Harry Potter and the Year he Broke Free
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Thursday
Harry was sure he was reported missing, because all afternoon the teachers whispered and pointed at him, shooting him wary glances when they didn't think he was looking. Even in Herbology Professor Flitwick came down to the greenhouses especially to pull aside Professor Sprout. Harry just kept planting his weeping leekroot, pretending to be oblivious to the whispers behind his back. Since the weekend when he had gotten drunk and then fought Ron the rumours had only gotten worse. He was used to it, though.
Thankfully Cho was still going to the ball with him. He said thankfully, but... he was having second thoughts. She just didn't seem that interesting to him anymore. Where Harry used to be entranced by the sweep of her glossy hair over her shoulder, or her tinkling laugh, he didn't notice it anymore. Harry would prefer softer, shorter hair... lighter, perhaps. But shit, that sounded a bit like... oh, he didn't want to think about his feelings and what they meant. Harry was going to the ball with Cho, and he was going to bloody well enjoy it.
At dinner, sure enough, he was pulled aside by McGonagall.
"Potter, can I speak to you?" Everyone else on the table immediately stopped their conversations, tuning in to Harry and McGonagall's. The professor frowned at those shamelessly eavesdropping.
Harry set down his goblet of pumpkin juice. "Fine. Thought you might want to, anyway." They both got up and went out into the hall, which he was glad for. Harry didn't much feel like going back to her office. After checking that the area was clear of anyone, McGonagall sighed.
"You worried us, Harry. We thought you left," she said disapprovingly.
Harry just shrugged. "Changed my mind."
"Right," she said, lips pursed. "And how exactly did you leave my office? I believe it was apparition, but that should be impossible due to the wards we have around the school. What did you do?"
"I wanted to leave, and so I did. Can I go?" he said. And, for once, that was the truth. Harry didn't have a single clue how he managed to apparate out of there, nor did he know how he nearly killed Ron with those spinning shards of glass, or turn sunflowers into soup. The list was growing longer and longer, more questions going unanswered. And Harry couldn't do a thing about it. He was trapped, unable to see the big picture. There was something else going on here - he was sure of it.
She huffed. "Well, I wouldn't want to disturb your dinner. I'm not finished, though. We must all talk again another time."
"You mean Dumbledore and Snape and you? I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline that offer, until you actually start giving me some answers." Harry said, enjoying the look of annoyance that came over her face.
"We only want what's best for you, Harry."
He laughed. "I don't appreciate lies, professor." Then, he turned and went back into the Great Hall, despite having finished his meal a while ago. He was just staying away from Gryffindor Tower as long as he could. He had been in the library all afternoon, avoiding the other boys and the rest of Gryffindor. He had now fought both Seamus and Ron, pissed off Dean, and Neville probably wouldn't want to be seen around with the likes of him. They walked to class a few times together, though, so maybe him and Neville could be sort-of friends?
Eventually, the hall had emptied completely and Harry was the only one left. The clock chimed, and he knew it was time to go.
The walk was slow. Well, Harry made it slow, dragging his feet along at an agonisingly slow pace. A Hufflepuff prefect came along and told him to get moving, rolling his eyes and telling him claiming You-Know-Who was back wouldn't get him out of curfew. Harry glared at him, and begrudgingly walked faster. His mind wandered.
Judging by the shiny prefect badges, Ron and Hermione had been awarded the titles. He had first spotted them the previous week, and had questioned the choices. Hermione he agreed with - Parvati and Lavender were both idiots, so there wasn't a better choice. Ron, however... Harry felt like there were other people better suited for the job. Not him; Harry was forever breaking rules and he disappeared halfway through the summer anyway, but Neville would have been a good fit. At least he wasn't a jealous idiot.
The portrait hole came into view much more quickly than he would have liked, the Fat Lady grimacing when she saw him approach.
"Finally decided to turn up, have you? You've cut it very close to curfew, and-"
"Crystal snowflakes," he said bluntly, cutting across her. He didn't have time for her prattling on. Upon entering the common room he found nearly everyone clustered around the fire or in their respective friend groups. A quick scan of the room found Hermione sat by the window, head tucked in a book as per usual and Ron nowhere to be seen. Dean and Seamus were playing exploding snap nearby. A few people looked up, gawking at him for a second and then (presumably, judging from the increase of stares at him) talking and gossiping about him with the people around them. Harry strode across the common room, not looking anywhere but the stairs in front of him.
