Chapter One Hundred Thirty-Four: Shame-Pain-Revenge, Umbridge
Although gryffindor won the second quidditch match (Ron and Ginny were, of course, both prodigiously skilled fliers), Harry barely noticed. He'd chosen to throw most of his energy into the Defence Association, and the special instruction of Ginny (and Neville, during the usual Defence meetings). It was quite enough for him to think on.
He did not need to have added onto this his status as the school's protector, a sort-of unofficial capacity thrust upon him by the Sorting Hat. "Professor" Umbridge was a threat to the school, to the very concept of education. She must be gotten rid of, one way or another.
Hermione's verdict as to a proper penance for her was still in the works.
Gryffindor had banded together as only they would. Theirs was a different, more familiar brand of loyalty than that showcased by Hufflepuff House. Gryffindor House was very "hold the line" loyalty, the sort of comrades-in-arms. It probably was not the best treatment for Harry's paranoia, but he knew that all of the boys in his dorm were behind him, which meant that he didn't have to be paranoid and on-edge all of the time. Ron took care of that for him.
Lee Jordan was in Fred-and-George's year, and thus his senior by a matter of years, being in his seventh and final. He was also a member of the Defence Association, which Umbridge must have suspected, but could not prove, existed. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, Umbridge had dug her claws into him.
She made the mistake of doing this by means of those blood-letting black quills. This dragged Harry into the matter, rather forcibly. It was an intersection of his role as school protector, and that of "opponent of torture", which he objected to on grounds quite beside those of legality. Umbridge had crossed a line.
Harry only had to catch a glimpse of Jordan coming back, late from a detention from Umbridge, and notice the way he clutched at his hand. From there…Jordan was not a good enough liar to keep the truth from Harry, and he was less inclined in that direction, anyway. Perhaps, he felt a sort of common cause with Harry, for one reason and another—a sort of connection amongst pranksters, even retired? ones, crossed with Harry's own early experience with Umbridge's ideas of crime and punishment.
Harry made a resolution then, and saw Ron, shaking his head in resignation, brace himself to assist Harry in whatever foolhardy plan he'd come up with.
This was how Ron ended up keeping watch outside of Umbridge's office whilst Harry broke in, stole the quills, replaced them with carefully designed quills based off muggle pens, added a few more finishing touches for Umbridge's benefit (that was to say: to throw her off the scent, in case she realise that someone had broken into her office), and fled.
He did not bother disguising the fact that someone had been there, but Dumbledore and all the other professors who checked declared it quite safe, and completely ordinary in appearance if you could overlook the copious amounts of pastel and rose-pink, and those horrible kitten plates.
"Kittens?" Umbridge could be heard to shriek. "Is that what you see?"
It was indeed. Whatever monstrosities had replaced the kittens in their frames were for her eyes only. The depths to which Harry ordinarily refused to stoop were depths he resorted to, just this once, because Umbridge was the ultimate in "extenuating circumstances".
The next day, she was quite as distracted by the fact that she could no longer access her office without first spinning two wheels. It was like that muggle gameshow "Wheel of Fortune", perhaps. Maybe. Not really.
It was quite a complicated tangle of magical contingencies. Umbridge had no viable option but to either go to whatever location the second wheel required, and answer (truthfully) whatever question the first wheel asked of her, or to go away, and not use her office.
She went in, just the once, puffing herself up as she gave a loud and empassioned speech about how the Ministry was falling into a state of degradation because Hogwarts and Dumbledore were corrupting the nation's youth (an impressive extension of the wheel's request that she make clear her prejudices against half-bloods and muggleborns), and she had removed everything of any consequence from her office, bar the malevolent kitten plates. She ignored their dripping fangs and baleful glares full of glowing red eyes, and got out as fast as she could.
Harry was almost pleased with himself. She'd quite forgotten about her quills. She must, eventually, realise that they were fakes, but she would scarce dare returning to brave her office yet again. He'd take the enchantments off her rooms when the curse on the position took effect, and she was forced to leave.
Hermione buried her head in her hands, wondering what the world was coming to. Ginny seemed to know precisely what had happened. She was inclined to sulk. "I thought you only pranked people you liked," she said.
He shrugged in return, with a friendly smile, and scooted aside that she might sit next to him. "Well, I did freeze The Twins to their seats in my first year. I barely even knew them, then, and we hardly have a better rapport now."
"The real trick was getting those awful quills away from her. She'll have to reinvent them from scratch, I suppose," said Hermione.
"I didn't find any notes on their construction," said Harry, who was still rather irked by this fact. "Perhaps, she kept it all in her head. But, I couldn't chance a memory charm. Then she would have caught on. For now, her inclination to blame me for everything is working against her, and not for."
It was, indeed. No one would take it seriously, when she hated Harry so much that she was inclined to blame him for just about anything, real or imagined. She was already in a thoroughly bad humour because Hagrid had yet to do anything that warranted sacking, and Trelawney was progressing in her studies of divination to the extent that she was still quite pleased with her lot in life. She'd even stopped drinking, and had returned to offering mysterious nuggets of potential futures.
