For those who seem to regard this story as a personal offense, remember: no one forces you to read, so just close the window and read something else!
For others: sorry for the delay! I have no excuse, Les Varioufs had sent me the chapter for a while! It's the "holiday" effect!
Good reading.
"Ow! Ron!"
"Sorry 'Mione…"
"Can you guys be quiet?" Harry growled.
"Sorry, Harry," Ron and Hermione murmured.
The cloak barely covered all three of them and they kept stepping on each other's toes. Harry checked the Marauder's Map every three metres.
Demi was still in the library and wasn't showing any signs of moving. In fact, she hadn't moved at all and Harry could easily picture her sitting at one of the tables writing in her Muggle notepad, or lost in a book, looking for a point that confirmed her theories so she could progress with her thesis…
Filch and his horrible Mrs Norris were far away from them. As for Snape, he seemed to be heading for the Slytherin common room, which was in the opposite direction to them.
Getting this diary back was going to be child's play.
They silently walked down the two flights of stairs leading to the Gryffindor tower and had to wait for a moment for the stairs to fall back into place.
"Is everything still ok, Harry?" whispered Ron.
"I'm looking… lumos!"
Harry peered at the map intently. Snape was in the Slytherin common room, Filch was chasing Peeves at the other end of the castle and Mrs Norris was patrolling a corridor.
"Mrs Norris and Filch are still separated," sighed Harry.
"Are either of them coming towards us?" Hermione asked in a small voice.
"No, not at the moment – Filch is dealing with Peeves and Mrs Norris is rummaging around the corners of the first floor in the north tower. Come on!"
Since the stairs had finally decided to stay still, they walked down three more flights. Now they had to cross the entire corridor on the second floor to leave the tower and find the stairs leading to the Great Hall.
Absolutely silent, the trio slowly walked down the freezing corridor, praying that they wouldn't run into Moaning Myrtle, the ghost who haunted the girls' toilets on the second floor and who had a certain weakness for Harry. The young girl was not exactly known for her discretion, and Harry wasn't 100% sure that she couldn't see through the cloak. He got the impression that Nearly Headless Nick could see through his father's cloak, and if he could Myrtle certainly could too.
The last thing they needed was for her to start wailing that no one liked her if Harry had to tell her that they didn't have time to chat in the corridor.
Harry waited until they had left the haunted toilets at least twenty metres behind them and had arrived at the stairs before he once again checked the Marauder's Map. First, his gaze was drawn to the dungeons to check that Snape was still there; he seemed to have gone back to the Potions classroom. Then he looked around their three names, which were almost on top of each other at the top of the stairs, and his heart nearly stopped.
"Shit," he muttered.
"Language, Harry," Hermione protested automatically.
"What?" Ron asked at the same time.
"Mrs Norris… she's coming up the stairs, she's heading straight for us."
"Oh Merlin," moaned Hermione.
Harry quickly glanced at the map. "Ok, don't panic, come on…"
Following Harry's lead, they walked along the second floor corridor until they reached the Transfiguration classroom, and from there they climbed the stairs to the third floor and walked to the north tower.
"There," smiled Harry. "Now we just have to go down to the ground floor, past the Hospital Wing and we'll be there."
"Ok," sighed Ron, "then let's go – I can't wait to get back to the common room!"
Harry agreed but didn't say anything; he didn't want to make Hermione feel any worse than she already did.
Panicked by the presence of Mrs Norris so close to them, Harry hadn't checked where Argus Filch was. He therefore hadn't seen that the old squib had, for several seconds, been very close to them. The caretaker had heard whispering but hadn't managed to find its source. Quite rightly convinced that there were students breaking the rules, he started looking for the professor responsible for doing night-time rounds.
He found said professor on the stairs leading to the Entrance Hall while the latter was coming up from the dungeons.
"Professor Snape," he panted, "there are students wandering the corridors…"
"Are you sure?" Snape asked, frowning.
"I heard them whispering but couldn't see them."