He climbed swirling staircase, going up and up until he came to the fifth-year boy's dormitory. Sure enough, when he opened the door he found Ron and Neville talking on each's respective beds. They both stopped when he came in.
"Harry! Good to see you back here." said Neville. Ron just glowered at him.
He sat on the edge of his bed. "Good to see you too, Neville. It's weird to be back here..." and it was. The familiar view of the grounds that he'd been staring at since he was eleven, the bed he had slept in for four years. The full effect of how much he had missed this place crashed over him in one earth-shattering wave. Hogwarts had been his home for years, until it wasn't anymore. How could it, if he didn't feel safe here? With Umbridge threatening to lock him in Azkaban, Dumbledore being his usual manipulative self, Snape sneering at him.
Ron and Hermione weren't his best friends. Harry didn't like Cho... he liked Malfoy. Draco bloody Malfoy. As much as he tried to deny it, the feelings only came back ten times as strong. Now he had debilitating nightmares, exhausting mood swings... he cut himself. As if on cue the scars on his forearm itched, begging him to run his fingers over the offending incisions. He had been doing it so long some of the earlier cuts had healed, only leaving thin webs of darkened skin to give any indication that they were ever there, easily covered with sleeves or glamours.
He had changed. Everyone had changed. Voldemort was back. The entire wizarding world hated him. Right now, he wished that things could just go back to the way they were; where he had actual friends. But they couldn't. Harry had finally stood up for himself and done something that wasn't according to some big plan crafted by Dumbledore, or Voldemort. Those two just loved to slot him in wherever they wanted, into whatever dastardly plan they had made. Harry had played so many parts over the years in schemes he didn't want anything to do with. At least now he was forging his own path.
"Uh, Harry?" Neville asked tentatively. Harry snapped his head away from the wall he'd been staring at for the past few minutes, and smiled briefly at the other boy.
"Sorry, spaced out."
"It's alright. You wanna play?" Judging from Ron's dark expression, Neville hadn't conferred with him in the slightest when making the decision to invite Harry.
He looked between the two. "I think I'll pass, Neville. Got some homework to do anyway."
Neville nodded, and the two resumed their game. Harry reached down to the side of his bed, pulling out some books, parchment, ink and a quill. He had four essays to do, not to mention he had to hand in six more meant from the previous week. Harry knew it made him a bigger geek than Hermione to have done the homework when he had no intention of handing it in but... he didn't enjoy skipping class, really.
Sure, it was fun the first few days and lessons he skipped, but it got old quick. It was just sort of lonely more than anything. Everyone else could talk about the lessons they'd had that day, bitch about the homework they had gotten, how the teachers had been. But Harry couldn't. Actually, he wasn't really talking to anyone either way, but it was nice to know what everyone was going on about.
Soon enough books completely surrounded him, each one open for some kind of reference. His essay was a few..uh... inches longer than it needed to be and he was still a paragraph or two off the end. Dear god, what had he gotten himself into? This would have been an appropriate length if he'd skipped out Steelworth's quote, but it was essential to cross-reference the criteria for how potent a mermaid's song could be. Hopefully Umbridge wouldn't mind. But this was Umbitch, so she'd probably take off a few points for his messy scrawl, and then because he existed. Harry didn't know why he was trying really.
He ran his hand through his hair frustratedly, fingers getting caught on all the knots. Ron looked over, and yelped.
"Bloody hell, Harry! How much are you doing for that? You're almost as bad as Hermione."
"Just because you couldn't be bothered," he said frostily, eyes never leaving the parchment in front of him. Ron glared at him and then shifted over in his bed to keep his eyes away from Harry. Neville observed the pair, and shook his head sadly.
