Chapter 46: Warfare of a Different Style

12 GRIMMAULD PLACE THAT EVENING

"Albus, I need a word." Sirius said as politely as he could manage following a rather tense order meeting.

The meeting had been so tense because of the chaos that had broken out at Hogwarts. Apparently, Umbridge had found a reason to fire Professor McGonagall and had promptly done so. Minerva hadn't given too many details and nobody quite had the guts to press her about it. Even Dumbledore seemed out of the loop as far what had actually gone down, other than a fight over Harry.

Additionally, the distraction that Fred and George has created to get Harry time to contact HQ had gotten them both out of school. The story was epic and had everyone cracking up for several minutes—except Molly, of course, who clicked disapprovingly and had yelled at them for a solid half hour when they'd first shown up. A portable swamp and flying out in a blaze of glory on broomsticks was Marauder worthy, in Sirius's opinion.

Still, the most troubling thing for him was something that nobody, besides Remus, even knew about.

Harry had called this afternoon, asking to speak to Dumbledore, who wasn't there at the time. Sirius had tried to offer to pass on a message or to help him instead, but he was insistent on Dumbledore or no-one. Nobody but Dumbledore, Kate, Jake, and he even knew what "it" was exactly but he'd made Sirius promise not to tell Kate or Jake about his call.

"Harry floo'd this afternoon, looking for you." Sirius told the former Headmaster as soon as they had privacy. "Said it was something secret...er…"

"I know about Kate's relationship with Harry." Albus said bluntly.

"Oh." Sirius frowned.

"I'm not upset." Dumbledore said, "on the contrary, it has turned out to be a rather fortuitous turn of events, in the grand scheme of things."

"Then you know what he was talking about." He said accusingly.

"Yes." He said, "I will go to him, now, I think."

"Now?" Sirius repeated, wrong-footed suddenly.

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded decisively, "I think it would be best not to keep him waiting."

Sirius stared. "You basically ignored him for 9 months!"

"A mistake, I assure you. But I did not know what I know now." Dumbledore admitted.

"Which is apparently more than me." Sirius groused.

"In this case, I believe I am of more help than yourself." Albus said delicately. "Though I doubt I know more than you."

"Of course you are." Sirius said bitterly. He stalked out of the room.

Albus followed him, mind stuck on getting to Harry. You had Ariana, I have Harry had been on repeat in his head since the night he'd left. He couldn't escape it. He'd revisited that terrible day in his dreams for the first time since Harry's first year. After this war, he promised himself, he was done fighting and politicking. He was going back to being a teacher—or headmaster in this case. And he might even try to convince Kate to stay on as a professor. If not her, then he'd be trying to recruit Harry for her position once he graduated. He needed the reminder and they were both excellent teachers. That would be the last of his plotting. He had to stop.

He got a lot of surprised looks when he told Molly that he had to go somewhere, but departed without further ado. He got Fawkes to take him directly to Kate's living room and was not surprised when she burst into the room not moments later.

"Albus?" She said, shutting all of the curtains and lighting several candles with a wave of her hand.

He ignored the impressive display for a moment, "Harry said he needed to speak with me. I'm assuming it's about Horcruxes."

Something flashed across her face but he did not know her well enough to decipher the look in the time he was given. "Probably. I told him that he was one and explained our plan. Have you been to Nurmengard yet?"

Albus couldn't stop the distasteful grimace that came across his face. "Yes, a few days ago." The first time he'd been since 1945.

"And?"

"Everything is set except for the wards. I thought you would want to do them with me."

"You thought correctly." Kate nodded, "and what of your...boyfriend?"

Albus cringed but ploughed on. "Seems the rumors had some truth to them after all—he sounded remorseful."

"Well that's something." Kate muttered, "he won't be helping his new neighbor then?"

"No," Albus said, "their values, even in his Dark Lord days never aligned well. Any alliance between them—though I sincerely doubt it would happen even if the situation made it possible—would have been purely because of convenience."

"You would know." Kate conceded, "I'll summon my brother."

