Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Harry Potter and the Dream Come True
Chapter Twenty Five – Educational Decree Number 24
"I'm going to kill her. I'm going to march straight up to her office and murder Dolores Umbridge!" Harry stormed wildly as he paced back and forth in front of the Gryffindor Common Room Message Board. Pasted on the board in big, bold letters were the words:
Educational Decree Number 24
No student organizations, societies, teams, groups, or clubs may exist without knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts.
Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor
Upon seeing this sign on Monday morning, Harry had completely lost it, and had been screaming and pacing the room ever since. The other occupants of the room were equally horrified, but not quite as vocal about it as Harry was.
"Do you think someone ratted out on us?" Ron asked quietly as he levitated a table out of Harry's way so he wouldn't blow it up, or do something equally destructive.
"Impossible," Hermione replied quietly, and Ginny nodded her head in agreement.
"You're so naive," Ron scoffed. "You think that just because you are, everyone else will be honest and trustworthy and nice and pretty and…"
Ginny smacked him upside the head before he said something he'd regret. Hermione eyed him strangely, but pretended she hadn't heard the latter part of his speech.
"It's impossible," she repeated, "because I cast a jinx on the paper I had everyone sign on Saturday to indicate they wanted to join the club."
"What paper?" Ron demanded.
Hermione frowned. "The one you didn't sign, because you stormed out halfway through the meeting! You still won't tell me what on earth you were thinking, Ronald, and I must say I'm am getting extremely irritated-"
She was silenced by Ginny's hand clamped over her mouth. The petite redhead glared at the duo, before removing her hand and gesturing to Harry, who was still raging on about the brutal murder of Professor Umbridge. "We're all uptight about this new decree, you two, but that's no reason to snap at each other. Hermione, at least wait until Ron does some really stupid, blundering, insulting thing before you yell at him, alright? And Ron, control your hormonal impulses, please."
"What hormonal impulses?" Ron sulked, but didn't pursue the argument.
Harry, meanwhile, was having a furious discussion with Decimare, who was irritating the poor boy to no end.
.:I told you someone was eavesdropping on Saturday:. Decimare said smugly. .:But did you listen to me? No:.
'How was I supposed to know we were being listened to?' Harry demanded furiously. 'What was I supposed to do? Stupefy everyone in the bar so they couldn't hear us? I'd be arrested for assault!'
.:I shall not even answer that question, Master:. Decimare said pompously. .:You could have taken precautions if you wanted to. But no, you didn't, because you foolishly believe that every single person in the world is perfectly friendly and trustworthy!:.
'Oww,' Harry winced. 'You don't have to yell, you idiot, I get the picture! It's like Mr. Aberforth said – don't trust anyone.'
.:Oh, sure, you'll listen to a batty old man rather than your faithful companion…:. Decimare grumbled.
"Faithful companion?!" Harry shouted. "Some help you are! Never telling me anything, assuming that I'll somehow blunder my way through obstacles, and then criticizing the ways I do so! You're faithful, alright, as useful as a stomach ache!"
Complete silence blanketed the common room. Exchanging mildly terrified glances, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione eyed Harry uneasily. He winced.
"I said that out loud, didn't I?" he muttered.
Ginny nodded wordlessly.
"Er… do you have a stomach ache, Harry?" Ron asked tentatively, clearly unsure of what to make of his friend's outburst.
Harry shook his head in exasperation. "Do I look like I have a stomach ache, Ron? If I want to yell random thoughts out loud, then by God I will-"
A sudden goose cut him off mid-speech. Seriously. A rather large-ish, extremely flustered goose suddenly appeared in Harry's mouth, choking him and effectively cutting off his shouting spree. Yanking the bird out in shock, Harry spun around to see who on earth would do something so incredibly… weird.
"Watch it!" Sirius exclaimed, grabbing the bird before it tumbled to the floor. "You'll kill poor Gunther!"
Harry stared at him in disbelief. "Please tell me you're joking. You did not just conjure a goose, name it, and choke me with it."
"You deserved it, young man," Sirius snapped. "And I didn't conjure it; Gunther is a dear friend of mine."
"Deserved it?" Harry repeated incredulously. "I deserved to almost die of goose asphyxiation? How do you figure that?"
