And so Vergil give's Harry's year a right proper introduction to the dark side, and generally FUBARS Fudge's attempts at Snowballing Hogwarts and Dumbledore.
This party's gettin' crazy...Let's Rock!
Hogwarts Inquisition.
Cornelius Fudge paced in his office at the Ministry of Magic, his face a mix between impotent terror and rage.
It had been bad enough when his attempt at curtailing Dumbledore's attempts at turning the impressionable students of Hogwarts into an army failed, namely by the simple fact that his little 'Educational Decree' had been beaten by Dumbledore actually managing to find someone to fill the role of DADA professor. This meant he'd had to find a different method of having one of his people planted at Hogwarts, but there was only so much authority Dolores could wield with only the title of 'Representative', which basically meant she was little more than a Freeloader, with no more power or rights than those of a student.
Hell she wasn't even allowed to enter the dorms, let alone the offices of the staff.
Not only that, he had a sneaking suspicion that the messages she was sending him were being checked, but brushed this aside as ludicrous. Dolores was a Ministry official, she had her own private owl that was immune to the screening Fudge had set up over the Hogwarts Owl-Post, and all letters to the ministry were covered with protective spells that would trigger the minute the wrong recipient touched it, thus destroying the contents.
But the fact was Dumbledore had not only managed to recruit a new professor, but Fudge had absolutely no idea who the man was. He clearly wasn't on the Ministry's list of potential DADA professors, or Fudge would have already seen to it he was 'indisposed', and there was no listing of a Vergil anywhere in the Auror reports. It was as if the man had popped out of thin air to mock the Minister.
For a fleeting second, he humored the possibility of the man being a muggle, or even a squib, but brushed it aside as madness. Dumbledore might have gone mad, a delusion that Fudge had desperately come to believe as fact, but even HE wouldn't be so desperate as to hire a Squib, let alone bring a Muggle past the anti-detection wards.
Still, the fact was the man wasn't in Fudge's pocket, which most logically, according to the desperate Minister, meant he was one of Dumbledore's men, which in turn meant that right now he was likely teaching a much different curriculum than the Ministry had planned out for the year, and the many that would follow if Fudge had any say about it.
'This will NOT do.' Fudge muttered, idly turning his bowler hat between his hands, biting on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood as he feebly tried to think of a way to circumvent Dumbledore's scheming 'Dolores is literally flying blind, without the authority as professor she can't even set up a communication's spell in the fireplace, and there's only so much we can risk to Owl Post...'
"Sir?" a voice called out from behind as Percy Weasley, the Minister's junior assistant and estranged son of the Weasley family, entered with a stack of forms to fill in "Here are the-!"
"HAVEN'T YOU EVER HEARD OF KNOCKING?" Fudge snarled, though in actuality it was more like a terrified shriek, as he'd been rather jumpy of late, wondering when one of Dumbledore's spies would swoop in and jinx him.
'As a matter of fact,' he noted, his eyes narrowing as Percy scuttled out of the room in a panic, leaving the papers fluttering where he'd thrown them in the air 'the whole Weasley family's in Dumbledore's pocket…better make inquiries into his loyalty…!'
He trailed off, running that last train of thought through his head as a slow, wicked grin formed on his face, before jamming his Bowler on top of his head and making for the records room, idly making a note to give Weasley a raise.
After all, anyone that could help the minister think up a plan THIS ingenious couldn't POSSIBLY be against him.
Breakfast, hogwarts...
"High Inquisitor?" Harry repeated, looking over Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet in disbelief, idly skimming through Percy's load of gobshite concerning how well Umbridge had been accepted into Hogwarts.
"Accepted my arse." Ron muttered in agreement, shooting the smug looking toad a look of disgust between bites of bacon and porridge "The way they're going on you think she hasn't been sneaking around the castle like a cat-burglar. I hear she got caught trying to convince Filch to unlock the door to the staff-room the other day."
"I wonder what on earth they meant by 'Weeding out the threats to our children'?" Hermione wondered aloud, looking over the paper with a frown "You'd think there was a Death Eater mixed in with the faculty…" she blinked at the deadpan stare the others sent her "Oh come on! So it happened once! Even Dumbledore was convinced that Grouch was Moody!"
