While Harry was intent on winning his bet with Luna, deep down he still doubted whether he could actually make the hated woman leave the castle. After scrambling about for a few days, he realized that rushing in blind wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he decided to treat the whole thing like a quest in a role-playing game. And the first thing one did when trying to figure out a complex quest was talk to as many NPCs as possible and fish for information.
Harry had learned many fascinating, if largely useless things after talking to the numerous portraits, ghosts, and other students at Hogwarts. Approaching strangers from other houses wasn't something he did routinely, so he felt quite uncomfortable and awkward at first. The hate for Umbridge seemed to be universal, however, so he quickly found a common ground – even with the few Slytherins he spoke to.
"Look, Potter, I'd love to get a competent DADA teacher, for a change," Aileen Mulligan, a sixth-year Slytherin he had never exchanged a single word with before, told Harry after looking around and making sure no one would see her chatting with the Boy-Who-Lived. "But Umbridge is here to stay. Fudge wants her at Hogwarts, and the witch isn't stupid – politically, at least. She keeps well away from the children of the more influential families, and as long as she doesn't antagonize someone important, Wizengamot has no reason to push for her removal."
Harry nodded thoughtfully, and suggested Aileen come to the next DA meeting so she could actually practice some defensive magic. To his pleasant surprise, the girl agreed.
They were able to learn some useful spells during the next few meetings, but it wasn't to last. Shortly before Easter, Umbridge barged into the Room of Requirement looking smug as a toad who just swallowed a big fat fly, announcing that everyone present was under arrest. To her shock, only Harry, Hermione, and Ron were left inside, having been warned about the High Inquisitor's plans beforehand by Dobby. Harry had intended to stay alone at first, but his two best friends refused to leave.
Ron kept blaming the Slytherins Harry had accepted into the club all the way to Dumbledore's office, but it turned out the traitor was Marietta Edgecombe, one of the girls who was constantly complaining about things 'triggering' her and telling the boys to check their privilege. He almost felt sorry for the snitch after seeing what Hermione's spell did to her face. The small office also contained McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Minister Fudge himself, accompanied by two grim-looking Aurors.
Shit really hit the fan when Umbridge gleefully produced the charmed DA roster. Harry actually felt anxious at this point, not knowing whether he would be expelled – or worse – but he needn't have worried. Dumbledore really came through this time and took the hit for Harry like a true bro, claiming that he was the founder of the DA. Fudge quickly realized that he had bigger fish to fry. Who cared about some schoolboy when he could remove a dangerous political opponent?
"You're under arrest, Dumbledore," the Minister proclaimed pompously. "Surrender your wand to the Aurors and come quietly, now."
"I don't think so, Minister," Dumbledore replied pleasantly, drawing the aforementioned wand in a theatrical manner.
"Well, that escalated quickly," Harry murmured to himself, retreating into a corner.
The Minister and soon-to-be wanted criminal exchanged a few more lines, and then the situation devolved into total chaos. A minute later, Dumbledore was gone, and the Ministry officials were, predictably, lying on the floor. Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione by the arm and performed a tactical retreat before anyone could remember that there was one more potential arrestee present in the room.
Things changed for the worse at Hogwarts after that. Most of the teachers were cowed into submission, or at least didn't openly display any resistance against the new Headmistress. Umbridge strutted the ancient halls like she owned the place, her lackeys – Draco Malfoy chief among them – following her example. Harry tried to keep his head down and avoid the so-called Inquisitorial Squad as much as possible, but he couldn't do it forever. Things eventually came to a head one gloomy Saturday afternoon, when Harry was ambushed on his way to the Library.
"Excuse me," Harry said blandly to the three Slytherins who were blocking his path. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered while Draco just stood in the middle of the corridor, looking as self-important as ever.
"Excuse me, please," he repeated, attempting to walk around the three idiots. The sniggers increased in volume. Losing his patience, Harry simply pushed through, knocking Malfoy aside with his shoulder and strolling away briskly – until he nearly walked into another member of the Inquisitorial Squad who had suddenly stepped out from a darkened alcove in front of him. One more student in Slytherin robes was approaching from the corridor ahead.
"Careful, Potter," the larger boy said softly. "Watch where you're going."
