Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.

To those of you who so kindly PM'd me to make sure I was still alive and writing, thank you for your concern... I yet live!

I apologise for the interlude, I don't suppose anyone will believe me if I say I was mourning for Dobby? In reality I've been sorting out stuff for my new job, references and all that tedium, nothing so exciting as illness, injury or impending doom.

This is quite a short chapter, I was tempted to roll the next to into one longer one, but then I can't put emphasis on the last line of this chapter, and also because that would mean an even longer wait, so I'll double up today (Friday, I'm on GMT) if I can.

Chapter 60

The floor of the Chamber of Secrets was cold, its chill had seeped from the stone into Harry's flesh every second he had spent sitting on its smooth floor, sinking until it reached his heart and numbed the sorrow.

It did nothing for the rage.

The roiling, burning, freezing fury swirled through his veins, clenched its fist around his heart and refused to relent.

He'd burned Dobby, not with fiendfyre, not even with much magic. Harry had had to apparate out to collect wood from the Forbidden Forest and borrow matches from his aunt and uncle's house, but it felt right to build the pyre himself. Using magic to make the action effortless seemed disrespectful to the elf who had given his life following Harry's commands.

There had been no ashes, the fire had been white hot; that much he'd used magic to make sure of. He hadn't wanted to bury Dobby, confining him into the ground, condemning him to the earth and trapping him under it was far less fitting than setting him free in smoke.

He'd watched the smoke drift out of the chamber, up into the sky, and away, but he hadn't left, not even when the warmth of the fire had waned and the smell of the smoke and subsided.

If he'd gone back, attended his lessons, rejoined his classmates, then he would have heard her name, maybe even seen her face, and there would have been nothing in existence that could have stopped him taking his revenge.

So he'd stayed in the Chamber of Secrets, he'd waited, forced himself to remember the plan and assured himself that his revenge would come. He only had to follow his scheme through as and Umbridge would pay just dearly as she ought to.

Harry opened his eyes. His anger might not have left, its ice still coiled in his chest, but that didn't matter, he'd focused it now, honed it to a razor sharp edge and controlled it.

Besides, its time had come. He had the polyjuice, she had the map, all he needed was to give her a reason to question someone from the DA, anyone or everyone would do.

He'd give her a reason she couldn't ignore.

Pushing himself to his feet, he walked with slow deliberate steps along the length of the chamber. The glinting eyes of the serpent-entwined effigies followed him, tracking every footstep towards his revenge.

Myrtle's bathroom was still covered in blood, a thick, sticky pool of it, still only half-congealed that the pearly girl hovered over, wringing her hands with worry.

"Harry,' the ghost gasped, swooping over to him. 'I thought something terrible had happened to you.'

'It's not my blood,' he assured her quietly, flicking his wand out. 'It belonged to a follower of mine, a friend in truth.' He didn't want to say house elf, too many might dismiss the loss of an elf as unimportant.

'A student?' Myrtle asked quietly, 'will I have company?'

'Not a student, a loyal friend, but I don't think so,' Harry answered. 'He's free now, he'd have no desire to linger here and be bound to this world.'

Harry vanished the blood, removing the tainted puddle to leave the tiles, white, pristine and clean. All of Dobby was gone now, all of him was free.

'What happened?' Myrtle asked, pushing her finger nervously together.

'He was murdered,' Harry responded coldly.

Myrtle looked oddly unaffected by that, but then she had been murdered too, and Harry knew that ghosts rarely formed any attachment to the living world at all, even young ones like Myrtle.

'Was it him?' The ghost asked.

'No,' Harry shook his head, holstering his wand, 'but they'll pay for it all the same.'

'You get them, Harry,' Myrtle echoed encouragingly, 'you'll get him too.' She paused almost thoughtfully, adopting a wistful, distant look. 'I think I'll be free then, free to move on.'

'To the next great adventure?' Harry inquired, momentarily distracted by her uncharacteristic, melancholic longing.

