Thank you all again for your reviews! I didn't leave an A/N last time because without it, the story was exactly 93000 words long and I didn't want to mess with that. Sorry if that brought any confusion in regards to the update date which is, incindentally, today! So enjoy!
Chapter 19
Since exhaustion still tugged on Harry's mind whenever he awoke and the cold was only dissipating very slowly, it was only natural that he hadn't thought about the detention he was supposed to have with Umbridge. Friday passed by easily enough with Harry still holed up in the infirmary. Hermione dutifully brought him his homework and Harry, who didn't have much else to do at that moment, took advantage of the peace and quiet to do as much of his homework as he could before slipping back into a deep slumber. Sleep would ambush him out of nowhere still which was probably the main reason Pomfrey didn't want him to leave.
Since the weekend followed shortly after, Pomfrey hadn't deemed it necessary to discharge Harry just yet but had rather taken the opportunity to keep him a bit longer and pour so many potions into him that Harry wondered if the stock was nearly empty. She didn't allow him to suffer from a shortage of food either, even if Harry didn't feel particularly hungry.
He was intensely grateful that Pomfrey hadn't looked past his immediate issues to find out that there was a glamour on his right hand. When Harry looked at it at times he was all alone, he noticed that the wound was nearly gone anyway and would probably not be found out unless under close scrutiny. Just to be on the safe side though, he reapplied the glamour. The problems that particular wound would help surface were not worth it.
It was on Sunday evening that Harry was finally allowed to go back to the tower. He had been able to catch up on the backlog in his homework by then and found himself almost grateful to have wound up in the infirmary in the first place. He no longer felt excessively cold and the aches in his body were all but gone as well. Sure, he was still a bit tired but now it felt more as if he could sleep it off with one good night's rest rather than that he was in danger of falling asleep in the middle of a conversation. What he hadn't been able to shake off was that lingering feeling of hopelessness and guilt. The more time alone he had, the more he had been able to think about it. And he couldn't help but wonder when things would finally start looking up for him.
Harry wasn't escorted back to the Gryffindor tower. He felt well enough to head there by himself and really didn't need his friends to cling to him as if he were fragile and about to break.
Even if that's sometimes exactly how I feel.
He didn't pass a lot of people in the hallway but the Slytherins he came across all seemed cowed and on edge when they saw him. Harry wondered about that. It wasn't his fault that Crabbe and Goyle had botched their prank. He didn't ask to be attacked. Why were they all looking at him as if he was the bad guy here?
He didn't get too much time to ponder that, though, when someone eventually did stop him as he walked.
"Mr Potter!" The shrill voice sounded almost surprised and Harry turned around to catch the vindictive look in Umbridge's eyes.
Uh oh.
"Yes, Professor?" he asked, forcing his voice to sound as neutral as possible.
"And where, in Merlin's name, have you been? You didn't show up for your detention!" she demanded, sounding very accusatory.
Harry frowned. Had no one told her that he had been sick? "I was in the infirmary," he said, aware of the perplexed tone in his voice.
"No one informed me of that," Umbridge said haughtily, crossing her arms tightly.
"Well, I'm sorry about that but if you don't believe me, you can ask Madame Pomfrey," Harry offered. He really wanted to get going. It was nearly curfew. "In fact, I was only just now allowed to leave."
"Be that as it may, Mr Potter, I expect a proper advance warning if you plan on skipping my lessons or detentions," Umbridge replied.
Harry furrowed his brow and clenched his fists. "Perhaps you can teach me how to do that while unconscious?" he asked. "I don't think that's in any of my textbooks."
Umbridge huffed indignantly. "Don't take that tone with me, young man," she spat. "If not you, why haven't your friends told me about your… issues? Why, I have half a mind to –"
"You're right!" Harry interrupted hastily. He was not about to throw his friends under the bus here. It was bad enough that Umbridge was picking on him relentlessly; He was not about to have Hermione or Ron submit to her punishments as well. "I'm sorry. I guess I didn't think about it."
"Your half-hearted apology is hardly good enough," Umbridge huffed. "But it will have to do, I suppose. You do still owe me a detention, though."
Harry sighed wearily. "As long as it's not on Tuesdays or Thursdays, Professor," he said. "Those have been reserved by Professor Snape until the end of the year."
"Tomorrow then," Umbridge said, her face tinged with a hint of red. "Straight after dinner. I imagine that all the good your punishment has done has nearly… faded away." Her gaze flitted momentarily to Harry's right hand and he nearly rolled his eyes at her lack of subtlety.
