Chapter 4
The new Defense teacher, a short and utterly repellent woman named Umbridge, made what must have been a mass murder attempt by boredom as she attempted to welcome herself to Hogwarts. Harry made no notice – just like the vast majority of students – aside from mentally noting that he would have to self-study DADA this year. Again.
Headmaster Dumbledore stood, waved his hand vaguely at the tables and said, "Begin," signaling the food to appear. He sat down, eyes twinkling madly. The Great Hall was awash in hundreds of private conversations. After the meal was served, and Ron became something of a minor sucking vortex of doom to any food within arm's reach, Harry began talking with Hermione again.
"I've got a project – well, another project – I'd like your help with." At Hermione's immediate full attention, he added, "It will just be checking over some essays every once in a while."
"What subject will you be covering?"
"Oh, they won't be my essays – like I said, I'm hiring out some thinking." Hastily, in response to Hermione's developing glare, he said, "It's not for a school class – I'm going to be announcing an essay contest. Andyoucan'tbeinit," he finished rapidly.
"WHAT?" Hermione's glare was … pronounced. Her shout was actually at a low volume that didn't attract notice, but Harry knew that she still required immediate attention.
"I want you to be a judge." She seemed to take this rather well, as the glare lessened, and he hastily went on, "If you were to enter, you'd win 'cause you're brilliant, but since you're my friend, everyone would say that you won 'cause of that, and I need everyone to trust the results." The glare dialed down even further, and he ended, "So I'd rather that you be a judge, and that will put everyone's mind at rest, and they'll know it will be judged strictly and fairly." The glare was gone.
"And … I'm going to have to poke some gentle fun at your reputation when I announce it after dinner." The glare was back, just a little bit, and Harry hastened to explain. Hermione eventually agreed, but gave Harry some guidelines.
She turned back to her food with a small smile. Harry didn't know why, but it was a relief – it didn't look like she was planning any retaliation. Harry had a lot of respect for her right fist. And the rest of her, but it was her right hook that he had to watch.
Once the meal had been consumed, Professor Dumbledore gave his beginning of the year announcements. Only the first years were truly alert and listening … and one fifth year. Harry was primed to stand, and his cue came when the Headmaster finished up with, "…and now we have an announcement from Mr. Potter."
Harry quickly strode the front of the Great Hall, and laughter arose as Harry climbed on top of a chair so he could see the other students. "Yeah, yeah – I'm short. I deal with it, okay?" He was smiling and his sally was well received. Taking a breath to power his voice, Harry began.
"Okay, so most of you know that for all my thinking needs, I turn it over to Hermione Granger." The laughter in response was agreeable. "Well, I've got a question, and Hermione, for all her strengths, only knows what is in books." Beat. "A truly amazing number of books, but still." More laughter. "And so I've decided to host a contest." Turning to the staff table, "Professor Flitwick?"
The short Professor disappeared behind the staff table and reappeared at Harry's side, standing on a conjured stool. Harry looked down at the Professor's perch, and said (loud enough for the entire hall to hear,) "You're going to have to teach me that. Anyway…" Harry pulled out a large bag, familiar to all that made Gringott's withdrawals. "This is the prize money for the contest I'm about to announce." He took a deep breath, "Five hundred Galleons!"
The hall went nuts as he handed the prize money over to the Charms Professor.
"Okay, people!" The noise abated, somewhat. "Professor Flitwick is keeping the prize money in escrow for the eventual winner, so you can trust that you will receive the reward. Here's the goal; I need a checklist to determine if someone is a Dark Lord." The noise disappeared like food in front of Ron Weasley. "This essay contest is basically a written debate, with 500 Galleons as the prize for the winner. Every Sunday, after our evening meal, those people that are interested in the contest can stay in the Great Hall and listen to the next contestants read their essays, trying to create the criteria for naming a Dark Lord or Lady." Harry cleared his throat and surveyed the room. The entire student body was … in a word, captivated. He went on.
"Anyone entering this contest is expressly forbidden to use any person, living, dead, or in between, to illustrate their position – this contest is strictly about coming up with the reasons why we would classify a person as Dark. Illustrating your ideas by referring to the actions of one, say, Dulbus Ambledore, would be allowed if not for the transparent nature of the allusion." A smattering of laughter, including some from the head table. "I'll be posting a more complete set of rules for you 'Claws and Snakes at the back of the Great Hall by morning."
Immediately, a question was shouted from the middle of the Ravenclaw table. "Why would the Ravenclaws and Slytherins need the rules?"
Harry grinned. "Gryffindors are going to jump in without reading them whether they're there or not. Hufflepuffs don't need the rules, because they'll play fair even without them. But the Ravenclaws will feel more secure with the rules for an assignment, even if it is optional."
"And what about the Snakes?"
Harry grinned, raised his hands to shoulder level, and faced the Slytherin table. "Well, they'll want to know what kind of cheating they can get away with, am I right?"
There was an answering set of grins from most of the students dressed in green, with one of the older boys giving Harry a lazy salute. Malfoy, however, was sitting very still, his face guarded, his gaze unwavering from Harry's. He doesn't know what's going on. He looks a bit confused.
Harry almost jumped down from his chair, but turned to address the hall again. "Oh, and you'll want to know that the judges are Professors Babbling, Vector, Flitwick, and McGonagall, and they will be joined by Miss Granger. Thanks!" And with that, Harry jumped off the chair and strode back to his dinner seat as the hall's ambient noise grew ever louder.
o0O—O0o
Harry was waiting for it – it was overdue, after all. It didn't happen on the train; for some reason, it didn't happen at the Welcoming Feast … Harry was waiting, and if it didn't happen soon, he was going to go spare from the anticipation. But the pale hair making its way through the hall against the flow of students promised that in just a few minutes, that tension of waiting would be gone.