"Listen to yourself!" Sirius exclaimed. "You've spent the whole morning yelling and complaining, and you're driving your friends up the wall!"
"How would you know?" Harry demanded. "You weren't in the common room this morning."
"That is beside the point," Sirius snapped. "The point is that Umbridge got one up on you, and you're angry that she outsmarted you. Grow up and move on, Harry! Stop aggravating your friends, and turn your anger into something productive! At least come up with a proper revenge for her eavesdropping on your secret meeting at the Hogs Head… er, I mean…"
"You know we had a meeting?" Hermione demanded, more annoyed than surprised. "How do you know about it?"
Sirius snorted. "Same way Umbridge does, Hermione. Someone's been tailing Harry every time he's left Hogwarts ground – you remember the veiled witch at the corner table? That was Mundungus Fletcher. He was banned from the pub for life – he actually dresses as a witch a lot these days. Rather disturbing, really…"
"So one of those people ratted us out to Umbridge?" Ginny asked.
"Seems so," Sirius agreed. "You're going to have a hell of a time getting around her latest decree, I might add."
"I guess the secret club's off," Harry said gloomily, feeling completely depressed, half from Umbridge's always being one step ahead of him, and half because he'd upset his friends. "Ow!"
Sirius smacked him lightly across the side of the head once more for good measure. "What's up with you, kid? There's no way this sudden depression of yours is natural. When was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"
Harry blinked. "Er… a good night's sleep? Maybe… two weeks ago?"
Everyone cringed.
"Right," Sirius decided. "Harry, you are in no way your usual, cheerful self, and that is clearly the result of lack of sleep. I therefore sentence you to an entire week of proper sleeping. That means in bed by eight o'clock."
Harry was horrified. "But Sirius-"
"No buts," he interjected sternly. "You're driving everyone up the wall, Harry. A growing boy needs sleep, and as your guardian I intend to see that you get it. And don't even think of appealing to James for help, because he's gone."
"Gone?" Harry asked in alarm. "Where is he?"
Sirius looked around shiftily. "No place."
"What's he doing?"
"Nothing."
"Sirius…"
"Sorry to tell you, Harry, but Sirius is right," Ginny admitted. "You need sleep."
"Four against one, mate," Ron agreed. "In bed by eight."
"Some friends you all are," Harry grumped in defeat, turning and trudging out of the common room.
"Harry, be careful!" Hermione whispered as she grabbed Harry's hand to prevent him from dropping a crushed rat skull into his completed sleeping potion. "Rat skulls mixed with sleeping potions have dangerous, generally explosive side effects. With such a powerful sleeping potion, you could blow up the entire school!"
"Really?" Harry replied absently, eyes focused intently on two conversing figures on the other side of the dark potions classroom. "What do you think they're saying?"
Snape and Umbridge continued to converse in low tones, Umbridge marking things occasionally on a piece of parchment – another inspection, much to Harry's delight. He was just waiting for one of the two to do something to irritate the other, at which point sparks would fly, and Harry could watch his two most hated teachers battle it out.
.:Keep dreaming:. Decimare said.
'Shut up,' Harry replied, and promptly went back to mentally willing the two to attack each other.
"Umbridge wants Snape's support, Harry, she's not about to aggravate or attack him," Hermione told him for the umpteenth time as she stirred her potion. Ron probably would have interjected something in Harry's defense at this point, but he was occupied with stopping Neville from destroying the classroom in a monstrous explosion. He was having difficulty with this, as he knew just as much about potions as Neville did. Which was to say, none at all. The two just weren't cut out for potion making.
"So how long have you been teaching here at Hogwarts?" Umbridge asked Snape sweetly, twirling a short, stubby quill between her short, stubby fingers.
"Fourteen years."
She smiled cunningly. "I understand you've been applying for the Defense professor position for much of that time, only to be refused every year by our esteemed Headmaster. Why do you believed that is?"
"You'll have to ask the Headmaster. He seems to think that-"
But what Dumbledore thought remained a mystery, for at that exact instant James Potter, Ministry Auror, Self-proclaimed Ruler of All, and All Around Good Guy, appeared in between the two with a pop, clutching in his hand a large, fuzzy pink object.