Harry decided to keep going. Who cares if it's too long? It was still a quality piece of work in his opinion. Another half an hour and he was finished, packing away his stuff into his bag and plucking out a book to occupy his attention. Soon though he was just flipping the pages belatedly, watching the time tick by. His dip in the lake last year because of the second task had broken his other one, and he finally got round to getting another one. It was nothing too fancy - a plain black strap that went nicely with the pale, ivory-white of the clock face with silver hands. Sometimes he enjoyed sitting there and watching the hands stutter as they made their way round.
He awoke gasping and spluttering, one hand clenched around his throat as he tried to remember how to breath properly. Harry slumped back onto the pillows behind him, wiping cold sweat from his clammy forehead. Dammit, it felt like he nearly had a heart attack, judging from how fast his chest was thumping, each hollow pump thudding in his head. The moonlight sliding through the windows was just enough to glimpse where the hands were on his watch, if he tilted his head.
Half-two. Not bad; that was about four hours of sleep, and he wasn't even screaming when he woke up. Sure, he had been jolted awake, torn away from his dreams. Not that he was complaining. The details of this particular dream were slipping away fast, oozing out of the crevices of his mind. Something... something about graves? Yes, definitely. He remembered the gloomy granite grey of the tombstones. James and Lily Potter were there too - but they were all wrong. Harry shuddered as he remembered the two figures: eyes rolling from their sockets, dead flesh hanging and falling off their bodies. They were trying to pull him into a grave, saying it was only right to join his parents in the afterlife.
And- and Voldemort was there too, talking to a group of people. Harry could only remember snatches of conversation, the short exchanges between the masked figures and their leader growing fuzzier in his mind. If only he could go back...
No! He didn't want that. Harry was glad to be back in the waking world again, far away from the Dark Lord that had terrorised him for years. But his eyelids ached for precious, precious sleep, and he was far too exhausted to deny himself this simple pleasure. Harry shut his eyes once more, and was pulled into his sub-conscious again almost immediately.
"...my Lord, I can hardly advise that you should-"
"Silence, Wormtail. I have no time for such nonsense. Get back to your duties." The small, ratty man scurried away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
The plan was risky. Terribly so. There was an excellent chance it could crumble, outing him to the rest of the wizarding world and taking away the element of surprise. By keeping himself hidden it made everyone doubt the saviour's word. His... connections to the Prophet had helped nudge the newspaper in the direction of painting Harry Potter as nothing more than a lying attention-seeker, far too used to the fame his title brought.
And how close he had been the previous year to getting rid of the boy once and for all... had he not had an annoying tendency to escape certain situations, the entirety of the magical population would have no clue of his recent return. Albus Dumbledore and his insolent Order were proving most annoying, not to mention the Potter boy. In some ways, he was glad he was back - he wanted to monitor him at all times, ensure that everything was proceeding according to plan. Especially when he played such a big part in it.
Still, he musn't get too arrogant. Things could go wrong, even when he planned everything down to the last detail, mainly through no fault of his own. His loyal followers often made mistakes. Only once, though - the severe punishments he made them endure made sure they never did it again. He was Lord Voldemort, after all. The most powerful, cunning sorcerer ever seen before, and this time, he would not fail. He would destroy those that opposed him, and obliterate Harry Potter. He laughed, high and cold and deranged.
For the second time that night, Harry awoke unable to breathe, his chest compressed under the weight of fear and scar burning like it was on fire. He coughed, sharp breaths being drawn in to try and stop his wildly beating heart. This time it was a few minutes before he was able to get over the shock and sit up. Harry would've been worried about forgetting his dream, but - it was all crystal-clear. Like he could actually remember it. He should take this opportunity while he had it!
Reaching down the side of his bed, his hand fumbled around inside his bag to find a notebook he could write in. Finally! He grasped one, and dropped it into his bed. Next he needed a pen. Oh drat, where was one when you needed it? He tumbled out of bed, shaking, so he dig through his bag properly. His t-shirt was stuck to his skin with sweat.
"H-Harry?" came a voice out of the darkness. Shit! The ink bottle slipped from his trembling fingers, smashing loudly. More sounds of stirring came from the other beds. Suddenly, someone lit their wand, illuminating all of their bleary-eyed faces. Dean, Seamus, Neville and Ron all stared back at him.
"Harry, it's two'o'clock in the bloody morning!" moaned Seamus, scratching his hair. Dean mumbled in agreement.
