Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.
So I couldn't manage to double post yesterday, but here's today's chapter a little earlier than has become usual.
Additionally that dreaded time when I start my new job in earnest is now arriving, and naturally that will mean less writing time and likely longer between updates, but hopefully we will all survive.
Chapter 61
Harry poked around the floor of the broom closet with one foot, searching for the disillusioned Zacharias Smith. He found a bucket and several mops before his toes came into contact with something softer and warm.
Now how to do this?
Sometimes the plan had holes in, little things that seemed very simple at the start, but turned out to be complex later. Things like how to re-insert your unconscious victim once you'd cleverly removed and replaced him with yourself.
He supposed that he'd just have to improvise.
Hoisting the invisible body of Smith over his left shoulder he stepped out of the broom closet and wandered down towards the Hufflepuff common room. He knew where it was, he knew where all of the houses were, it was hard not to notice when distinct groups of students followed the same patterns on the Marauders' Map.
'Zach,' a tall, pompous looking Hufflepuff gave him a nod, and wandered across to join him. 'The whole school's been locked down, we've got to go back to our common rooms and stay there until further notice. What's happening? What did Umbridge want?' Harry didn't know his name, but he recognised him vaguely from the few meetings of Dumbledore's Army he had attended.
'She gave me a cup of tea and asked me some questions,' Harry answered, uncomfortably aware of the unconscious body on his shoulder and attempting to mimic Smith's mannerisms.
'Oh? What about?' The Hufflepuff glanced around, 'I heard she was interviewing all the members of the DA.'
'She is, but it's not really about them,' Harry did his best imitation of Smith's smug smile. 'Someone set fire to her office, burnt the whole thing completely clean.'
'That explains why there are aurors here and why we're all being shut in,' Smith's friend frowned, slowing his pace down the stairs towards the basement. 'Saw them come in through the hall a few minutes back, they swept right through after Umbridge without a word.'
'Well if they find whoever did it he or she's in trouble,' Harry commented carefully. 'I daresay that the only things Umbridge has left are in her handbag.'
'Good riddance to all that bloody pink,' the Hufflepuff cheered quietly. 'Did she actually make you take veritaserum?'
'The tea,' Harry feigned shock, 'it could have been in the tea.'
'That must be illegal,' Smith's friend decided. 'I'm going to ask Cedric about it.' He knocked on the barrel in a peculiar rhythm, then led Harry into the common room.
It was a cosy, warm, comfortable atmosphere, not unlike the Gryffindor common room, with small knots of students gathered around the armchairs and sofas.
'I think I'm going to lie down,' Harry told him. 'I'm starting to get a serious headache.'
'It's probably because of what that woman made you drink,' Zacharias' friend said seriously. 'I'm definitely talking to Cedric about it.'
Harry nodded, hanging back to wait for everyone's eyes to move off of him, before choosing a random dormitory and walking up.
It took him two attempts to find the correct room, but once he had he drew the hangings around the bed, lay Smith down and dispelled his disillusionment.
'Obliviate,' he murmured.
Again he attempted the same thing he had with Filch, only instead of altering memories he fed him an edited version of his own recollections. Harry abridged the conversation with Umbridge, but kept almost everything else as he had experienced, including being dragged there by Crabbe and Goyle.
Disillusioning himself, he ducked quietly out of the hangings on the far side, and crept out of the Hufflepuff common room.
He had no intention of staying in the common room, either Hufflepuff's or Gryffindor's, but he did need people to think he had been there, so he had to go back.
Halfway up the stairs from the basement, the polyjuice began to wear off. There was a brief flare of heat across his body, then he could feel everything start to shift slowly back into place. It was a horrible feeling, the re-organising of his bones as they returned to his normal appearance.
His robes grew uncomfortably tight across his shoulders and chest as he broadened from Smith's slight figure, threatening to tear, so he swiftly undid the transfiguration he had cast to resize and alter their appearance.
Harry had never been more glad to be himself.
Hurrying up the steps he snuck back into the Gryffindor common room, dispelling his concealment out of sight in the passage and striding cheerfully across the room to join Neville, who was conversing animatedly with Ron and Hermione. The red-head seemed to be caught in between their disagreement, but they all stopped speaking when Harry arrived.
'Someone set fire to Umbridge's office,' he grinned, not having to fake his amusement in the slightest.
'She thought it was you?' Neville asked.
