10. Dolores, Detention and Death Threats
Up in the dormitories, Harry stood staring out the window. The sky purpled and the first flickers of stars shone brilliantly in the atmosphere. He had never taken the time to appreciate how beautiful the night was at Hogwarts. To Harry, night had always meant realistic nightmares, and the death of a nice day. Death was represented by black, and the sky became a vicious black at night. Now night, and especially this night, Harry wished would last a lifetime. Tomorrow could take its time coming, no hurry. Tomorrow he would have to deal with the choleric actions of Snape and the return of Umbridge. The days that followed tomorrow only meant days closer until his Prophecy was fulfilled, but the night could delay that. The night could help him maintain sanity until the rays of the sun spilled in through the dormitory window and awakened the school. Night was something to appreciate.
He pried his eyes away from the window and actually went to go examine Ron's Quidditch equipment. His broom was in horrible shape. It was splashed with mud, the bristles were falling out, and the wood was starting to splinter. Ron really does need a new one, he told himself. He deserves a new one. Harry locked the broom up and placed it under Ron's bunk. He then flopped down onto his own bed. Although the figures of night and the mild thoughts of Quidditch had comforted him somewhat, he felt extremely alone. He was up in the dormitories by himself, completely isolated, while Ron and Hermione and all the other Gryffindors relaxed in the common room, bodies warm with dinner. Harry suddenly felt cold and grey. He never knew that anyone could feel a specific color, but he imagined that this would be what grey felt like: cold and depressed. He couldn't take it. The silent hum of emptiness blared in his ears. Harry shuttered and made his way downstairs.
The hum of nothing was cleared away as his ears adjusted to the common room noise. He spotted Ron and Hermione over by Ginny and Neville. They all smiled as they saw Harry make his way over. Ron and Neville parted so that Harry could sit in between them. Harry glanced at Ron. There was a brief understanding between them. He didn't know quite what Ron was thinking, but could read his eyes like an open book. Trelawney would have been proud. Ron shook his head slowly; he hadn't given Hermione the letter. What did you give her then? I heard you rustle something!
"Nothing," Ron had replied to Harry's thought.
"Wha-you, but how? What?" Harry sputtered.
"He just answered my question Harry," Neville laughed worryingly. "Is that okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry-I. . .sorry," Harry managed to spit out. Ron gave him a semi-frightened look and then cast a glance towards Hermione. Harry did the same; she was smiling and talking as usual. "I wrote that letter for nothing," he grumbled under his breath. Ron saw the tint of disappointment in Harry and cleared his throat.
"So how's my stuff mate?" Harry caught on almost instantly.
"Uh it's in pretty good shape, although you should see the bristles. They're pretty messy. Here, come upstairs with me and I'll loan you my kit."
"Right then. Be right back guys," Ron smiled as he followed Harry, once again, back up into the dormitories. When they reached their room, Harry flopped down on his bed and sighed.
"Why didn't you give her the letter Ron?" Ron looked down and started rubbing his sore shoulder. His ears turned a shade of pink.
"Well," he hesitated, as if waiting for Harry to assume that that explained everything. When Harry shrugged, Ron continued. "It's embarrassing. Have you ever given Cho or anyone a confession letter?" Harry suddenly felt bad that he was annoyed with Ron for not giving Hermione his love letter. He never stopped to think of what it must be like, telling someone who you've liked for so long, all that you felt. He smiled sympathetically.
"No I guess I don't," he said slightly ashamed. Ron smiled and nodded.
"It's kinda, you know, nerve wrecking. I couldn't do it. Sorry I pushed you to write it so soon." Harry started shaking his head. He told Ron that he was sorry for getting annoyed with him. They accepted each others apologies and went back downstairs.
"Broom alright Ron?" Ginny asked as soon as they took their seats again. "We can't afford to lose another good player."
"Yeah it's alright I guess. I could use a new one though. I wish Mum would understand that a Nimbus 2001 is what I want for Christmas," he said blushing. "I wouldn't need anything else. I hate those damn sweaters she always makes! She can save those sickles for my broom."
"You've got a perfectly good broom. I can see why she hasn't gotten you a new one," Hermione said matter-of-factly. Ron rolled his eyes and shrugged incredulously at Harry who chuckled.
"What do you know about Quidditch anyway? Do you know what it's like flying around up there with nothing but a splintering broom beneath you? It's not the most comfortable feeling."