"I'll be there," he told her, eager to be done with her. "May I be excused now? I would like to be inside Gryffindor Tower by curfew."
"Very well," Umbridge said, waving Harry off with a lazy flick of her wrist. "Good night, Mr Potter."
Harry thought about not responding but he knew how much Umbridge liked common courtesy. It didn't matter how fake. "Good night, Professor," Harry replied lazily before rushing off with haste. He didn't want to spend another second in the presence of that vile woman. Not if he could help it.
"Harry!" The joy dripping off his friends' voices did not match his own when he stepped into the common room. He didn't know why, but while seeing them waiting for him would normally always bring a smile to his face, this time he didn't seem to care all that much.
This happens so often, it's become routine by now, hasn't it?
But Harry forced himself to smile nonetheless and expressed his thanks for their concern. They didn't yet know exactly what had happened; only that Crabbe and Goyle had been involved and Harry was not about to tell them more than that. In all fairness, his own mind was still reeling from the situation. Maybe an Occlumency lesson would be able to sort this whole thing out.
"I'm still a bit tired," Harry told his friends. "Is it alright if I go to sleep?"
"Well, of course," Hermione said, adopting a motherly tone that Harry knew Ron found to be annoying. "You need your rest. Up with you then. We'll see you at breakfast."
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said with a grateful smile. Ron followed him up to their dorm and hovered annoyingly while Harry brushed his teeth.
"So…" Ron said carefully. "Are you going to tell me what those two snakes did to you?"
Harry shook his head as he looked at the sink in front of him. Not replying because of the toothbrush in his mouth was as good a reason as any.
"Why not?" Ron said. "They did something awful, didn't they? You know I've got your back. So does everyone else here. I –" Ron seemed to be struggling with his words and Harry felt stupid with his mouth full of toothpaste but too self-conscious to spit it out while Ron was speaking so earnestly.
The redhead took a deep breath and looked at Harry with great concern. "Something's off," he said. "And it's not just because you've been chasing after Malfoy or any other Slytherins. You've seemed different from the moment we saw you on the first day. Hermione doesn't want me to say anything but… we're worried about you."
Now Harry did spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. Hurriedly he cast a silencing spell over the bathroom door before addressing Ron.
"I appreciate that," Harry said carefully. "But there's no need."
Ron actually looked affronted. "Isn't there?" he hissed. "You've been going through the motions every day since the start of term. Umbridge is basically torturing you but you don't want anyone to know and now this! Why do you feel the need to protect those filthy snakes?"
"I don't want you to get in trouble in the name of petty revenge," Harry snapped.
Besides, they'll be gone by the end of the week if I can believe Snape.
Harry didn't think Snape would appreciate it if he blabbed to even his friends about the man's intentions. While he trusted his friends, he knew that the Potions Master didn't and wouldn't much appreciate it if his life suddenly depended on the discretion of three Gryffindors instead of one.
Ron gave him a knowing look. "I don't think that's it at all," he said. "You're hiding something."
Harry didn't respond.
Ron slammed the side of his fist into the wall, making Harry take a step back in surprise. "Talk to me, damn it!" he shouted.
"Ron," Harry said in bewilderment. "You're making too much of this. Nothing's going on."
Nothing that you can fix, anyway.
Ron narrowed his eyes. "Oh yeah?" he asked coldly. "Then what happened to my best friend, huh?"
"Nothing happened," Harry tried again.
"You keep telling yourself that," Ron said angrily. "Maybe eventually you'll believe it. But don't think that I don't know you well enough to know that something's seriously wrong."
"It's not as if last year was easy for me, you know?" Harry then offered angrily. "Or have you already forgotten about the tournament and…"
"I haven't forgotten," Ron said quietly. "And I did apologise that I was such a lousy friend to you back then. I just want to be better for you this year."
"I just need a bit of time," Harry said gently. He reached out and put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "I appreciate your concern. I really do. But this is just something I'll have to get through on my own."
Ron seemed to hesitate for a moment but then he sighed in resignation. "If you say so, Harry," he said. "But if you ever need someone to talk to, you know you can talk to me, right?"
Harry smiled automatically, the feeling of the expression mechanical. "I know," he said. "Thank you for that."
"Let's go to sleep then," Ron said. "Hermione will have my head if she knows I kept you up."