'I wish it had been me,' he replied wistfully, 'but I'm tired, and not feeling at all well. I think whatever I had a few weeks ago might be resurfacing so I'm going to disappear upstairs and lie down in a moment.'
Nothing could be further from the truth. The excitement was burbling within him, rising up from his stomach in great bubbles of cold adrenaline that coursed through his veins in anticipation of vengeance. He was glad that he had been patient, very glad, the moment was going to be all the sweeter for it.
'Rather you than me,' Neville agreed. Ron nodded absently.
'Want to trade?' Harry offered, pulling a tired smile.
'No thanks,' his friend smiled, 'you go and die quietly upstairs. It better not be contagious either.'
Harry left them with a smile he could barely suppress from spreading all the way across his face. Hermione never looked up.
Their dormitory was empty, he'd glimpsed Dean and Seamus playing exploding snap with Lavender and Parvati by the fire, so he drew the hangings around his bed, then warded the area to make sure nobody could draw them back.
Unfolding the Marauders' Map he searched hungrily for Umbridge's name, smiling delightedly when he saw her making her way down towards Hagrid's Hut, accompanied by two names that must belong to the pair of aurors she had summoned.
It's time.
The ice tightened in triumph at the prospect, the cold flooding across his body, anticipating the satisfaction to come.
Once again he concealed himself from view, but this time he cast very charm or ward he knew that might keep himself from being detected. It was imperative that the others believed he was still in the tower. His alibi had to be ironclad, even if he didn't expect any investigation to be levelled once Fudge collapsed and the increasingly disturbing, erratic actions of his former undersecretary came to light.
That meant he couldn't leave or return through the portrait of the Fat Lady; she would remember that a student had been out at the time, even if she didn't know it was him, and once the suspect was known to be in Gryffindor tower he would find himself under the magnifying glass.
He opened the window, squeezing out onto the ledge.
This is a terrible idea.
There wasn't much of an alternative, but it was a horrible long way down and for the first time Harry found himself agreeing with Salazar. Living in a tower was not a good thing. It was seven floors down to the ground.
My firebolt, he remembered at the last moment.
Squeezing back into the dormitory he flicked his wand out and, quickly checking the map to ensure Katie wasn't in her dormitory where Harry knew she kept it, likely in some kind of quidditch shrine, he summoned it to himself. It was technically still his, so she wouldn't complain if he borrowed it back from her briefly. He noted that Umbridge and her two aurors were making their way past Hagrid's Hut and into the edge of the forest.
The broom pressed itself against the outside of the window with a clatter, making Harry, who'd expected it to come up the stairs, jump and tuck the Marauders' Map away under his robes.
They must have their window open.
It was probably a good thing, nobody would have seen it come to him, and while he could easily explain that he just wanted to use the time to take care of it, it was easier not to have to say anything in the first place.
For the second time he stepped back out onto the ledge, casting the Disillusionment Charm over his broom as well. Flying was a far better idea than his half-formed plan to try and levitate himself down from roof to roof.
Swinging a leg over the firebolt and kicking off the sill into the air he revelled in the rush of the wind through his hair.
It had been so long since he had flown.
Harry had not realised how much he had missed it as he corkscrewed, still disillusioned, down over the greenhouses and the courtyards to come to a halt next to Hagrid's overrun pumpkin patch.
Tucking his firebolt in between two of the large orange fruits out of sight, he pulled the map back out and hurried into the forest after his prey.
The Forbidden Forest was quiet, it was always quiet, especially at night. He walked silently, the pine needles compressing softly beneath his feet as he stalked quickly after the trio he could hear ahead of him.
They were noisy.
Umbridge's short, loud footsteps were audible from over ten metres away as she crunched and cracked her way beneath the pines.
The aurors a few metres ahead of her were more subtle, they walked on the balls of their feet rather than bouncing on their heels, with hands inside jackets, and wary, narrowed eyes. Neither looked like they would be an easy opponent, but then he had no intention of duelling either of them, let alone both, that would be foolish.
The pines grew more dense as they moved deeper into the forest, the distance between the pines decreasing until they were brushing the edges of the trunks when they weaved along the same path that Hagrid had once sent Harry on.
Slipping past Umbridge, who was flouncing gleefully forwards though the trees murmuring to herself and clutching the map to her pink cardigan, he endeavoured to catch up to the aurors.
They were conversing quietly as they prowled through the trees, debating in hushed tones the merits of this mission.
'I'm telling you this is bad idea,' the taller of the two, Kingsley Shacklebolt according to the map, said.
