Dramatic chapter time! A few of the more avid Doctor Who fans out there might be beginning to recognize something...
Also, the rating has gone up because of the end of the chapter. gets a lot darker there, I should warn you. Why is it the evil people can't be nice? Sigh...
Anyway, enjoy!
Halloween in Hogwarts; floating pumpkins dotted the long, winding corridors. The occasional, awed First Year could be seen staring at them, while some mischievous Seven Years, who looked exactly alike and had vivid red hair, seemed intent on charming them.
A few moments later, a Third Year passed beneath a pumpkin. It flashed a sickly green, and a foul-smelling ointment dropped from the bottom. Laughing, the twins turned and quickly ran away.
Cautious, Harry ducked around a hovering pumpkin; heading to the Great Hall. An alarming amount of them had been hexed by the Weasley twins.
Suddenly, one of them ducked down, and blew a loud raspberry straight in Harry's face. The student tried to bat it away, stumbling back; and after about half a metre's motion, the jack o' lantern silenced itself, and returned to its normal resting point, hovering, waiting for its next victim.
"Sorry about my brothers," several minutes later, Ginny sat herself beside the black haired boy in the Great Hall.
"Could've been worse," Harry shrugged, speaking partly because he was anxious to avoid offence, but also in reaction to an event over the other end of the hall. Another pumpkin had just exploded, shooting gunk over most of the Slytherin table.
As they watched, an irate Draco Malfoy stood up, striding out the hall. In a fit of seemingly excessive anger, he jabbed his wand at one of the floating lanterns; incinerating it.
Harry was the only one to notice Draco's preoccupation. The blonde was fiddling with something in his hands, some rounded metal talisman; and wincing, as if it was burning. Not only that, but instead of returning to the Common Rooms, as would be expected, Draco had chosen a different route; one that would instead take him up several floors. The seventh among them.
Was he heading to that room he'd mentioned, with the masked woman?
Putting that aside, Harry looked back to Ginny.
"So," the redhead seemed more confident than she had been, in previous years. "You hate that hag Umbridge too?"
"Yeah," Harry snorted.
As if on cue, a small flock of orange pumpkins hovered into the hall, each with the same mission, bestowed by a mischievous spell from Fred and George. They bubbled over to the teacher's table, and spattered over the Ministry-appointed Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher as she was trying to eat.
Sniggering ran through many of the tables; Umbridge shot a fit-to-kill look over them, soon silencing them.
"Thank your brothers for me," Harry noted, biting back a laugh on a mouthful of cake.
"Join the queue," Ginny retorted, watching Umbridge storm out. "Looks like a lot of people agree."
"Don't blame them," Harry chuckled, unconsciously rubbing the back of his hand; scarred by many torturous detentions with Umbridge.
"Think we can get them to teach at the next DA meeting?" Ginny asked, semi-laughing, "How to annoy the Hogwarts High Inquisitor."
"You just have to say Voldemort's returned for that," the black haired student murmured bitterly.
A cheer went up through many of the tables as Fred and George walked, grinning, into the room. From the teacher's table, Flitwick raised his goblet a small distance, out of respect.
Harry felt grateful to Draco; he realized that upon thinking about the DA. The location for the lessons, the Room of Requirement, was the same place that the woman's cult took place. If it wasn't for Draco, he wouldn't have known about it, and as such, the DA wouldn't exist.
And then hell broke loose.
O
Umbridge walked, irate, out of her office. The gunk that the pumpkins had covered her in proved resistant to normal magical means of cleaning; and so she'd needed to change.
As she began to make her way back to the hall, she was passed by several Slytherins. A frown. Face innocently curious, despite considerably less civility in her mind, she looked at them, beginning to follow.
"Hem-hem," she coughed, upon meeting a huddle of the seventh floor.
The group suddenly span around, all focusing on her. Twitch. Dolores Umbridge glared.
"According to Educational Degree number 24," her voice was the epitome of civility, "No student organizations can exist without the approval of Hogwarts High Inquisitor."
A nervous murmur among the small group. Umbridge stood scarcely a metre from them, resolute and tight-lipped.