Harry's eyes darted around nervously. He was surrounded. The usual trio of morons were chuckling behind his back, and the much more dangerous older wizards – Warrington and Montague, if he remembered correctly – were blocking the corridor in the front, grinning wolfishly.
"Right," Harry said as calmly as he could. "I'll just be going now."
"I don't think so, Potter," Warrington said, preventing Harry from escaping. "I don't know what those Muggles you live with have taught you, but we purebloods follow a certain etiquette. It's really rude to bump into someone and leave without apologizing, you know."
"That's right, Potter," Malfoy drawled imperiously, "the least you could do after acting like a boorish lout is say you're sorry."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm sorry, Malfoy. Now, if you will excuse me..."
Warrington and Montague stepped in front of him again. The two older wizards had their wands out already, holding them in relaxed grips at their sides.
"That didn't sound very honest, Potter," Draco said spitefully. "You know what you should do? Kneel and apologize. Then we might let you go."
"Yeah," Montague spoke for the first time. "Get on your knees!"
"I'm not your mother last night! Stupefy!"
Montague went down with a dumb look of surprise on his face. Harry trained his wand at Warrington, but the older student was faster.
"Expelliarmus," he intoned lazily, paying no attention to Montague collapsing on the floor. Harry's wand sailed into Warrington's outstretched hand. Harry's fist sailed towards Warrington's nose, and connected with a satisfying crunch.
"Ow! Sonovabitch!"
Harry dived for his wand, which Warrington had dropped, but as soon as his fingers touched the familiar warm wood, he felt a massive weight drop on top of him and knock all the air from his lungs.
"I got him, Draco! I have him!" Crabbe shouted proudly.
"Get off me, you fat bastard!" Harry was squirming and trying to aim his wand at the fatass tackling him, but a heavy dragonhide boot stepped on his hand and he let go with a yelp.
"Not so tough now, are you, Potter?" Draco grabbed him by the hair, pulling Harry's head to look him in the eye.
"Go fuck yourself, ferret-boy."
"Tsk tsk, ever so ill-mannered, Potter. It's about time someone taught you how to respect your betters." Draco picked Harry's wand up, eyed it with distaste, and pocketed it. "Let him up, boys."
"I'll show this little shite," growled Warrington, still clutching his nose. "Hold him still, Crabbe, Goyle!"
"Don't leave any visible marks," Malfoy warned, suddenly concerned.
"Shut up, Draco."
Warrington approached Harry, then reared his fist back and punched him into the stomach. Harry doubled over, wheezing. He could hear laughter all around him. Two more hits followed, before Warrington was finally satisfied. Malfoy watched disapprovingly, but didn't dare say anything to the larger boy.
"That's nothing compared to what's waiting in store for you, Potter," Warrington warned him ominously. "Take him to the Headmistress, Draco."
"Glurb," Harry added eloquently.
And so, Harry was dragged halfway across the school to Umbridge's office. Draco seemed to pick a roundabout way in order to avoid the other students. When they arrived, Harry was mostly recovered, but he still made Crabbe and Goyle practically carry him inside. No reason to make things easier for the two pillocks.
"Well, well, Draco! What do we have here?" Umbridge's sickly-sweet voice grated on Harry's ears.
"We apprehended Potter on the second-floor corridor, Madam. He bumped into me, and when Graham suggested he apologize, Potter immediately cast a Stunning spell on him. He also broke Cassius's nose. I thought this was beyond my authority, so we brought him to you at once."
"Indeed, Draco? Potter broke his nose? You've done well to bring him here, of course. That'll be fifty points to Slytherin." Umbridge sounded almost ecstatic at the opportunity of punishing Harry.
"That's not what happened," Harry said tiredly, not really expecting anyone to listen. "Malfoy and his gang of bullies ambushed me–"
"You will stay quiet unless spoken to, Mr. Potter," Umbridge interrupted. "I am a very busy witch and I do not have the time for your lies. Let's see: an unprovoked assault against another student, casting spells in the hallways..."
"He didn't obey our commands, either," Draco supplied helpfully.
