Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen - Detention with Dolores
"Why did you let me waste my time on Muggle Studies?" Blaise complained loudly the next day, "I should be headed to Divination. Instead I have to listen to Professor Burbage explain Muggle money to the idiots in class for the hundredth time!"
"I thought you liked Muggle Studies?" Harry asked innocently. He had been listening to Blaise's complaints all morning, and rather enjoyed tormenting him, "You've always said Divination was rubbish!"
"That was before, when that old bag Trelawney was in charge. Now that a gorgeous centaur is teaching the class, things have changed."
Millie scoffed and observed, "I wouldn't get too attached to Firenze. You might be a fan of centaurs, Blaise, but Umbridge certainly isn't."
Both Harry and Blaise understood what she was driving at. Umbridge would not suffer this challenge to her authority for long. They speculated about what kind of revenge she would take against Dumbledore as they made their way into the hall, preparing to take separate paths to their afternoon electives.
Just outside the Great Hall, Harry was abruptly caught off guard. Standing outside a typically unused classroom was the very subject of their gossip. Firenze stood passively as his new students slipped by him, clearly nervous around this unorthodox professor. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were the only exceptions as they coyly walked through the the open doorway near Firenze's flanks, giggling as they gazed up at the centaur's chiseled features.
Firenze paid them no mind. He had just spotted Harry, and with a look of mild recognition on his face, he slowly approached. Blaise let out a gasp of envy as Firenze extended his hand in greeting, saying, "Harry Potter. It was foretold that we would meet again."
"Hi! Good to see you, um, sir…" said Harry, accepting the handshake. Not forgetting Blaise, whose gaze he could feel boring into his back, he quickly added, "These are my friends, Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode."
Despite all his talk about Firenze's good looks, Blaise seemed rather intimidated by the centaur. Harry was amused to see him uncharacteristically tongue-tied in his presence.
Not suffering under the same confusion, Millie casually asked, "And how exactly did the two of you meet?"
"Firenze… I mean, the professor saved me and Neville from a hoard of giant spiders once," Harry explained briefly. Now it was Millie's turn to stare at him in astonishment. Blaise merely continued to stare at Firenze, his mouth slightly agape.
Harry, knowing he owed them a more thorough explanation of his past adventures later, turned back to Firenze, noting for the first time a hoof-shaped bruise on his chest.
"Are you alright, sir?" he asked with genuine concern.
"I am well," Firenze assured him in the same placid tone that seemed to be his default, "Though I have been banished from my herd."
"Your herd…" Blaise repeated, finally coming to his senses, "You mean… There are more of you!?"
"Why were you banished?" asked Millie, sparing Firenze from the obligation of responding to Blaise's inane question.
"Because I agreed to work for Dumbledore," Firenze stated simply. "My herd sees this as a betrayal of our kind."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Harry, and he meant it. He would have liked Firenze for the service he once rendered himself and Neville, but he liked him even more for his direct answers. It was refreshing to have an adult answer their questions candidly, and not with partial-truths or condescension.
"Dumbledore has been generous," Firenze continued, acknowledging Harry's sentiment with a slight nod. "He has arranged sleeping quarters and a classroom to mimic my natural habitat. It is artificial, but it will be sufficient for my comfort."
He gestured through the open door of his classroom, and Harry could see a mossy floor, tall trees, and rocks covered in lichen. It looked as if the door led directly into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
The sight of the students sitting against the tree trunks reminded Harry that he had his own class to attend. He quickly apologized to Firenze for having to run off, but before he had gone far, Firenze called him back.
"Harry Potter," he said, "You are a friend of Hagrid, are you not?"
"Yes?" replied Harry questioningly."
"Then I will ask you to pass along a warning from me. His attempt is not working. He would do better to abandon it."
Harry blinked stupidly. "His attempt isn't working? What does that mean?"
Firenze surveyed Harry impassively before he replied, "Hagrid has recently rendered me a great service, and he has my respect for the care he shows all living creatures. I shall not betray his secret. But he must be brought to his senses. The attempt is not working. Tell him, Harry Potter. I would do it myself, but it would be foolish to come close to the forest now. Good day to you."
