… you ok?" He whispered. Harry still hadn't stopped shaking. Ron turned to look at Hermione. Tears streaked down her face and she was chewing on her lip trying to get her chin from quivering.

"Was it…?" Ron asked. Harry's eyes were squeezed closed. His fists were clenched tight. He pressed his hot forehead against the floor, trying to press the last of the pain away. But he'd never really be able to. Sirius was dead. He knew that. He had watched it happen. Sirius had died thinking that Harry didn't love him enough to save him. He felt utterly crushed. He wanted to die too. What would he tell Remus? When Harry finally did die how could he answer to Sirius, what would he say to his father? His entire body was shaking. Sirius was dead; and it was because he didn't get to the Department of Mysteries in time. This was all his fault. All his fault.

"Was what, What?! He's clearly vying for attention!" Umbridge was mid-temper tantrum when Harry snapped out of it.

He was so angry. Consumed by not only his own anger and desperation but by Voldemort's. He was on his feet in a second.

He couldn't speak, He was trembling and tense, his mind was running at a mile a minute. Looking at Umbridge he wanted nothing more than to make her suffer. If she hadn't delayed him he could have found him, he could have saved him! But what could he do now?! Sirius, Sirius, Sirius.

The windows shattered. Harry stared in shock as the glass exploded everywhere but on him. Ron had pulled him to the ground anyway and shielded him with his body. Just as they lifted their heads two spells were yelled and Ron shoved Harry into the fire place. Harry's hands opened in shock releasing the floo powder.

"Number 12, Grimmauld Place" Ron said in a rushed whisper throwing his own small bit of floo dust after him.

As the green flames surrounded Harry a new pain erupted from his scar. Voldemort was angry, and there was no vision this time. Just pain, endless, nerve searing pain. Harry accepted it. Sirius was dead, it was all his fault. He deserved this pain, and a voice inside his head, that was not quite his own, agreed.

He didn't even notice when he fell out onto the hard floor of Sirius's living room, or when a panicked voice began calling his name.