"Success!" he bellowed, before taking note of his surroundings and realizing that this was not, in fact, his proper destination. Attempting a nonchalant wave, James tucked the fuzzy pink object into his pocket and made a hasty departure, 'accidentally' knocking Snape flat on his back as he did so.
Scrambling to his feet with narrowed eyes, Snape was clearly considering going after James and forcing an explanation out of him, before apparently hitting upon a better way to get back at him. "Mister Potter, detention."
Harry gaped at him. "Why?"
"For questioning me," Snape retorted smugly, his smirk widening when Umbridge grinned evilly and scribbled down pleased comments onto his inspection report.
Storming out of class ten minutes later, Harry did his best to control his fury and not viciously attack the next person to come in his line of sight. Beside him, Hermione and Ron offered their sympathies, but they didn't bother to sound too sincere, as Harry was in such a bad mood he wouldn't be able to tell either way.
"What did I do to deserve this?" Harry demanded as he stalked up a staircase leading to the Entrance Hall. "First I get a goose shoved down my throat, get an eight o'clock curfew, and discover my father left for no reason, and then find out that he didn't actually leave, but rather acquired a fuzzy pink thing that allows him to teleport into our potions classroom! Which isn't even possible, might I add! And now I get a detention because Snape is a biased, bigoted, prejudiced, obnoxious git!"
"Get used to it," Hermione offered unsympathetically, more than a little annoyed at Harry's constant complaining. "You're a teenager, meaning you are stubborn, insecure, and angst-ridden. I'm surprised you haven't started sobbing yet about your mismatched socks."
"My socks are not mismatched," Harry grumbled. He looked down. They were. Damn.
That evening, after finding out Trelawney was on probation because Umbridge genuinely hated her, Harry and his friends were settled safely in bed, and thus out of the way for James and Sirius, who had a very special party planned that could have no witnesses. This event was not so much a party, actually, but more like a celebration of the completion of stage one of Operation Sentinel.
"Ready?" Sirius said.
"Ready," James confirmed.
The two men were standing in an old stone doorway, facing into a small, darkened room which housed the creation they'd spent the last month perfecting. Shaking in anticipation, James slowly raised his wand and whispered, "Lumos!"
The room lit up with light, and James and Sirius gazed with pride upon their finished masterpiece. What was this masterpiece? It actually rather resembled a muggle security guard's booth, complete with video screens and control panels. The purpose of this magically run monstrosity? To monitor the halls of Hogwarts in order to ensure the safety of both the students and the school itself.
Currently all the system could do was monitor the halls, via the magically tweaked video cameras hidden around the school, but Sirius intended to install a weapons system as soon as he received his contraband magical submachine guns from the German black market dealer. He was keeping the man's pet goose Gunther as a hostage until the guns were delivered.
The creation of this room, and the fact that they could now see everything going on in the entire school, led to the question of why Dumbledore would allow such an invasion of privacy, even if it meant more safety for the students. The answer, of course, was that Dumbledore had no idea the room, called "Sentinel", was being built, just as he had no idea Harry had renovated the dreaded Chamber of Secrets and now had tea down there with his evil serpentine sword on Sunday afternoons.
His complete lack of knowledge was not his fault, however. Sirius and James, after all, were Marauders, and if there was one thing they knew how to do, it was accomplishing things without getting caught. In this case, Remus had discovered in their sixth year that Dumbledore knew what was happening around the school because the figures in all the portraits reported to him at the end of each day everything they'd seen. This had been easily solved, of course, by removing any nearby paintings whilst installing video cameras or building the Sentinel room - storing them in a large, black, coffin-sized box Sirius had bought for a pound at a garage sale - until the installation was complete.
Needless to say, they were extremely proud of themselves for breaking so many rules and federal laws without getting caught. And the greatest part was, should they indeed be found out, they could claim it "top secret" Ministry business – they were Aurors, after all.
Plopping down on one of the two padded swivel chairs, James conjured a bottle of Firewhiskey, took a swig, and then tossed it to Sirius with a grin. "A toast to us!"
"To us!" Sirius agreed.
"Marauders forever!"