He turned away, allowing the door of his classroom to swing shut behind him. Harry parted ways with Blaise and Millie, then hurried off to his wand-making class, disgruntled. He had changed his mind about Firenze. He was just as maddeningly cryptic and secretive as every other adult he knew.
Not content with firing just Trelawney, Umbridge had continued to observe every single Care of Magical Creatures lesson, making it difficult for Harry to deliver Firenze's warning. Fortunately, he managed to conveniently leave his copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them behind, giving him a reason to double back after his next class. He wasted no time in delivering his message, then watched as Hagrid, who had somehow acquired two freshly blackened eyes, stared at him mutely.
"Firenze don' know what he's talkin' abou'," he said after pulling himself together, "Nice bloke, an' smart as any centaur comes, but 'e don' know much beyon' his own kind… He don' know abou' all creatures… The attemp's comin' on fine…"
Harry did not like this reference to other creatures. Fearing that Hagrid had gotten himself mixed up with another dangerous animal, like when he tried to raise a fire-breathing dragon in his wooden hut, Harry urged, "Hagrid, you've got to be careful. Umbridge has already sacked one teacher, and she's got it out for you! If you're doing anything you shouldn't be…"
"Some things are more importan' than keepin' a job," Hagrid interrupted seriously, "Don' worry abou' me, Harry. Jus' get on ter class, now… Before Umbridge notices yer gone…"
Harry, more disgruntled than ever, was forced to retreat for the moment.
Between Hagrid's secrecy, Umbridge's tight hold over the school, and their OWLs swiftly approaching, Harry would have been very unhappy if it weren't for their Marauder's meetings. They were finally ready to start work on the Patronus Charm, and since this was one spell that Harry had mastered which Millie had not, it fell on him to teach the class himself.
It was clear that many students had been waiting for this exact lesson. They listened attentively to Harry's instruction, and threw themselves into practice with enthusiasm. Harry found himself rather pleased as he walked among them, offering suggestions to those who could only produce vapor, while observing with pride how many had mastered a full-bodied patronus in such a short time.
"They're so pretty," Luna Lovegood commented dreamily as she watched her silver hare cavort about her.
"Yes, but they're not supposed to be pretty," Harry reminded her with a patient smile, "They're supposed to protect you."
"What we need is something to practice with. Like a boggart or a dementor," Nell remarked, watching her tigress prowl about her knees. The patronus, like most of its kind, was life-sized, and Nell's was particularly impressive. Several students looked on enviously.
Among them was Neville, who was still struggling to conjure more than a thin mist of white light.
"You have to think of something really happy," Hermione instructed him while her own silver otter gamboled around her, swimming through the air as easily as its living counterpart slipped through water.
"I'm trying!" said Neville, though it seemed the more he tried, the more his frustration held him back.
He was not the only one having trouble. Harry was surprised to find that Cedric was only able to summon short puffs of silver clouds from the end of his wand. He shrugged when Harry came to offer assistance.
"It's not that I haven't got any happy memories," Cedric offered, "But compared to everyone here... Maybe I've never really appreciated how easy things have been for me..."
Harry thought he understood him. There were many dark times in his own life, but that only made the happy moments shine more brightly. For someone like Cedric, who seemed to live a charmed life, picking just one happy memory from all the rest might make it seem insignificant.
"You don't have to feel guilty that you've had a good life," Harry told him gently, "And you don't have to think of something life-changing. Any happy memory will do, so long as the feeling it gives you is strong."
"What is it you think of, then?" Cedric asked him.
Harry glanced across the room at Hermione. She had just succeeded in helping Neville cast a solid beam of silver light from his wand, and was congratulating him profusely. He grinned. Lately, all he needed to do to conjure his patronus was think of her. He wondered if, in time, his patronus would change its shape to suit hers.
Before he could think of a less embarrassing reply to Cedric's question, the door to the Room of Requirement opened, then closed. Harry looked around to see who had interrupted their lesson, sure that it couldn't be an enemy with the extra protections around the hidden room. It wasn't until he felt a tug on the hem of his robes that he looked down, surprised to see a familiar pair of large green eyes.