"But it's not something you need you see. It's not something you need to carry out daily tasks. Take those poor house elves for an example. They need clothes. They need love. They need-"
"They need you to stop making such a fuss about them Hermione!"
"How would you like to spend your whole life working? To never know freedom or-or know how nice a holiday is once in a while? I'm trying to help them!" Hermione fired back. Harry started coughing into his hand to hide the fit of laughter that was collecting in his throat. To him, Ron and Hermione's arguments were like watching a fiery, energetic, muggle sport called a tennis match. The ball was in Ron's court.
"If they wanted freedom or a holiday they would have revolted against us all by now!" Ron argued. Hermione started tapping her fingers on the armchair of the couch in a very irritated manner. Her lips took the form of Professor McGonagall's as she pursed them and she refused to look at Ron. Just when Harry thought the argument was won, Hermione made eye contact with Ron.
"They were taught not to have their own opinion. They were bred not to revolt against their masters," she started out calmly, her voice rising in crescendo. "They were born into slavery and born to believe one thing."
"Oh you reckon? And what would that one thing be?" he yelled. Harry had stifled his urge to laugh. If he had let one little giggle escape between his lips, Hermione would round on him. He shifted his gaze to Neville, whose mouth was gaping open, staring unblinkingly at Hermione. Ginny sunk low into her chair and was covering her mouth, obviously laughing to herself. Harry's laughter was resurrected.
"Well I'm starving. Anyone care to join me to get something to eat?" he asked briskly as he strode across the room. Neville and Ginny jumped up from their seats and rushed out after Harry. Just as the portrait was swinging shut, Hermione's yells echoed out.
"Blimey," Neville breathed. "Those two can really go at it can't they?"
"Tell me about it. Hermione's house elf theories are hilarious though. Ron's right on this one," Ginny agreed through giggles.
"Yeah, but you must agree that she has the best of intentions." Both Ginny and Neville considered this for a split second and then agreed with Harry. The Great Hall loomed in front of them and drew them into it with its warmth. Harry no longer felt gray or cold as he looked around the last bit of students finishing dinner and the reappearing foods that filled the plates. He found a seat and instantly began filling his plate. Light conversation drifted back and forth between Neville, Ginny, and Harry until they had finished. The three of them rose to go when Ron stormed into the hall.
"Bloody friggin' hell," he sighed when he reached Harry. "I don't even know why she is mad at me! What did I do? What did I say?" he shook his head angrily. "Girls!" Harry, being quite used to this, clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder.
"Just let it be. We'll all be," he paused, looking for the right word, "jolly tomorrow." Ron slowly turned to meet Harry's face, his own drawn in a disgusted manner.
"Jolly? Who uses the word jolly?" Harry forced out a courtesy laugh because he couldn't tell if Ron was being sarcastic or serious. He shrugged it off and sat back down with Ron. "No it's okay. If you wanna leave then go.you don't have to wait with me."
"No I'll wait."
"We'll we're heading back," Ginny retorted. "I'm sleepy and full and have to finish this last bit of work. Night!" She waved goodbye to them and was followed by Neville who said he needed help on something and was going to see if Hermione was up to it. Harry glanced at Ron who would still shake his head every now and then.
"She needs to give it up," he said finally. "Those house elves like what they're doing and are not going to quit. I wish she'd just drop it already."
"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Me too."
"But I don't want to talk about her right now. Wonder what happened to Malfoy's dad," said Ron trying to change the subject. "I haven't seen Malfoy around lately. He wasn't in Care of Magical Creatures or Potions today. Think he got busted for something?"
"I hope so! I could use a year without the little ferret. Has he had his detention yet?"
"I don't know. Maybe that's where he is now and I just didn't notice he was in class today."
"I wish I could be oblivious to him," Harry responded. He looked around the rest of the Great Hall and watched as it cleared out. The morning was dawning. Harry felt his stomach lurch in effort to control the speed of the night. "C'mon Ron, let's go," he said gloomily. Without protest, Ron got up and grabbed a dinner roll on their way out. The two of them walked back up to the common room against the current of yawning students heading towards their own rooms. Harry saw a light glowing from the Dark Arts room and his stomach gave another unpleasant twist. "So it really is Umbridge then?"