Silence. She hem-hemmed a second time, gaining no response from the Slytherins. They seemed petrified of something. Several seconds later, Umbridge noticed a blonde among the group.
"Draco," she said, cloyingly sweet, "You have always been such a wonderful boy. Will you tell me what's going on?"
Malfoy seemed at a loss for words for a moment. "Well," he began, seemingly accidentally stumbling; he thrust an arm back, knocking on the wall behind him twice, hard, loud. "It could take a while."
"Umbridge instantly changed tack. Her voice turned frosty. "We have time."
Silence; the seconds ticked past. The High Inquisitor was about to speak, when she was interrupted by a deep rumbling, a scraping of stone. Behind the huddle, a door formed itself from the wall. Slowly, it swung open; a woman stood in the entryway, dark tangled hair falling over a metal mask.
One look at Umbridge.
"Come in," the woman said; cold, to the Slytherins. Commanding. A sneer at the High Inquisitor. "You are not fit to wear his soul." She spoke with reverence.
Before the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher could respond, there was a flash of light.
"Stupefy!"
A little time later, hell broke loose.
O
Hagrid strode around his hut, looking over the recently bare pumpkin patch. Before, several beauties had grown there; for Halloween, he had given them to the school. At least there was a good crop this year.
The giant began to turn over the soil, make it ready for new planting. After several seconds of labour, he dug the rake into the soil, and went into his hut for a few seconds. Upon coming out, he waved a pink umbrella; and the soil instantly turned itself over, rolling in chaotic patterns until the dirt beneath was exposed to the air.
"That's better," Hagrid muttered through his beard, ambling back into his hut, trusty umbrella in hand.
The gamekeeper had stayed on at Hogwarts because of Dumbledore. The giant was a great deal more perceptive than many people realized; especially when it came to his loyalty to the headmaster.
Upon noticing odd behaviour last year, he'd gone up to Dumbledore's office, using the surprisingly universal password of 'let me in or I'll smash you into little pieces', the gargoyle had allowed him access. That was his first experience with the Voice.
Despite the Doctor's insistence that Hagrid seek out the rest of the giants, loyalty to Dumbledore had prevented the giant from leaving the school.
While he didn't know quite what he'd be able to do, he knew he'd be able to do much more actually in the school, rather than wandering distant, forbidding mountains, looking for barbaric wild giants.
Thud. Hell broke loose.
Muttering to himself, Harry opened the door, looking out at the night sky. Another thud; the ground itself seemed to rumble. Scorching heat rushed towards him.
It was a wave of air, almost tangible in its intensity: a boiling, invisible, searing rush of blistering energy.
Stumbling through the scorching air, the giant looked around the back of his hut, towards the forest.
Thud.
The distant, towering trees pointed straight up to the sky, each at an immense height, huge silhouettes, each black against the violet night.
And something was there. A creature; one that seemed to revel in the blistering heat. Huge. Titanic. As tall as the tallest trees; and somehow infinitely menacing.
Humanoid. Hagrid staggered back; unused to seeing anything quite that huge. Normally the giant was at a similar height, if not taller than most things. But…that… It made even Hagrid feel a flicker of fear.
The creature, the titanic beast. Two long, strong legs supporting the muscled torso; the powerful body level with the tops of the trees. Two brawny arms, reaching out, easily toppling the trees of the Forbidden Forest. The head, a black outline against the dark sky, turning, searching; knowing it was superior to all the pitiful life around it.
And stretching from that sinister face, silhouette visible in the moonlight, were two, long, curved horns.
The titan bellowed, a bestial roar, and swung a great fist, uprooting one of the tallest trees, and throwing it deeper into the Forest; an action requiring terrible strength.
With that, Hagrid began to hurry towards the fiend.
And as the roar diminished, and the infernal heat began to fade, the distant blackness, the imposing, horned silhouette began to shrink; size decreasing until it was unseen.
And deep within the forest, the flames began.
O
"Vetis!" a wild shriek from the masked woman.