Albus couldn't help the small twinkle in his eye when she said that. He watched with interest when she pulled a perfectly dismissible necklace, which promptly changed itself into a notebook. She pulled what appeared to be a muggle pen out of the spine and scrawled something on the page before replacing the pen and shutting the book, which prompted the transformation back into a necklace.

"Impressive." He said, "that explains how you two managed to stay in touch without letters all those years. How did you enchant them?"

"Yes." Kate confirmed, "and I barely contributed anything to these. It was all Frankie and Cella, I'm afraid."

"Celladonna Bristol?" Albus pounced on the small bit of information immediately.

"Childhood friend of both Harry and myself, yes." Kate confirmed, "we have quite the network of those."

"I see. That network wouldn't happen to include Jake Castillo and MaKenna Mayer, would it?" He guessed.

Kate eyed him carefully. "Ilvermonry is a much larger school than Hogwarts." She said at last. "But it still does not serve the entire magical population of North America, or even the US, as you well know. Unlike you, I did not go to school with, or know, everyone my age in the US."

Albus was disappointed, but not surprised. She would probably never like him. Trust was a much more complex matter.

A knock announced Harry's arrival.

"I am going to do my rounds." Kate said before disappearing through a different door.

"Come in!" Albus called as soon as she'd left.

The door flew open and Harry slipped in a shut it quickly behind him. "Professor Dumbledore?" He asked. His face was the perfect picture of surprise.

Kate must have been vague on details then. "Hello, Harry." He greeted him with a genuine smile. "Sirius said you wished to talk to me and your sister kindly lent her rooms."

"Er—yeah." Harry threw himself down on the couch while Albus claimed an armchair. His invisibility cloak was discarded on the side table.

Harry was clearly very familiar, and comfortable, in these rooms. "So, you know then."

"I do," Albus agreed gently, "I was surprised, I admit, but relieved. Though I do believe I owe you an apology."

Harry shrugged awkwardly, as if he wasn't quite sure what to do with that. "Not really, I mean, you didn't know. Kate didn't want you to."

"She is correct that your relationship is very sensitive information, for both of you." Albus agreed, "but it is not only trying to separate you and your sister that I owe you an apology for." He sighed, "I should have told you about the prophecy far sooner, I should have told you about the Horcruxes. It was an old man's mistake that I did not recognize you were long ago prepared to deal with it."

"Why didn't you?"

"I didn't think you were old enough to deal with the prophecy, and frankly, I was not sure of the Horcruxes until the end of your second year, when you showed me Tom Riddle's diary." Albus said honestly. "I should have told you the truth after the Third Task, intended to, even, but I lost my nerve. I thought you'd been through quite enough even as extraordinary as you had proven yourself to be. I should have told you but I wanted to protect you."

"You weren't protecting me-" Harry said heatedly.

"I know that—now." Albus said quickly, "I underestimated you."

Harry tightened his jaw as realization dawned on him, "you were manipulating me." He said, knowing it was true, and feeling the keen sting of betrayal. "But you ended up caring about me too much to stick to your own plan."

Dumbledore looked ashamed of himself, "Yes." Was all he could bring himself to say.

Harry pursed his lips and Albus wondered if he picked up something from Petunia Dursley after all. Or perhaps one of the Rosses did that, he did not pretend to be an expert in their mannerisms. He could see certain similarities between Harry's tendencies and Kate's now that he knew to look, however.

"I'm not sure whether I'm upset about that or not." Harry admitted.

Albus kept his silence to allow Harry to think.

"I was willing to sacrifice myself." Harry confided suddenly.

Albus closed his eyes painfully, and I was willing to sacrifice you. He had failed somewhere along the way, when this had become a legitimate conversation about a child. Wars were not where children belonged.

"You are brave and noble." Albus told him, "but you are not sacrificing yourself."

"Kate won't let me." Harry retorted, somewhat defensively.

"And if she disappeared tomorrow I would not either." Albus told him firmly. "This way far better."

"And Voldemort will finally get to suffer." Harry said with uncharacteristic malice.