"Dobby!" he cried happily upon recognizing his friend, "What are you doing here?"
"I have come to warn you, Harry Potter," said Dobby, his huge eyes wider than ever, "Professor Umbridge is suspicious. All the house elves have been warned not to tell, but I knew I had to tell you…"
"You aren't breaking any rules coming here, are you?" Harry asked him warily. In the past, Dobby had a habit of trying to punish himself whenever he did something against his former master's wishes.
But Dobby smiled at him smugly, "Umbridge is not my master, though she acts like it. I am a free elf. I am paid for my labor. And I can do as I please."
Harry smiled back at him, but he still felt worried. "Has she found our hiding spot?"
"Not yet," replied Dobby, "But she has begun questioning the elves about the hidden passages around the school. I believe she has started to question students about the whereabouts of their friends, as well."
Harry didn't like the sound of this. The absence of so many students at once was bound to raise suspicion, even if they weren't out after hours. He decided to end the class for the day. Thanking Dobby for the warning, Harry took special care when sending small groups back to their dormitories that afternoon.
Dobby's warning came at precisely the right time. The very next day, a new notice was posted on every board. It was not another educational decree, but rather a recruitment filer. Umbridge was seeking members for her own student organization: The Inquisitorial Squad.
It didn't take long for students to start referring to the proposed group as the "Snitch Squad." They all knew that this was nothing more than another push for expanding Umbridge's authority, and that the Squad would be tasked with surveilling their peers. No one was keen to join. Even in Slytherin, Umbridge was wildly unpopular.
The notice had given Harry an idea, however, and he sought Draco at the first opportunity.
"You've seen the notice?" he asked, joining Draco at a table in the library that very afternoon.
Draco glanced up from his transfiguration textbook, from which he had been copying notes about animagi, and replied, "The one about the Snitch Squad? Of course, everyone's seen it."
"Have you thought about joining?"
"Ha! Yeah, right…" said Draco, finishing his note with flourish. When Harry didn't reply, he looked up at him in surprise, "Hold on… You're not serious?"
"No, I'm Harry. Sirius is my godfather's name."
Draco directed a withering look at him.
"Potter…"
"Listen, I need someone on the inside," said Harry, abandoning his poor jokes and leaning across the table, "Someone who can keep an eye on Umbridge and learn what she's plotting next. Especially if she finds out about the Marauders. We'll need a warning."
"But why me? Why not Blaise or Millie?"
"Because Umbridge suspects everything I do ever since that Quibbler article came out. And she knows that Blaise and Millie are my best friends. She'll be suspicious if they suddenly decide to join her junior inquisitors."
"I see," said Draco, "So since we're not friends, I'll be free of suspicion?"
Harry stared at him silently. It was true that Draco had become less tiresome, but four years of rivalry could not be easily forgotten. He didn't think anyone who knew the two of them would think that they were friends.
Draco sighed and smoothed back his blond hair. "I don't know, Potter. I heard Crabbe and Goyle telling Pansy that they might join. If they tell Umbridge about my father…"
"They'll never admit that he's a Death Eater," Harry said, "Remember, the Ministry's trying to deny that Voldemort… Sorry, that You-Know-Who has returned. She won't want to hear about old Death Eaters rallying again. And besides, they can't expose your dad without exposing theirs as well. If anything, what I said in that Quibbler article will convince her that you're trying to get back at me."
Draco considered his options carefully before he finally declared, "Alright, I'll do it. But I'm not doing this for you. I'm only agreeing because it'll be good for the Marauders. And in exchange, you'll give me extra lessons with the Patronus Charm."
"Deal," said Harry, reaching across the table to shake hands on it. He barely touched Draco's hand before he suddenly leaped out of his seat, making a quick dash to the library doors.
"Where are you going?" Draco called, his surprise making him forget where he was.
It drew a stern glance from Madam Pince, the librarian, but Harry ignored her as he shouted back, "Detention! I'm gonna be late!"