The Room of Requirement; darkened, black marble floor, with an altar, a stunned Umbridge, and a small, upraised, white slab. Serpentine. Upon the altar lay one small knife, and a metal sculpture; polished silver. A snake; intricately textured, scaled skin, with a gaping maw, two threatening fangs peering out, and triangular, glaring eyes; pale silver, burnished and featureless.
In a circle around that altar, the Slytherins stood, robes turned up into mystical-looking hoods. They'd taken part in some kind of ritual; chanting a spell they hadn't heard before, as the woman created sudden flares of fire.
Hell.
For less than a second, a dreadful surge of heat had emanated from the altar, beyond anything they'd ever experienced. Enough to kill them, so it felt.
And as the moment passed, the masked woman pointed a pale hand towards the floor; the centimetre-raised stone slab of a snake, forked tongue flicked out, stark white against the empty sable marble around. Nothing noticeable happened, yet as the moment past, the serpent seemed to emanate some sense of foreboding.
"Vetis!" a cry from the woman once more, "Come!"
Unstable; a screech, a shout, a scream, of exultation and agony, raising the serpentine, silver sceptre into the air; the snakehead bud on the top seeming to shimmer.
"Done," a voice came; from nowhere, it seemed. A deep, resounding rumble, inhuman, ever-serious, ever-emotionless.
And in the woman's hand, the snake started to writher; silver tongue flicking out, and metal body starting to squirm.
O
Chaos in the Great Hall.
The burst of inexplicable heat seemed almost material; the force of it flung people from their chairs, screaming.
"I say, that was…unexpected," the potions teacher, an elderly man called Horace Slughorn, who the Doctor had persuaded to take up teaching again (with Snape's disappearance), murmured quickly, righting himself to look over the hall.
The air was still blisteringly hot. Thought it had faded somewhat from the scorching initial rush, the unnatural heat was still just high enough to be unpleasant.
"I-ah, um, Order!" Rory stuttered, before bellowing out the command; doing his best to sound like the headmaster. The Polyjuice potion's effect continued; and his appearance lent useful credence to the command.
"Yeah, what he said," the Doctor skipped over to the centre of the table, "Now, if you could all please calm down," he shouted the last two words, pausing just long enough for some semblance of tranquillity to descend.
"Yes well," the Time Lord exhaled, as the swell of heat began to lower, "Now that's over with; don't panic, it's not the end of the world. Well, it's probably not, depends."
"Do you know what's going on?" an angry cry from one of the students; possibly a Ravenclaw
"No," the Doctor shook his head as if offended, before clapping his hands, "More fun that way. So-"
He was about to continue, before being interrupted by a crash of thunder; the grand doors leading to the Great Hall were swung open violently, and the half-giant Hagrid ran to the teacher's table, ground shaking under his feet.
For the first time in many years, Hagrid hadn't been present at the feast. Umbridge's prejudice against 'half-breeds' extended to Hagrid, and eventually the teacher had just become sick of it, and walked out mid-feast. Since then, he stayed in his hut at meal times; served by a house-elf sent down from the castle.
"Sir, sir," the giant nodded, panting, before walking up to the Doctor; the man whom the giant spoke to more often. He claimed the Doctor reminded him of Dumbledore. Well, sometimes.
"There's something in the forest," Hagrid muttered, eyes wide and worried. Still visibly shaken from the titanic apparition.
"There's a what?" the Doctor hopped over the table, standing about level with Hagrid's beard
"A- thing," Hagrid finished lamely, "Don't know how to describe it."
"Well, try, "the Doctor prompted, "Was it big, small, obvious, hiding, pink, stripy, or a fez?"
"It was," Hagrid hesitated, "Well I', I' couldn't really see it. But it was there. A lot of the Forest- looks like a lot of the Forest was cut away. Jus' empty land. Threw a stick in there an' it, an it' just caught fire."
"Some sort of barrier then," the Doctor nodded, thinking, "Species that cause shields, and are hot. Well, that could be- No, no way. That's impossible," he seemed surprisingly jovial, despite the more serious tones his words took on.
"And this barrier," the Time Lord began again, "How big was it?"
