Chapter 2
Umbridge was very happy as she made her way to her office. It had all gone so well... A little too well, some would say. She didn't care for those someones. In fact, they were horribly dirty mudbloods who were begging to be sent off to Azkaban, in her humble opinion.
She clenched her teeth when the Gargoyle took three seconds to open, and even then was very reluctant in relinquishing his guarding position for her. She would have a talk with the board, surely they could remove the abomination.
She bobbed her head, satisfied that her honour had been restored, and made her way to the rotating staircase.
That was when things started going wrong.
As she approached the staircase, it stopped moving, standing completely still. Unbothered, she started climbing. And she climbed. And climbed.
She started huffing, surely the office wasn't that far above? She looked up, and to her astonishment, the office was exactly where it had been.
Looking down, she saw that she was only on the first step on the staircase.
She glared at the stone architecture, who did not respond, because it was, in fact, a stone architecture.
She started again, and noticed that the staircase seemed to be revolving backwards to stop her progress.
Furious, she shot a blasting curse at the staircase.
The spell did what could be expected from a spell named "blasting curse"... No, it did not cause bedroom problems in wizards, get your mind out of the gutter. Ew.
No... it created an explosion near the end of the staircase. The stone wasn't harmed. The human, unfortunately, was.
She was thrown high, in a parabolic arc, impacted the ceiling, and dropped on the floor like a ball of rubber. That is to say that she bounced off the floor and hit the highly decorated wall, where some of the trophies shattered as she fell down in a heap on the floor.
Seeing her so thoroughly trashed, Dumbledore allowed his disillusionment charm to dissipate. He smirked in a job well done.
That memory was going right next to the day Argus Filch brought a giant dildo to his office, claiming it to be a new device that let students smoke questionable herbs. He shook his head, went to the staircase, and started walking backwards, as he wanted to come down. Soon he reached his office.
He wondered how long it would take her to figure out this simple trick.
'Probably never,' he realised, 'at least until she realises that she can just apparate to the office.'
'And when is that going to happen?' His mind asked.
'Probably never,' he admitted.
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Cornelius Fudge entered his office, and stilled. A letter was waiting for him on his desk. He was pretty sure that his secretary had not delivered any such letter.
He swished his wand and summoned his patronus.
"Did you deliver any letters directly on my desk, Kate?"
The return patronus was swift, "No, I did not. Should I send the security?"
"Please do."
The security made of highly talented pure-blood aurors made its way inside his room, and slowly inched towards the desk, casting spell after spell to dispel any traps.
One of them finally reached the desk. He levitated the letter, and carefully cast the detection spell. Everyone waited with bated breath as each test came back negative. He sighed in relief and shouted "All clear!"
At the word 'clear' the dungbombs placed near the door under disillusionment charms exploded.
Nobody had time to shield or cast bubble-head charms. Soon the dust had settled and the whole office smelled like, well, like dung.
Annoyed, Fudge stomped over and ripped the letter from the auror's hands, discarded the blank envelope, and started reading. And then stopped reading and threw it away. The letter was rather short.
This could've been worse.
His annoyance increased, and so he failed to notice how the letter was laced with a potion, and his hands were now fins.
He did notice when he tried to open his office door and his fins slapped helplessly against the round doorknob.
He took a deep breath to shout curses and to the unknown menace when he realised one vital thing. The room hadn't been cleared of the dung.
The resulting coughing and sputtering fit lasted for a full 10 minutes, and the healers brought from St Mungos took another 2 minutes to force him asleep.
The head healer scratched his head.
When, and how, had the Atlantean Plague returned? And how had it managed to infect the Minister?
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Harry sat in his dorm thinking about his shitty life and generally being an angsty teenager who didn't trust his elders. A case could be made that his case was more genuine than his fellow teenagers, so perhaps he could be excused for his behaviour.
Even Dumbledore had abandoned the school and he didn't know what to do anymore. Why had he been sad about getting expelled, again? Oh, because of the Dursleys. Hogwarts was simply the lesser of the two evils.
These thoughts were stopped rather abruptly as a piece of paper hit him in the chest and came to rest on his lap.
He looked around but did not find anyone , even under his bed.
Curious, he gave a look over the crumpled up piece of paper but soon opened it. The message was rather short.
This could have been the killing curse.
Wide eyed, he looked around much more carefully, looking for any shimmer or such in the air showing an amateur disillusionment charm in use. He did not find any. Hi quickly pulled out his want from his front pocket.
Another piece of paper hit his head, this time from behind him.
He quickly unfurled the paper.
And this could've been a stunner. You need better training if you even hope to fight the dark wizards, much less the dark lord himself. Start applying yourself. And take the Occlumency training seriously, I will only reveal myself once you're adept at keeping your thoughts secure. Till then, start reading the books kept on your trunk. And try to master the shields and 'accio' spells, specifically.
It was unsigned. And the handwriting was one he didn't recognise.
He looked over at his trunk, only now noticing three huge books kept there.
He straightened his shoulder, picked up the books, went to his desk in the dorm, and started reading. His invisible benefactor was true. He needed training. And he would get the training, whatever the cost.
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AN: This story is writing itself, I swear. It started as a prompt on Reddit, and has grown since. I have no solid plot in mind as of now… let's see where the muse takes this.