Harry shook his head, not wanting too think to much on the events of the previous year, where he'd been literally been led around by the nose by one of Voldemort's flunkies in the disguise of Albus' retired Auror friend and then DADA Professor. Ironically though, aside from Lupin in his third year, the faux-Moody had probably taught Harry the most in regards to the dark side of magic, and probably saved Harry's life, albeit unintentionally, by hammering the concept of 'Constant Vigilance' into his head.
It still didn't change the fact that Grouch had arranged things so Harry would compete in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, an event that led not only to the revival of Voldemort into a corporeal body, but the death of Cedric Diggory, which could have all been avoided had Harry not been involved and Cedric not been a sportsman, insisting that BOTH Hogwarts competitors touch the Cup at the same time.
He could still remember the sight of Cedric's echo circling him, alongside the ghostly remnants of his parents, Lily and James Potter, and countless other souls that had been snuffed out by Voldemort as the two battled in the graveyard, could still see the acceptance on Cedric's face, the look of forgiveness that made it clear he held no grudge against Harry for his death, his yell for Harry to run before he and the other echoes hurled themselves at Voldemort, holding him off long enough for Harry to reach the Cup-turned-Portkey and make his escape.
Shaking his head suddenly, Harry looked up at the staff table, noting once again that Hagrid absence with a hint of wonderment, before turning his attention towards the apparent witch of the hour, only to blink as he caught her staring, not at him, but at Professor Vergil. The look on Umbridge's face as decidedly smug, almost as if she had been appointed Minister herself, but it was slowly turning sour as Professor Vergil, with his usual regal, detached air, simply ignored the woman in favor of conversing with Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration Mistress looking rather surprised, as Vergil had never started a conversation before.
"What is it?" Hermione asked, drawing Harry's attention back to his friends, only to find Ron looking up at the staff table, a wide grin stretching across his freckled face.
"Nothing really." The redhead noted, taking a rather smug bite out of his toast, never taking his eyes off the table "I just can't wait to see McGonagall and Vergil get inspected. Umbridge won't know what hit her."
Harry blinked, looking back at the table as an identical smirk crossed his own face, looking over the strict, but fair head of Gryffindor house, before flinching as he looked at Professor Vergil, as something told him that, while undoubtedly epic, he wouldn't want to be within a hundred miles of Umbridge when she came to inspect the man's class.
Later that day...
Umbridge didn't make an appearance at their History of Magic lesson, meaning they could all drift through Binn's slumber inducing lecture, something about some demon uprising two millennia ago that, once again, would have been more exciting had anyone else been talking about it, followed by a period of Double Potions where, much to his shock, and Snape's obvious distaste, Harry's essay on moonstones had somehow, despite his scrawling it while half-asleep, managed to rate an 'A', which according to Fred and George, who'd met up with them for Lunch, was deemed 'Acceptable', which Harry correctly surmised was the Wizarding equivalent of the muggle grade 'C'.
"You lot had an inspected lesson yet?" Fred asked, as the twins settled down for lunch next to the golden trio, Hermione shaking her head in denial, asking the twins if they'd been inspected yet, to which George nodded, as Umbridge had apparently seen fit to sit in on Flitwick's class.
"I can't see old Flitwick getting marked down." George muttered, helping himself to a buttered roll as he spoke "He usually gets everyone through their exams alright."
"Who've you got this afternoon?" Fred asked, turning an inquisitive gaze towards Harry, who promptly pulled out his timetable to double check his classes for the day.
"Trelawney…" the teen muttered, inwardly agreeing with the twin's opinion of the batty, overdramatic seer rating a 'T' despite himself "and Professor Vergil."
"Now there's a Professor!" George opined, the grin on his face absolutely manic, as if the creators of Zonko's, the wizarding joke shop, had just handed them the keys to his factory "He's mental! Have you seen him with that sword of his?"
"Wicked." Fred agreed, shaking his head in wonderment at some deliciously gory memory that made the golden trio blink "Dumbledore's alright in our book, and it'll take a lot to outdo Lupin, but I tell ya, Professor Vergil comes pretty damn close."
"I still think it's strange." Hermione muttered, frowning at the incredulous stares sent her way by the four males "Well think about it, most people don't consider demonology a subject that should be taught. I actually think a branch of the Ministry that specialized in it was shut down and merged with the Auror corps."
"Well I think it's pretty clear what Professor Vergil thinks of the Ministry's interference." George pointed out with a smug smirk as he eyed the blue-clad Professor on at the staff table "Anyways, see you at Quidditch practice Harry."