In some ways, it was a relief to have Umbridge angry with him. He no longer had to pretend to be a model student in her presence. This did not mean that he intended to provoke her further, however. If what Dobby told him was true, she already suspected that Harry was hosting an illegal student organization. His mind on the Marauders, Harry took a deep breath and knocked on the office door.
"Come in," barked Umbridge's voice, not so soft and sweet as it usually was.
Harry entered, carefully ignoring the lurid pink interior and cavorting kittens covering the walls. Umbridge, dressed in an ugly set of flowery pink robes, sat at her desk, apparently writing a letter.
"You're late," she said stiffly, "And I missed you yesterday, when you were supposed to begin your week's worth of detention. Where were you? Not giving another evil, nasty, attention-seeking interview, I trust?"
"I'm sorry, professor. It just slipped my mind," Harry said with complete honesty. He hadn't meant to neglect serving his detention, but they had their Marauder's meeting the day before, and Harry forgot all about his other obligations while preparing his lesson plan. Obviously, he couldn't admit all this to Umbridge, so he invented some lame excuse about studying for his OWLs.
"Another week's worth of detentions, then," said Umbridge, "Detention is not meant to be served at your convenience, Mr. Potter. Now, sit down!"
She sharply pointed to a small table draped in lace, beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment rested on the table, apparently waiting for him.
Harry obediently took his seat, inwardly pleased that he had broken Umbridge's mask of false sweetness before she had broken his mock deference. It appeared that Umbridge only expected him to write lines, which didn't seem so terrible.
While he had taken his seat, Umbridge had resumed the note she had been writing before he entered her office. She ignored him for several seconds, scribbling away with a frown on her face. Harry expected that she was waiting for him to break the silence first, perhaps to beg for forgiveness. Instead, he merely watched some of the ugly kittens tumbling around the decorative plates over her head.
"Well then," she said at last, setting down her quill and surveying Harry with a rather sly look, "Before we begin, can I offer you some tea?"
"What?" Harry asked, certain he had misheard her.
"Some tea, Mr. Potter," she repeated, "I expect you will be here some time, and you might as well have something to drink while you work."
She waved her unusually short wand, and a tea tray containing two cups, a kettle, and small vessels for cream and sugar appeared on the desk before her. Before Harry could respond, she had already poured two cups, passing one to Harry with another sly look.
"Drink it before it gets cold, won't you?"
Harry didn't move. He was thinking of Professor Moody. This office had once been his, but in his day, it had been filled with various artifacts used to detect dark magic. Harry found himself wondering what Moody would say if he knew Harry accepted a drink from a known enemy.
"I thought you and I could have a little chat about that article…" Umbridge began, sipping primly from her cup. Seeing that Harry had not raised his, she sharply added, "You're not drinking up!"
Harry resisted the urge to smile. Umbridge was being too transparent. He did not drink the tea as directed, but merely rested the edge of the cup against his closed lips, tilting it ever so slightly. He didn't even dare to lick his lips when he sat the cup back on its saucer.
It seemed enough to satisfy Umbridge, however, for she grinned widely at him, leaned across her desk, and asked directly, "What is the name of your student organization?"
"I'm in Slytherin, ma'am," Harry replied promptly.
Umbridge's smile twitched, "Drink up, drink up! And let's not pretend to be obtuse. I know you are part of a student-run group here at Hogwarts. Who is in charge?"
"Cassius Warrington is our team captain," said Harry, not betraying a hint of irony.
Umbridge's smile quivered with anger. "I was referring to a certain secret organization that has been meeting without my approval?"
"I don't know anything about that. The only group I'm a part of is the quidditch team."
He pretended to drink again, still quite at ease. Umbridge was watching him very closely. He considered dribbling some tea down the side of his cup, wondering if it would be detected in the saucer. Umbridge might grow suspicious if the contents of his cup never went down. And with this line of questioning, there was no doubt in Harry's mind. She had tried to slip him Veritaserum.