Snape sighed inaudibly: students wandering the corridors? Invisible students wandering the corridors?
"Harry," he growled to himself.
Without even looking at Filch, he hastily made his way to the kitchens, convinced that was where his son was going. He hesitated halfway there… what if Harry had had another nightmare? Maybe he was just going to the Hospital Wing… he immediately turned on his heel and headed towards Madam Pomfrey's domain.
Harry, Hermione and Ron were about to reach the Hospital Wing when Harry gestured for them to stop. He lit his wand and glanced at the map.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, seeing her friend pale suddenly.
Ron grabbed the map from Harry's trembling hands and saw for himself what had frightened his best friend.
"Shit," he muttered to himself.
"What?" Hermione asked, not bothering to correct the redhead's language.
"Snape's coming towards us at top speed."
"Take the cloak and go," Harry hissed.
"What? No, Harry!" Ron protested.
"We don't have a choice. He'll be here in a few minutes and we're not fast enough with three of us under this cloak. Take the cloak and the map – I'm going to the library. I'll get your diary and I'll ask Dementia to cover me."
"But Harry…" Hermione tried.
"There's no time to argue! Go!" Harry ordered, before leaving the cloak's protection and running towards the library.
Hoping that Ron and Hermione had had time to get out of harm's way, Harry skidded into the library and listened through the door. A few seconds later, he heard his father's rapid footsteps passing his hiding place and heading towards the Hospital Wing.
He turned away from the door and set off through the rows of books, looking for Dementia. He found her standing on a chair, trying to reach a book at the top of the shelf in the history section.
"Dementia?"
The young woman jumped and almost fell off her perch.
"Harry! Are you crazy, you nearly made me fall to my death! What the hell are you doing here?"
"No time to explain – you have to help me, Father will be here any second."
"But-"
"Please, Demi…"
Demi studied the teenager, who was glancing nervously at the library entrance. His hair sticking up more than usual and breathing in short spurts, he looked like he had just done something extremely stupid. She wondered briefly whether she had done the right thing leaving France, getting divorced and coming to live at Hogwarts… but she couldn't resist Harry's pleading look for long.
"Ok," Dementia gave in. "Tell me what happened, quickly."
"Hermione left something important here – her diary – and I came to look for it but Father is close and he's probably going to come in…"
While he was speaking Harry rifled through the pile of books on the trolley. His fingers touched Hermione's diary at the very second the library door opened.
Before he had time to react, Demi pushed him towards a table and hissed, "Tell me off for being late and follow my lead!"
Harry obeyed and raised his voice. "Dementia! Can't you hurry up?"
"I'm nearly finished," the young woman replied.
"You've been saying that for an hour! It would've been better if I'd gone back alone."
"It was past curfew! You would have been caught!"
"Maybe, but I could be asleep now instead of waiting for you," growled Harry, silently praying that their act would work.
"I promise I'm nearly done!"
In the shadows, Severus rolled his eyes… how many times had he already heard that promise? "I'm nearly done" and "I'm coming" were two of Dementia's favourite sentences. And they were lies. He walked into the rows of books and glanced at his son.
Harry was sitting at a table, his head on his arms, glaring at Dementia while she worked. He looked like he could fall asleep where he sat. Or would have looked like it… if it wasn't for his gaze, which was slightly too alert, and his breathing, which was slightly too quick.
Severus stepped out of the shadows and called to Harry. "What a good start! Lessons start tomorrow morning and you're already breaking rules!"
Harry jumped and almost fell out of his chair, the movement not looking natural enough to be believable, but Snape didn't comment.
"I…"
"Oh, give it a rest will you?" interrupted Dementia, infinitely more believably than her brother. "I've told you before and I'm telling you now – I'm nearly finished!"
"Which doesn't answer the question… what is Harry doing here?"