Sirius cackled. "Hogwarts won't know what hit them. I almost feel sorry for how out of the loop they are."
Taking another swig, James smirked. "I'd feel more sorry for the Death Eaters, Padfoot. They're the ones who're going to have to deal with Sentinel."
Sirius grinned. "Let's give this baby a test run. Whaddya say, Prongs?"
"Sounds like a plan."
James tapped a few buttons, and the massive magical monstrosity whirred into life. Manipulating the controls expertly, the Auror picked a random camera and zoomed in to see what the tiny figure on the screen was up to.
"Look at this bloke!" James exclaimed, jabbing a finger at a screen in the far right corner. "He's got not one, not two, but three girls in that broom closet with him! How'd he manage that?"
"Oy!" Sirius yelped in shock. "That's the Hufflepuff kid that's been following Harry around!"
"Who?" James asked.
"The monkey slave kid," Sirius elaborated.
"Oh yeah! Tristan! Wait, I thought he was a first year. Why on earth are three sixth years attracted to an eleven year old?" James pondered.
Sirius shrugged. "Maybe they're looking for a good time, and he's the only boy they could find."
"Still!" James snapped in righteous outrage. "The kid's ten! Those girls are insulting themselves! I can't even imagine snogging a little girl… that would just be disgusting!"
"And pedophilia," Sirius offered helpfully.
"We should report him," James sniffed. "We've done some wrong things, Padfoot, but this is just… wrong! They're probably scarring that kid for life…" He was halted in his rant by Sirius madly suppressing a cackle. "What?"
"Take a look at the screen, genius."
Scrutinizing the screen, James watched in fascination as the underage boy and his three companions tumbled out of the closet giggling hysterically, all four of them with their hair in curlers and wearing pink bathrobes.
"Um…"
"It would seem they were having an impromptu slumber party," Sirius said slowly. "In a closet. Although why teenage girls would invite a ten year old boy, I don't know…"
"What else does this kid do?" James demanded. "He walks around permanently high on life, he sneaks into Hogsmeade as a first year student, he joins secret clubs he isn't even supposed to know about, plus he holds slumber parties with teenage girls in abandoned broom closets. What does any of that gain him?"
"Maybe he's just a little touched in the head," Sirius suggested.
James sighed. "That must be it. And I was hoping for something to report to Dumbledore, too! Oh well, we can always try again tomorrow."
"Let's get some sleep," Sirius agreed. "G'night, Prongs."
"'Night Padfoot."
As the two men slipped out of the room and turned to lock the door, neither noticed the tiny, smiling figure of Tristan look up at the video camera and wave.
"I've got bad news," Angelina Johnson announced the instant Harry stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room the following morning. Brushing his blue-streaked bangs out of his eyes, Harry turned to face his Quidditch Captain, and his face immediately fell when he saw her expression.
"What did Umbridge do?" he asked heavily.
"You remember the latest Educational Decree?" Angelina snapped. "Well, that doesn't just include our little Defense group, Harry, she's including Quidditch too!"
"No!" Harry said in shock. "She can't do that! Quidditch has been an established tradition at Hogwarts for… how long, Hermione?"
Hermione, standing impatiently by the notice board, waiting for her incredibly late friends, replied promptly, "987 years and 7 months, give or take a few days."
"Don't tell me that, Potter, tell her!" Angelina said hysterically, and Harry realized she was incredibly stressed out. Then again, were he in her position, wouldn't he be as well? How would he feel, being named Quidditch Captain, and then told the team was disbanded because some lunatic was power hungry and lived to make children suffer?
Effectively worked into a towering rage, Harry snapped, "Right."
Hermione eyed him warily. "'Right' what, Harry?"
"I am going to march straight up to 'Professor' Umbridge and tell her exactly what I think about her 'Educational Decree'."
Angelina, Hermione, and the few others in the Common Room gaped at him. "Harry… you could be expelled if you don't watch what you say around her!" Hermione said warningly.
"I don't care!" Harry bellowed. "That woman's gone too far! Today she gets her comeuppance! Today, Dolores Umbridge will be dethroned!"
