Harry considered running away but knew it was pointless. However, when he saw the parchment lying beside Umbridge with everyone's names he panicked and took out his wand. She opened her eyes then and looked around in confusion before her eyes focused with outrage on him.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, probably misunderstanding as well.

"Incendio."

Umbridge screamed horrified, probably thinking he was cursing her, but soon the list caught on fire and it dawned on her what he had done.

"How dare you, Potter. We'll see how brave you feel when I'm through with you." She hissed as she got to her feet, Crabbe's meaty hand grabbing him roughly by the shoulder and standing him up.

"Everyone please proceed to my office." She said leading the way and Harry felt only anger that Ron and Hermione were now getting dragged in with him. Once sitting in her room Umbridge looked through her drawers, her face turning red in anger and frustration. She eventually slammed her drawers shut and sat down, clenching her jaw, looking at him in the same way many adults have looked at him throughout his life where they blame him and ask no questions.

"You three will tell me the other names on that list and you may be spared the detentions I have planned for you. And believe me, I am bringing back detentions that have been forbidden in this school for too long." She warned them.

Harry kept his mouth shut and didn't even glance at his friends. He knew they would not say a word. When Umbridge realised that too she nodded. "Very well. We can start with you Potter."

"Of course." Harry replied, not giving a damn. What was she going to do? Kill him?

"Everyone else, return to your dormitories and ensure all prefects let their houses know of the change in administration." She smiled sweetly at everyone else. Ron and Hermione gave him looks of alarm but he shook his head. They seemed unwilling to leave him alone but not seeing a black quill around seemed to put their minds at ease enough to allow themselves to get dragged out.

The silence dragged out and Harry found himself more able to stare blankly back at her, using his occlumency image of a burning candle faintly at the back of his mind. He didn't care what she would do. He didn't care.

"Headmistress! Headmistress!" Mr. Filch's voice could be heard rushing to the office and Umbridge gave a sinister smile and happily allowed the caretaker inside who congratulated her on her new position.

"Ah, Mr. Filch. Just the man I wanted to see. You did request for consent to allow whipping did you not?" She asked in that sweet tone of hers.

"I did headmistress, and I filled all the paperwork proper." He said proudly. She took out a filthy, wrinkled looking paper.

"Yes I have it here. I amended it slightly but it is signed… the only amendment is I say who you get to whip. To get you started, I want you to punish Mister Harry Potter. For conspiring with the headmaster to overthrow minister Fudge and for destroying the evidence of his conspirators." She said coldly.

Harry could only stare at her and at Filch. She could not be serious. Except… she'd just said it. And it looked like Filch took her offer seriously and with great pleasure as he grabbed him by the back of his robes and pulled him up harshly, the neckline of his shirt and robes choking him into a standing position. Fear started pumping through his veins. What could he do? He had to do something. There was no way he was letting Filch whip him!

"No! Let go of me!" Harry exclaimed, struggling viciously against Filch. Unfortunately, without magic, Filch had grown learning full proof ways to keep struggling troublemakers firm within his grasp. The other led him straight to the dungeons and his heart filled with hope. Snape would save him. Snape would see him and save him.

"Keep still you filthy little beast!" He hissed and shook him by the back of his clothes, something that made him struggle a little less as it hurt his neck and choked him once more.

The more steps they took in the dungeon, the more he realised that Snape would not see him. At some point they reached what appeared to be an empty classroom but glancing around Harry could see odd instruments of… well, torture, hanging on the walls. But no, Fred and George had told him about this room. All these things were just for show.

Well… except that now the other was allowed to whip him.

"Mr. Filch you can't!"

"Oh I most certainly can you foul little thing! Get over here! I don't even know if these still work." He said, shoving Harry against the wall. He kept him in place with his own weight which made Harry's memories return to Little Whinging and the nausea hit him hard.

However, Filch's attention was elsewhere as he used his free hands to imprison Harry's attaching heavy and rough manacles to his wrists before backing away. The manacles left him facing the wall, hands spread out.

Pretend you don't care! Just pretend you don't care! But it was so hard to do… he never expected to have this much panic running through his veins. It was just Filch. It wasn't like he was in the hands of a deatheater.

"I did hope to start with those Weasley twins, but you're a good start none the less."

Harry felt a tug on his robes and heard a loud tearing sound and as the cold breeze hit his back he realised the other had torn his clothes to leave his back even more exposed. Great… now his best robe was ruined… and by best he meant his only outer robe left. He felt himself unwillingly tugging roughly at the cuffs feeling them dig into his skin. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand being unable to turn and run.

"Brace yourself boy. The headmistress gave me a certain number to reach. She said, I believe, to count down from fifty. I'm bad at math, so you'll have to count down for me."

Harry heard something slice to the wind and felt the first whip which left him breathless and blinking back tears.

"No number? I guess that one didn't count. Let's try again."

Harry tried to brace himself this time but it didn't do much. In fact, it made it that much harder to keep in his voice. At the third, he cried out in pain. At the fourth he remembered he had to count.

"F-fifty…" He said through clenched teeth. Filch gave a giddy laugh. The fifth… never came. Instead a loud thud sounded somewhere behind him.

The cuffs were blasted open and he whimpered as he dropped to his knees, holding his wrists close which were in a pretty poor state as well as his back.

"Merlin, Potter…" Came Snape's voice, filled with rage and hate. Yet Harry couldn't help it as he turned and leapt to his feet, clinging to the man as strongly as he could. It was childish and he would regret it later, but for now he soaked up the sense of safety that clinging to Snape provided him.

oOoOoOo oOoOoOo oOoOoOo

And once more Potter was in his quarters, sleeping on his transfigured seat. He lay on his stomach, his back bandaged. His long fringe covered his eyes and Snape reached down, brushing the boy's hair away from his face.

The boy's eyes fluttered open and he tensed as he saw the brat turn to look at him. "Thank you." He mumbled. Snape scoffed.

"Go to sleep. As if I was going to allow such madness." Severus said.

"I'll get in even more trouble now." The boy must be tired, as he spoke with closed eyes, his slurred speech meaning he was already falling asleep.

"I won't let her… I've been saving up something special for her." Severus said.

"Don't get expelled… or arrested… not you too." The brat mumbled. Stupid child constantly worrying about others.

"Sleep brat."

"Please Snape!" The boy's voice left his throat with a tint of mad desperation yet he didn't open his eyes, his expression formed into a frown.

"Calm down, Potter. Just sleep for now." It seemed that Potter listened to him because five minutes later his breathing was even.

Good thing was that since they were not magical wounds, they responded very well to magical treatment. He should be healed by morning. It took great effort to calm his anger. It took great effort not to go out for retaliation. Oh but that woman was getting hers. It had taken a while but now his preparation was just a day or two from completion. And then, Umbridge would know what suffering tasted like.