"We needed to talk," Demi replied drily, "and we didn't really keep track of the time. When the curfew call went, Harry wanted to run back to the common room but I told him he would be better off if I took him back. I was going to do it sooner or later…"
It took Severus all his years of spying and self-control not to, understandably, burst out laughing: sooner or later for Dementia basically meant 'probably never'. The Potions Master simply sighed audibly and shook his head. "Harry has lessons tomorrow, Dementia, and you don't want to botch your work by finishing too quickly. I'll take him back myself."
Without another word, he gestured with his head for Harry to follow him and turned on his heels. Harry hastily followed him after glancing quickly at his sister: Snape had walked away! And Hermione's diary was safely in his pocket.
Hearing the door close behind the two men of the family, Dementia rolled her eyes. Once again she had been thought of as the scatter-brained helper! As if she was in the habit of always being late!
Just wait until she told Sirius about this… Although, thinking about it, Sirius seemed to share the popular belief that Dementia Snape Parker Johnson was completely incapable of using a watch. That bloody mutt was perfectly capable of making fun of her! She decided not to say anything and, with a sigh, got back to work putting all the books away.
In the corridor, Harry was barely keeping up with Snape. They ran into Filch, who seemed cruelly disappointed when Snape confirmed that Harry wasn't the rule breaker that he had heard, as he hadn't left the library all evening.
Apart from the short conversation with the caretaker, Severus didn't say a word for the entire journey to Gryffindor tower.
Once they arrived in front of the Fat Lady, Harry walked around his father to stand in front of the painting. He was about to say the password when Snape grabbed his arm and threw him against the nearest wall. The left hand leaning on the wall right next to his head stopped him from attempting to run away. Then Snape grabbed his chin with his right hand and forced Harry to look at him.
"Do you really think I'm an idiot?"
"I-"
"Shut up! I don't want to listen to you, I want you to listen to me carefully. Stop trying to be clever, Harry, because you'll just attract problems too big for you to deal with. Since you're trying to be so clever I'm putting my foot down! Night-time escapades in the castle will also get you punished because the threat of doing lines clearly isn't keeping you in the common room. I don't give a damn if I have to thrash you every day of the year if it finally makes you obey me! You'll give in before I do! Is that understood? Or should I start punishing you right now?"
"No… I mean yes… I understand…"
"Really? Maybe I should make sure…"
"No! I promise! I'll stay in my common room!"
"Good… now get out of my sight!"
Snape dragged Harry to the painting by the collar of his jumper and waited until Harry had gone into the common room before he headed for his quarters.
Harry practically ran into the nearly empty Gryffindor common room. He leaned against the wall to calm down and slow his rapidly beating heart.
"Harry?" Hermione asked in a small voice.
He glared at her, coming close to lashing out at his best friend. He got a hold of himself and gave her a small smile. After all, he had only himself to blame; Ron had suggested Harry should stay behind so he didn't pointlessly risk getting punished and he had wanted to prove how brave he was, wanted to show that he didn't give a damn about Snape's rules… and he had failed miserably.
"Here," he said, getting the diary out of his pocket, "but I'm warning you, if you forget it again I'll personally give it to Malfoy!"
"Oh thank you Harry! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll be careful I promise! Let's go to bed! Tomorrow we have Transfiguration just after Herbology and McGonagall will kill us if we fall asleep at our desks!"
The boys shook their heads and climbed the stairs to their dormitory. Harry quickly told Ron what had happened, making sure to include his father's threats, but made him promise not to tell Hermione.
"If not," he argued, "she'll make me show her written permission to breathe from Snape."
Ron smiled mirthlessly and lay on his bed without answering. Harry sighed, inwardly cursing Snape and Dumbledore for interfering in his life. Then he too laid down and quickly fell asleep.
oOo
"Very good. Now, I would like you to change this feather into a blackbird… the spell is on the black board. Off you go!"
Harry sighed, rubbed his eyes, put his glasses back on and tried the transfiguration. Next to him, Ron also seemed to be wondering what on earth it was meant to achieve.
"Very good, Miss Granger! You have understood the principle. Now try to make us a blackbird instead of a pigeon."