"Defying authorized Squad members... Yes, I believe that will be two hundred points from Gryffindor" – Umbridge's face broke out into a rather disturbing smile – "and a detention with Mr. Filch tonight at 10. I'll hold on to your wand until then, Mr. Potter, so make sure to be there on time."
"Just one detention?" Draco sounded disappointed. "But he–"
"Oh, don't worry, Draco. It is going to be a very special detention. The Minister gave me full authority regarding disciplinary measures."
"What does that... Oh." Draco's grin mirrored Umbridge's now, and Harry felt rather uneasy. "In that case – have fun, Potter."
Harry approached the door to Filch's office with dread. He felt defenseless without his wand, and cursed his pride which had prevented him from going to McGonagall like Hermione suggested.
"It's just one detention," he murmured to himself, before knocking on the door. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Opening the door, he was greeted by an unexpected sight. Umbridge was there, speaking with Filch. The sour man seemed unusually animated and enthusiastic, and he greeted Harry almost cordially. Not a good sign.
"Good evening, Madam Umbridge, Mr. Filch." Might as well be polite for now.
"Evening, Potter. You're just in time. Get over here so we can begin," the man ordered gruffly.
Harry entered the small room, wrinkling his nose at the smell of fried fish. He had the sudden urge to ask Filch whether he liked fish sticks. The door behind him closed with a wave of Umbridge's wand, and he looked around nervously.
"Take your robes off, Potter." Harry hesitated, not sure what was going on. Meanwhile, Filch rummaged in one of his dingy cupboards and emerged with a whip. A whip!
"Oh no, I don't think so," Harry backed up until he hit the door. "There's no fucking way you're allowed to do that."
"Mr. Filch is authorized by myself to give you ten lashes for attacking your betters, Mr. Potter," Umbridge stated, looking at Harry almost hungrily. "Perhaps I should add one more for foul language."
"Fuck that noise! I'm leaving." Harry turned around and attempted to open the door. His hand had almost reached the knob, when suddenly his body went rigid and he couldn't move a muscle anymore.
"For too long you've run amok in this school with no consequences, Mr. Potter," Umbridge spoke to his back. "Well, we're about to change that. You must learn that you are not exempt from the rules – and that if you break them, you will be punished just like everyone else."
Harry felt himself being half-carried, half-dragged deeper into the room, Filch grunting with effort. The man rested Harry's statue-like body against the wall, and shackled his wrists. The manacles locked with a loud click, looking well-oiled as usual, and Filch seemed inordinately happy to finally have a chance to use them.
"You won't get away with this," Harry spoke as soon as Umbridge cancelled her spell. "I'll tell McGonagall. I'll contact the press. I'll call the Aurors!"
"Silly boy." Not only Umbridge didn't seem fearful in the least, it appeared Harry's defiance pleased her. "According to the old Hogwarts Charter, which no one bothered to change for centuries, this falls well within the authority of the Headmistress. Besides, it's not like anyone would believe a nasty little liar like yourself, Mr. Potter."
Filch grunted in agreement. He was turning the winch which raised Harry's arms up until he was almost hanging by his wrists, forced to stand on tiptoes. "These chains were given to me by my predecessor, and to him by his. Hogwarts wasn't always this nancy school, no sir. A hundred years back, they knew how to punish foul-mouthed misbehavers like yourself."
Another wave of Umbridge's wand, and Harry's robes and shirt disappeared from his body and appeared on a chair nearby... Neatly folded. That woman knew the weirdest spells.
"Eleven lashes, Mr. Filch. You may begin." Umbridge spoke in an undertone, her voice tinged with anticipation.
Harry grit his teeth, tensed his muscles, and closed his eyes, not being able to look at Umbridge's delighted smile anymore. He swore not to scream, and yet, when the first strike hit his body, he cried out. The pain came suddenly, as if a streak of fire burned across his back, and it didn't fade, either. As soon as Harry had himself under control, the whip landed on his back again, an even stronger blow this time. He opened his eyes inadvertently and recoiled when he saw Umbridge standing right next to him, peering into his face intently.
"Are you sorry, Mr. Potter?" she whispered. "Are you going to stop telling lies now?"
"You seek to break me," Harry choked out. "But the will of a templar is stronger!"