Harry nodded wearily. "That sounds great, actually."
They bid each other goodnight then. Harry could feel Ron's gaze on him long after he went to bed. Even after he had closed the curtains. It was nice to have his friend worry about him but it honestly reminded him of just how alone he was. There was no way the redhead could understand what Harry was going through. What he had gone through so far. Sure, he had braved dangers as well. Fought on Harry's side. But he hadn't experienced any of the truly devastating things Harry had gone through. And in the end, he had a family that loved him. Parents that would do anything for him. He had people to fall back on. People that understood him. Not Harry, though. After all, he was not much more than a burden to those around him.
It would probably be better if I wasn't here at all.
Harry frowned at himself and buried his face into his pillow, banishing that stray thought as soon as it hit him. He was probably just tired. Tomorrow, everything would be better.
Harry was in a dark forest. The arboreal structures surrounding him were starting to become so familiar to him that he could navigate them blindfolded. The moon was high in the sky and cast an eerie glow on the trees. Braziers carrying green fire were spread systematically across the clearing, illuminating the runes that were steadily being carved into the stone platform beneath his feet.
Wormtail was on his knees. A position he seemed to favour while in Harry's presence. A ritual dagger was in his hand and he was painstakingly carving the necessary runes and scriptures. Tedious work, Harry knew, but he could count on Wormtail to take great care into performing this duty. He was not much but he was patient and precise.
If magic could be used to carve these runes, everything could go a lot faster. But Harry knew that any additional magic could pollute the ritual and he could not risk that happening. He would get one shot at this. One shot only.
"Have you received any more information from our spy, Wormtail?" Harry asked. "How are things going at Hogwarts?"
Wormtail looked up, a frightened look in his eyes as Harry spoke to him. It gratified him. Filled him with joy. The delicious torment his underling went through would make sure that he didn't betray Harry. Not now. Not ever.
"I have, my Lord," the insignificant worm said, bowing as deeply as he could. "Harry Potter seems distressed. He's been hospitalised more than once already, I hear."
"Has he?" Harry asked. This pleased him. "Any reason as to why that is?"
Wormtail's voice went up a notch. "I don't know the details, my Lord!" he exclaimed in a panic. "But I know that things are going according to plan. I'm certain he won't be able to cope for very long."
"You're certain," Harry mimicked pleasantly. "For your sake, I hope you're right. What of the ritual?"
Wormtail cowered in on himself. "I'm working as fast as I can, my Lord," he said. "Thanks to your aid and resources, I can do a lot more. The first circle should be complete within three days."
"Marvellous," Harry said, smiling widely. He licked his lips eagerly at the prospect of what was to come. "When this is all over, I will know power that not even Salazar Slytherin has been able to achieve. Of course, you will be rewarded handsomely, my dear Wormtail."
Harry could practically taste Wormtail's eagerness. "Yes, my Lord," he said, grovelling on the stones. "I am your most humble servant until the end."
Harry laughed. Everything was coming together. Slowly, yes. But there was no rush. All the more time to have Harry Potter fall into madness.
Harry woke up with a gasp, his hand automatically reaching for his scar. No one else in the room seemed to have stirred and Harry was almost grateful to realise that he hadn't screamed this time. When he withdrew his hand, he saw that his fingers were flecked with blood but only minorly so. There was no gushing stream this time; no blood trickling down his face. No, there were only a few drops. Not enough to wake anyone up over.
He would tell someone what happened in the dream in the morning. For now, Harry very much doubted that he could go back to sleep.
Voldemort had been talking about him. Him specifically. And while Harry was, of course, aware of the personal vendetta Voldemort had against him, it was still disconcerting to realize that he was once again part of Voldemort's masterplan. A plan that would, apparently, empower Voldemort greatly.
He mentioned a spy as well. That had to be Snape, didn't it? But the man insisted that he didn't know of any plot. Why would he say that if it wasn't true? Was it because Harry was not allowed to know what was going on?
Angrily, Harry climbed out of bed and headed down into the common room. It was still dark out and Harry figured he would have a couple of hours before morning. He grabbed a random textbook thinking the smart thing to do was to study. There was no doubt in his mind that he would fall behind again very soon. If only because he was too stubborn to give in to Umbridge.
What's the point? Just give her what she wants. It's not as if it matters.