With that said, Harry swept dramatically out of the common room, robes swishing, and eyes steely. Hermione and Angelina stared after him, puzzled. Finally, Hermione offered timidly, "Well, he has been missing a lot of sleep lately…"
Angelina sighed. "I don't care if Harry murders Umbridge, as long as we get the Gryffindor Quidditch team re-formed. I'll see you later, Hermione."
"Bye," she replied absently, before adding a quick "Good morning" to Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George, as the Weasleys entered the common room. The redheads, noticing the torn expression on their friend's face, inquired immediately.
"What's wrong?" Ginny demanded.
"Harry's gone to 'dethrone' Umbridge," Hermione explained.
"Well, that's not very specific, is it?" Ginny frowned.
"Could mean anything from yelling at her to hexing her," Hermione agreed.
"At least he isn't going to 'deflower' her," Ron quipped, and the three boys sniggered at the thought. Their amusement was effectively halted by a powerful hex from Ginny that sent them flying.
"That was not amusing," Ginny snapped reprovingly. "Look what you did to poor, innocent Hermione." The girl in question had turned pale at the disgusting image.
"Sorry, Hermione," Ron and the twins chorused, Ron blushing in embarrassment, the twins simply attempting to avoid another dosage of pain from their darling sister.
"Now, shall we go see if we can salvage Harry's confrontation with Umbridge, or shall we continue acting like immature gits?" Ginny asked sweetly. As Ron and Hermione nodded their consent, Fred and George exchanged identical looks – serious, for once - and they scampered off up the stairs.
"Um…" Hermione began, but gave up in defeat. She would never understand those two.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Harry was furiously storming his way towards the Great Hall, where a terrified first year he'd grabbed told him Umbridge was. Of course, since it was breakfast time, this was the most obvious location for a denizen of Hogwarts, but Harry was too furious to care. So angered was he, in fact, that he nearly bowled over Sirius and James as they stepped out from behind a tapestry.
"Watch it, kid!" Sirius yelped, jumping out of the fuming teen's way. Shaking his shaggy hair from his face as he watched his godson stomp past, he asked James lightly, "What's wrong with him?"
"No clue," James replied easily. "Come on, let's go have breakfast. Wait a minute… was that Harry?"
Sirius blinked. "Observation never really was your strong point, was it, Prongs?"
James moaned. "Argh! What kind of father am I? My son is clearly upset over something, and here I am without a care in the world!"
"Must be why you were never any great shakes at Seeker," Sirius muttered.
"What am I thinking?" James wailed on. "Curse my complete lack of paternal instincts!"
"There certainly were a lot of large words in that charming speech, Potter. Are you sure your tiny mind won't explode from thinking so hard?" That oily voice could only belong to Severus Snape, Potions Master extraordinaire. James and Sirius whirled around to face the greasy-haired man who, as usual, was late to breakfast. No one really knew why Snape always entered breakfast twenty minutes in, but James, Sirius, and Remus had worked out a few explanations. They were considering sharing them with the population at large, but as most theories included either flying bananas or chocolate pudding, they decided to keep them to themselves.
"What do you want?" Sirius growled, eyeing Snape as if he were something unpleasant growing on the bottom of his shoe.
"Merely to agree with what Potter so eloquently announced," Snape sneered. "Due to his complete lack of parenting skill, the younger Potter is currently challenging a dear colleague of mine to a wizard's duel. I believe you know her? Dolores Umbridge?"
Sirius and James' jaws dropped. "He wouldn't… would he?" James gasped.
"I don't know! He's your son!"
"Well, you're his godfather! I was clinically dead for fourteen years, remember?! You know the boy better than I do!"
At that point Hermione, Ron, and Ginny came barreling down the corridor, all three out of breath and gasping. "Mister Potter, sir, Harry's snapped!" Ron said between pants. "He and Umbridge are dueling in the Entrance Hall!"
"WHAT?" James roared.
Sirius grinned. "Good on him."
"Why hasn't Dumbledore put a stop to this?" James demanded.
Snape sniggered, sounding for all the world like a school yard bully who'd just cheated someone from their lunch money. "Why, he's up in his office in a staff meeting, Potter. Where did you think I was going? Imagine his shock when he discovers his precious Potter attacked a teacher…"
"Shut up!" Sirius snapped. "Silencio!"