Neville yawned. "What broke? I definitely heard a smash."
"Ink bottle," said Harry. They all peered at him in confusion.
"What were you writing?" asked Ron.
"Doesn't matter. Sorry for waking you up."
Seamus shook his head at him, and went back to his bed, as did Dean and Neville. Ron just stared at him, moving the light closer to Harry.
"You all right, mate? Looking a bit pale," he remarked.
Harry squinted, pushing the wand away. "I'm-" unfortunately, he chose this moment to cough and splutter fantastically, throat burning under the strain.
Ron looked at him incredulously. "You're what?" he said as the hacking finally stopped.
Harry swallowed thickly. "Fine," he said thinly, voice cracking. Ron didn't look convinced in the slightest, but went back over to his bed anyway. Harry sighed a breath of relief as soon as the light went out. He repared the ink quickly, and set it back in his bag. The conversation probably wasn't that important anyway, just a dream. He collapsed back onto his bed, shutting the curtains and uttering the same silencing and privacy spells he had used earlier. Not everyone needed to know he screamed himself awake every night.
Harry settled down into the pillows, making the shape more comfortable for him to lie on. But it was no use - the aching exhaustion he'd felt earlier was gone, replaced by panic. He drifted in and out of restless dreams and fleeting spells of sleep the entire night, too wary of Voldemort to relax fully.
Excellent. Harry's favourite lesson of all; Defence Against the Dark Arts. Umbridge was going through her usual spiel up at the front, open your books, blah blah. He sat in his desk folding up strips of paper into zig-zags. Like little snakes. This was better than her mind-numbingly boring lesson.
"Mr Potter, where is your book?" came a simpering voice from behind him.
Harry smiled. "Here," he said, gesturing to the mountain of shredded paper in front of him. "I'm putting it to good use."
Umbridge sucked in a breath. "Need I remind you that a single step out of line will get you sentenced to Azkaban, Mr Potter?"
"Yup. You've mentioned it a few times."
"Then what on earth do you think you are doing?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Calm down, I'm reading it now." He swept his hand over the mound of paper snakes, transforming it back into a book. "Defensive Magical Theory, by William Slinkhard. I'd say it was better shredded."
Umbridge scowled sourly at him. "Detention, Mr Potter. For the rest of the month."
"Do I get any explanation as to why?" he demanded coolly.
"Distrupting the lesson, damaging your school books, causing harm to a professor. You should be receiving my medical bill from St Mungo's shortly," she said. "And - I'd sit down, if I were you, before I call in the aurors to escort you away."
Her satisfied grin as he lowered himself back into his seat was enough for him to want to throw a desk at her. Oh, and he could. It was now Thursday, and over the past week he'd gotten a better handle on his magic. Right now it was being tested, though. Detention for a month? Fucking hell. But he had to take it all with gritted teeth, keeping himself going with the thought that while she took out all her anger on him, no-one else would be subject to it.
He glowered at her. "I think I deserve an apology, Mr Potter," she asked sweetly, his frown deepening.
"I'm sorry," he said bluntly.
Umbitch mock-frowned. "I think it needs to be a bit more meaningful than that. Just a teensy-weensy bit."
"I'm sorry," he repeated more forcefully, grinding his teeth when she smiled at him.
"Now, that's better, isn't it?" she said. "Isn't it, Mr Potter?"
"Yes," he said, voice flat and devoid of any emotion.
She tutted. "I think you have a bit of an attitude problem. Perhaps an extra month of detention would help with that, hm?"
He gaped at her. "What? That's ridiculous!" he protested.
Suddenly, she leant in closer to him, snarl twisting with malice. "Get back to reading, or I make it three," she hissed.
Begrudgingly, he pulled open the cover of his book and began scanning the first block of text. She pulled back, muttering "that's better," before going back over to her desk. Harry could feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment and fury, anger surging through his very core, white-hot and ready to lash out at the pink toad sat at the front of the classroom. His hands gripped the side of the desk tightly.