Harry, examining the quills he'd stolen, was making headway at least in his attempt to understand their natures. There were several spells nested carefully inside the greater spell of the quill, in the manner of a basket of eggs. Here was one for refraction that had several subcomponents to it, which Harry set aside for later. It was horrifying work, but necessary if he could find a bypass using wizarding magic.
Jordan seemed nonplussed by how much easier the punishments were to bear after Umbridge had been pranked. Perhaps, she was too distracted to take her usual sadistic pleasure in the suffering of others?
Harry took a moment to contemplate just how he could silence Jordan without revealing that he himself had been responsible on both counts—both for Umbridge's distraction, and for the lighter punishment.
It was a wonder that Hagrid could continue to keep off Umbridge's ban-list. It might have happened only because she was otherwise occupied with her attempts to quash the Defence Association, and to figure out how to bypass the spells on her office. Although Hagrid had been thoroughly distracted and had had no time to spare for Harry last year, and before that had kept an enormous, crucial secret from Harry concerning his own past, heritage, and family, Harry contrived to spend some time bolstering him against Umbridge's inevitable next move. He was shoring up all the probable objects of Umbridge's attack. Trelawney had been easy enough; Hagrid was more difficult.
For instance: just what had been giving him those bruises? There was more than a bit of omen in his enquiring about the importance of family. Why would he bring up the importance of family to Harry, who, for all he knew, had never known it?
Ron and Hermione had no better idea than he. Nor did Ginny or Stephen, who did have some sort of sarcastic remark to the effect that perhaps Hagrid was still reminiscing about his own.
Why now, though? Why, when Umbridge was out to get everyone who was liable to become a threat to her own power?
And, what did the message Firenze had given to Harry to give to Hagrid mean? What wasn't working? And, what did that have to do with Hagrid's family?
The iron grip on his stomach suggested a potential interpretation for Hagrid's words, but, so long as it did not directly involve him, Hermione, or Ron….
As if they could be that lucky. But, hey! Happy thoughts, right?
The next stage in society's attempts to induce the fifth-years into panic about O.W.L.s seemed to be a need to speak with their heads of house concerning their plans for life after Hogwarts.
Harry had completely different reasons to panic about this than most everyone else. Ginny, who was not in the know, but could guess at least a little of the reason for his panic regardless, smiled at him, and told him that he would do splendidly at anything he set his mind to. Their shared handicap must not be considered when planning for his future.
"You can plan as if you will die tomorrow," she said, "which some will say is the worst case scenario—but that just means not planning at all. It's lazy."
She shook her head, so that red hair whipped everywhere. Sometimes even her hair reminded him of fresh-spilt blood, no matter how much time they spent together.
At least they were on the same wavelength. And he knew from experience that Ginny would not be overly troubled at the thought of dyeing her hair to set his mind at ease. But, it was his mind, and he needed better control over this hyperawareness.
He kept thinking back to the Invasion—that was his future, and Ron's. At the same time, it lay in his past. But, regardless of causality and temporal flow, it still remained that no matter what he might wish for his future, the past, and duty, would drag him elsewhere.
Perhaps, he thought, with almost-wistfulness, he might at least have a chance to be an auror for a decade or so before he was called away to the war that was his true concern. All of his energy must be expended towards that goal—toward reducing the damage Thanos could create (that Loki could create), to the maximum extent possible. That seemed to require whosoever as he had recruited for this task and still lived by that time to be in New York in summer of 2012 for the Invasion.
But that was still over fifteen years away. Graduation was two years away. However long the auror training program took (and perhaps he could skip a few courses, if experience counted for anything, on account of defeating the current Dark Lord, once he'd done that; regardless, he had plenty of experience fighting Dark Creatures), it was possible that he might still have at least a decade on that track before he had to contrive his departure to the States.
Of course, he could also view the auror program as a mere stepping stone on the path of having a way clear to have the authority and reputation to intervene for the good of all in New York. Americans liked and trusted policemen, right? That's essentially what an auror was….
He did not trouble himself to discover what Hermione, Ginny, or Ron might wish to be—he knew that Ron, too, was only looking for a stopgap measure, a temporary position. (Or was that that he hoped that Ron was looking only for a temporary post? Ron seemed inclined to try to pretend that he'd live out the rest of his life here as a mortal, and then…well, who knew what he thought would happen after that?)
Later, he would discover that Ron had decided that the best course of action was to follow Harry into whatever profession he'd chosen. In this case, Harry had already made his objectives quite plain, which meant that Ron had no need to ask around or make any attempt at subtlety. He'd already been to see McGonagall, and had already told her that he intended to become an auror.
There was a long list of courses that he needed better grades in. Harry thought that Ron could probably accomplish just that, if he'd had any genuine interest in the field.