"I- uh, very," the giant paused, "Looked like it went a long way. Around Hogwarts, looked like."
"Ah, right," the Doctor slumped, "Well that's not good."
"Doctor?" it was Amy; she frowned.
"Yes, well," the Time Lord turned to the redhead. "It sounds like, whatever that heat was," brief, haunted look crossed his face, "There's a shield around the Hogwarts grounds. There's no way in, and no way to get out."
O
Umbridge stirred on the cold, black marble floor. The High Inquisitor blinked a few times, coming to, to see the cult of Slytherins.
In the centre, as always, there stood that masked woman. In one hand, she grasped a silver, writhing serpent; fierce, biting the empty air. In the other, she held a long, black, pointed wand.
"None of you will betray me!" she shouted, perhaps unaware of Dolores' newfound consciousness, perhaps knowing and uncaring.
Her voice was firm; she wasn't stating, she was commanding. And she fully expected that command to be carried out.
"You will all listen, and you will keep this…secret," her voice descended in a rush, to a sly, sinister whisper. The kind of whisper one would expect from some kind of phantom or spirit, or wraith. "Tell no one!" her voice again rose to a crescendo.
In that moment, she jabbed her wand straight up into the air; throwing the slithering, metal snake to the floor. The silver, forked tongue flicked out; once. Soulless eyes scanned the cult.
"Or else!" the statement was not completed; the woman instead opted to leave it as a feral yowl.
The serpent lunged forwards, darting through the air. Snakehead glaring; fangs bared and forked tongue flicking once. Despite being several metres from one of the Slytherin students, there was a distinct effect.
A scream; sudden pain. And with a puff of smoke, the student was lost. Gone.
The silver snake slithered back to its mistress; the masked woman. An amused bark, a split-second cackle.
"She can be replaced," off-hand. Chillingly uncaring. And then the woman turned to Umbridge; "You," sneering, "You defiled his soul with your touch." She spat onto the marble.
Umbridge got to her feet, momentarily defiant. Hand drifting towards wand.
"Imperio!" the masked woman's practised voice spat out the spell. Umbridge stiffened.
"What should I make her do?" the woman spoke with glee, on the surface seeming to invite an answer; but if any of them dared suggest anything, it was likely she'd set the metal serpent on them.
Like a puppet on a string, Umbridge jerked forward. Gleeful, the masked woman directed the High Inquisitor, navigating her around the white slab, to the altar in the centre.
A sadistic grin spread across the face, behind the mask.
Silent, the metal serpent, also victim to the woman's control, slithered closer, circling Umbridge's leg, ascending. Moments later, it circle her stomach, passing higher, tongue flickering, cold silver pressed against Dolores' cheek. Hiss. Fangs brushed her ear. She could not move.
The masked woman flicked her wand.
Eyes darting around at the command, Umbridge lifted one hand, doing her best to resist the woman's expert control, gripping the snake's midriff. She pulled it away, forwards, holding the writhing snakehead before her face. Then, completely under the sadistic woman's control, she opened her mouth. Her hand was forced closer; the snakehead, that flicking tongue, touched her lips, entering her mouth.
The Slytherin cult did their best to look away; disgusted, more than a little scared by the sight. Umbridge may not have been their favourite teacher, but the humiliation and the torture inflicted by this woman, and the way she seemed to relish it… It was inhuman. Worse than that. It was hard to believe anyone, anything, would or could act like that.
Umbridge's eyes widened as she felt cold metal touch the back of her throat.
The masked woman flicked her wand again, slashing it sideways through the air.
Regaining control, Dolores retched, yanking the serpent from her mouth and throwing it, clattering, along the marble floor.
"Were you scared?" the masked woman simpered, turning her nose up as she looked down at the shaking, retching Dolores Umbridge.
"I-" Nothing to say. The High Inquisitor felt genuine fear; and had a great deal to say to this masked woman, and a great many illegal hexes to perform. Yet she had tied her own hands; the students who watched, they would report it, and at the very least, the rumours would spread. The impeccable reputation Umbridge had built would crash down. She could do nothing but resist, for the sake of the students' eyes, yet that was the last things he wanted to do.