It shouldn't matter. Not really. Opening a random page in his book, Harry realised that he had grabbed his potions textbook. The dry material was enough to bore anyone to death. Anyone besides Snape and Hermione, that is. But he still began to read, trying his best to distract his rampant thoughts as he focused on the creation of the wit-sharpening potion.
What an excessive amount of ginger root…
Going through the motions, as Ron had called it, was right. Any child raised by muggles would find wizarding classes absolutely fascinating. And Harry usually still marvelled at the wonders he saw on a daily basis. Today was different, though.
He was tired and therefore cranky. He hated the defence classes in which he was allowed to do nothing but read and write, trying his best to ignore Umbridge's idiotic ideas of what makes for a decent lesson. Hermione seemed to be taking notes on something other than Umbridge's lecture as her gaze swept across the classroom. Harry found he didn't really care.
They had a free period that day, which Harry used to head up to Dumbledore's office. He knew he needed to relay his dream to him before he forgot about it completely and just wanted to get it over with, really. He didn't look forward to another meeting with Dumbledore in which the old wizard could avoid eye contact at all costs but he knew that he had no choice.
That's how he found himself on the revolving staircase that carried him to Dumbledore's office. 'Every flavour beans' had been accepted as a password this time around. It had only taken Harry three guesses.
"Good afternoon, Harry," Dumbledore greeted as Harry arrived. His door was open and he was staring out of the window. "Do have a seat. Would you like a lemon drop?" The bowl of candies shifted a bit closer to Harry, bending over a bit as if eagerly awaiting Harry's acceptance.
"No, thank you," Harry said. The bowl lowered itself with a sad tilt and scurried off again.
Dumbledore took a seat behind his desk, helping himself to a sweet – much to the pleasure of the bowl – before steepling his fingers and watching his rings with immense fascination.
Why? Why does he do this?
"What can I help you with?" he asked. His voice sounded light and kind as always but Harry had realised by now that that was just a front. There was more Slytherin in the headmaster than the old man let on.
"I had another vision," Harry said matter-of-factly, leaning back to try and see Dumbledore's reaction.
But the man remained ridiculously aloof. "Ah, so good of you to come," he told Harry. "You didn't fall asleep in class, I hope?"
"No sir," Harry replied. "It happened this night. But I thought it was too late to bother you with it."
"Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed, actually sounding affronted. "You could never bother me. You may come to me whenever you have need."
I might believe you if you had the courage to look at me.
Harry said nothing.
"Unfortunately, Severus is in the middle of teaching a class right now," Dumbledore said. "If we want him to hear this as well, we might need to postpone this meeting."
"I have no other moment today, Professor," Harry said. "Or tomorrow. Can't you just tell Professor Snape about it later?"
"Of course!" Dumbledore said easily. "If that makes it easier for you, I see no reason why not. Perhaps you would be willing to pensieve the memory for me so no details are forgotten?"
Harry frowned. "Pensieve?" he asked. "What's that?"
Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly. "I often forget that there are things in our world you haven't heard of yet," he said.
Sure. Rub it in.
"With a simple incantation, I can extract a memory from you to watch later," Dumbledore explained. "When Severus and I are done with it, we can restore the memory to you. There is absolutely no danger involved."
"Oh," Harry said. "That sounds useful. Why didn't you do that before?"
"Ah but during the recollection of your earlier visions, Severus has always been here to listen to the information first hand, was he not?" Dumbledore pointed out.
Harry nodded. "I suppose," he said.
Dumbledore sluggishly raised his wand. "If you'll allow me, my boy, I just need to touch your temple with my wand for a brief moment."
Harry didn't understand how despite the obvious wall Dumbledore was trying to build between him and Harry, he still trusted the old man so much. He nodded curtly and tried again for eye contact. Dumbledore's gaze was trained on his wand though and Harry quickly looked away, feeling oddly deflated.
"Think of the memory, Harry," Dumbledore said as his wand touched Harry's temple. "Allow it to fill your mind. Recall as much detail as you can."
Harry did and when Dumbledore slowly withdrew his wand, a silver strand, not unlike the colour of his Patronus, was attached to its tip. Dumbledore pulled it out and dropped it into a stone basin that was mounted to the wall behind his desk.
"Excellent," Dumbledore said happily. "I will review this with Severus at his earliest convenience."
Harry knew that he wasn't needed anymore. That he had done his part. He could leave now. But his heart felt ready to burst because of the older wizard's constant denials. He didn't know what was going on but he desperately wanted to.
