I am writing you in regards to my requested confirmation…


"So, Severus?"

Severus Snape was kneeling in front of green flames, looking at the face of Lord Voldemort, whose head seemed to be coming from the fire itself. He spoke in low tones, aware of his surroundings despite the many silencing charms he had placed inside his office.

"The plan has been put into effect starting yesterday, My Lord."

"And?" Even through the flames that disfigured his face, Voldemort was just as snake-like and pale as he was in person.

"It's too early to tell, My Lord. I am receiving updates from Draco every day; I can only tell you what he tells me."

"Yes, very well. What about the Ministry woman?"

"She is taking over Hogwarts as we speak. The Ministry has completely redesigned the education system, and she will soon perform examinations on the professors and their…capabilities."

"How amusing, that pure fear has driven Cornelius to work in our favor, without me having to even acknowledge my existence. Fear is the most powerful emotion of all, Severus. Dumbledore is too blind to see it, and he has weakened Potter by telling him differently. He will not be able to escape the same fate of his parents."

Snape ignored the bile that was rising in his throat. "Is there anything else you need of me, My Lord?"

"No, Severus." Voldemort's voice hissed with the flames. "I shall leave you now. I expect you to keep me updated."

"Yes, My Lord."

Voldemort's head soon disappeared, and Snape was left with a warm, crackling fire. He stared at it for a moment, enjoying the comforting heat, and then he took out his wand, muttered a spell, and the flame went out, leaving his office completely dark.


"Please turn to page three hundred and sixty-three."

The room was absolutely silent except for the eerie sound of pages being flipped and the gigantic pendulum clock whooshing back and forth at the front of the classroom. The atmosphere was strained and heavy with precautious authority. No one dared groan or complain for fear of severe consequences.

Dolores Umbridge was standing at the front of the classroom, observing her students. She was wearing her traditional furry pink dress and matching hat, which sat upon her curly brown hair and toad-like head. Her face was pudgy and unpleasant, and her forced smile displayed her red, thick lipstick. She was completely nauseating.

"Today we will be learning about defense spells," her voice was sickeningly sweet. "Please use the next few minutes to read chapter four."

Harry started to read, but the words became mingled symbols and signs and eventually his mind drifted off to his thoughts. He had managed to let go of the whole Malfoy incident, but he couldn't stop thinking about his dream from the night before. Even though his memory of it was a blurry, perplexing mess, he felt it held some sort of importance. Not to mention, Sirius hadn't replied to the letter Harry sent a few weeks ago, and despite Hermione's reassuring explanations of Order Owls taking different routes so not to be intercepted, it didn't ease Harry's worry.

Across from him, Hermione raised her hand. "Excuse me Professor, but there's nothing in this chapter that's actually about how to use these spells."

Suddenly, the sound of turning pages stopped. Someone dropped their quill, which hit the floor loudly. Everyone's eyes turned towards Umbridge. Her face was aghast, but then, she smiled wider than before.

She laughed. "Using spells? Well of course not, dear. I can't imagine any reason why you would need to use spells in my classroom."

"We're not gonna use magic?" Ron asked, who was sitting next to Harry, whose hands were beginning to clench in anger.

"You'll be learning about using defensive spells in a secure, Ministry approved, risk-free environment." she said persuasively.

Harry nails were digging into his palm. "What use is that? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free." He could feel his face getting hot. Surely this wasn't happening, Dumbledore couldn't let this happen.

"Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class." Umbridge answered curtly. "It is view of the Ministry that theoretical knowledge of spells will be sufficient to get you through your examinations, which after all, is what school is all about."

Without caring, Harry retorted hotly, "And how is theory supposed to prepare us for what's out there?" Ron nudged him, but Harry ignored it. After talking with Sirius, he should have known, should have been prepared for this, and yet he refused to accept it.

Umbridge was quick on target. "There is nothing out there, dear. Who do you expect would want to attack children, like yourselves?"

His reply was easy, and he said with mock-consideration: "Oh, I dunno, maybe Lord Voldemort?"

There were gasps heard throughout the room, and Hermione shot Harry a stern look, but he was too angry to care. Umbridge looked outraged, and Harry enjoyed the rare moment of her losing her composure. But it didn't last long; quickly there was a false smile on her face and she clasped her hands together firmly.

Her voice was soft as she started to walk between the desks, looking at every single student. "Let me make this quite clear. You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again. This-is-a-lie."

Harry exploded. "It isn't a lie! I saw him, I fought him-"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Dolores turned with finality, but Harry wasn't done. His retort was on the tip of his tongue, but an unexpected voice beat him to it.