"Imperio!"
Once again under the woman's control, inwardly trembling at the utter violation, Umbridge was forced forwards. Her hand reached out blindly, and Umbridge shook further at the most recent command. Her hand curled around the knife.
A sadistic grin broadened beneath a metal mask.
Dolores Umbridge's eyes widened, as her right hand drew the short knife closer to her body. It rested for a moment on the fingers of her left hand, and then to her face, brushing her nose, hovering for a moment near her eyes.
Umbridge was shaking now. Physically shaking; an action allowed by the Imperius curse, for the pleasure of the woman.
She'd forgotten the students were there; too engrossed in her new sport.
"What would you like me to do?" the masked woman sounded mocking, acting as if she was genuinely interested. "Eyes?" the blade dug into the tops of Dolores' eyelids. A whimper escaped the teacher's lips. "Fingers?" The knife left Umbridge's face, leaving just a shallow trickle of blood, soon stopping on the knuckle of her left little finger. A flick of a wand; and Umbridge lifted the knife further, now pressing it against her chest. It pierced the pink fabric, moving over her heart. The knife, wielded by her own hands, rested just over her heart.
The masked woman was genuinely enjoying herself. A flick of her wand, or an errant thought, and the High Inquisitor would kill herself. The woman enjoyed it, partly for the skill she was exercising, to both crush Dolores' will, partly for the utter controls he had, and partly for the challenge of controlling all her thoughts to such a refined degree.
So many possibilities…
Flick: a force of will.
Shaking, breathing heavily, terrified, Umbridge lifted the cold knife once more. She opened her mouth again; and let the frosty knife inside. For a few moments, it lingered, point pressed on the back of her tongue. Then, perfectly controlled, it turned sideways, touching the roof of her mouth.
The High Inquisitor sat like that for several minutes; on her knees, both hands clutching at the knife, blade deep inside her mouth and threatening to cut.
One moment passed. A scowl tore at the masked woman's face.
And then a scream; a howl of agony. The knife was wrenched forwards, cutting deep into the roof of Umbridge's mouth; the blade clattered onto the black marble, accompanied by a blood-streaked tooth.
Even as the blood filled her mouth, spilling out onto the floor, staining her robe, Umbridge was forbidden to move. She screamed; completely stationary, from the deep wound, tasting the tang of her own blood.
"Oops," the masked woman said coldly.
After a little more time, the woman commanded Umbridge to get to her feet; still a victim of the Imperius curse, and still in agony, the High Inquisitor obeyed. A thoughtful few moments; Dolores trembled; just thinking of what the sadistic woman would come up with next.
The teacher's own hand found themselves rising, uncontrolled, until they fastened themselves around Dolores' own neck. The High Inquisitor's eyes went wide; strangled by her own hands, she shook on the spot as air ceased to enter her lungs. Fear. It might not have the same possibility for pain as the previous tortures; yet it was just as profound a violation, losing her life to her own, unwilling body.
It was then that the masked woman noticed that her cult was still present; the Slytherins, looking away, edgy with the torture happening just metres away.
"Watch," a command from the masked woman's lips; she allowed Umbridge to lower her arms, and instead guided the High Inquisitor along the black marble.
"This is what happens if you betray me!" a shriek.
The floor was mostly a deep, sable black: save for the pools of blood, smeared where Umbridge had once sat, as well as one other decoration; a serpentine slab, pale white and ever-so-slightly raised above the normal black. The slab that the woman pointed at, around the time the silver snake had come to life, and the heat rushed through Hogwarts.
It was this slab Umbridge was forced towards; her body a marionette on a string. Her foot touched the stone snake.
A scream was ripped from Hogwarts High Inquisitor Dolores' Umbridge's lips, agonizing. Will and mind broken, body injured, blood streaming from the self-inflicted cut in her mouth, all that pain was nothing compared with the endless few seconds atop the stone.
And then, almost anti-climactic, she crumbled to ash; and the ash soon faded to nothing.