"Professor?" Harry prompted as Dumbledore grabbed another lemon drop.
"Yes, my boy?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.
"Did I do something wrong?" Harry asked, hating the way his voice sounded. "Did I offend you in some way?"
Dumbledore's expression seemed to sadden for a moment. "Of course not," he said honestly. "You could never offend me, Harry."
"Then why?" Harry asked desperately. "Why won't you even look me in the eye? Why did you send me back to people you know hated me? Why are you distancing yourself like this?"
Dumbledore sighed heavily and for a moment, Harry thought he could see the weight of many responsibilities in Dumbledore's averted eyes.
"There are things you can't understand," Dumbledore said gravely. "Not yet. But I promise you that they will become clear to you eventually."
"I'm not a child!" Harry exclaimed, realising just how petulant he sounded. "I want to know your reasons now!"
"What we want is not always what is best for us," Dumbledore said kindly. "I humbly suggest that I might know what's best a bit better as a result of my age."
"You've only known me for a little over four years," Harry countered. "Your age has nothing to do with it."
"I see no reason to continue this discussion," Dumbledore said. The tone of his voice had turned to one of steely resolve that Harry imagined not even Snape would dare to go against. "Let it go for now, Harry. I know it's a lot to ask of you right now but I request your trust. Believe that I know what's best."
"And if you don't?" Harry asked quietly.
"Then I will bear the consequences," Dumbledore replied.
Yes but I will as well, won't I?
Harry sighed as he rose from his seat. He couldn't stand to be here for a moment more. "I should get back to class," he said.
"Ah yes," Dumbledore replied, his tone suddenly light-hearted again. "Your studies are important, of course. Would you like some lemon drops for your friends?"
But Harry had already left.
After that debacle, Harry hadn't felt much happier the rest of the day. Hermione and Ron threw him worried glances over dinner and sometimes Harry could see the frustration on Ron's face. But it didn't matter. Ron would just have to accept that Harry didn't want him sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Some things you just didn't share with anyone. Not even your best friends.
"What are you going to do about Umbridge?" Hermione asked.
"What do you mean?" Harry retorted. "I'm going to write my lines."
"Harry," Hermione sighed. "Maybe you should just… I don't know… refuse to do them?"
Harry couldn't suppress a small smile. "Are you telling me to rebel?" he whispered. "Against a teacher?"
"Only against this one," Hermione said. "And don't act so surprised. You know how I feel about her."
"Just hex her and get it over with," Ron said grumpily. "It's not as if we need her to read our textbooks or anything. Might as well not have her here at all."
"Ron!" Hermione said, sounding appalled. "Don't you think that goes just a bit too far?"
Ron shrugged. "You only need to hex her a little bit, I think," he said. "Is there a spell that would prevent her from wearing pink while inside Hogwarts?"
Hermione sighed dramatically. "No, Ron," she said. "There isn't."
"We could have McGonagall transform into a cat and claw her eyes out," Ron then suggested, brandishing his fork dramatically. 'Umbridge loves cats. She'll never see it coming!"
"Oh just brilliant," Hermione replied snidely. "And who's going to ask her, hm?"
"You, of course," Ron said. "Who better than the teacher's pet?"
"I am not –"
"Guys," Harry interrupted. "Not that this isn't wildly entertaining or anything but I have to go."
Both Ron and Hermione's faces fell.
"Oh," they said in unison.
"Should we wait for you?" Ron asked.
"Nah," Harry said, not eager to know that his friends were waiting for him outside that door. "I'm sure I can make it back on my own."
Hermione nodded. "Just… be careful, alright?"
Harry supposed that was the best advice she could give, short of Harry going to Dumbledore to complain. And it was obvious what that old coot thought of abuse.
"I'll see you guys later," Harry said. "Oh, and you don't have to wait up for me, alright?"
"Just go, mate," Ron said. "Or you'll be late and who knows what that old toad will do to you then."
Harry thought Ron had a good point and left quickly to make his way to Umbridge's office. He arrived with five minutes to spare and the door flew open as soon as he approached it.
"Ah, Mr Potter," Umbridge said coolly from behind her desk. "Good to see that you decided to make an appearance this time."
Harry bit his tongue to keep from saying something scathing and simply nodded.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Umbridge asked. "Take a seat."
Without a word, Harry sat down. The quill was already waiting for him, resting innocently atop a few pages of parchment.