'We're aurors,' Dawlish muttered, 'we follow our orders to keep our society safe.'
'This isn't keeping anyone safe as far as I can see,' Shacklebolt pointed out. 'We've been sent into an area well-known for being inhabited by some of the most dangerous magical creatures in Britain, and she hasn't even told us why.'
'I'm sure Dolores has a good reason, King,' Dawlish responded, ducking under a branch. Harry didn't need to use the mind arts to hear the doubt in his voice.
'What do you think we're doing out here then?'
'If Dolores is risking herself to come out here it must be important,' the grey-coated auror commented.
'Important to her and Fudge,' Shacklebolt remarked disparagingly.
'Yes,' Dawlish said slowly, 'I'm sure you would see it that way.'
'What do you mean?' They split up to walk around one of the trees, and Harry drifted a little closer so he didn't have to strain his ears to listen in.
'We've been working together for the best part of a decade, King,' Dawlish answered eventually. 'I know whose ideals you follow, don't think I haven't noticed you disappearing off at odd times.'
'I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about,' Shacklebolt said stiffly.
'Don't worry, King, you're an excellent auror, your motivations for keeping everyone safe don't concern me. Dumbledore's turned down the Minister's position three times, he's not plotting anything, jumping at shadows maybe, but nothing sinister. I don't care if you're a member of his covert little group, if I believed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had actually returned I might join myself. The Ministry isn't investigating, so I hope for all our sakes that he's wrong.'
Harry cursed under his breath.
Of course, Kingsley Shacklebolt had to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix.
That shredded his plan completely. He couldn't justify killing either of the aurors, not when their deaths assisted Voldemort's cause more than his, but he couldn't let them witness Umbridge's death, and it was too late to turn back. The map was in play, the pieces were moving, and unless Umbridge's lips were sealed, permanently, things might yet be traced back to him.
'Madam Bones isn't at all happy about things,' Dawlish was saying, 'she'll be furious with the both of us when we get back, I wish we'd let the pink harpy wander in here on her own.'
'She should never come back if she were left in here alone,' Shacklebolt shook his head, 'detestable as she is she does not deserve to die because of it.'
'There are plenty of wizards and witches who would disagree with you there,' Dawlish retorted. 'Still, you're the senior auror, so you'll be the one who gets it in the neck from Madam Bones… again.'
Harry hurried past them, trusting in his magic to keep him concealed from the aurors, and thinking furiously. Somehow he had to separate the aurors from Umbridge, and he had to do it a way that wouldn't arouse the slightest bit of suspicion, or he could just continue with the plan, and leave all three to die.
Harden your heart, he told himself, but he knew he couldn't do it.
They weren't in his way, they didn't deserve death, and there was no good reason for him to lure the two of them in as well. Killing them was out of the question, he was not Voldemort, who massacred anyone he wanted, and he was not Dumbledore who sacrificed anyone he thought he might have to without a second thought.
In an instant he decided to change the plan. It was time to improvise again.
He swept forwards, running through the trees until he reached the first span of spider webbing that spread between two pines. The webbing was as thick as arm, and hard to miss.
Smiling coldly he disillusioned it, pressing the tip of his wand to the webbing and watching as it and all its interconnected strands faded from view. There would be no signs of the trap they were walking into, he just had to think of a way to allow the aurors to escape without letting Umbridge go or giving anything away.
It was easy to find his way forwards, he could follow the increasingly more prevalent webbing, concealing it as he went, and eventually he stepped out into the small hollow that Aragog and his family called home, gazing up at the trees and the shadows of the acromantula.
I may regret this, he thought wryly, but it's a small risk for two lives.
He revealed himself, stepping forwards into the centre of the hollow.
Furious clicking erupted from the trees around him, and the vast arachnids descended from every shadow and crevice to surround him.
Harry stood his ground, but flicked his wand back out into his palm.
'So, friend of Hagrid, you have returned,' the ancient, milky-eyed acromantula patriarch stalked out from under the roots of the largest of the pines. 'I remember your last visit well.'
So do I, Harry thought, recalling sprinting away from the man-eating spiders all too clearly.
'Are you going to try and eat me again?' He asked dryly, concealing any sign of his own anxiety. A thousand acromantula were well beyond his ability to slay, and while he might be able to escape again, it would rather ruin his plan.
'My children are always hungry,' Aragog murmured, 'but no, my family owes you a great debt, slayer-of-the-creature-we-do-not-speak-of. Hagrid told me of your deed, you freed my friend from his prison with your actions, and saved my children from the creature's hunger.'