'The next great adventure?' The ghostly girl wondered distantly. 'I think there's just nothing, that when whatever keeping me here comes to an end, I will fade too.'

She fell silent, drifting gradually away into her cubicle without another word.

Harry watched her go, taken aback by her sudden swing of mood. He supposed that Myrtle had had a long time alone to think about why she was still here, and what came afterwards, but she sounded so uncaring about the possibility of oblivion that it made all the hairs stand up on the nape of his neck.

It was enough to distract him from the plan, but only for a moment, then the ice swirled and tightened in his chest, flooding his veins with cold determination.

He left Myrtle's bathroom, disillusioning himself, then following the empty corridors towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts Class. Lessons were taking place either side of him as he stalked vengefully towards Umbridge's office, the students and teachers both blissfully unaware that he was about to liberate them.

On the stairs he passed Filch and Mrs Norris, neither noticed him, but the squib's muttering had descended from threats of violence to harmless irritation, and the deep sunken scowl lines seemed to have softened slightly.

Harry eyed him briefly. Without the memories of his hate and resentment Filch's attitude could only improve, and if his charm failed and the caretaker returned to his unacceptable activities then Harry would take a more permanent solution. Second chances were Dumbledore's premised, not his.

He checked the Marauder's Map that he'd never got around to returning to the chamber. Umbridge's class was empty, and so was her office, just as Harry had hoped. Stopping at the door to her office he took a good look around the inside of the room.

It's about time this place was redecorated, he thought grimly.

The fiendfyre burst from the tip of his wand in waves of cherry red, plunging formlessly though the door and washing across the floor in ripples of heat. Harry poured his fury into the charm, harnessing his intent to erase every tiny piece of Dolores Umbridge from the school.

The lurid, pink carpet was acrid smoke in moments, the legs of the furnishings wrapped in wreaths of his flame that had brightened to a blinding white even as the fire poured up the walls, catching the drapes and scouring the pink paper from the stone.

Something within him screamed in joy at watching all her possessions irrevocably destroyed and the cursed fire that swirled within the room exploded into life, obliterating everything within in an instant of unrestrained, burning ecstasy.

A slash of his wand and the fiendfyre was gone, billowing and collapsing in on itself until there was nothing.

The room was a scarred, seared eyesore. The fire had been to hot to leave any ash; the stone had been scorched clean of her taint, the walls glowing, the mortar melted, running in tears from the cracks as Hogwarts cried at its cleansing.

Harry took a moment to burn a message into the stone in purple, flaming letters, a suggestion and a hint to make her more amenable in the near future.

For the Greater Good, the flames etched in the floor professed. But mostly for revenge, Harry decided coldly.

Disillusioning himself he nonchalantly placed one foot in the doorway, triggering the wards that were placed around the edge of the room, then he left, striding quickly away to await the interrogation that was coming in the Great Hall.

He hadn't eaten since yesterday, and it was nearly lunch time.

The Great Hall was practically empty, though the food was just appearing when he entered. Nobody wanted to be trapped under the gleeful, glaring smile of Umbridge, who took it upon herself to preside over every meal time, sitting herself in the headteacher's seat with an air of infuriating smugness.

Harry somewhat suspected that she wouldn't be quite so smug today.

He didn't have long to wait.

Umbridge was beyond furious. She had attained a shade of red so mottled and vivid that he half feared she might rupture one of the throbbing veins in her temple. It would be far too quick a death for her.

She deserves to watch the moment crawl closer, Harry decided.

Their pink-clad headmistress was sputtering in abject fury on the stage, stripped of her simpering sweetness and incapable even of speech.

The other students watched on apprehensively, Harry concealed a smile, if she couldn't think to construct a coherent sentence convincing her to follow his breadcrumbs would be even easier than he'd hoped.

'Professor Snape,' she snapped, whirling on the potions teacher. 'I want every last vial of veritaserum you have in your stock, and I want it in my office.' Harry clenched his jaw to suppress a smile at the spasm of fury that trembled across there face.