Snape clutched at his throat, glared furiously at Sirius, and tried to counter the spell but couldn't, because the Animagus had followed up his initial curse with Expelliarmus.
"Everyone to the Entrance Hall!" James ordered, completely in control of the situation now that the shock had worn off. "Sirius, take that charm off of Snivellus. And Snivellus, go directly to Dumbledore and inform him what's happening."
"Like hell I will!" Snape spat. "I'd rather be the only teacher present at the scene of the crime, so I have full grounds to expel that sniveling little brat!"
"That sniveling little brat is my son!" James roared. "Go to Dumbledore, Snape, or I swear to God you won't be waking up tomorrow morning!"
Snape must have seen something in James's eyes, because he resentfully turned around and swooped off, leaving three very awed teenagers, and two furious adults.
"Come on!" Sirius ordered. "I don't know if Harry or Umbridge will win this, and I don't want to find out!"
"Tarantallegra!" Umbridge shouted, and Harry's legs immediately began an intricate, uncontrollable tap dance across the flagstone floor of the Entrance Hall. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Malfoy and his goons cheering on Umbridge, whilst on the Gryffindor side he was getting a standing ovation.
"Finite Incantanem!" Harry shouted. "Furnunculus!" The beam of light hit Umbridge's left hand, covering it in unsightly boils, and causing her to scream furiously and double the fierceness of her assault.
Looking back, Harry considered mentally, attacking a teacher and Ministry official was probably not the brightest thing to do.
.:I'll say:. Decimare agreed as his Master dodged a disarming charm. .:If you surrender now, she might go easy on you. Incidentally, what were you thinking?:.
'I was angry, and apparently short on sleep,' Harry said defensively. 'I walked into the hall, and she was standing there telling this first year he couldn't run a Gobstones club – how evil is that? Then she looked up at me and smirks this nasty, evil grin, and fingers her wand.'
.:So you drew out your wand, challenged her to a duel, and viciously attacked her:. Decimare said.
'That's right,' Harry agreed, spiraling another hex towards Umbridge, who by now was panting heavily. The audience didn't know it, but with all the training he'd gone through, Harry could have easily beaten the esteemed High Inquisitor without too much effort; it wasn't as if she were particularly talented, after all.
Indeed, he was starting to consider simply ending the duel, when Umbridge, not wanting to lose to a child in front of her students, smirked evilly and hissed, "This will teach you to sing a different tune, Potter. Obliviate!"
Gob smacked, Harry could only watch in disbelief as the woman cast an illegal spell against her underage opponent.
.:Alright:. Decimare snapped. .:This woman has gone too far. Kick her sorry arse:.
'With pleasure,' Harry agreed grimly. As the silvery bolt shot towards him, Harry judged its timing and, with only a second to spare, dove out of the way. Rolling gracefully to his feet, Harry stabbed his wand viciously at Umbridge, who went flying head over heels into the Great Hall doors.
There was a dead silence.
It was Justin Finch-Fletchly who broke the silence. "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"It runs in the family," James replied airily as he entered the scene, slowing from a sprint to a lazy saunter when he realized his son was in no immediate danger. "Although, son, I did have a question I've been meaning to ask you."
As Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Sirius appeared behind the Auror, huffing from the run, Harry lowered his wand slightly. "Yes?" he asked as innocently as he could.
James cleared his throat.
"When the HELL did you become so UNBELIEVABLY scary, and why in GOD'S name did you attack your TEACHER? Are you MAD? Do you WANT to be expelled?"
"She deserved it!" Harry snapped irritably, and James's glare grew so dark that any sane person would have run away in fear. "And don't you tell me I'm wrong, Dad! So what if we have to let Umbridge stay here just to keep Fudge happy? What the hell has he done for us? Oh yes, he imprisoned Sirius for twelve years, tried to suck out his soul, sentenced an innocent Hippogriff to death, and, to top it all off, is a bigoted moron! His idiocy is going to get us all killed now that Voldemort is back, and all you and Sirius and the rest of you can do is sit back and let her destroy Hogwarts! It's only a matter of time before she dethrones Dumbledore and becomes Headmistress, and I can't let that happen!"