Umbridge stared at him in confusion, then sighed. "Go on, Mr. Filch. The boy still hasn't learned his lesson, it seems."
The pain was becoming unbearable, but there was no fucking way Harry was going to give up and beg for forgiveness. He retreated deep into himself, trying to ignore the agony, pretending that it was someone else getting whipped in Filch's office. Maybe if he knew actual Occlumency, he could deal with it.
Well, there was this one thing he could try...
Harry visualized a flame – a single bright point in an all-encompassing blackness, burning steadily and silently. He imagined taking all his pain, all his fear, balling it up, and feeding it to the fire, until there was nothing left but the void.
He opened his eyes. Umbridge was staring at him with a surprised look on her face. He didn't understand why, until he realized he was still standing on his tiptoes even though Filch had already slackened the chains.
"Have you learned your lesson, Mr. Potter?"
"I have, Madam Umbridge," Harry found himself answering calmly.
"Very well, then," Umbridge looked at him suspiciously. "Here's your wand back. You may go."
Harry grabbed his wand and clothes absent-mindedly and started walking to the Gryffindor tower without a backwards glance. He was in such a daze that he was surprised to see the common room what felt like seconds later.
Hermione was waiting for him by the fire, standing up and rushing to the door as soon as he opened them. She took in his shirtless appearance and the blank look on his face and frowned.
"Harry, what happened?... Oh my god! You're bleeding!"
Harry became aware of the hot, sticky liquid running down his back. There was no pain, though.
"Do you still have any Murtlap Essence, Hermione?" He knew she had used some to help Ron after his detention.
"I do, I even have something better.. But, oh, Harry, are you sure you shouldn't go to the Hospital wing instead?" Hermione was wringing her hands and seemed on the verge of tears.
"No, I'm fine. It doesn't hurt much."
Hermione didn't seemed to believe him, but that was the truth. Was it just shock, or did the Flame and the Void actually work? Not only Harry didn't feel pain, he didn't seem to feel anything at all. It was an odd state of mind, one that he wasn't used to at all.
"I'll be right back!" Hermione shouted and bolted up the stairs to her dorm. A minute later she emerged again, carrying a small bottle of murky brown liquid.
"Essence of Dittany," she explained breathlessly. "You should lie down."
Harry lied down on the sofa, Hermione sitting down next to him. He felt something cool touch his back, followed by an irritating itch. He stayed motionless, however, not sure how much time the medicine needed to work.
"It-it seems to be working, Harry," Hermione said, choking back sobs. "Oh, I'm so glad. I wasn't sure it would w-work, I brewed it myself after Professor Sprout gave me some of the herb, b-but that was the first time I did it, and... and..."
Harry got up carefully and saw that Hermione was whimpering and wiping her eyes furiously. He felt bewildered, and in his current condition, it took him some time to make the connection and understand that Hermione was weeping because of him.
"Hermione... it's alright. I'm alright."
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione flung her arms around him, buried her head in his chest, and started full-on bawling. Harry was almost amused at first, but then realized how it must have looked from her perspective, and started whispering assurances and comforting the distraught girl to the best of his ability. Holding Hermione in his arms wasn't so bad, Harry thought. He just wished it happened under different circumstances.
"What happened, Harry?" Hermione asked eventually, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of he robes. "Did... did Filch did this to you?"
"Yep," Harry said drily. "Umbridge's orders. She watched."
"That horrid woman... No, that bitch! I can't believe it! Even after all I've seen, this ass-backwards community manages to surprise me. If I ever end up in a position of power in the Ministry, I'm going to turn this world on it head!"
"Whoa! That's the spirit, Hermione."
Hermione was now pacing in front of the sofa, waving her arms around fervently. "We can't let her get away with this! I don't know what we can do through the official channels, but I'm going to research all the relevant laws and..."
"It's okay, Hermione," Harry interrupted her before he even realized what he was saying. "I'm working on it."
"You are?"
"Yes," Harry said confidently. The kid gloves were coming off. If Umbridge wanted to play rough, he would show her rough. Her, and anyone else who would challenge him. "I'll need your help, though. Are you up for it?"
"Anything," Hermione said resolutely.
"I need you to brew some Polyjuice."