"That he will." Albus couldn't bring himself to scold the boy. Voldemort deserved far worse than he was getting.

"But will it be enough?" Harry pressed.

"There is no way to know for sure," Albus began carefully, "but I think it likely that, should everything go to plan, it will be more than sufficient."

Harry swallowed heavily. "And how are we supposed to get him out into the open?"

Albus had a decision to make, one that he should have discussed with Kate first, but frankly had forgotten about. "Voldemort," he began, deciding honesty would be the best, "wants the prophecy."

"I know," said Harry.

"He became aware of your link at Christmas."

Harry nodded.

"We believe he is planning to lure you to the Department of Mysteries to get it for him. He will probably use your connection to send you a fake vision."

"So if I get a dream or something that makes me have to go to the Department of Mysteries…?"

"Notify Kate or myself right away, and do not go. We will spring a trap on him."

Harry nodded, grin suddenly splitting his face. "Yes, sir." He said with an over dramatic salute that left Dumbledore chuckling.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK

The story of Fred and George's flight to freedom following McGonagall's firing was retold so often over the next few days that Harry could tell it would soon become the stuff of Hogwarts legend. Within a week, even those who had been eyewitnesses were half-convinced that they had seen the twins dive-bomb Umbridge on their brooms, pelting her with Dungbombs before zooming out of the doors. In the immediate aftermath of their departure there was a great wave of talk about copying them, so that Harry frequently heard students saying things like, "Honestly, some days I just feel like jumping on my broom and leaving this place," or else, "One more lesson like that and I might just do a Weasley..."

Fred and George had made sure that nobody was likely to forget them very soon. For one thing, they had not left instructions on how to remove the swamp that now filled the corridor on the fifth floor of the east wing. Umbridge and Filch had been observed trying different means of removing it but without success. Eventually the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Harry was certain that teachers like Kate or Flitwick could have removed the swamp in an instant, but just as in the case of Fred and George's Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, they seemed to prefer to watch Umbridge struggle. Fortunately, that was the least of her troubles.

Inspired by Fred and George's example, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. In spite of the new door, somebody managed to slip a hairy-snouted niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in its search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge on her reen- trance, and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stinkpellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh clean air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads.

Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them that he did not know which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad were "attempting" to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes. Pansy Parkinson, to Hermione's delight, missed all her lessons the following day, as she had sprouted antlers. Malfoy swore he had no idea that anything was wrong with where he was sending them.

Meanwhile it became clear just how many Skiving Snackboxes Fred and George had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers, or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering "Umbridge-itis." After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating, and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves.

But not even the users of the Snackboxes could compete with that master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken Fred's parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, and toppling statues and vases. Twice he shut Mrs. Norris inside suits of armor, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. He smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows, flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

None of the actual staff (as anybody hired by the ministry counted as actual professors to the students) but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Indeed, a week after Fred and George's departure Harry witnessed Professor Sprout walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, "It unscrews the other way."

To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet. He remained confused and disorientated and his parents were to be observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry.

"Should we say something?" said Hermione in a worried voice, pressing her cheek against the Charms window so that she could see Mr. and Mrs. Montague marching inside. "About what happened to him? In case it helps Madam Pomfrey cure him?"

" 'Course not, he'll recover," said Ron indifferently.

"Anyway, more trouble for Umbridge, isn't it?" said Harry in a satisfied voice. "Doesn't matter though, does it? Between Redbird, Fallow, and Umbridge."

Transfiguration classes had turned into ministry indoctrination classes under their new professor, some ministry hack named Glen Redbird. Redbird's previous job in the Department of Magical Catastrophe's, Harry suspected, had absolutely nothing to do with Transfiguration. As a result, the class was split into ministry propaganda and reading out of the textbook (which was also turned into propaganda sessions).

It didn't hurt that the man was completely incompetent when it came to controlling the classroom and utterly lack McGonagall's ability to keep a class orderly without effort. In fact, during the only lesson they did try practical work, 8 of the 22 students present ended up in the Hospital Wing, some with ailments Harry would've bet his whole Gringotts account McGonagall would have been able to fix. Umbridge, of course, wouldn't hear a word against him, according to Kate.