Divination that day proved even more unpleasant than usual, as Umbridge had apparently decided to sit in on the lesson, makin little notes and asking Professor Trelawney for examples of her craft. Needless to say Trelawney, who to Harry's knowledge had yet to predict anything remotely solid, including the various threats on Harry's life, did NOT make much of an impression on the Inquisitor.
Sadly, after having his dream diary read aloud, and apparently somehow even managing to receive a death sentence in all of them, including the one where he'd simply been eating porridge, Harry couldn't bring himself to pity the woman any more, and his mood hadn't improved when Umbridge had apparently tagged along with the group to sit in on Professor Vergil's class.
Or rather she tried to, as just before she was about to enter, coincidentally right behind Neville, Professor Vergil had, apparently without noticing her, slammed the door in her face, the woman's shriek as she was knocked off her feet brightening Harry's, and the rest of the class' day.
"Miss Umbridge." The blue-clad Professor greeted, opening the door with a detached air to find the high inquisitor glaring up at him indignantly from her spot on the hallway floor "What brings you here?"
"Professor Vergil." Umbridge began, her tone reminiscent of a serpent's hiss for the briefest of seconds, before she managed to control herself, standing up straight with her clipboard in hand "Did you not receive my note, giving the time and date of your…"
"Inspection?" Vergil cut in, his tone dismissive, though Harry felt a shiver wash over him for some strange reason, as if he'd stepped through a ghost "I had forgotten, as I had more pressing matters to handle, namely attending to my classes."
Umbridge's face twitched as the class let out a series of snickers, but covered it up with effort and smiled, a sick-looking grimace that displayed her pointed teeth "I certain you've been very…busy." She noted, sending a dark glare towards Harry, or more specifically, the teen's copy of the Encyclopedia Demonica "And certainly, the proper education of the children SHOULD be your primary concern-!"
"Glad we are in agreement." Vergil cut in, turning his back on the witch as he strode towards his desk "There is a stool at the back of the class, feel free to use it if you grow tired of standing."
Harry actually had to clamp a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing as Umbridge once again pulled off a stunning imitation of Uncle Vernon, her face turning a ruddy puce as she shook with impotent rage, before storming to the back of the class and perching on the stool, a dusty little thing that would have been perfect for Flitwick, but had her tilting at odd angles if she leant too far one way or the other.
"Now then," Vergil spoke out, turning to face the class, his hands once again resting on Yamato's pommel like a cane, his blue eyes looking over the students impassively "Who here can tell me the most effective means of disabling a Marionette? Granger?"
"Sir," Hermione responded, ignoring the sound of Umbridge clearing her throat at the back of the class "Marionette's, being little more than puppets manipulated by dark energy, can be easily broken apart by impact spells of notable force. Furthermore, being puppets, they can be set alight and disposed of that way."
"Correct on both counts." Vergil acknowledged, nodding his head towards the bushy-haired prefect in approval "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now then, what is the difference between a Marionette and a Bloody Mari?"
"One's a drink sir?" Lee Jordan quipped, earning a round of laughter from the class that covered up yet another not-so-subtle cough from Umbridge, though they quickly stilled as Vergil leveled a glare at them, only to snort offhandedly.
"I suppose you have a point there, Jordan." The blue-clad professor noted, the class sighing in relief, again covering up Umbridge's cough "Still, Five points from Gryffindor for your cheek, unless of course you can tell me the REAL difference?"
"Erm, Bloody Mari's are red sir?" the youth stammered, wracking his brains desperately in a bid to keep the points Hermione had earned, as the brunette could get quite snippy when she wanted to "OH! And they like to throw knives sir!"
"Not a textbook answer but good enough." Vergil muttered, earning a sigh of relief from Lee, who slumped against his desk in relief "They are also notably more resilient to spells than simple Marionettes, in layman's term it would take a Reductor curse, or something in that range, to take them down permanently. Though one could also manage it with a good solid thrust to the torso with a decent weapon." He quirked an eyebrow at the class as they gaped at him in awe "Well? Why aren't you taking notes?"