'Very well,' Snape answered smoothly, not raising so much as an eyebrow in protest. It hardly surprised Harry knowing his history, the former Death Eater would likely be more than happy to share torturing tips with their short-tenured headteacher.

'And bring every student on this list with you, one at a time, starting with Potter.' Umbridge's glare fell on him, but he only gazed innocently back, breathing steadily, and clearing his mind to halt the spread of the ice through his veins.

Patience, he advocated. Her time is coming.

'Now, Mr Potter,' Umbridge instructed sweetly, her girlish demeanour reasserting itself. No doubt she was salivating at the prospect of what he might spill under the influence of the truth serum.

It was the largest stumbling block in his scheme. He had no idea whether he would be able to resist or not, but he imagined, since he was capable of resisting veela allure, legilimency and the Imperius Curse that the serum would be no different as long as his will was strong enough.

Harry rose calmly from the table, catching Katie's worried glance from across the hall, and followed Umbridge from the hall back to the office he had razed only minutes ago.

Malfoy and the members of her Inquisitorial Squad flanked him, but, unlike with others they surrounded, he noted they were keeping their distance, and Malfoy's hands were in his robes already clutching his wand.

They are afraid of me, Harry realised.

The realisation made him smile with icy satisfaction; they hadn't seen more than the merest hint of what he was now capable of.

Snape was waiting by the entrance of the office holding a handful of clear vials and inspecting the inside of the razed room with something akin to curiosity. Harry watched him warily. It was possible that the former Death Eater might recognise the magic he had used once before in the Triwizard Tournament.

The potions master said nothing if he did, though he was smirking slightly when he turned to Umbridge.

'There is enough veritaserum there for every student on the list,' he sneered, 'but only if you refrain from using more than the prescribed three drops for each student.'

'I have to be sure,' Umbridge decided. 'Will it be enough?'

'It takes considerable mental strength to fight the effects of veritserum, something I would not relish doing, but could accomplish. It would be a very rare student who was capable of the same.'

Snape threw a glance at Harry, but there was nothing discernible in the eyes of the former Death Eater, and Harry dare not attempt legilimency on him to check his surface thoughts for suspicion.

'Very well,' Umbridge hissed, snatching the vial from him.

Harry observed as she carefully poured three droplets from the vial into a conjured, shining, metal goblet.

'May I ask what's happening?' He inquired mildly.

'Drink up, Mr Potter,' Umbridge instructed sweetly, 'then we shall discuss what's happening at length and in great detail.'

'I look forward to it,' Harry replied dryly, taking the goblet and letting the small amount of liquid fall onto his tongue. It tasted of nothing, but it felt like he'd just pressed his tongue against something very cold, and an odd numbness crept down his throat.

'A few seconds for it to take effect,' Snape cautioned before the detestable witch could begin questioning. 'A test question is advisable to begin with, something simple.'

'What is your name?' Umbridge simpered.

'Harry James Potter,' he answered easily, surprised to hear his voice come out monotonous and even. There was a compulsion to trust the pink wearing witch, to open his heart and spill out his secrets to her.

'Where were you this morning?' She continued, her eyes flashing furiously as she glanced at the blackened, heat-warped remnants of her office. It really was an improvement over the pink.

'Hogwarts,' Harry replied. There was no point fighting the urge to tell her the truth if he did not have to.

'Specifically?' Snape drawled. The small smirk was at the corner of his lips again.

He had an almost overwhelming desire to tell them that he'd been in the Chamber of Secrets, that he'd been in Myrtle's Bathroom and in here, but somewhere in the back of his head a little voice reminded him that if he did that then Umbridge would escape his plan and her well-deserved end.

'Gryffindor Tower,' he replied, keeping his voice even and dull. There was no compulsion strong enough to steal his revenge from him. She frowned, wrinkling her wide, pale brow.

'Where is Dumbledore?' She asked suddenly, a gleeful grin spreading across her wide face at the prospect of eliciting such an important secret from him.

It's almost too easy, Harry thought.