"What do you mean by that?" James asked quietly.
"I mean what I said," Harry replied fiercely. "In the past I may have taken this, but not any more! Dolores Umbridge is a threat, Father, a threat to both Hogwarts and the wizarding world in its entirety. I am taking it upon myself to ensure that she does not continue to threaten the lives of my friends and fellow students."
"He's got a point," Sirius admitted. James shot him an undecipherable look, and the Animagus fell silent and took a smart step back.
"Why you?" James demanded, turning back to his son. "I'll be the first to proclaim the incredible depths of my hatred for Dolores Umbridge, Harry, but it isn't as if we have much of a choice here."
"As a grown man you have responsibilities," Harry agreed. "They prevent you from doing what you deem necessary. I, however, have no such boundaries. No one else is willing to act, so I have. That's all there is to it."
In his head, Decimare applauded him in pride. .:That's telling them, Master. Way to tell off your recently deceased Father who's only goal in life is your continued health and happiness:.
Harry winced. 'You don't think I was too…'
.:Bloodthirsty?:. Decimare offered. .:Insane? Blinded by overwhelming hatred? Homicidal?:.
'I just wanted to get my point across,' Harry said sullenly.
.:Well, you did that well enough:. Decimare drawled. Indeed, if crickets were able to survive in the autumn temperatures of Northern Scotland and make it past all the magical wards of the school, their chirping would be easily heard right about now. .:Congratulations. Today you are expelled from Hogwarts forever:.
'Tell me about,' Harry agreed gloomily, for in typical Harry fashion, he was only now realizing the consequences of his actions. It appeared that for everything he'd learned, foresight and wisdom weren't part of it. 'God, they're going to throw me in Azkaban. Why do I always do and say things without thinking first?'
Decimare rolled his tiny eyes. .:If I knew that, Master, we certainly wouldn't be in this position right now:.
Presently, Dumbledore and the rest of the staff came galloping into the hall, and all of them, including the Headmaster, skidded to a halt when they took in the scene. Umbridge was crumpled at the foot of the doors, the students gathered in a ring around her, silent as the grave, and in the middle of it all stood Harry Potter, staring down his father, wand in hand and a half determined, half angry expression twisting his tanned features.
"Mister Potter," Dumbledore said quietly. All attention immediately turned to him. Over in the corner, Filch and Snape were attempting to help a flustered Umbridge to her feet, without much success. "I do not know what happened here, but I am-"
But what Dumbledore was, no one ever knew, for at that moment something swooped down out of the sky on a broom, clamped a gas mask of sorts over Harry's mouth, while a second figure dropped a large, purple stopwatch into the hands of a scowling Ginny.
Before Harry could even register who the figures were, the stopwatch reached the zero mark and seemed to explode with a bright shower of silver sparks that covered the whole hall from top to bottom. One by one every single person in the hall dropped to the floor in a dead faint, leaving only Harry and the two mystery people standing, the gas masks apparently sparing them from the watch's effects.
"What was that?" he choked. "Who are you?" He waved his wand wildly in their direction, but they apparently weren't intimidated in the least.
"Don't recognize us?" one figure asked in a very familiar voice, and Harry did a double take as the two removed their masks to reveal the grim faces of Fred and George Weasley.
"Fred? George? Why… how…"
"WWWWD Oblivi-watches," Fred explained. "We've been tinkering with them for the past month, and I must say they do their job quite well."
Not even bothering to ask how the twins came up with things like this, Harry instead managed, "And what is their job?"
George gave him a surprised look. "What does it look like? First it casts a massive stunning spell, followed by an Obliviate charm. We set it to wipe the last ten minutes of their memories."
.:Either those two have harnessed the power of the Gods:. Decimare observed, .:or they've dipped a little into the Dark Arts to make those purple machines functional:. But Harry was a bit too preoccupied at the moment to hear the snake spirit's words.
"Why ten minutes?"
"So that they'll never remember any of what just happened," Fred explained, and Harry couldn't remember having ever seen either twin looking so serious. "The duel, your spectacular display of wand work, your speech… none of it."
"But why?" Harry asked in complete confusion.
