A/N: Setting is Dumbledore's office during one of his private lessons with Harry during 6th year when they're diving into memories in the pensive. Dumbledore notices the scars from Umbridge's detentions. I know this trope is a favorite, but usually not with Dumbledore—I find it's usually Snape who finds out, which I love, but I think this side is a story that's a bit under-told, so here goes.

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Harry reached out to take the vial from Dumbledore, but stopped at the look of horror on Dumbledore's face and the abrupt wash of powerful magic that swept over the room.

The headmaster was staring at Harry's left hand, outstretched and palm facing down.

"Sir?"

Face white, Dumbledore set the vial down without a word.

Harry had grown accustomed enough to the scars Umbridge had left that it took him a moment to understand, but the moment he did a surge of shame that he couldn't have explained swept through him and, his face prickling, he snatched his hand back to his side.

But Dumbledore, his hands now free, reached out to take his hand, resisting Harry's attempts to pull away.

With a gentleness that belied the power that surged in the air around him, Dumbledore turned Harry's hand to expose the back and the secret it held.

The long, elegant fingers traced the scar. I must not tell lies.

Harry had seen the Dumbledore that Voldemort had always feared, but the way Dumbledore spoke now…it was softer, but more intense at the same time. His voice was laced with a quiet fury that chilled Harry to hear. "Who did this to you?"

Harry remained silent, a little unnerved.

Dumbledore raised his eyes and surveyed Harry with that piercing look. After only a moment, a dark cloud of recognition passed over his face. "Dolores Umbridge?"

Harry nodded tightly. It was not a subject he wanted to broach, but Dumbledore was clearly not going to let it drop.

Harry tried once again to tug his hand away, but Dumbledore tightened his grip ever so slightly once again that made any argument moot. But Dumbledore did seem to emerge from his reverie of anger and sense Harry's unease. He took a deep breath and the next moment the air was less charged with magic as he reined it in and softened his tone for Harry's sake.

"With what instrument was this inflicted?"

Harry stared determinedly at the ground.

A gentle hand cupped his face and turned it upwards, forcing him to look the headmaster in the eye.

"Harry?"

But hot shame prickled in his stomach, and Harry looked away.

"I would never use Legilimency on you without your permission, Harry; I promise."

"It's not that, sir."

"I won't force you to talk about anything you don't want to, but…please tell me how she hurt you. I can help."

It took all the strength Harry had to say simply, "A quill."

Harry knew he didn't imagine the quiver in the air, but to Dumbledore's credit, he did not move and when he spoke, his voice was as even and gentle as always.

"And how did she use it?"

"She…didn't. I wrote with it and it…cut me."

There was a silence. Then, "She used a Blood Quill?"

"I'm not sure what that is, sir."

Dumbledore sighed with a weariness that Harry knew reached beyond this conversation alone.

"A Blood Quill is a dark magical instrument. As you know, it is used to inflict a wound in the pattern of the quill's movement. It is created using dark magic, not only in the sense that it inflicts pain, but also in the permanence of the scar, aided by the (usually coerced) cooperation of the subject. It is prohibited in all uses by the Ministry, and has been for nearly a hundred years."

Harry took a moment to absorb that. "So, what she was doing was illegal?"

"In the extreme, yes."

"With fudge, though, would it really have mattered if anyone knew? He wasn't going to sack her."

"You are likely correct, that with the ministry politics last year, justice would have been difficult to obtain in full, but even Fudge could not have entirely dismissed the torture of an underage student by a ministry-appointed teacher."

Harry didn't say anything, but Dumbledore must have noticed his discomfort with his choice of words.

"It was torture, Harry. That is the purpose of a Blood Quill—corporal punishment of a more intimate and excruciating kind than any old-fashioned muggle disciplinary system."

"Yeah, but it's not like she used the cruciatus curse or anything."

Harry didn't miss the increased intensity in Dumbledore's eyes. "I wish I could have spared you from knowing either pain, but do not think that making light of her abuses makes me feel any better about this."

That might have been part of the reason he didn't want all the pain and resentment he harbored from last year coming forward, but for the first time Harry felt Dumbledore misunderstood, or at least overlooked, the situation.

He wasn't sure quite how to articulate the rest of it, and Dumbledore spared him having to try.

"Why did you not tell anyone?"