"So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord?" unlike Harry's, the voice wasn't angry and demanding, but slow, and sarcastic. It came from the back of the classroom, and everyone's heads turned. Harry knew that voice, knew it extremely well, but he couldn't believe it, his mind refused to process it.

Umbridge whipped around sternly, searching for the owner of the voice. She followed the direction of everyone's eyes, and the surprise on her face would have been easily evident, had anyone been looking.

"Mr. Malfoy. How disappointing. I wouldn't have expected this from you." She was staring directly at him, her face impassive, although the tone of her voice was obviously condescending.

Draco Malfoy smirked, unconcerned of all the attention. "Well, Professor, I wish I could say the same, although I'm not surprised in the slightest of the rubbish that's coming from the Ministry. A shame, really."

Gasps and whispers ignited, and Professor Umbridge's face was purple. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had matching faces of shock, and Pansy was tugging on Draco's arm, whispering: "What are you doing?"

Umbridge's nostrils flared, but she said sternly and calmly, "Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident."

Again, Harry opened his mouth, but Malfoy laughed. "Accident? It was murder! The Dark Lord killed him; surely you must know this."

"Enough!" Umbridge yelled, her control crumbling. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and composed herself, smiling. "Enough." her voice was unsettlingly sweet again. "Another word from you, Mr. Malfoy, and I'll strip you of your Prefect duties. I will see you and Mr. Potter in my office this evening."

And with that, she turned around and began writing page numbers on the board with her wand, leaving Harry completely and utterly baffled.


"Bloody hell." Ron was stuffing a ridiculously large turkey sandwich into his mouth, and chewed up bits of food were spewing about as he spoke. "What is going on with the world?"

Hermione winced at Ron's eating. "I should have known this was going to happen, but-Ron, close your mouth!-I didn't think it would get this far."

They were sitting in the Great Hall for lunch. Harry was pushing food around on his plate with his fork, thinking hard and listening to his friend's conversation. The fact that Malfoy had actually taken his side had stumped him for hours. First the smile, now this-it didn't make any sense.

Ron swallowed loudly. "What about the ferret, 'Mione? He's daddy's little pet, he is, and Lucius is a Death Eater. Why'd he want to smear the Ministry's rep? Whatcha think, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe he wanted to make sure Voldemort got proper credit?"

"Well it's madness, I tell you." Ron said while taking another huge bite out of his sandwich.

"Whatever it is, something needs to be done." Hermione grimaced at Ron again, and turned towards Harry. "I mean, we're not being properly prepared for our OWL's."

"OWL's?" Harry remarked. "We're not being properly prepared for anything. How are we supposed to fight against Voldemort without even knowing how to defend ourselves?"

Ron belched, finally finishing his sandwich. "Harry's right, 'Mione. OWL's are the least of our worries right now. I mean, blimey, what with Cedric-"

"I know Ron. I know. We need to fight back."

"But how?" Harry asked.

"I don't know." Hermione said quietly. "I don't know."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, trying to get a glance at Draco. He wasn't eating, and looked deep in thought. Harry smiled wryly. How ironic, he thought, that it seems as if I have more in common with Malfoy than anyone else.


Harry walked into Dolores Umbridge's office tentatively, and was instantly overwhelmed by the color pink. The walls, the furniture, the carpet, and even the teacups sitting on her desk were all a nauseating pinkish color. There was china hanging all over the wall, each plate with a decorative picture of a cat that mewed repeatedly. It was the most unwelcoming room Harry had ever been in, including the old cupboard under the stairs, and it was because of this that Harry knew it could not belong to anyone else but her.

Umbridge sat at her desk, and she was stirring her tea. She was still wearing the same outfit from earlier, except now her hat was off, revealing more of her mousy brown hair. She now sported her golden cat pin, which was clipped snugly against her chest to the pink fabric. Harry thought she would blend in with the room if it wasn't for her toad-like face.

There were two smaller desks sitting in front of hers, and the one on the right was currently occupied by Draco Malfoy. His bleach blonde hair stood out dramatically in the room and as soon as Harry noticed him, he felt a pang of frustration. Even though the boy had surprisingly taken his side earlier, he knew that Malfoy would only make the detention more annoying.

Both of them looked up as he entered. "Ah, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge. "How nice of you to join us. Please, take a seat," she indicated the desk next to Malfoy and Harry sat down, slowly. He could see at the corner of his eyes that Malfoy was studying him, but Harry refused to acknowledge him. He was not in the mood for any more surprises.