The rustle of quill and parchment did not quite cover up Umbridge's cough this time, but Vergil simply gazed over his class authoritatively, appearing to have not heard her. "Now then," he muttered "at the end of our last class I suggested you all do some additional reading on a subject of your choice, who here would like to share their material?" he looked over the class, noting the rather impressive show of hands, none more eager than Hermione, only to nod his head "Potter, did you find a subject worth mentioning?"
"Not really sir," Harry admitted, flinching slightly as the professor's eyebrow quirked in a manner that unnerved him, "Not that I didn't find anyone," he corrected hurriedly, as for some reason, the idea of displeasing was decidedly unsettling "its just there wasn't a lot of information on him."
"I'd be surprised if there was." Vergil admitted, earning a blink from the majority of the class, who'd lowered their hands to pay attention "Judging by the way you referred to the subject as 'him', I'm guessing you must have looked up one of the 'Named' demons or Devils." He ignored the choking noise Umbridge made from the back of the class "Named demons are generally harder to gather information on, as unlike regular ones, they are not only as intelligent as any mortal, sometimes even more so, but they tend to kill anything in their path."
The class shivered at that, some of them looking decidedly pale around the face at the idea of some of the things they'd read coming after them, even as Vergil waved for Harry to continue.
"Like I said, there wasn't a lot on this one sir," Harry admitted, opening the book to a specific page "It's more of a footnote really, but his name is mentioned frequently in other chapters. Have you ever heard of a demon called Sparda sir?"
Vergil went deathly still, as if struck dead by a bolt of lightning where he stood, his hands clenching atop the pommel of Yamato as the class looked on in growing alarm. "Potter…" the blue clad man called out, his tone laced with a cold authority that caused the class to back up slightly in their seats "Are you sure the demon's name was Sparda?"
"Y-yes sir?" Harry stammered, a little unnerved as he looked into the Professor's eyes, feeling once more the unbreakable pull of those steel-blue orbs "It doesn't really go into detail though, but his name is mentioned several times in the book and…"
"I suppose he would be." Vergil allotted, his tone returning to something akin to normalcy as he calmed down, the oppressive aura that had bore down on the class diminishing "After all, that particular Devil has quite a history."
"Devil sir?" Hermione repeated, even as excited mutters rose from amidst the class, covering up Umbridge's attempts at garnering attention quite effectively "You've said that term before, surely you don't mean THE devil sir?"
"No Miss Granger." Vergil countered, shaking his head in contradiction "Lucifer, otherwise known as the Morning Star, is a completely different entity to the beings known as Devils, though there are those who believe they are in some way related to him." He turned to face the class once more "Devils are a higher caliber of monster, you could say they're the monsters even monsters fear to cross. A skilled mortal could possibly fend off an army of lesser demons on their own with the appropriate spells and armaments, but all it would take is one blow for a Devil to dispatch him, and the very army he'd been fighting."
"Sir?" Lee Jordan called out, raising his hand in the air, blocking Umbridge's features from Vergil's view, much to the man's relief "You said the Devil Harry mentioned had a History?"
"I did indeed." Vergil admitted, looking down at the pommel of Yamato as he spoke, a smirk forming as small, arcs of blue energy danced over his hand, invisible to the naked eye "He's infamous in the underworld, the Devil that turned his back on his own kin…" he looked up, his eyes seeming to bore into the student's eyes at once "for the sake of humanity."
Shocked gasps erupted, followed by frantic whispering as the students looked between one another in shock, covering up a particularly LOUD cough from Umbridge, who was turning red with rage at being so soundly ignored, only to let out a shriek as the stool finally collapsed under her weight, sending her clattering to the floor on her back. HARD.
"Miss Umbridge," Vergil called out, even as the rest of the class turned to gape at the struggling High Inquisitor, laughing their heads off as she rolled around like an upturned turtle "If you cannot keep from disrupting my class with such theatrics I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"PROFESSOR VERGIL." Umbridge snapped, rising to her feet, her face a mask of impotent fury, the mask of geniality gone as she advanced on the man, her broken clipboard under her arm and her hair and clothes a distinct mess "Just WHAT do you think you're teaching these children?"
"I think it should be painfully obvious," Vergil replied, his reserved features a stark contrast to that of Umbridge, who looked ready to explode at any given moment "I was asked to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Demons happen to be my area of expertise." He smirked, looking smugly down at the much shorter woman "And in my opinion, when it comes to dark, Demons are as bad as it gets."