"I told Ron and Hermione," said Harry a little defensively. To be fair, he didn't actually volunteer the information to them—they'd only noticed the blood leaking from his hand and demanded answers—but he didn't have to share that with Dumbledore.

"They are not adults, Harry. I grant you that they are good and loyal friends and both capable beyond their years in distinct ways, but they do not have the experience or power to deal with this kind of thing."

Harry shrugged again. He would be happy to have left last year behind, and with it the anger that always resurfaced when he thought of it, but Dumbledore made no move to drop the subject.

"I am not angry with you, Harry—worried about you, yes, and that is why, though I have some ideas, I need to hear from you, in your own words, why you did not come to anyone."

For all the Headmaster's kind words and attempts to reassure him, Harry could not help feeling defensive and bitter, not when the torment of last year was being brought to life again. So he could not keep the resentment from his tone as he said, "I didn't exactly have a lot of people listening to me last year—why wouldn't they have seen anything other than a lying, attention-seeking…"

He wasn't sure how to finish. He was still angry, but he'd used up much of the worst of his anger last year, and he didn't want to revisit the place he'd been in.

"I understand, Harry."

Harry wasn't sure he did, but perhaps that was just the leftover rage, but he made no effort to speak.

The headmaster's voice was deadly serious when he continued. "But I want to be clear on one front. I know I was unforgivably absent last year, and that you had few other adults you could have turned to, but this was not something you should have felt you had to shoulder alone. If abuse of this kind—or any kind—occurs again within this castle's walls, I want your word that you will tell a trusted adult. That can be me, or Professor McGonagall or another teacher…even Molly or Arthur Weasley. But you cannot fight every battle on your own, and it worries me that you think you have to."

Harry nodded shortly to show he understood. He did, of course, in a way, but he also wasn't sure how to articulate, especially to the headmaster, how fraught the situation had been, what he'd had to go through, and why he'd had to go through it alone.

Dumbledore had gone back to examining his hand. "Did Ms. Granger suggest any remedies at the time of injury?"

"Erm…she had me soak it in murtlap essence."

Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Very good. That at least prevented infection and reduced irritation…though it could not have counteracted the effects of the magic itself or healed the wound entirely." He sighed. "Perhaps if I had seen it earlier, I could have reduced the scarring, but a wound like this is difficult to heal even if addressed immediately—Blood Quills were designed with permanence in mind."

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't hurt."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and gave him a piercing look. "You know as well as I that the worst injuries do not cause us physical pain. You had to bear this torment and you can hardly pretend it did not leave injuries beyond the scar I see before me…even talking about it is making you uncomfortable, angry…perhaps even frightened."

Harry shifted awkwardly. Dumbledore let his gaze linger for a moment longer before shifting his focus back to Harry's hand.

Dumbledore drew his wand. "May I?"

Harry shrugged. "It's really fine, though, sir."

"Still, I would feel better knowing it had been properly addressed."

Harry shrugged again in acquiescence, and Dumbledore held Harry's hand steady while murmuring a few inaudible incantations.

After a few moments, Dumbledore pocketed his wand, apparently having finished his investigation.

"It is fully healed…the dark magic that remains is only perpetuating the existence of the scar, not causing further injury, but it does mean I am unable to mitigate the damage."

Harry tugged his hand away. "If that's all, sir…"

But apparently Dumbledore was still not ready to let the subject drop. "Not quite, Harry. I still have a few questions."

Harry felt his stomach clench—a deep dive into the events of last year was not what he wanted, but he knew better than to argue.

"Did this happen to other students?"

Harry nodded. "Pretty much the whole D.A.—er, Dumbledore's army—"

"I remember, please go on."

"…yeah, most of us…and a couple other students too, I think. I think most people she assigned detention to."

"I see. And I seem to recall you being assigned more detentions than anyone else?"

Harry flushed, but Dumbledore held up a hand. "It was not meant as a criticism, Harry. I know perfectly well why those detentions were doled out, and the cruelty that was the reward for your courage."

Harry felt his face heat again—no matter how angry he'd been with Dumbledore last year (and how angry he was now, being reminded of it), the headmaster's praise touched him more deeply than others' could.

"So, it would be fair to say that she targeted you more than anyone else?"

Harry laughed humorlessly. "When isn't that the case?"

Dumbledore didn't laugh in return. He did not raise his eyes but there was a look of intense pain that made Harry regret his flippancy.