'A debt,' Harry mused. There was a lot of possibilities for an indebted acromantula horde, but outside of the shadows of the forest, out of their element, they would be no more than a distraction to a well-trained wizard or witch.
'Yes,' the ancient spider whispered, 'but you did not know of it until now. Why have you come?'
'I have a deal for you and your children,' Harry proposed, thinking things through quickly as he spoke.
'A deal,' Aragog murmured, clicking his pincers and stalking closer, looming over Harry.
'Fulfilment of your debt,' Harry explained.
'What would you have from my family, friend of spiders?'
'There was a wizard who was once known as Tom Riddle,' Harry began, but was interrupted by Aragog's furious hissing.
'I know of Tom Riddle,' the spider spat, 'he expelled me from my home, destroyed the future Hagrid had planned.'
Well that makes things much easier.
'He unleashed the basilisk I slew,' Harry told them, smirking as the creatures flinched from the word. 'But he goes by a new name now,' Harry grinned, 'he calls himself Voldemort, and seeks to dominate Britain.'
'You would have us fight him,' Aragog assumed. 'We are hunters, ambushers, we live amongst webs and shadows, outside our forest we will be little more than a shield against your spells. I will not condemn my children to such a fate.'
'I ask you and your family to guard the forest against him, to agree never to aid or join with him, no matter what he offers, or how long he lives.' Harry slipped his wand away. 'If you agree, then I will hold your oath fulfilled, and as a gesture of friendship I will hunt with you.'
It seemed like the sort of thing that Aragog and his kin would respect, acting as a fellow hunter would earn him their respect.
'I agree,' the ancient spider whispered without hesitation, clicking his pincers and surveying his family around him. 'You ask for little in return for the freedom you have gifted us. When will you hunt with us?'
Harry smiled up at the spider, the ice screaming in triumph inside him. 'We already are.'
'Where then, is our prey?' Aragog seemed more curious than disbelieving.
'Walking towards us, lured into the middle of your web, to this very clearing, a trio whom I can offer one of to you and your children.'
'Only one?' The vast arachnid mused.
'The other two must live, they must not know of me, but they must live.' The acromantula around him were moving freely, walking over and around him, crawling up the trunks into the trees as if his presence were completely ordinary.
'I have told my children that you are one of our family, just as Hagrid is,' Aragog explained, 'and I accept your hunt.'
'Then we only need to wait,' Harry told him. 'When the three arrive scare them, make them flee, make them run and make sure they do not return. I will ensure the female does not escape. She is your gift.'
He followed the ancient acromantula back into the hollow under the roots of the pines, revelling in his coming revenge. Aragog clicked furiously, and the multitude of acromantula swarmed back up into the trees, retreating to the shadows, barely visible. Harry would not be able to see them if he were not looking for them.
'They are waiting,' the patriarch arachnid clicked, 'when the prey comes they will ambush and drive the males off, returning once they are sufficiently far from our home. We will deal with the female.'
It was several long minutes before the sound of Umbridge's footsteps became audible, and with every excruciating second of anticipation the rushing, freezing flood of ice in his veins grew more intense.
Cautiously he peered out round the roots. The two aurors spread out, shifting to watch the only entrance to the hollow, but Umbridge, still muttering to herself, strode to the very centre of the clearing.
'For the Greater Good,' she commanded, as the acromantula began to descend, unseen, from above.
Yes, Harry agreed, but mostly for revenge.
Shacklebolt saw the acromantula first and swore, pulling Dawlish back into the small entrance and drawing his wand.
'Run,' the grey-coated auror barked, 'Dolores!'
The pair only waited for a moment, conjuring a vast shield that prevented the spiders from reaching any of them, as Umbridge ran shrieking towards them.
Harry waited, concealed among the arachnids as he strode from the hollow, for the perfect moment.
It came as the aurors turned to run, dropping their shield.
'Osassula,' he whispered.
The curse hissed viciously across the ground, narrowly missing several of the acromantula who were moving to pursue the two aurors, and struck Umbridge on the ankle with a pleasing snapping sound.
She dropped with a loud scream.
Neither Dawlish nor Shacklebolt looked back.
'Filthy spiders,' Umbridge screeched, firing curses into the empty shadows around her. The acromantula had gone, pursuing the feeling aurors to ensure they did not return and steal Harry's gift from them.
