Chapter 21: Think Like a Slytherin

Harry sat, glaring at Umbridge and feeling like he'd like nothing more than to hit her right in her overly-smug face. Still, he managed to push the feeling down and sat at the desk she indicated to both him and Daphne.

"What will we be doing tonight?" asked Daphne, adopting her Ice Queen persona.

"Oh you'll be writing lines for me," she said. "I would like you to both write, 'I must not tell lies."

Harry growled, grabbing the quill from the table.

"How many times?" he asked, clenching his teeth.

"Oh," Umbridge said, dismissively. "As many times as it takes for it to sink in."

Harry growled and began to write on the paper only to feel a stinging pain on the back of his hand. He looked at it, and too his shock saw the exact same mark he'd made on the parchment reappear on the back of his hand in blood. He looked up at Daphne. While her face remained impassive, he could clearly see the horrified expression in her eyes.

He opened his mouth to object, but Daphne bumped his hand with hers, and almost imperceptibly shook her head. Harry looked deep into her blue eyes, trying to ask if she was sure without actually using any words. She looked back into his and he took that to mean that she was sure.

"Is there a problem?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

"No," said Harry, looking back to the paper and writing out I must not tell lies over and over and over again. After an hour and a half, Umbridge let them both go, still smiling sweetly.

"Mr. Potter," she said. "I shall see you back tomorrow night. As for you Miss Greengrass, I should hope that this lesson will not need to be taught to you again."

"No Professor Umbridge," said Daphne, shaking her head. "Might I keep the sheet with me though, as a reminder? I would like to have something to keep around in case I should feel the urge to cause trouble again."

Umbridge seemed surprised, but then smiled.

"If you think it will help you keep a civil tongue dear, then by all means."

Daphne pocketed the note and Harry began to follow her down towards the dungeons, holding her right hand with his left, so that he didn't rub her marks. His own reacted slightly to her hand, but he'd rather feel the pain and hold her hand than go without.

"That woman's a nutjob!" Harry hissed once they'd rounded the corner. "This is way out of line! Can't we do anything about this?"

He gestured to their hands.

"I'm thinking," said Daphne, kindly. "That's why I took the sheet of paper. It's evidence."

"I'd wondered," he said softly.

"This isn't something we can do by just knocking on a door and tattling, Harry. Umbridge is connected, and very vindictive. I expect she'll be monitoring our mail, so I can't talk to my parents, at least not without alerting her. We also can't just tell a teacher, or Dumbledore."

"Why not?" asked Harry, looking at her. "They surely wouldn't allow this."

"Maybe not," she said. "But I don't think it really matters anymore what they would or wouldn't allow. The ministry put her here as a power play, and the government has more power than the school does. I mean, who do you talk to if a member of the government is the issue?"

"So what?" asked Harry, trying not to be angry with her. "We just sit and let this happen?"

"No," she said. "As I said, I'm collecting evidence here, Harry. I'm building a case against this woman, and I intend to hit her hard. But it can't be before we're ready. If we don't have enough, she'll walk and then she'll make sure we can't use anything against her again. We have to think this one out before we do anything."

Harry smiled softly at her.

"Think like Slytherin?"

"Precisely dear."

She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek and he returned the gesture, feeling the small relief from his usual anger.

"Well, I suppose we'll see Sirius and your folks at Christmas, right? Could we tell them then?"

"Of course, and until then I have a bit of a pet project for you and I to work on together."

"Oh? Something to do with Voldemort or the prophecy?"

She shook her head.

"No, not directly anyway. I think we need to teach you how to learn to control your emotions and think before you respond."

Harry felt a surge of anger at that and was about to shout back, only to catch himself. Firstly, it was Daphne and she didn't accuse him of anything wildly, and secondly… she was right. He was talking out in anger… a lot these days.

"So you want me to learn your Ice Queen thing?"

"Not exactly. The Ice Queen is more of a side-effect of what I'm thinking… Do you know what occlumency is?"

Harry shook his head, looking her curiously.

"Never heard of it."

"Well occlumency is the practice of shielding your mind. Usually people do it to defend their minds from their opponent in a duel, but in order to learn it you have to learn total emotional control. My father wanted to make sure my thoughts would be safe as I began to grow older so he taught me after our third year. I was going to wait on teaching you it, but I think it might be a good idea now. It should help with your dreams too... I hope."

Harry considered it, but in the end was forced to accept that Daphne hadn't steered him wrong yet, and he trusted her judgment more than his own at that moment.

"Alright," he said nodding. "Should we start this weekend?"

"Alright," she said. "But take some time before bed to try and work on meditation. It'll be hard, but it will help you relax and calm your mind. Also, this is going to take some time. You usually pick up something in a few days, but occlumency takes much longer. But don't worry, I'll be right there with you. I promise."