Umbridge stood up from her seat and began to pace around the room, sipping her tea. "You boys are going to be writing lines for me while I run a few errands,"

Harry mentally groaned. The idea of detention together was one thing, but detention alone was another; without a professor in the room, Malfoy would be eager to start something. Harry suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.

"What do you want us to write?" Harry asked, as Malfoy began getting out his quill.

Umbridge contemplated the question for a moment, and then said, "I think 'I must not tell lies', seems appropriate, don't you?" She giggled, and Harry's stomach churned. "Mr. Malfoy, you may put your quill away. I have my own for you to use." Malfoy looked confused, but he put his quills away anyway, and looked expectantly at Umbridge, who handed them two identical looking quills that she pulled from her skirt pocket.

"How many lines?" he drawled.

Umbridge was quiet for a few seconds. Then, she said quietly, "Until the message sinks in." She smiled unpleasantly and left, leaving the room completely silent accept for the mewing cats on the wall.

It didn't last long.

"I can't believe I'm stuck in here with you." Malfoy said snidely, and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh god, don't start already. If you didn't want to be in here, you shouldn't have said anything." Harry remarked hotly. He should have known this was going to happen.

"The first time I actually take your side, and I get detention. How ironic." Malfoy got up from the desk and started examining things in the room, picking things up and setting them down as he went.

Harry thought about that for a minute as he watched Draco pace around the room. "Why did you take my side?"

Draco stopped abruptly and scowled. "It wasn't intentional, Hero Boy. We just happened to agree on something for once."

"You didn't answer my question, Ferret."

Malfoy put down a pink jewelry box he was holding and sighed. "Cedric Diggory was an alright guy. I respected him. To see the Ministry try to cover up how he died…would mean that he died in vain. You know?"

Harry stared at Draco in wonder, his anger dying down. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said."

Malfoy pulled out his wand and muttered a Silencio at the cats, to no avail. "Damn. Bloody annoying, these things are. Miserable woman."

Harry snorted. "I think that's the second thing we agree on." He turned around and picked up his quill to start writing, but didn't see any ink. "What the hell? There's no ink."

Draco was still muttering spells and pointing at the plates. He looked at Harry. "Of course there is, you idiot. Why wouldn't there be?"

Harry held his tongue. "Look for yourself."

Draco scowled and put his wand away as he walked over to the desk. "Yes there is, right…" he furrowed his eyebrows. "Crazy old toad, there's no ink."

"Brilliant you are." Harry said sarcastically, and Malfoy shot him a dirty look as his plopped down in his desk. "How does she expect us to write with no ink?"

"Wait a minute. What's that?" Draco indicated to a pink little sticky note on the desk, a note that Harry had sworn hadn't been there before. Harry plucked it off tentatively, and Draco leaned closer to see. It read:

You won't need any ink.

"What the…?" Harry looked confused, but Draco's eyes widened in realization. He snatched a quill off a desk.

"It couldn't be…there's no way…" He turned the quill over and over in his hand, studying the design as if it were a puzzle.

"What?"

"Merlin…Potter, these are Blood Quills."

Harry blinked. "What?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "God, you're bloody clueless. Blood Quills are punishment quills that don't require ink, because they use your own blood. They were banned from Hogwarts decades ago, although I hear Durmstrang still uses them. Whatever you write is forever inscribed into your hand…it's quite painful."

Harry stared. "How do you know this?"

"None of your damn business, Potter." Malfoy snapped, and took out his wand again. He pointed it at the parchment and began whispering enchantments Harry couldn't make out, but suddenly words appeared on the paper in graceful lines, copying themselves over and over until the whole page was filled with I must not tell lies in red, shiny ink.

He turned to Harry's blank face. "Look," he said, his voice softening. "It's a touchy subject, alright?" he took a deep breath. "When I was younger…sometimes, as a punishment, father would tell me to write lines…the first time, I had no idea, and…I felt a sharp, burning pain on my hand, and by the time I was done…" Malfoy looked away, breaking Harry's gaze.

It was then that Harry noticed Malfoy's right hand, which had a faint, grey scar. Harry saw faded words, but before he could decipher them Malfoy snatched his hand away, putting it safe underneath his cloak.

"I'm so sorry." Harry found himself saying, and then instantly realized it was the first time he had ever felt sympathy for Malfoy. In fact, it was the first time Harry had felt any emotion towards Malfoy besides hatred or irritation. He suddenly felt very overwhelmed.