Fallow was somewhere in the middle. He was thoroughly unpleasant and was, like the Death Eater Macnair, a former executioner for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. He told tales about the evils of vampires and werewolves and the untrustworthiness and stupidity of Centaurs and Goblins. He praised ministry regulations that made life miserable for all those species. He was Hermione's least favorite because of this but had earned the hatred of the rest of the school for his description of Hagrid as a "dangerous and unstable half beast."

Those three, with Filch, tried hard to pull the staff into line to counter the chaos. According to Kate, they had tried everything from threats, to bribes, to outright orders, and to begging to get their support but was met with unsympathetic glares every meeting.

The three remaining Heads of House became the de-facto leaders of the school as they picked up the slack for the absence of McGonagall and Dumbledore. This meant that it was largely up to the newer teachers to moderate the students and pranks. For Kate, this meant she had somehow managed to win the Troublemaker-In-Chief contest and gleefully spurred the mayhem. She even roped Harry into the fun. Though it gave Harry true pleasure to look at Umbridge and know that he'd spoken with Dumbledore only a week previously, he was eager for more.

That chance came when, once morning, Kate told them that the professors would be having a secret meeting and needed something to distract the ministry lackeys.

To set up his little plan, he had to convene an emergency D.A. meeting the night before, where he gave them simple instructions for the following morning. Then he had to visit the kitchen to make sure they had the necessary supplies for the mess they were about to make and a promise that the elves would not help clean it up. That was easier than he'd thought it would be.

THE NEXT MORNING

The Great Hall was completely full by 7:20 that morning, abnormal considering their first class wasn't until 8:30 or 9, depending on the student. Naturally, the ministry stooges were there as well. As expected, there wasn't an actual professor in sight. 7:21.

The tables were laden with all manner of breakfast foods, bacon, cereal, eggs, sausages, kippers, pancakes, marmalade, jam, porridge, rolls, toast, coffee, tea, pumpkin juice, you name it. And there was lots of it. Time seemed to pass incredibly slowly as people eyed their watches every few seconds. Chatter was abnormally loud as well. 7:22.

The amount of energy in the room was electrifying, even Umbridge noticed how upbeat everyone was. Not a bleary eye in the whole hall. The hands slowly shifted to 7:23.

A platter of eggs flew from one table to another. Nobody saw where it came from but everyone saw food suddenly flying from that table everywhere else. Before anyone could register exactly where the eggs had landed, the response to the response was in the air. All hell broke loose.

"FOOD FIGHT!" Someone roared.

The food was flying so fast and so often that it was as if a cloud of food had settled in the hall, obscuring all sight. All one could do was grope for something to throw in the direction that they had just been hit from, spinning and running and dodging.

Harry didn't know who'd done it, but he felt he owed them a huge debt for turning a table—Ravenclaw?—over as he took refuge behind it. The house-elves did brilliantly, he thought as yet another platter of what appeared to be biscuits and gravy (Kate must have asked them to make it for her at some point) appeared next to him. He flung the biscuits, one by one, at people running around him before dumping the gravy on the kid who'd hidden next to him. He ran off, feeling bacon colliding with his back, with a massive grin. It was chaos, it was messy, and it was the most fun he'd had in ages. The floor, by this point, had a solid four inches of food covering every inch, and all of the walls had food caking them for several feet.

Umbridge would have fun cleaning this up, he thought viciously. He wasn't sure where they'd run off to, but he hoped they got nailed with some food. In fact, he spotted Professor Redbird hiding under a bench and grabbed a pitcher of orange juice as he stealthily made his way towards him. It was with great glee that he joined those smart enough to get to higher ground by standing on the tables (two of which had been tipped on their sides and two of which had been horribly skewed). Careful not to let Redbird see who it was, he took a swing and let all of the sticky orange fluid fly.

"Aaaargh!" Came exclamation conforming his success. He ran laughing and absently tossing toast (and stuffing a piece in his mouth), Horcrux woes long forgotten.