With impressive coordination, Harry and Ron glared at their friend. Hermione had had as little sleep as they had. So how was it that she looked like she had just had sleep therapy while they both felt like they hadn't slept for weeks? The two boys looked at each other and Ron shrugged fatalistically before going back to his feather. Harry did the same, although he found it impossible to concentrate.
"Psst! Hey, Potter!"
Harry tried to ignore the persistent noise, wondering why McGonagall wasn't intervening, then gave in and turned towards the person who was calling him.
"What do you want Malfoy?"
"Do you think you'll share a room at St Mungo's with old Dumby?"
"What?" growled Harry.
Malfoy unfolded a page from a newspaper and showed it to Harry. A photo of Harry looking haggard, taken the previous year when he had come out of the maze, filled the front page. The title "Has Dumbledore contaminated young Potter with his madness?" flashed aggressively above his picture, which was now collapsing to the ground, shouting silently.
Harry turned around, resolutely trying not to start a fight; he had enough problems with his father already. He gritted his teeth when he heard Malfoy's mocking snickering behind him, and seconds later he had a small pile of smoking and foul-smelling feathers in front of him.
Professor McGonagall hurried towards him. "I think you put too much enthusiasm into your spell, Mr Potter. Try to concentrate a bit more."
"Yes, Professor," he sighed.
At that precise moment there was a happy whoop and the entire class turned to see a blackbird flying away from Hermione's table to perch on the cupboard at the back of the room.
"Very good, Miss Granger!" cried the professor. "20 points to Gryffindor for a perfectly executed transfiguration, and in record time! The rest of you, practice before our class the day after tomorrow. If you have any problems, don't hesitate to ask me for help! Don't forget that you sit your OWLs at the end of the year and I expect every one of you to get perfect marks in the Transfiguration exam."
The students silently left the classroom. They had barely reached the end of the corridor when Ron sighed.
"I think that's all they'll talk about all year! We've already had to listen to a speech on OWLs in Herbology, and now the same in Transfiguration… is it going to be the same for every subject?"
"It's to be expected, Ron, it's an important year! The OWLs are the most important exams for us, even more so than NEWTs. The professors just want to make sure that everyone has understood just how important it is for our futures to pass them."
"For me it just means one thing: we'll drown in homework!" growled Ron stubbornly.
Before Hermione could respond, Harry quickly reminded them that they had Defence Against the Dark Arts with Umbridge and they really needed to hurry up.
"Anyway you've got to admit," Ron said insistently, "that our timetable sucks today! Transfiguration, Defence and Potions… and nothing else…"
"At least they're short lessons… we could have had double Defence and double Potions…"
"I guess," Ron grumbled, stubbornly refusing to be cheered up.
They arrived outside the Defence classroom just before Umbridge did and took their usual seats. Professor Umbridge slowly walked down the aisle leading to her desk, patiently studying the students.
She stopped near Malfoy and frowned. "What is your name, young man?"
"Draco Malfoy."
"Oh," she replied, smiling, her features immediately relaxing. "I thought I recognised your face. You bear a striking resemblance to your father. Lucius is a good friend of mine."
She started walking again, leaving Malfoy to smile in satisfaction and puff up in pride. She also stopped in front of Harry and stared at him for a few seconds, a mocking smile on her lips. She didn't say anything, however, and simply walked to her desk, where she sat down regally.
"Hello, children."
Her only answer was silence.
"I said hello children," she repeated sharply. "I will not tolerate rudeness."
"Hello, Professor," murmured the Gryffindors.
Their lack of enthusiasm wasn't noticed, drowned out by the clear and loud voices of the Slytherins.
"Since we only have one hour together, we will concentrate on discussing the rules this lesson. Rules, children, allow you to become responsible adults. You already know that at the end of this school year you will sit very important exams, commonly known as OWLs, which means Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Your future depends on your success in these exams."
Ron banged his head on his desk.