In the quietest voice he had used yet, Dumbledore murmured, "I wish it were not so, Harry. I would do anything to make it not so."

After a moment's pause, Dumbledore surveyed him with that piercing gaze again. "There is something you are not telling me."

Harry picked at a loose thread in his jumper. "You understand a lot of stuff, sir, but there are some things that are just…they're different."

Harry's face prickled with heat as he scrabbled for the right words. He would have rather have let the subject drop, but he felt Dumbledore's piercing gaze on him and understood this was something the headmaster wanted to hear in full.

"It's not that you don't…you know, have empathy, and can understand what it's like for your students or anyone else who gets caught up in this stuff, but…" Harry searched for the right words, "But…you have the kind of power that keeps you from being made to feel like that. You know, 'only wizard Voldemort ever feared' and all that."

Harry continued tugging at the thread when a weathered hand reached out to still his own.

"You are right, Harry. I have never felt that kind of torment…but I have been hurt, and I have felt powerless, and I assure you, I never take for granted the power and protection that comes with, well, being me. In truth, it only makes me angrier that with all this power, I cannot protect the ones I care most about."

Harry nodded shortly, glad the subject seemed to be coming to a close, but Dumbledore wasn't finished.

"To ensure that I address what I think may be another concern. The fact that I do not usually experience the kind of pain and, perhaps, humiliation you were forced to bear does not mean I think it is in any way your responsibility to prevent this from happening. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. It is not your fault—it is never our fault when people who are in a position of power abuse that power and hurt us in a way we are powerless to prevent. Is that clear?"

"But…I'm the 'chosen one' and all that—"

"Ah, so this does circle back to the prophecy. It is essential that you understand this; you will defeat Voldemort, but you will not do so alone, and just because you have been singled out for a remarkable destiny in this regard does not obligate you to undertake all other aspects of your life in a similar manner. You are still a child, and the experiences you have been forced to endure does not change that fact. Do you understand?"

"I think so, sir."

"There is only one thing more I want to say, Harry." Dumbledore sighed. "I am so sorry. There are forces in this world over which I admit I have no power, but this…I should have been able to protect you from her. I failed you, and once again, you have been made to bear the price for my mistakes."

Harry hadn't known how much he needed to hear an apology, and though most of his mind was occupied with wanting to escape the awkwardness of the conversation, he also felt a tension in his hear loosening. "I was so angry…now I'm just tired—well, tired of being angry, anyways."

Dumbledore gave him one more piercing look. "Very well. Would you agree to meet at the same time tomorrow night to resume our lesson?"

"Yeah, that works for me." Harry was grateful to be given space. He knew Dumbledore was angry, and even though he knew that anger wasn't directed at him, he preferred the chance to resume heavy conversations about Lord Voldemort's past when both were in a calm state.

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The door closed behind Harry and Dumbledore unconsciously began to pace, the aches and exhaustion in his limbs forgotten in the fire that raged within him. The Elder Wand itched to be used, feeding off Dumbledore's fury, and it was only Fawkes' low, melodic cry that brought him back into control. Still, even with his magic reined in, he could not keep the thoughts from swarming his mind.

She hurt him. She tortured him in my school while he was under my protection.

Every year, without fail, Harry had already come to harm within the castle grounds, each time because Dumbledore had failed to protect him. But this dug deeper…it was more personal, not least because Umbridge was totally unconnected to Voldemort. Dumbledore could accept, and he knew Harry did as well, the danger and suffering that came from being Voldemort's prime target, but that didn't mean he should suffer this kind of abuse as well.

Another cry from Fawkes brought him to a halt by the phoenix. He absentmindedly stroked the red plumage and allowed the soft song to bring some clarity to his thoughts.

The wrongs of last year could not be reversed—that he would have to accept. He was not generally partial to the revenge business, and so much work remained to do in this remaining year, but Dolores Umbridge could not go unpunished.

He would go to Minerva. She would be apoplectic, and he hated to burden her with this, but his priority was protecting Harry in the here and now and preparing him for the future.

Fawkes leaned into his touch.

"I need more time, my friend. I don't think I can do all I need to help him in just a year…I wish I could protect him just a little longer."

Fawkes trilled softly in response.

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A/N: I hope you all enjoyed! As always, if you have any requests/ideas or feedback, just let me know, and thank you for reading! Reviews always appreciated!