Chapter 18: Plotting

"Come in, Hagrid, how was Windermere?" asked Dumbledore warmly. Dumbledore knew that Hagrid would be worried, and guilty, and he also knew that he'd been sharp with Hagrid before the holidays and Hagrid, after the Chamber, was still fearful of being accused of things.

"It was nice, Headmaster, I had time to think. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I know I like the creatures too much, and I know not everyone sees them as I do, but I really didn't mean to cause anyone any harm."

Dumbledore nodded, "I know you didn't Hagrid, but you have to understand that your best judgement sometimes isn't good enough. I don't know if Hogwarts can function under that circumstance. Tell me, do you want to continue teaching here?"

"Oh, Headmaster, yes, I love teaching, there's so much to teach," said Hagrid, fervently.

"Then I have a proposition for you," said Dumbledore, "You may plan and prepare lessons for lower school, under the very watchful eye of Professor Grubbly Plank, and, if she permits, you may co-teach, or teach part of a lesson, but you will not be left alone with students. We aren't there yet. I am sorry that I ever put you in a position to make poor decisions about your, shall we say, teaching resources. If at some point in the future, Professor Grubbly Plank says you are able to teach independently, I will review my decision. You can obviously continue as groundskeeper. That has never been in question."

"Thank you, Headmaster, I won't let you down, it won't happen again," said Hagrid, the relief in his voice palpable.

"Sit down, Mr Potter," said Severus Snape, indicating to Harry his usual chair in Snape's study.

Harry swallowed. Back to Mr Potter. This did not bode well for his first mentoring meeting after the holidays. Harry knew Snape was pissed with him. He also knew that if Jones hadn't extracted a promise not to punish any of them for their actions over the holidays, Snape would soundly do just that. He also knew, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he'd deserve it. Snape had a strong sense of justice and Harry knew he'd really offended it, and also let Snape down. Snape had reminded him on more than one occasion to think before he did things, but once again, he hadn't.

"Sir..." began Harry.

"No, Harry, this is where I talk and you listen," said Snape, "We both know I'm not happy with your actions. We both know you're not happy with your actions. But here we are. I gave my word to Healer Jones that I wouldn't punish you, and I will keep my word. But that doesn't mean we aren't going to talk about it. I'll start with the obvious, what on earth possessed you to fly your broom in the middle of the muggle countryside?"

Harry thought about his answer. He'd thought about this more than once already, and it'd always come back to the same thing.

"Because we were doing it together," he said.

"I believe you were the only one flying," retorted Snape, "I invite your imagination to picture Petunia on a broom." Harry bit his lip. That wasn't what he meant.

"I mean, it's just that Dudley had suggested we go fly my broom, which in itself was kinda nice, but then Petunia agreed and we'd planned a day and an outing and it just seemed, well, the sort of things families did. Stuff together. It didn't even occur to me at the time that it wasn't a good plan. We'd talked about the lack of muggles, it was early on Boxing Day morning."

Snape sat quietly for quite for a while. There was logic there, and more than that, Snape did understand what Harry meant. Harry wanted a family unit, and given the ice-thin state of the Dursley household's cordial relationships, Snape could see why Harry had gone with the flow.

"What should you have done instead?" he asked, deciding that he couldn't take Harry to task for wanting a normal life.

"Waited until Hogwarts? Asked to go visit the Weasleys? Found out if there's somewhere wizarding to fly somewhere vaguely near home?"

Snape nodded, "All of those things would have been better than what you did, but you haven't mentioned the most salient point. You shouldn't have been flying a broom whose origin you didn't know in the first place."

Harry couldn't stop himself, "It's a Firebolt, the newest broom out there, sold from the quidditch shop in Diagon Alley. How safe did you want it?!"

Snape stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. "I'm currently trying to decide whether this conversation falls under my word not to punish you, because that attitude isn't just naive, it's rude," growled Snape.

Harry swallowed. He really had to think before speaking.

"I just meant that how could anyone have 'got to it' as you're thinking?" asked Harry.

"I was thinking that the broom could have been sent to you by Sirius Black, with an added charm to take you to 300 feet and drop you like a stone," said Snape, watching Harry's reaction very carefully.

Harry gulped. "Oh."

"I'm glad we're now both reading from the same page," said Snape.

Dudley was stewing. It was nearly the end of the first week back. He'd enjoyed his time in the castle and Professor Flitwick had sought him out and thanked him. In the first week back he'd also awarded Dudley a rather generous amount of points for simple tasks in his classes. Dudley was annoyed he didn't know who'd drugged his favourite professor. And Dudley was into retribution. He did it well. Jones had talked to him about this subject at length, but Dudley would happily hand out payback for this one, up to and including getting caught.

"Can I help you, Mr Dursley?" asked Minerva, opening her office door to Dudley.

"I was just wondering if you'd found out who'd poisoned Professor Flitwick," said Dudley.

"While that's none of your business, seeing as you were instrumental in discovering the problem, I'll tell you no, we haven't. But Mr Dursley, leave it alone," said McGonagall in her sterner tone. Dudley left her office unsatisfied.