Professor Umbridge paused, eyes roaming the classroom. "The new Ministry directives are to allow you to sit these exams in a completely safe environment. And we will try to ensure that you do. I will be very disappointed next year if some of you don't have at least an Exceeds Expectations in your Defence exam."
"Next year?" Dean Thomas interrupted. "But professors only stay for a year in Defence, the position is cursed."
"Tut tut, Mr Thomas! In my class, students raise their hand before speaking. This story about a curse is a superstition, and I intend to prove this to you by still being here next year. The various professors that you have already had have only stayed for a year because they weren't competent… a werewolf… a magazine celebrity… a Death Eater in disguise… Only poor Professor Quirrell's absence is felt by this school…"
"Yeah, we definitely miss Professor Quirrell!" Harry interrupted, his voice mocking. "He was a good teacher! I wonder why he left? Oh yeah! He had Voldemort stuck to the back of his head!"
"Your hand, Mr Potter! It's a simple rule to follow and I only just mentioned it! Now, back to the matter of lessons… we are going to study the theory of each of the spells that you will be asked about during your OWLs. If you study the theory, you will be able to produce the spells perfectly during the exam."
Parvati Patil raised her hand.
"Yes, Miss…?"
"Patil… You mean we won't practice the spells all year?"
"You won't need to. The Ministry believes that theory is enough and will guarantee the safe environment that must be expected in a school."
The students exchanged looks.
"But-" Harry began.
"Your hand, Mr Potter!"
Harry sighed audibly and immediately raised his hand. Dolores Umbridge looked at him for a moment, then turned away from him and resumed her speech.
"As I was saying-"
"How are we going to defend ourselves?" Harry angrily interrupted.
"Your hand! But I will answer you anyway, Mr Potter. Defend yourselves? Are you scared of being attacked when you're in the school?"
"Well I was almost eaten by a Basilisk two years ago… And my hand was raised…"
"Don't be insolent! As for your story, Mr Potter, our ministry has investigated it. Unfortunately we did not find enough proof to keep the person responsible behind bars."
"And it's so true the Ministry is well known for looking for proof," Harry retorted bitterly.
"But," continued Umbridge without commenting on the interruption, "I can assure you that this school is once again safe and no one is in any danger."
"And outside?" Harry asked, annoyed.
"Outside? But there isn't any danger outside, Mr Potter."
"No," Harry replied sarcastically, "just Voldemort."
A shudder started with the professor and rippled through the majority of the classroom. Dolores Umbridge stood slowly, her eyes fixed on Harry, and walked around her desk so that she was facing the class. A hypocritical smile appeared on her lips.
"Children, I want you to be absolutely certain about this. Certain people suffering from a lack of publicity have decided to use the awful drama surrounding Mr Diggory's accidental death to make you believe in twaddle. There is no dark wizard waiting for you outside this castle. There is no armed, dark group that could try to harm you."
"Hey, wait a minute," Harry hissed, exasperated, despite Hermione nudging him with her elbow.
"I will not tolerate insolence, Mr Potter," squawked Umbridge in a shrill voice.
She pulled herself together with a cough and continued speaking using her soft, grandmotherly voice.
"Children, if anyone tries to frighten you and tells you there will be endless danger to amuse themselves, you certainly don't have to let yourselves be upset. You should come and talk to me immediately and I will put an end to this macabre farce."
"Your behaviour is criminal!" Harry exploded. "You're making them believe everything is fine and when they leave they'll find themselves thrown into the middle of a war without being prepared for it! Why not just take them to Voldemort yourself?!"
"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead, Mr Potter! He's only back in your deranged mind and in the plots of an old madman so he can seize power!"
"You don't know what you're talking about! He's back! He killed Cedric! I was there, I saw it!"
Umbridge seemed like she was about to explode from sheer fury but managed to restrain herself. She calmly walked back to her desk and sat down. She crossed her hands and delicately leaned her chin on them.
Then she smiled serenely and calmly announced; "Detention, Mr Potter."