"That is NOT the POINT!" Umbridge snapped, jabbing her finger into the man's chest for emphasis "The ministry has most CERTAINLY not sanctioned this subject to be taught here! When Minister Fudge learns of this-!"
"He can, and will, do nothing." Vergil countered, his tone suddenly slipping into sub-zero temperatures as he glared at the woman that had dared assault him so "While I may not have been here as long as the rest of the staff, I know for a FACT that the ministry has no authority over the curriculum taught at Hogwarts. Even if the whole Wizarding world were to back Fudge, the very laws he seeks to manipulate to get his way prohibit him from so much as voicing a protest." He narrowed his eyes coldly "Doubtless one of the reasons he tried to have you assigned to the school was so you could ensure these children wasted their time on theoretical claptrap that has no benefit in the real world."
Umbridge recoiled as if slapped, lowering her gaze fearfully as Vergil's eyes flashed red and blue, the same terror that had sent her scuttling out of his class before returning, only this time Vergil was standing between her and the exit, and he did NOT look inclined to let her pass. She panted heavily, sweat trailing down her face as she clapped a hand to her heart, which was beating erratically under the strange pressure that seemed to be weighing her down.
Then the bell went, signifying the end of classes for the day, and the pressure was gone, the High Inquisitor stumbling from the sudden shift, only to find Vergil staring down at her coolly, a good foot to the side of where he'd been standing, allowing her clear passage to the doorway.
Had someone thought to time the High Inquisitor, as she raced out the door at top speed in her impractical heels, they would have surely noted the new speed record the woman had broken in her mad attempt to vacate the classroom, racing off to her office to report her findings to Fudge.
"Well, it would seem class has ended for today." Vergil muttered, not even smirking as Umbridge's footsteps retreated, knowing that Pollux would intercept the woman's letters and that a communications network had yet to be set up in her fireplace. It seemed that whoever wove the protective wards over Hogwarts had been VERY specific as to who was allowed to possess such a tool, meaning only the faculty could have one set up, a position that Umbridge lacked, despite Fudge's attempts at having the title of Inquisitor added to the recognition charms.
"Now then," he called out "I want each of you that researched a unique subject to bring me in a two foot long report on them by the end of the week." He glared at the class, silencing their moans of protest "Furthermore, it must be your own research, that means you can't just copy the details out of the textbook. And no copying either, anyone that submits a report on the same demon will lose ten points from Gryffindor, and receive a 'D' no matter HOW detailed their report was.
The class groaned at that, some of them looking at him in horror, and in the odd case betrayal, but nonetheless set about packing up their things for the day, eager to get a head start.
"Potter." Vergil called out, looking at the scarred teen out the corner of his eye as he walked past "I highly recommend you find a different Devil to report on." He held the teen's confused stare for a moment "But if you insist on continuing and need some additional information regarding Sparda, feel free to stop by my office later."
Harry blinked, before nodding, dashing off after his friends with a parting word of thanks to the Professor, who watched him go with an evaluative stare.
'Sparda huh?' Vergil muttered, reaching into his shirt and pulling out a gold amulet on a chain, gazing into the crimson depths of the jewel embedded in it as a wry smirk crossed his features 'Well father, it appears even the reclusive wizards may yet learn of your story.'
Trust Harry to be the one to stumble onto Sparda, eh? The boy really needs to do something about that annoying, danger fixation of his.
Neeldess to say, Umbridge isn't going to be reporting much to Fudge, as Pollux is keeping a dutiful eye on every owl leaving the castle. Pollux can do this because the Ministry, with typical ineptitude, did not factor House Elf Magic into the wards they place on their mail.
But then again, what self-respecting wizard (Harry and Hermione excepted) would suspect a House Elf to be tapping the line? Dumbledore sure as hell didn't, the Malfoys didn't, so why should Fudge, who makes Squibs look capable, suspect it?
This allows Vergil to skim the contents at his leisure, sometimes editing them to remove any trace of his activites, whilst leaving her reports on Dumbledore alone.
Hey, just because he's working for the guy doesn't mean he likes him. Fudge could care less about the rest of the faculty, with the notable exception of McGonagall, Snape and Hagrid, but Dumbledore's activities are his primary concern, so if they were removed from the letters, he'd doubtless grow suspicious.
Though considering his growing paranoia, that might not be so far off ;P
Keep on reviewin' fight fans!