That she would stoop to such a level should have shocked him, perhaps, but it was very difficult to surprise Harry with anything these days.
"Very well, Mr. Potter. I will believe you this time. But you would do well to remember that I have the might of the Ministry behind me. You ought to warn your friends, who I suspect may be involved in such an organization, that I have this entire school under surveillance. My Inquisitorial Squad will soon be opening and reading all letters coming in and out of the school, and Mr. Filch has agreed to patrol all the hidden corridors. There will be no place to hide."
Harry remained silent as Umbridge opened a drawer on her desk and withdrew a long, thin black quill.
"You will be writing lines," Umbridge informed him, placing the sinister looking quill on the parchment in front of him, "I want you to write I must not tell lies."
"How many times, ma'am?" asked Harry with a creditable imitation of politeness.
"Oh, let's say as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge, her tone resuming his customary mock sweetness.
Harry glanced at the table before him and observed, "You haven't given me any ink."
"Oh, that's a special quill of my own," Umbridge said with an unpleasant little laugh, "You won't need any ink."
Harry shrugged, assuming that it was some enchanted quill that never needed to be refilled, and placed the rather sharp nib on the parchment. He wrote: I must not tell lies.
Harry gasped in both shock and pain. The words had indeed appeared across the page in shining red ink. At the same time, he felt a piercing pain across the back of hand. Harry looked down. Across his right hand, traced as though cut by a scalpel, were the words I must not tell lies. Harry looked up at Umbridge, who was still smiling at him.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
Harry quietly stood up, still clutching the offending quill in his hand, and proceeded toward the office door. His uninjured hand was on the doorknob when Umbridge called "Colloportus!"
The door refused to budge. She had sealed it shut.
Harry turned to face her, his heart pounding. Umbridge had also risen from her seat. She had her wand pointed at him, the same insane smile plastered across her wide face.
"What where do you think you're going, Mr. Potter?"
"I'm bleeding," Harry said, struggling to remain calm. He was certain that Umbridge already knew this, and yet he added, "I need to visit the hospital wing."
"Oh no," said Umbridge, "Oh no, no, no. This is your punishment for telling lies, Mr. Potter. You must sit and finish writing your lines."
Harry had believed nothing Umbridge could do would surprise him anymore, but this was different. Even the Dursleys, with their years of neglect and emotional abuse, had never physically harmed him. Dudley used to bully him, of course, but his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had not once laid a hand on him. Now, as Harry stared at Umbridge's unhinged expression, he finally realized how truly dangerous she was.
He was scared. He was really and truly scared of this woman and what she planned to do to him.
He couldn't turn his wand on her. She already had hers drawn, and even if he could move fast enough to cast a spell, she would surely expel him for it. His thoughts then turned to Sirius, but his godfather was miles away, and he couldn't intervene.
But there was someone else. Someone who had always managed to show up whenever Harry required assistance. In the forbidden corridor when he faced Professor Quirrell. In the Chamber of Secrets after Harry had rescued Millie. By the side of the Black Lake, facing hundreds of dementors at once…
"Expecto Patronum," Harry breathed.
He was very grateful for the extra practice prepping for the Marauder's lesson had given him. He hadn't even needed to reach for his wand to conjure the stag, who materialized by his side in a moment. The astonished Umbridge was so surprised, she didn't even utter a squeak when it suddenly appeared.
Harry wasn't sure what to do. He had seen Snape use his patronus to send a message once before, but he wasn't sure how it was done. He stared into the large, languid eyes of the stag, and said, "Er… Professor Snape? Can you fetch him for me, please?"
The stag blinked once, then leaped through the solid stone wall of Umbridge's office.
Harry turned his face back toward Umbridge, who seemed to have recovered somewhat from her surprise. She didn't seem to realize that Harry had cast a spell without drawing his wand. Instead, she asked, "You can cast a corporeal patronus?"
"What, like it's hard?" replied Harry.
Umbridge drew herself up to her full height, which was not considerable, and demanded, "To whom did you send the patronus?"
"My head of house," Harry explained, thinking that if he had been successful, she would find out soon enough, "I thought Professor Snape would be interested to see how you punish students."