The worst thing was he couldn't do a damn thing. The stunt he'd pulled at the beginning of the lesson was pushing the boundaries, so throwing her out the nearest window was not an option, unless he wanted to be expelled. Actually, part of him wondered if he'd be able to apparate out of Azkaban. If so, that would mean Umbridge had no way to threaten him, so then he could throw her to the Giant Squid with no qualms. Oh, he dreamed about that night and day. How he would love to give her a good wack round the face; anyone would really. Harry had even caught Snape throwing her a dirty look.
Harry refused to stare at the absolute drivel on the page in front of him, and what other option was there to daydream? This was prime daydream time, and he wasn't about to waste it. God knows that's what everyone else was doing, even Hermione.
It killed him that after class he had to go and sort out his detentions with Umbridge. It felt like he was giving up, admitting defeat. Harry still regretted not leaving when he had the chance, but, well... he was here now. It was all Malfoy's fault he had to do two months of detention. That stupid prat, managing to persuade him not to leave.
And worst of all, he couldn't pop off to see Sirius anymore. Often his godafther would come and visit him, but those trips had gone out of the window with Umbridge now checking every visitor in the school thoroughly, tightening the wards to make Hogwarts even more impenetrable than it was before. Who made her High Inquisitor he didn't know.
To add to that, Harry begun to think his roomates suspected something. Ron was always frowning at him, like he was puzzled, whenever he looked over at Harry. Squinting slightly, turning his head to the side, asking a million questions with just his eyes. But despite this, the two hadn't exchanged more than a few words in the days that had gone by. He had tried to be more careful at night, not wanting to arouse the other boys again. There had been enough awkward questions since then, more "are you sure you're alright, Harry? You're still looking a bit pale," mostly from Neville.
Years of sneaking around the Dursleys' meant he was able to continue his night-time wanderings without much fuss. Often when he was at his most restless, he would swipe the invisibility cloak and go for a roam around the halls of Hogwarts, trying to tire himself out so he could get some sleep. Thank Merlin since Monday night he hadn't had any dreams as clear as that. Of course they were still unpleasant, but his scar didn't sting as much when he woke up.
The Room of Requirement was good as a secret base. He had a small potions lab set up there, as well as a desk, sofa and bookshelf. He couldn't disappear down there too often or someone would catch on. Even if he was in there for an hour or so, Hermione would ask him where he'd been. She was quite insistent. Harry put it down to Dumbledore meddling again, sending off his spies to keep Harry-watch. It was sad, really.
Tomorrow night was the ball; as much as Harry tried not to let it bother him, he was still a bit nervous. He loathed dancing, and also didn't want to step on Cho's feet. Last year he saw how Cedric spun her around the ballroom, and he just hoped Cho wasn't expecting him to do the same with her. Harry could muster a decent waltz, but after that he was clueless. He'd read books on it and everything, but he was cursed with two left feet. He just didn't want to embarrass himself.
At least after the ball he could leave Hogwarts for two whole weeks of bliss. No homework, no Umbridge, no nosy Ron and Hermione. Everyone else would be staying at the Burrow this Christmas, and although Harry and Sirius were going to visit he could at least avoid all the questioning for a short while. Would there be much Order activity? Maybe death eaters took a break over Christmas. Hopefully they did, because all Harry wanted was a peaceful holiday. He was planning to pop down to the Shrieking Shack, check on his plants. They were probably dead by now - it had been two weeks since they'd been watered. Had Dobby done it? No, he didn't think so...
The bell jerked him out of his thoughts, eyes coming back into focus to land on Umbridge's malevolent smirk. The rest of the classroom emptied, leaving just him and the pointy-toothed toad. He stared back fiercely.
"If you could come here, Mr Potter?" she asked.
He rose slowly and made his way over to the desk, and she smiled.
"Good. Now, you have two months of detentions to serve, beginning tonight and continuing until after we return from Christmas Break." she grimaced. "Abus has already informed me you will not be spending Christmas here."
Harry fought the urge to scream and rage at her. "Sure," he replied coolly.
Umbridge scowled at him. "Glad that's settled. Come to my office at six, tonight."
He nodded, and turned to leave, until something stirred in the depths of his memory. "Professor?" he asked, the official title tasting sour on his tongue.
She looked up in surprise, which quickly turned to distaste. "I thought I made myself perfectly clear, what is it, Potter?"