He was still annoyed when they all met up in the library after classes that day.

"What's bugging you?" asked Hermione, happier with Dudley since the start of term because he'd stopped nicking her cat. Loki had snuggly sat on his lap and stared down Crookshanks instead.

"How do I find out who poisoned Flitwick?" Dudley asked honestly.

"Er, Dudley," said Harry, warningly.

"Er, no," said Dudley. "I told you, he's nice."

"You could ask the portraits if they saw anything," said Fred, who also appreciated Flitwick, "Although I presume the staff already asked. It's a start point though." Dudley huffed. That was going to take time.

"You aren't going to do anything dumb if you find out, are you?" asked Harry, "A whole heap of people wouldn't see it how you see it."

"Whatever," said Dudley.

Next day, Dudley talked to the portraits nearest the charms corridor. There weren't any on the actual corridor.

"That's none of your business," said the portrait, "I used to teach here, you know. That's for your professors to know and you not to know. You are a student, they are the adults."

"But it was wrong," said Dudley, frustrated at the lack of help he was getting, "Can't you just tell me something?"

The portrait huffed, "Not that it will do you much good, but I'll tell you the same useless information I told the professors. There are far too many students in and out for me to be of any use, and the only people I saw on the corridors on the evenings in question were Professor Umbridge and Mr Filch. And it's not likely staff members poisoned him, now is it? Hmm?" asked the portrait rhetorically.

"No, I suppose not," agreed Dudley. "Thank you for telling me, though, I like Professor Flitwick."

"So do we all," said the portrait with a nod.

Dudley lay in bed that night thinking. Dudley would have to admit, if pressed by Jones, that he occasionally took things too far. And stewed on things too much, and perhaps lost a bit of perspective. The issue was, that when he thought on a problem for a while, some of what he thought was constructive and some of it wasn't. And Dudley had trouble differentiating between the two. But now, lying in bed, he had clarity. A bit of his brain told him it couldn't possibly be true. The rest of his brain knew he was right.

Dudley was capable of thinking something the professors hadn't been capable of. Because sometimes Dudley wasn't nice. Dudley thought about the simplest solution. What if Umbridge or Filch had poisoned Flitwick? Dudley ran the logic. Filch wasn't a very nice person, but he'd worked here a long time. It'd be weird if it'd been him. But Umbridge, that was very possible. Next day he voiced his thoughts in the library.

"It would be very odd though, I mean really, it's not exactly something any professor would do, is it?" asked Hermione.

"No, but I could see her doing it, in a weird way," said Fred, "She's vindictive and cruel. And she hates creatures and we all know Flitwick is half goblin."

"But would she? I mean, getting caught if nothing else," said Harry.

"Arrogant bitch, though, isn't she?" said George, agreeing with Fred. Neither of them would ever forgive Umbridge, revenge taken or not, "Take her seating plan. She's willing to obviously seat students due to blood status. Do the professors know about that? I don't think any of us told McGonagall. Because we think it's just weird."

"Snape might know," said Harry, "But I don't know who'd have told him. A senior student maybe."

"But how can I prove it?" said Dudley, getting back the point, "How do I know for sure?"

"You could talk to Filch," said Hermione. "The portrait said it saw both of them. I presume it meant both of them together. I heard from the seventh form prefect that Umbridge was awful at their New Year's Eve party, both to staff and to the students. I don't think Filch likes her."

"Are you mad?" asked Ron, "I mean… Filch."

"I like his cat," said Dudley, as if that made a difference to what Filch thought of students.

A couple of days later, Dudley hung about around the main entrance until he saw Filch leave the area of his office. Mrs Norris wasn't with him. He went to Filch's office and found Mrs Norris sitting on a window sill outside his office in the sun.

"Hello, beautiful," said Dudley, gently. Mrs Norris stared at him. She neither encouraged him nor ran away. She could spot a cat person, but wasn't convinced about student cat people. Dudley reached into his pocket and brought out some muggle cat treats. He'd owled his mum to send him some more, claiming Loki had run out already. Mrs Norris became more interested in this student.

Dudley had got to the point where he was sitting next to Mrs Norris and she was headbutting his hand when Filch came back.

"What are you doing to my cat, you horrible child?!" demanded Filch, picking her up and taking her to 'safety' in his arms. Dudley wasn't scared of Filch, but did keep his distance and remained polite.

"She's a very beautiful cat, Mr Filch, I was just saying hello. These are cat treats. My cat Loki loves them. I thought Mrs Norris might like them, see?" he extended the packet to Filch. Mrs Norris intercepted it and scoffed a couple of treats.

"Are you bribing my cat?" asked Filch, suspiciously, "She can't be bribed by you lot. She knows when you're out of bounds or out past curfew."

"No, no, sir, I was just making friends with her. She's a very beautiful cat, she has such lovely fur," said Dudley.

"Hrumpph," said Filch, softening, "Well if that's all you're doing…" Mrs Norris was now taking the cat treats from Filch in a very friendly way and purring at him. Cats are very sneaky creatures.