"I love you."

"And I you, Harry Potter."

He kissed her softly and watched as she disappeared into her common room. Fifteen minutes later, he collapsed in one of the armchairs by the common room fireplace. Somehow, he hadn't felt much like going to dinner, and everyone he'd passed was still talking.

The prophet says he's mad.

He reckons he saw Cedric Diggory murdered.

Thinks he saw you-know-who come back.

Always knew he was barking.

He was sick of it, all the crap. It was the same, almost every year now. Either he was evil, an attention-seeking prat, or a liar. This year he was all three. He tried to pass the time before bed productively. He worked on his schoolwork and treated his firebolt with the broom service kit. The entire time his hand burned and stung.

He growled, thinking of Umbridge and her insane new treatment of Hogwarts.

I must not tell lies…

Eventually he gave up and decided to head to bed early. Before he actually lay his head on his pillow, he did his best to practice relaxing like Daphne had said. However, the moment he seemed to come close to relaxing, a surge of anger seemed to invade his mind, and cause his entire system to tense up.

Frustrated, he went to sleep, and dreamed once more of the graveyard, and Cedric's death.

When he awoke the next morning, Ron had already gone down to breakfast, and Harry saw that he'd slept well into the morning, if you could even call it sleep. He'd woken every few hours, and been unable to rest much. In fact, it felt as if he hadn't slept at all.

He dully got dressed and head down to the great hall, meeting Daphne on the way. She looked at him and he knew she was examining him.

"This is way out of hand," she said. "I'm worried you're going to get seriously hurt, Harry. Your brain isn't getting time to heal. It's little wonder your emotions are going nuts. I don't know how you're as put together as you are."

She slipped him a dreamless sleep potion.

"It's probably still too soon for you to use another one of these, but at this point it's doing too much damage for you to not use one. You still won't go to Madam Pomfery?"

"I've got to talk with Dumbledore after breakfast, finally," said Harry, shaking himself. "If he doesn't have anything to say about it, I'll talk to her. Deal?"

She smiled and nodded her pleased nod. Then, she looped her arm around his and pulled him to their spot at the Gryffindor table. Ron, Hermione, Tracey, Neville and Astoria were already there, eating and chatting amongst themselves.

"Morning Harry," said Tracey. "And how are you two lovebirds today?"

Harry grumbled, sitting down and pulling some porridge towards himself. He did take a second to glance towards Daphne's hand and saw, to his pleasure, that her marks had appeared to be healing cleanly. His own hand was still very red, but he shrugged it off. He already had far worse scars than anything a blood quill could give him.

"So what'd you two have to do for Umbridge?" asked Ron.

Harry opened his mouth, but then thought better of it. The last thing he needed was them all pitying or patronizing him over Umbridge.

"Lines," he said, eventually.

"Oh," said Hermione. "Well that's not bad then. Honestly, I'd expected much worse."

The others nodded in agreement, except for Astoria, who looked curiously at Harry. He had an unpleasant feeling that she was not fooled by his half-truth. She may be two years younger than the rest of their group, but she was unusually attentive.

"So," said Ron, as if their previous conversation hadn't happened. "You decided if you're going to play quidditch this year? I mean, we could really use you, Harry. Everyone knows you're the best seeker there is."

"I've got a fair bit on my plate already," said Harry, trying to remain calm. "Dark Lord trying to kill me and all that."

The red-head had the grace to look slightly abashed.

"Well then," said Ron, clearly casting around for something. "What do you say to a game of chess?"

"I've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry, standing up. "He's going to tell me whatever it was he wanted to say over the summer… I think. I don't see why it took so damn long, but at least it's happening now."

"I'll come with you," said Daphne. "I have a few questions of my own and as you've shown, it takes an awfully long time to get an appointment with the headmaster."

They left the great hall and head up to the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office and Harry looked at it, mentally trying to relax again. To his surprise he was have a good deal more success with it than he had last night.

"Liquorish Wands," said Harry, giving the password.

The gargoyle sprang to life and leapt aside and the pair of them stepped onto the spiraling staircase that lead up to the headmaster's office. Daphne softly rubbed his right hand, humming softly. Over the summer, he'd discovered she had a hidden talent for singing. She'd never done so at Hogwarts, but she was very good. More than once, when he'd been too stressed and angry to think, she'd just sang softly for him and held him until he would feel better.

He knew he could never repay her enough for everything she'd done for him. He kept half-expecting her to call a debt he owed her, and one he knew would spell doom for him if she did. However, she never once used any of what she'd done against him. Rather, she seemed to think that it was exactly what was expected of her, and she did it with a smile on her face.

He mentally made a note that he would take her to Hogsmeade the first chance he got and buy her a month's worth of sugar quills.