Umbridge leaned against her desk, watching Harry with a thin smile. "Go on," she said. "Get started."
Harry carefully picked up the quill and looked at it, scrutinising it from every angle before setting his gaze on the horrible lady-in-pink. "No," he said.
Umbridge's smile faltered a little. "No?" she repeated. "Are you saying you refuse to do your lines?"
"I refuse to do them with this quill," Harry said. "Let me use my own and I'll write as many lines as you'd like."
"You will sit out the punishment as intended, Mr Potter, or you will get one far worse," Umbridge growled.
Well, in for a penny…
"Go right ahead," Harry said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "But I'm not going to inflict any more injuries on myself."
Furiously, Umbridge grabbed her wand.
"Oh, are you going to try and use Imperio to make me?" Harry asked. "Don't bother. Voldemort already tried that and if he didn't succeed I very much doubt that you will."
"I have had quite enough of your impudence," Umbridge snarled. "Mentioning You-know-who in the same sentence that you use to accuse me of using Unforgivables must be the rudest thing you have done as of yet. You have clearly not yet learned not to lie!"
"When will you learn to see past what the ministry tells you?" Harry asked plainly. "Tell me; Are all ministry workers as cowardly as you are or is it just you and the minister?"
Umbridge gasped theatrically. "Treason!" she uttered. "You dare insult the minister? The ministry?"
"He has no problem insulting me," Harry replied casually. "So I don't see why not."
Okay, you've made your point. Shut up.
"The minister has done nothing but expose your filthy lies to the public," Umbridge snarled. "If you had your way, there would be widespread panic!"
"And people would know to prepare," Harry snarled. "Whereas now we're subjected to ruddy Defence Professors that don't even know how to teach."
When Umbridge calmed down and smiled, Harry knew he had gone too far. "That's quite enough of your impudence, wouldn't you agree?" she asked. She flicked her wand and transformed one of her quills into a long, flexible stick.
Harry snorted. "Oh, you're going to beat me now, are you?" he challenged. "I guess that's a first for a defence professor. It'll be another addition to my list of why defence teachers cannot be trusted.
"Turn around and face your desk," Umbridge snarled.
"And if I don't?" Harry challenged.
"If you won't accept your punishment, I'll just have to select someone else to bear it for you," Umbridge said sweetly. "That muggleborn girl seemed eager enough to help ease your troubles. What do you think? Should I summon her? You're free to watch, of course."
"You're a monster," Harry hissed. "As much as Voldemort is."
"Turn. Around," Umbridge said through gritted teeth. She was clearly losing her patience and perhaps poking the bear was not exactly a smart course of action. So Harry turned around, ignoring the shivers that ran up his spine as Umbridge approached him.
She took both of his hands while standing behind him and placed them on the desk in front of Harry. "Don't let go until I say so," she whispered in his ear and then withdrew.
The first lash, Harry had not seen coming. Umbridge had a lot of force behind her, despite her small posture. His flesh tore open and his fingers clenched while he held on to the desk.
"Let me know when you'd prefer to write your lines, sweetheart," Umbridge said sweetly. "We can stop this right now and let you get back to it."
But Harry gritted his teeth and said nothing.
Umbridge left quite a lot of time between the hits. Sometimes several minutes at a time. All the while she tried reasoning with Harry. Tried having him give in and start writing his lines. But Harry had come too far now. He didn't want to appear weak and give in. Besides, this sort of pain he knew. This, he was used to.
About an hour later, Umbridge repaired Harry's torn clothes with a swish of her wand. Harry didn't let go of the desk yet. He just waited. He flinched when Umbridge caressed his cheek with the back of her hand before gingerly withdrawing.
"I think that's enough for tonight," she said. "Go back to your dorm. And stay out of trouble."
Harry couldn't believe it. She hadn't assigned him another detention! He was so relieved that he almost thanked her. Thinking better of it, he simply gathered his things and left, not even bothering to murmur a courteous 'good night.'
He didn't get very far before a familiar feeling washed over him. One he had only experienced once. His vision was starting to tilt and he felt dizzy. Hoping that someone might still be nearby – someone other than Umbridge – he stumbled through the hallways. But he found no one before the darkness crept up on him and took him.
Did you have to go there, Murai? Yes. Yes, I did.
I'm most excited to share the next chapter with you all, which will be on Friday. Please don't forget to leave a review! I'll be happy to hear your thoughts on the new developments.