Perhaps, he'd favour accomplishing his long-term goals over watching Harry like a hawk to ensure that he didn't get himself killed in the immediate future. Were Stephen's continued visits not proof enough for him? Had he perhaps forgotten Stephen's introductory speech about the components required for his time travel (he'd be able to come back to advise them as long as Harry and Hermione survived—Harry to guide him to that place Stephen had called "Markhaven Meadow", and Hermione' to restore his memories). Harry and Hermione continued to survive in the present, and Stephen continued to visit. Really, by now time would probably collapse in on itself if either of the two of them died—it would mean that Stephen would never have gone back in time, but the two of them remembered meeting him….
It was one of those impossible things that it was pointless, but fun, to think of. Harry spent a bit of time doing just that as he waited for McGonagall to speak with him. He did need the occasional reprieve from attempting to plan for an (hopefully) ever-shifting future.
The last thing he needed before entering a conference concerning what should be one of the most important decisions of his life (although he knew that it was in truth not, and had to find some way to pretend that it was) was to dwell on the immutability of fate, which would render futile his attempts to shift the future into a more propitious direction, or to remember that Sirius was to die at the end of this year.
Or, at least, that was what he thought before he remembered Umbridge. She would be able to ensure that she could sit in on his session in particular, wouldn't she? But both he and McGonagall ignored her, in his own respective way—McGonagall with her usual waspish obstinacy, Harry with a sort of innocent disregard. While she knew him well enough when he was irate and inclined towards pacing and ranting, this other side of him, a quiet sort of anger that he could only call hate, seemed to throw her for a loop.
Good.
For once, he left a meeting with Umbridge with no greater desire to murder her than that with which he'd entered. McGonagall had helped little in that regard (although it was nice to see her get a little of her own back). Umbridge had simply already stooped to such lows that there was no longer a bottom to drop out beneath her. She'd become the elephant in the living room. They'd ignored her, knowing both of them that someday the Ministry must surely recognise its mistake.
Professor Snape, to his surprise, stopped him after the next Potions lesson, holding him after to inform him that "although I accept only those students who have received an 'Outstanding' in Potions, if you receive a lower grade, buy the textbooks for the upper years, and I will teach you myself." Harry was left reeling, and wondering just what sort of impression his mother had made on that man. His mellower nature was alarming enough! Now, was he showing Harry actual kindness?
But then, the council was over, and Harry had other things to think on. There were the O.W.L.s, it was true, but there were other things, too.
Such as, for instance, Sirius's missive. A request to speak with Harry, as soon as possible, and a need for Harry's expertise? In what theatre did he have expertise, if not magic?
And, of course, it could never be Harry, per se, to whom Sirius would turn for such assistance. Dumbledore was the authority on wizarding magic. Perhaps, Harry was a master of magic, or perhaps not—he sometimes wondered what theatres of magic he'd never even heard of, what gaps in his knowledge (not to speak of his memories), remained.
Sirius must have found something that he thought crucially important, to call Harry away from school, particularly in fifth or seventh year. Those were the two most important years of a wizard's education, and Sirius could scarce have forgot that—although Harry doubted that Sirius, whose priorities tended to eschew the normal delineations in the favour of more fundamental values had spent his fifth year in a constant tizzy over what would happen at the end. Sirius was, in other words, a cool customer. He could keep his head, when the going got tough.
Harry had been forced to tell the Twins of his need to return to Grimmauld Place during the next Hogsmeade weekend. Ginny had put him onto it, of course. He'd brought her into his mini-council of war. It was important that he get to Grimmauld Place without receiving help from Dumbledore, and without Umbridge knowing. There must be a reason that Sirius was keeping the objective secret, after all.
The Twins had come through marvelously, claiming that N.E.W.T.s were overrated, when they'd already got their O.W.L.s, and used the opportunity to advertise for their joke shop (coming soon!). Harry grinned at Ron burying his head in his hands at this announcement.
From their distraction, he had the cover to enter Umbridge's quarters to use her personal fireplace. It was the only one he thought might not be bugged. But, he didn't know of any other fireplaces that he knew worked in Hogwarts, other than Headmaster Dumbledore's.
He knew from asking Hermione (still the only one to have read Hogwarts: A History) that the Gryffindor Common Room fireplaces had been barred from the floo network centuries ago, to prevent foolhardy gryffindors (which was redundant) from rushing to their deaths trying to save the poor lost souls of the Inquisition, and other witchhunts. Only a gryffindor would attempt to cross continents via fireplace to save a complete stranger.
The slytherin fireplaces were barred because slytherins of recent centuries had used them primarily to sneak off grounds to prank unsuspecting muggles. Harry got the point after those two examples, and knew that reasons would have been contrived—perhaps even fabricated—to keep both ravenclaws and hufflepuffs within the school bounds. Only the professors would have fireplaces free, and Harry liked the thought that, even if his footsteps were traced, it would lead to Umbridge. That would have to reflect badly upon her.
From Umbridge's fireplace, he'd easily made his way to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. He'd heard out Kreacher's story, and somehow convinced the house-elf to show the thing to Dumbledore. He knew that it was important, mostly because the diary had been much the same. And, he knew that there was little that Dumbledore could do with the artefact if Harry had destroyed it—he had not seemed able to make much of the diary, after all.