"Don't pity me, Potter." Malfoy said, although he held no real heat. "Anyway," he continued. "I never confronted him about it. After the first time, I talked to some of my friends from Durmstrang, and they taught me this." As he was speaking, he lifted up his hand towards his chest and pointed his wand at the pale skin. Harry watched in bewilderment as purple light hit Malfoy's hand, and, almost like a quill itself, drew elegant swirls and loops, until finally the light faded, and Harry could make out the words on the now branded and burnt skin. I must not tell lies.

Before Harry could ask, Malfoy said, "Glamor charm. You see, typically, Glamor charms are used to cover up imperfections. Many don't realize that they create them, as well. Takes a lot of practice, though."

This was a side of Malfoy that Harry had never seen before. Usually, he saw the annoying, sarcastic, snotty Slytherin, the blonde git that made Harry so mad every time he saw him he wanted to punch his nose in. But now, in front of him, was a cool, calm, and sophisticated Draco Malfoy, who was acting more intelligent and less snotty than Harry had ever witnessed.

Malfoy suddenly grabbed his wrist, and Harry barked, "Let go of me, prat!" but before he could jerk his hand away, a purple light came from Malfoy's wand and Harry felt his skin tickle. A few seconds later the light faded and left Harry with a similar branded mark, although this time the handwriting was slightly different. Draco started to inspect it but Harry snatched his hand away, alarmed.

"Calm down, you ponce. It will fade in an hour or two."

"Why are you helping me?" he asked, as Malfoy started on his parchment.

"Because, if Umbridge sees that you haven't written, she'll make us serve another detention." Malfoy said defiantly, but the argument was weak, and he knew it. He looked away and began casting the spell on his paper, both of them watching in silence as the words appeared, again in slightly different handwriting than before.

"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Harry asked when he was finished, and Malfoy sighed in defeat.

"No…I just…I don't feel like fighting with you anymore." He saw Harry's bewildered look, and quickly spat, "Frankly, your pitiful existence just isn't worth my time. It took me a couple of years to figure it out, is all."

Harry cracked a smile despite himself. "Really?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes, really." He sneered, but started chuckling too.

"And you can just decide this, without my agreement?" Harry asked, mock-seriously.

"It only takes one person to start an argument, Potter." Malfoy said, quite seriously, and Harry stopped laughing.

"What about your father?" Harry asked. "Surely he wouldn't be happy that you not only defied a Ministry dog, but are acting civil towards me, as well?"

Malfoy didn't answer immediately, and before he could, the door cracked open, and Dolores Umbridge entered the room. She eyed them carefully, and walked towards their desks, examining their parchments and hands. Then, she said sweetly, "You two may go. I should hope not to see you in here again."

Harry and Malfoy got up, trying to leave the room as quickly as possible. They were halfway out the door when she called, "Oh, and Mr. Malfoy? I told Professor Snape about your disobedience in my classroom. He is not pleased, and wishes to speak with you immediately." She giggled and turned away, and the two boys hurriedly left.

They started walking in different directions, neither meeting the other's eye, until Harry paused, stopping. Curious, he turned and shouted, "See ya, Ferret!"

He watched as Malfoy stopped at the sound of his voice. He turned around, and Harry could tell he was hesitating. He was about to give up and walk away when Malfoy said, "Bye, Potter."

With a sense of weird finality, Harry turned and began walking again, and he could tell Malfoy was doing the same.


Harry walked into the Gryffindor common room around seven to find it empty except for a few first years, and Ron and Hermione. He was eager to tell them about his detention, but noticed that they both looked downcast, and barely acknowledged Harry as he entered.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Hermione hesitated. "Trelawney's been sacked."

"What?"

Hermione began to tear up, so Ron cut in. "All those classroom examinations Umbridge has been doing lately…well, apparently Trelawney didn't…live up to the Ministry's expectations." He put a soothing hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione sniffed. "I've never liked that class, but, you should have seen it, Harry. It was in the middle of the hall, in front of everybody, and Umbridge tried to ban her from the grounds…luckily Dumbledore intervened, but the look on her face…"

With bitter realization Harry remembered the "errands" Umbridge had left for, and he could feel his fingernails digging into his palm. "We can't keep taking this. We have to fight back."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, well, easier said than done, Harry. I mean, this is the Ministry we're talking about. It's not like we have our own secret army or anything under our sleeves."

Suddenly, Hermione gasped. "Ron, you're brilliant."

"What'd I do?" he asked, confused.

Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, who were both equally confused. "I have an idea."