"It must be nice to work somewhere with cat people," said Dudley, by way of polite conversation while Mrs Norris ate his treats, "Professor McGonagall, and now Professor Umbridge," he said.

"Huh, well Professor McGonagall has always liked Mrs Norris, but Umbridge isn't a cat person really," said Filch, unguardedly.

"Have you seen her office? She must be!" said Dudley, keeping the conversation going.

"She trod on Mrs Norris' tail. Deliberately," sulked Filch.

"Oh, poor baby," said Dudley, reaching out slowly to stroke Mrs Norris' ears. She was still in Filch's arms and was still raiding the packet of sweets. She gave Dudley a little Mmmmmr sound.

"That's the last favour I do for her," said Filch, bitterly, "I hope she had a really bad headache those potions wouldn't cure! Next time she can disturb Snape or Pomfrey."

Dudley wanted to ask more, but knew that would be too suspicious. "Well I'm glad Mrs Norris is OK though. Keep the treats, I've got more," said Dudley, leaving Filch with a very happy Mrs Norris.

"It was her. Filch said that was the last time he helped her access potions. I couldn't ask about it more without him getting wiggy at me, but it was her," confirmed Dudley to the twins that evening in the common room.

"Tell McGonagall," said Fred.

"I was thinking of something else, more personal, than that," said Dudley.

"Look," said George, carefully, "Don't get me wrong, but given your track record, I think we got lucky with the wand and I think McGonagall would be better,"

Dudley glared at him.

"She's going to get sacked, surely," said Fred, reasonably, "Is that enough?"

"I suppose," said Dudley, reluctantly.

Dudley went to McGonagall's office and knocked on the door.

"Mr Dursley," said McGonagall, "What can I do for you?"

"It's more that I've found out something you want to know," said Dudley, with a hint of vindictive pride, "I know who poisoned Professor Flitwick."

"You do?" asked McGonagall, "Who?"

"Professor Umbridge. Go ask Mr Filch," he added, seeing her face.

Professor McGonagall looked at him for a moment without speaking.

"Mr Dursley, I know that you haven't had a good time of it regarding Professor Umbridge, and I can understand you are… bitter… about summer. I know you hold grudges and to be fair, I can sympathise in this case. But you realise you are accusing a professor of poisoning another professor. You know how that sounds, right?"

"I know, but it's true. Talk to Mr Filch," said Dudley belligerently. It hadn't occurred to him that McGonagall would dismiss what he said outright.

McGonagall sighed, "I told you to leave this matter alone. I meant it. I will consider what you've said, but I don't want to hear any more from you from now on about this. Good evening, Mr Dursley."

Back up in the common room, Dudley fumed, "Bitch!" he exclaimed, "She didn't pay any attention."

"She said she'd consider it," said Fred, hoping to head off anything precipitous towards their Head of House.

"Yeah, and we know what that means," said Dudley, "Translate from teacher speak into 'You don't know what you're talking about, I'm going to ignore you'."

The twins nodded, they couldn't argue with his reasoning.

"Tell Flitwick," suggested George.

"I could do," said Dudley, "But given McGonagall's response, I think I'd like to do something else. Because what if Professor Flitwick doesn't believe me? I want him to believe me."

Fred sighed, "Look, I know there's stuff we're not meant to know, but we listen, so we know about you talking to Jones. Can you talk to him about this?"

"While it's school time, he is perfectly able to tell any of the staff anything I tell him. He hasn't yet, he's nice, but with this, I don't know."

"So what are you going to do?" asked Fred.

"Well, I know you're testing out some new products, I've eaten enough of them to know, but I was thinking the other night, seeing as Umbridge drugged Flitwick, I think I'd like to drug Umbridge. It can be done and not get caught. I was hoping you'd give me a hand to insert a hallucinogen into something of hers. Then, when she's screaming bloody murder at imaginary things, then I'll tell Flitwick."

"When you get caught, you're going down on your own," said George, "But sure, you can have some product. But it's up to you to change it how you like."

"I promise, if caught, I will say I stole it from you," said Dudley, "But this time, I know more, and I won't get caught."

"Turkish Delight?" asked Dudley next evening, "Why use that?"

"Small dose, for starters, they're very sweet, she'd likely only eat one. Much the way Flitwick was affected. You're going to have to be really careful over the quantity of hallucinogen. You don't want it to be obvious. Like you told us, this is revenge, not a prank. You want to be nowhere near. You want her to not know that it's even happening. And as for why Turkish Delight, she's got a box on her desk. I got an eye-line view when I was over it," said Fred with a grimace. "I can give you the brand, I've seen it in Honeydukes. But order it elsewhere. Because duh."

"Obviously," said Dudley.

"It's going to take a week or so to infuse the right amount of hallucinogen into the sweets, then you're going to have to either swap the box, or swap the contents. You're on your own for that. We are not going into her office. She can't cane us again, but she still possesses a ruler. And I don't think you should borrow Harry's cloak. In case you get caught?"

Dudley nodded. Yeah, this time he wasn't out for Harry to take any blame.