"Yep," Ron replied and that's all they discussed until they reached the Fat Lady. Harry gave the password and was surprised at how much the room had cleared out since they had left. Hermione was in a corner of the room, gazing out the window at the stars that gleamed and flickered like candle flames. Harry's unpleasant stomach churning stopped at the sight of her. Hermione turned her head as if in slow motion, flicked her hair and smiled at Harry. He returned the smile and made his way over to a chair. As he was walking over to Hermione, her smile faltered and then died. Ron had pulled up a chair next to Harry and his guilt returned. I don't fancy her! he yelled at himself.
"I don't want to see you at this moment. Please leave," Hermione requested stiffly at Ron. He shook his head no and nestled into the chair, acting out to her that he was fine where he was at. Harry searched for a place to rest his eyes on. He couldn't look at either of them so he stared at the stars.
"Is that the Dog Star?" Harry asked trying to avoid another argument. No one answered. "Leave!" Hermione demanded.
"No!" Ron fired back. "Why are you mad at me anyways? What did I do? I don't understand you!"
"Don't-under-stand? I. . ." she started to rise from her chair. Before she could say anything else, Harry jumped up from his seat, tearing his eyes away from the sky and fed up with their fighting.
"No, no. It's my turn," he told them as he gently pushed Hermione back down into her chair. Before anyone could say anything else, Harry let out an extremely dramatic sigh and threw his arms up into the air in disgust. He then spun around on his heel, trying to suppress a laugh and stormed up into his dormitory, giving another dramatic sigh. "I don't understand you!" He cried sarcastically before slamming the door to Ron and Hermione's startled, yet amused faces. Harry smiled wearily to himself. He spotted Neville sitting on his bed scribbling something down, looking up every few seconds.
"Hermione didn't help you?" he asked. Neville threw down his quill and splattered ink on his sheets.
"I'm not doing homework!" he answered the wall facing his bed before picking up his quill and writing again. "I'm writing a letter to my gran if you must know."
"Are you," Harry paused trying not to offend the already annoyed Neville, "feeling alright?"
"I'm fine!"
"No you're not! You were fine at dinner, but something's wrong. I-"
"Would you just leave me alone Mr. Super Hero? I want to finish my letter."
"Super hero?" Harry asked taken aback. "What do you mean 'super hero'?" This time Neville turned to meet Harry's face. His eyes were red with exhaustion and he looked pale.
"You know what I mean! You were the one chosen to fight off Voldemort! The one who gets to save the entire wizarding world! The one who gets all the glory because you were the one chosen as the seventh month dies! Not me! You! You are the chosen one! The one who, since birth, has always been better than me! How do I know? Because Voldemort chose you to mark as his equal! Chose you to be the hero! That's what I mean by super hero. So now that I answered your question, would you please just let me finish my letter?" Harry stared at Neville in shock. All six years that he had known him, he would have never expected Neville to blow up like that. As Harry started recovering from his minor shock, it came to him that Neville had interpreted his prophecy. But how could he have known? He couldn't have heard it when it broke last year. It was too loud, Harry thought furiously.
"How do you know that?" Harry demanded. He had always like Neville, but this had gone too far.
"Dumbledore told me."
"What? Why would he tell you my prophecy? That's a private business! I probably wasn't supposed to know! Why would he tell you?" Neville stood up and locked eyes with Harry.
"Am I not good enough to know Potter?" Neville snarled dangerously. Harry didn't respond. Instead, he shoved his hands in his robe's pockets to hide the fact that they had become slightly moist with nervousness. "He didn't tell me the whole thing, just the part that concerned me which was the seventh month dying thing," he said more calmly, breaking eye contact with Harry and sitting back down on his bed. Harry swallowed.
"Well if you want to face the fact that you don't have any chance at defeating Voldemort and knowing you are going to die when you fight him, then go ahead. You be the chosen one. You try and be the 'hero' if you want it so bad. Have fun with your glory Neville! That is if you live to receive it," Harry spat as the cold, grey feeling started over coming him once more. He watched as Neville lowered his head, signed his letter and then mumbled something into his chest. "What?"
"Sorry Harry," Neville repeated, folding his letter and placing on his night stand. "It's just that it's always been you. You are the one who gets to save the day. I never thought of it like that.
"Yeah well just keep that in mind," there was a moment's silence and then, "aren't you going to send that?" Neville laid down on his bed and pulled the covers up to him. He placed his hand over his eyes and shook his head.