"I see," said Umbridge with a smirk, "And you thought he would come and rescue you? I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that Professor Snape does not have the authority to govern now the High Inquisitor administers punishments. Under Educational Decree…"
"Oh no, I don't think he'll stop you," Harry interrupted, "I only thought he might like to take notes."
There was a soft knock on the door. Both Harry and Umbridge jumped in surprise, neither of them expecting Snape to arrive so soon. Perhaps thinking it was Filch, passing along some information about a student breaking one of her pointless rules, Umbridge waved her wand at the door. It swung open easily. Harry had to jump out of the way to avoid being struck.
It was Snape. Wrapped in his usual robes of pitch black, he looked like an ink stain in Umbridge's luridly pink office. He ignored Harry entirely, focusing his attention only on Umbridge, as he said, "Pardon the intrusion, but I received a rather strange message to report to your office just now. Did you need to speak to me?"
"Oh no, not I," said Umbridge with a rather wicked grin, "That message was sent to you by Mr. Potter, as I'm sure you have already surmised. He seems to think you will be able to help him get out of his detention."
Snape's gaze flickered in Harry's direction, and he said without emotion, "I hardly think it is any of my business what you do with your students during their detentions."
"Precisely what I was just explaining to Mr. Potter," Umbridge said triumphantly.
Harry felt his stomach sink with apprehension. Was Snape truly going to leave him here? Feeling desperate, Harry stepped closer to Snape, pressing the quill into the Potion Master's hand. As he did, he allowed Snape to see the fresh cuts across the back of his hand, still bleeding from the phrase I must not tell lies.
Snape saw the marks, and for the briefest of moments, looked into Harry's eyes. In some ways, the anger that was smoldering under the surface of his calm exterior was more terrifying than Umbridge's insane grin.
"I see," he said in barely more than a whisper. "Will you wait for me outside the office, Potter?"
"Mr. Potter is not excused from detention!" Umbridge said shrilly, "You have no right to…"
"You misunderstand me," Snape said with oily politeness, "There is something I wanted to discuss with you. Something I would prefer a student not hear."
A look of curiosity passed across Umbridge's face. She must have known that Snape was considered a great confidant of Dumbledore. The temptation to receive information from this spy was too much to resist. Jerking her head impatiently at Harry, she dismissed him from the office, but not before giving him a sharp command to wait in the hall.
Harry did not dare to disobey, nor did he linger longer than necessary. He scuttled into the hall, and the door to Umbridge's office slammed shut behind him. Alone and able to gather his thoughts, he began to pace, wondering what Snape was saying to Umbridge. He would have given anything to have one of Fred and George's Extendable Ears in that moment. Unable to hear a word of what was being said, he finally leaned against the wall directly opposite from the office door, allowing his knees to give way as he sank into a crouch on the floor.
Several minutes passed with him sitting in this position before Snape finally reappeared. Harry tried to glance through the doorway behind him, but Snape immediately shut the door again.
"What happened?" Harry asked him anxiously, "Am I going to be expelled?"
"Not today," Snape replied, sweeping away from him as Harry scrambled to his feet.
"But what did you say? Do I still have to…"
"I performed a simple memory charm," Snape explained, "Umbridge is under the impression that you have already served your detentions. I would advise you to remain on her good side, moving forward. My next attempt may not be as successful."
Harry wasn't sure what he expected, but for Snape to perform a memory charm on Umbridge, knowing that if she found out, he would be sacked or worse, sent to Azkaban, was impressive to him.
"Professor…" he began slowly, trying to find the right words to convey his gratitude, "I don't know what… When she asked me to write lines, I thought… I have to thank you…"
"Hand, Potter," Snape interrupted, as if unwilling to hear the rest of Harry's thanks.
Harry showed him his injured hand once more, flinching slightly when Snape grasped his wrist to get a better look at the cuts.
"I have some essence of murtlap in my office that should clear this up," he said in a business-like manner, "Since you will no longer be serving detention, we will see to this, then continue our practice of Occlumency."