"Because," George said gravely, "if we didn't, you would be expelled. You know that? Your wand would be snapped before you could say 'Quidditch'. You'd be kicked out of wizarding society, and the world would be without their savior."
"Don't be absurd," Harry scoffed. "Dumbledore would never allow that."
"Yes, he would," Fred snapped. "Because whichever way you spin it, Harry, you attacked a teacher. There's no getting around that. No matter what light you put it in, no matter how right you are, Harry, Dumbledore is an adult, and he will think you can't control your temper… that you are dangerous. And the Ministry will agree with him."
"Sirius and Dad would stand up for me," Harry protested.
"After that tongue lashing you gave them?" George asked incredulously. "Of course they will, Harry, but they'll spend at least a few days fuming, and by the time they're done, you'll have been kicked out of Hogwarts, maybe even England."
Harry rubbed his temples wearily as he sank to the floor. "Lord, I was only trying to teach her a lesson! I saw her bullying those first years, and I couldn't think straight, and… but I meant what I said! She's going to bring us to ruin!"
"She'll try," Fred agreed, "but the way to stop her is not to challenge her to a duel in front of the whole school and announce your intention to 'stop her at all costs'."
"Then what should I do?" Harry asked miserably. "Pretend this whole thing never happened?"
"Why not?" George asked brightly. "No one else will remember a thing. Courtesy of my esteemed twin and I, of course."
.:They're right:. Decimare advised. .:There are better ways to get rid of people like Ms Umbridge. Accept their help, thank them, and move on. And possibly keep an eye on them, because I am frankly worried about their mental state:.
"Right," Harry decided. "Fred, George… thank you."
The twins beamed, all previous seriousness forgotten. "Thank you for what, Harry?" Fred prompted.
"For using your magical device and wits to get me out of a really bad situation," Harry played along.
"What situation?" George said with a wink. "By the way, they'll be waking up in about thirty seconds. Have fun." As the twins slipped away, the occupants of the room did indeed begin waking.
'What do I do now?' Harry thought desperately.
.:Well…:. Decimare pondered. .:You could pretend to have been knocked unconscious just like the rest of them… or you could come up with a ridiculous plan that will leave you in an extremely uncomfortable state of embarrassment:.
'I hate you,' Harry snapped. As everyone began popping out of their stupefied state, Harry, mentally cursing both the twins and his stupid, evil sword, began singing, opera-style, 'I am the very model of a modern major general', a song from the muggle opera 'The Pirates of Penzance'. What could he say? His Aunt listened to strange music.
"I am the very model of a modern Major-General,
I've information vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical
From Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical;
I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,
I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical,
About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news,
With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse!"
"What's going on?" Ron muttered groggily.
"It appears we are listening to a rendition of a song from the Pirates of Penzance," Dumbledore announced, clapping along as Harry belted his way through the lyrics. "Although why this is, I cannot say…"
"Don't you remember, sir?" Fred asked, popping up at the Headmaster's elbow. "George and I thought it'd make good pre-breakfast entertainment."
"And entertaining it is," Snape agreed, grinning malevolently as Harry's voice cracked while trying to hit a high note. Everyone else, not quite sure what to think, eventually got into the spirit of things, a few of the girls even joining in on the chorus. When the song was done, everyone applauded, many people sniggering at the beet-red Gryffindor-turned-opera-singer, and Harry mentally thanked the Dursleys for buying the cassette of the opera.
As everyone filtered into the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry noticed Sirius and James's less than accepting looks, and realized they knew something wasn't right. But neither man acted on their suspicions, instead herding along into the hall with the rest of the students, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
Sitting down at the Gryffindor table, Harry nearly yelped when Fred whispered into his ear, "That was a close one."
"I'll say," Harry agreed softly.
"James and Sirius know something," George decided. "I don't know what, and I know they won't tell anyone if they find out – they'll be downright proud of you, Harry, but just the fact that they somehow know something's wrong is enough to worry me."
"Maybe you're just paranoid," Harry suggested lightly, feeling better already, and ready to face the world again.
"Maybe," Fred agreed darkly. "And maybe not. They are Marauders, after all."
Up at the head table, Dumbledore eyed the three whispering boys. His sparkling blue eyes twinkled as a secretive smile grew on his face.