She was already asking questions and searching for a way to further herself by handing something about Dumbledore to the Ministry. Umbridge would jump at the chance the map would seem to offer.

'I have no idea,' Harry answered earnestly. He hardly cared. As long as he wasn't in the

causing trouble for him, then Albus Dumbledore could go anywhere he pleased.

'Have you attended any meetings of,' the witch's pale face twisted in disgust, 'Dumbledore's Army, since the first?'

'No,' he droned. That was almost true.

Umbridge's face fell, but Snape's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

Not good. He knows I might be lying.

'Why did you not attend any meetings?' Umbridge pressed, seeing the potions teacher's reaction.

'The club was illegal,' he answered, trying not to laugh at the sheer disbelief on Snape's face, 'and I would not have been welcome after everything that had been written about me.' The incredulousness faded from the face of the potions master, that half-truth he had swallowed.

'Did you destroy my office?' The Pink Professor asked resignedly, aware that she wasn't getting any of the answers she wanted.

'No,' Harry replied in the same emotionless tone.

I didn't destroy it, he corrected to himself, I razed it. I improved it.

'You may go, Potter,' she spat, clearly angry that he had not been the culprit. 'Mr Malfoy, if you would be so kind as to fetch,' she paused to survey the list, 'Mr Smith,' she decided.

'You want to check Potter's answers against another, more insignificant member?' He heard Snape ask as he left.

A swift check of the Marauder's Map showed Zacharias Smith on one end of the Hufflepuff table. Umbridge was going to be so very disappointed when he only corroborated Harry's answers, but he imagined the revelation of the map would make up for it.

He set off at a brisk pace, concealing himself once again. Malfoy and the others would also start at the Great Hall, so he would have little time in which to act.

Fortunately Smith was sitting in clear view of the doors, giving him an uninterrupted line of sight.

'Imperio,' he commanded softly, willing the Hufflepuff to rise and walk out towards him.

Footsteps indicated the Inquisitorial squad was coming, so he led Smith round the corner and pulled him into a broom closet, stunning and disillusioning him after tugging a couple of hairs out of his head.

Unstoppering the vial of polyjuice he dropped the handful of hairs in and watched as it changed from the colour and consistency of a very thick, mud-like porridge to an off colour sludge-like brown. He didn't particularly care to guess what that said about Zacharias Smith, it was what Zacharias Smith's doppelgänger was about to say that mattered.

Pinching his nose he downed the potion, trying not to gag at its foul taste and feeling.

A horrible writhing sensation sprung from his stomach, accompanied by a fierce heat that spread all across his body, burning just beneath his skin. His bones twisted, lengthening, in some places, shortening in others, his skin rippled like liquid wax, and muscles melted away from under his skin. Hissing with pain he collapsed onto the floor and curled up until the transformation ended.

When it was done he checked his reflection in the locket Fleur had given him, making sure he completely resembled the Hufflepuff, then he transfigured his robes, changing their size and colour to exactly match what Smith had been wearing.

Stepping back into the Great Hall he rejoined Smith's friends for a few moments before Malfoy spotted him and dragged him off the bench.

'The Headmistress wants to speak with you,' he sneered.

Crabbe and Goyle took an arm each and half-marched, half-carried him down the corridor. The difference between his two journeys was amusing, but he made a mental note to ensure the two brutes paid for their behaviour. He hated being manhandled, he always had. A lasting gift from his uncle and cousin.

'Mr Smith,' Umbridge greeted him politely, pushing a plain china cup in his direction. It was full to the brim of steaming tea and Harry had no doubt whatsoever that there were a few drops of veritaserum in there as well.

Snape had left, presumably he had only be concerned about Harry's interview.

He eyed the tea carefully and just managed to pick out a thin, clear film of liquid over the top. Part of him wanted to shake his head. Umbridge had just poured it on top, she hadn't even tried to mix it in and hide it.

'Have a drink, Zacharias,' she suggested saccharinely, 'and relax, you're not in any trouble. I just want to ask you about some of the members of that group you were a part of. They've done a great deal of criminal damage to Hogwarts and my own possessions.'