'I see you followed the map I made,' Harry commented icily, stepping into her line of sight.
'Dumbledore,' she spat. 'You'll suffer for this, consorting with such creatures.'
'Dumbledore?' Harry would have laughed if he did not feel so insulted. The former headmaster would have sacrificed the aurors rather than saved them. He was better than the old wizard.
'Potter,' she breathed in disbelief. 'I am the headmistress of Hogwarts, you will be expelled, your wand snapped, and then sent to Azkaban for the rest of your life. It will only take a word from me to Cornelius and you will be destroyed.'
'You seem to be labouring under the delusion that you're ever leaving this forest,' Harry smiled cruelly.
Umbridge's rant died on her lips, a crazed, desperate gleam rising in her eyes as she muttered to herself, pressing her left hand to the tiara she still wore.
Her wand sprang into her hand, she no longer kept it in her handbag, and a nasty looking curse flashed past him as he ducked, carving deep gashes into the trunk of the pine behind him. He was ready for her second attempt and deflected it nonchalantly back at her, increasing the velocity as much as he could. It struck the diadem as she tried to duck, knocking it off her head and throwing it across the clearing.
'Crucio,' she cried, with desperate loathing, but a single, wordlessly conjured butterfly swallowed the Unforgivable Curse before it reached him.
'Lacero,' he responded calmly, casting the spell as swiftly as he was able and walking slowly closer to maximise the advantage his speed afforded.
The purple curse tore a line across her forearm before she could flinch, splattering blood across the pine needles. Her short wand fell from her stubby fingers to the floor.
She tried running then, but a well-placed bone-splintering curse fractured her pelvis and she fell, shrieking, onto her face, to slowly crawl away from him, sobbing and clawing at the dirt with her fingers.
Harry walked slowly up behind her, stamping cruelly on the outstretched fingers of her uninjured arm, eliciting another piercing scream.
With one foot he roughly flipped her over onto her back, smiling coldly down at her soiled pink cardigan and skirt. The creature of ice in his chest screamed in triumph, roiling and coiling rapturously within him.
She was crying.
Thick lines of tears dribbled their way down her pale, mud-smeared, flabby face, as she gasped and sobbed in fear.
'Sometimes,' he reminded her pleasantly prying the map from her hands and tapping it mockingly, 'when something seems too good to be true, it's because it is.' Her eyes widened in shocked realisation, understanding, at last, how she had been led here. It was the first beautiful thing he had ever seen on her face, and it would doubtless be the last.
Harry turned away, picking up her wand and twirling the short piece of wood between his fingers, before snapping it and carelessly discarding the shards on the forest floor. If anyone was foolish enough to return, they would find nothing that pointed to him.
'She's yours now,' Harry told Aragog, raising your voice. 'I don't need to kill her, you can.'
'We spiders do not kill our prey so quickly,' Aragog laughed wheezily. 'We keep them still, warm and breathing, then feast for as long as they can remain alive.'
The spider stalked out from under the roots, looming over Umbridge who had fallen silent at the description of her well-deserved fate.
'I thank you for your gift,' Aragog whispered, 'I and my children will defend the forest from Tom Riddle and those who follow him. The aurors will be close, my children dare not pursue too far for fear of retribution.'
The ancient acromantula struck with surprising speed, lunging forwards to grasp Umbridge in his pincers. There was a very soft, wet noise as Aragog bit her, then she gave a loud gurgle and flopped limply to the floor.
'Homenum Revelio,' Harry murmured.
The spell took effect immediately, sending a shimmer across the air in the hollow. Distantly he spied two small red figures, they were leaving the forest. Either the aurors did not care if she survived, or they believed her to already be dead.
She might wish she was, Harry thought, taking a great deal of dark satisfaction from her fate.
He turned away to hurry back to Gryffindor Tower and make himself known to his friends, ensuring his alibi, but as he did, the soft, red glow emanating from the tiara Umbridge had taken from the Room of Requirement caught the corner of his eye.
'Curious,' he mused aloud, bending down to retrieve it, brushing the dirt and needles away. The circlet chittered when he touched it, and he received the strangest impression that it was happy he had found it.
Wit beyond measure is Man's greatest treasure, he read.
They were Rowena Ravenclaw's words. He vaguely remembered Salazar saying something about one of their greatest creations being a lost diadem. Harry slipped it into his pocket. Slytherin's portrait would be able to clarify whether it would be of use to him.
AN: Please read and keep on reviewing, thanks to all those who do.