"The ball. Tomorrow. Can I still go?"
The bitch surveyed him for a second, before grinning wickedly. "Seeing as I will be attending, I suppose I won't be able to supervise the detention." His heart leapt, but then he remembered her expression. "However, as sufficient punishment for that night, you are hereby banned."
"Oh, you manky bitch..." the words were out before he could stop them. Harry cursed himself and his intolerable temper as he watched a myriad of emotions pass through Umbridge's face. Shock, then anger, then a calm smile.
"That's three months then," she said sweetly. "Off you go, now. Wouldn't want to be late to your next lesson now, would we?"
Shit. Cho was going to kill him.
"YOU WHAT?!" she exploded. Harry winced.
"Look, I said I was-"
"EVERYTHING WAS READY! I HAD MY DRESS, MY CORSAGE SORTED, EVERYTHING! OF COURSE YOU HAD TO GO-"
"I SAID I WAS SORRY, OKAY!" he yelled, rubbing his temples. He was in a foul mood already, and Cho's dulcet tones pounding against his killer headache was doing nothing to improve it.
"IF YOU COULD HAVE KEPT YOUR TEMPER FOR ONCE, WE MIGHT NOT BE IN THIS SITUATION!"
Harry's eyes flashed angrily. "I think you're overreacting a bit, Cho-"
"I AM NOT!" she spat vehemently. "I'VE HEARD ALL THE RUMOURS, SO IT WAS ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE YOU EMBARRASSED YOURSELF AGAIN! CEDRIC WOULD NEVER HAVE GOTTEN HIMSELF INTO THIS MESS, HE KNEW HOW BEHAVE PROPERLY!"
"Oh really? So all you care about is having the perfect date? One who dances nicely, treats you like a lady, knows the difference between bloody charcoal and inky black? One who actually likes you?" he practically hissed. "Let me tell you, I am glad I don't have to go to the ball with you, and spend all bloody night listening to you prattling on!" She stared back at him, blinking injuredly. He could even see tears welling up in her eyes. Harry just laughed in her face.
"You're so fucking annoying, Cho. You talk all the time, about every damn thing." Now the tears were flowing freely, and she looked close to sprinting away, half in fear and half because she looked so angry still. "Oh, Merlin's sake, could you stop being so bloody conceited and pretentious? I don't know how Cedric could stand you."
That was the fatal blow. She sobbed once, and took off running in the direction of the girls' loos. Harry shook his head after her. Too bloody sensitive, that one. She didn't mind screeching at him, but as soon as he flipped the tables she started weeping. And in the middle of dinner, too!
People were either laughing, shaking their heads at him or looking him up and down warily. He supposed he looked a bit mad, what with anger pumping through his veins and making his breathing laboured and unsteady. He growled at all the nosy onlookers, and disappeared up a corridor.
Rage blinded him, making him see red. He ended up taking off into a run, setting off at an alarming pace to the seventh floor, where he knew he could feel safe. The Room of Requirement was the one place he wasn't disturbed, wasn't given detention after detention, wasn't pestered with annoying questions like "you doing okay, Harry?". The one place he felt at home, where he answered to no-one. In there, there was no Azkaban, no Dumbledore. It was absolute bliss.
He didn't even have to walk forwards and backwards three times; the door just appeared for him. Never had he been so thankful to turn the handle, completely unaware of what lay inside the mysterious room.
It was full to the brim with... well, with almost everything. There were old, rickety desks, spindly chairs, stacks of books, towering vases, all very... breakable things. In front of it all lay a single plate, sitting innocently in front of him. Harry smiled, before the fury surged again, almost too much for him to bear. He picked up the single plate and threw it as hard as he could against the floor, porcelain smashing to the floor in an undignified scramble of shards. For the rest of the room... well, Harry just didn't know whether it would all survive. But it was exactly what he needed, exactly what the room had registered without him even requesting it. Magic was pretty cool, after all.
*I don't own any characters, all rights to J.K. Rowling.
**Thank you all so much for the reviews, favourites and follows! Stay safe, -Tea33.
***This story is going to be.. uh... very long. I think. So sorry about that, I guess?