Harry picked up the tea cup and took a sip, ignoring the odd combination of the veritaserum on his tongue and the burning of the tea down his throat.

'What is your full name?' She asked curiously. 'I don't remember seeing a middle name on the records.'

'It's just Zacharias Smith,' Harry answered. 'I have no middle name.' Now he'd off the effects of the serum once the compulsion felt far weaker than it had before, but that could be because he hadn't drunk all the tea.

He took another cautious sip, aware he had to pretend to be oblivious.

'So how many meetings of this group did you go to?' Umbridge inquired lightly.

'All of them,' Harry replied, calmly lying through his teeth. 'There was only one meeting though.'

'That's good,' a simpering smile spread across her face. 'What did you plan to do at the meetings?'

'We wanted to practice magic,' Harry responded honestly. 'I was afraid I wouldn't be able to pass my OWLs otherwise.'

'You're right to be concerned, the exams are very important,' Umbridge nodded kindly, 'but you must be careful who you listen to.' Harry took another gulp of the tea, which had cooled to reach that small window of censurability between scalding and icy. 'How was the group organised?'

'The DA was run by Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, they came up with the idea, but several different students were going to teach, whomever could help. They had a big list of all the names on.'

Harry dropped the first breadcrumb at her feet and she snatched at it immediately.

'What was the list?' Umbridge asked with sugary sweetness.

'It was a list of every student in the group,' he wrinkled his brow as if in thought, 'but I think there was more to it than that,' he admitted. 'Granger and Weasley were very careful about hiding it an keeping it safe, they talked about it in the corridor when they didn't know I was there.'

'What did they say?' She breathed, a sickly, triumphant smile appearing on her lips.

'They said it was a map,' Harry told her monotonously, 'there was a phrase to reveal it,' he continued, 'one that Dumbledore gave them.'

He was very glad that Snape had left now, there was no way he would swallow this story, even if Umbridge seemed to.

'Do you know the phrase?' Umbridge reached for her handbag, prying open the clasp with her stubby fingers, drawing out her wand, the list, and the tarnished tiara he had used as a marker.

Why did she take that?

He supposed it was hardly important.

'I think so,' Harry nodded, pretending to try and remember.

'Take your time,' Umbridge cooed.

'For the Greater Good,' Harry said eventually. The ice in his chest was crying out in triumph, waves of shivering cold trembled victoriously through his veins. There was no way she could resist, not now.

'For the Greater Good,' Umbridge commanded, tapping her wand to the list.

Nothing happened.

'For the Greater Good,' she repeated, trying the other side. This time the rough map he had drawn was revealed in contrast. 'Oh, yes,' she breathed.

Abruptly she stood, spilling the diadem onto the floor, and seizing a handful of floor powder.

'Thank you, Zacharias,' she told him, seemingly sincerely. 'You may go, just remember to be much more careful about who you listen to in the future.'

Oh I will, he laughed to himself, perhaps you should have done the same.

He finished his tea, it seemed a shame to waste it, especially as it was a perfectly adequate cup, then rose to leave. As he did, Umbridge bent to retrieve the circlet, placing it on her head with a high-pitched, girlish laugh, cocking her head almost as if she was listening.

'Dawlish,' he heard her order smoothly after a second, 'come at once, and bring a partner,' there was a silence in which he lingered outside the door, 'no don't bother telling Amelia Bones, there's no time, this is of critical importance to the Minister.'

Harry slowly began to walk back in the direction of the broom closet, periodically checking the map to make sure he knew where Umbridge was. He didn't want her to wander off into the forest without him, it would be a terrible shame for her to die unaware of how she had been led to this moment, how he had led her there.

Harry wanted to stand next to her and smile triumphantly as she realised all her victories had simply been steps on the road to her own ruin.

AN: Please read and keep on reviewing, I got a ridiculous number of reviews for the last chapter, almost 200, so extra thanks for that.