Finally, Draco stood before Harry, shadowed as always by his 'friends', Plug and Ugly. "Are you sure you can afford …" Draco trailed off, looking at Harry's clothes. Unlike previous years, Harry now had clothes that fit, and he had gone to a bit of effort to buy slightly upscale fashions, too. They weren't the latest, like what Draco perpetually wore, and they weren't ostentatious (again, like Draco), but his clothes put Harry Potter in the 'wealth, taste, and class' category. Harry was dressed the same way that most of the Malfoy followers dressed, so Draco couldn't make fun of Harry's clothes without jeopardizing a lot of Malfoy alliances.
"Yes, Draco, I can afford the contest prize money. I have even more money to give away to people that can complete certain tasks. Why, pocket money a little tight lately?" Harry's tone of voice said 'idle chatter and bored of it', but his body language said 'I'd love to kick your arse.'
Draco could recognize the danger and flushed at the implied threat, and began to back away. "I doubt very much that hiring people to do your homework is allowed, Potty. When my father hears about this,"
"He'll have to agree that I'm not doing anything of the sort," Harry interrupted. "Get out of the way, Drakie-poo. I've got class now, where unlike you, I'm going to earn my grades."
Draco paused his backwards creep to say in a low voice, "The Dark Lord's back, Potter."
Whatever Draco was going to follow that with was lost, because Harry said, "One of them. The other never left." His absent-minded tone must have been disarming to Draco, because the aristocratic blond gaped at Harry's back as he walked to the common rooms.
Harry smirked to himself. And yet more groundwork is laid.
o0O—O0o
Harry's schedule had a notable flaw in it – Divination was still listed. Bracing McGonagall in her capacity as Deputy Headmistress, she confessed that Harry's elective choices had been overridden by the Headmaster… "… and he expects to meet with you directly after the Welcoming Feast."
Which was why Harry was leaning up against the wall opposite a smirking gargoyle. As if a structure exclusively used for exterior decoration, parked in the middle of an interior corridor, doesn't clue people in that there's something extremely important here. I wonder if a confundus charm will work on that stone guardian?
It wasn't much later that the Headmaster appeared, trailed by his Deputy.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as usual. "Would you care to come into my office, young Harry?"
Harry couldn't help but think, Just because I'm younger doesn't mean that I'm less wise, you old fart. He noticed that Dumbledore's genial expression slipped for a moment.
Once they were all settled in Dumbledore's office, with McGonagall off to the side, the Headmaster began, "I'm afraid that I must insist on your schedule including Divination, my boy."
Harry immediately went on the offensive. "First of all, Headmaster, I am not 'your boy.' That level of familiarity is unwarranted and inappropriate. As the Student Handbook states, I am to be addressed as 'Mr. Potter.' If you are unable to follow the customs and traditions that are apparently even older than you, I will personally take my complaint to the Ministry, the Wizengamot, the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and the press."
The two adults in the room were silent, apparently somewhat stunned.
Harry added, "And I seriously dislike your attempts to interfere with my education. This will also be part of my complaint, if I must make it public."
The Headmaster attempted to rally. "But my … Mr. Potter, it is imperative that you understand the nature of prophecy. This is something that you absolutely need!"
"No, Headmaster," Harry shot back, "it is not something I need. It is something you need. And I can thank you for finally hinting at why you have interfered in my life to such an extent. I have given you four years to explain why Mr. Riddle has taken such an interest in me, and only now is this coming out?" The whispered expletive "Bastard" wasn't low enough to go unnoticed by either adult, but they chose to let it pass.
The Headmaster attempted to take a grandfatherly tack. "And as your guardian, I must say that I am disappointed to that you have chosen to alienate your good friend Mr. Weasley. After the return of Mr. Riddle not five months ago, you should really gather all the friends around you that you can."
Harry snorted expressively. "In order, Mr. Dumbledore, when you claim guardianship over me, I believe that you lie. If you have taken any sort of oath concerning insuring my well-being, you have violated it continually since I was 20 months old. And secondly, if I were to gather my friends around me, I would certainly not include someone so inconstant as Ronald Weasley. Are there any other subjects that you would like to discuss?"
The cold vitriol evident in Harry's voice shocked both Professors. Professor McGonagall weakly responded, "Mr, Potter, guardianship is …"
Harry swiftly and firmly interrupted, "Those subjects are closed. I did not ask to discuss topics where you have already proven that you are ignoring my desires and well-being. I opened the floor to new topics. Are there any? No? Then I shall see myself out." And before the staff could collect their scattered thoughts, Harry was out the door.
The next morning, Harry was treated to the inexplicable sight of Ronald Weasley descending from the dorms well before breakfast was to be served. Ron approached Harry in a quiet section of the common room and began, "Harry, I don't know why you wouldn't visit during the summer, but I don't want that to hurt our friendship." He extended his right hand for Harry to shake.
Harry derailed Ron's script by refusing to do so. "Swear to me on your magic that this apology is your own idea."
Ron gaped soundlessly at Harry.
Harry turned and walked away. "Idiot." Ron Weasley's association with The-Boy-Who-Lived permanently evaporated at the moment. As Ginny was observed snogging with Dean later that evening, Harry regarded the Weasley complications as 'taken care of'.