"Nope. Night Harry." This is going to be a long year, Harry assumed.
Light cascaded over Harry's eyelids and thawed the comfort of night away. He reluctantly sat up on his elbows and looked around the blurry room. He groped for his glasses and when he found them glanced out the window. The sun was shining brightly as if smiling on all the Hogwarts students. The lake sparkled temptingly and the grass could not be a more brilliant shade of green. To Harry it was like the sunshine was rubbing in the fact that today he'd have to meet with two uptight professors. He dressed slowly and lingered down into the common room. Ron was sitting in the same chair as last night and was drooling onto the table. Harry smiled to himself.
"C'mon Ron! Wake up!" he shook him briskly. Ron swiped at Harry's hand and slurred upset grumbles. "Let's go Ron! The sun is shining! It's morning." At this he sat bolt up right and looked out the window.
"Thank heavens its tomorrow! I couldn't sleep. I thought last night was going to drag on forever," he said smoothing out his shirt.
"I wish it would have lasted," Harry said under his breath. "So what happened?"
"I guess we're on good terms. I don't really know," Ron yawned and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really care all that much right now," he added barely above a whisper so that it was not audible to Harry. Harry decided that he would keep the argument he and Neville had had the previous night secret until he told Ron about the prophecy. He took off his glasses, cleaned them, and then flopped down onto the couch with a sigh.
"I hate Umbridge," he informed Ron. "I'm not going to put up with her this year. If she is enforcing those stupid rules again-"
"You'll do what?" Malfoy had stepped out of the portrait of Godric Gryffindor and into the common room wearing his sickening smirk, his polished Head Boy badge contrasting against his Slytherin colors. "Is that a threat against one of our professors Potter?"
"Get out of here Malfoy," Ron demanded as he tucked his hands into his robes reaching for something. He frowned at Malfoy, a snarl plastering itself on his face. Malfoy's smirk grew even wider and he shook his head sympathetically.
"Don't even think about it Weasley or I'll have my father-I'll have you expelled," he covered up quickly. Harry sat up at the mention of Lucius and was wearing the smirk this time. "Don't say anything Potter. Don't. . .say. . .anything."
"Where you been Malfoy? In Azkaban visiting your dad?" Harry's smile broadened as he asked the question that he knew would wriggle itself under Malfoy's skin.
"NO!" Malfoy yelled. "I told you not to say anything!" He too placed his hands inside his robes pocket. Harry's finger tips tingled with adrenaline, ready to whip out his wand and curse Malfoy. He was waiting for him to cross that line.
"What's going on?" Malfoy nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around, robe twirling at his feet. "What are you doing in here?"
"None of your business Granger," Malfoy spat before retreating back behind the portrait. He shot one last scowl in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's way and then plodded out of sight grumbling. Harry watched him go and for the first time in six years, he noticed that Malfoy walked with the slightest limp.
"Morning!" Hermione greeted them with the satisfaction of scaring Malfoy away.
"Hello Hermione," Harry smiled. Ron gave her a welcoming glance and mumbled a greeting back. She smiled politely, but there was still something tense between the two. Breakfast was the slightest bit quieter than it usually was. Ron and Hermione had not argued since they first saw each other and Harry kept trying to avoid eye contact with Neville. It was a bad start to a day that was worsening with every thought of Umbridge and Snape.
"I'm actually a little excited about our Dark Arts class," Hermione said hurriedly.
"What?" Harry exclaimed. She smiled sheepishly as Ron stopped mid- chew. "Excited about Umbridge?"
"How could ya be exthited about that thupid witch?" Ron asked through a breakfast roll.
"Well, I want to see how she's, if she even has, changed. I'm not happy about it."
"But excited?"
"Erm-I, uh, I dunno. I don't think I meant excited. I. . . I think I meant, err, I meant apprehensive," she replied quickly to Harry and Ron's accusations. Ron raised his eyebrow and then swallowed hard.
"She hasn't changed. I bet you anything she hasn't," he stated.
"She could have! Remember Harry's dream?" Hermione replied in defense. Harry shuddered. The thought of Voldemort dwelling behind Umbridge's eyes, the rancid smell of decaying flesh and the cold voice that filled the abandoned Ministry of Magic diminished his appetite. "Green and Red eyes are definitely a change Ron," she finished.
"But it was only, and I mean this in the best possible way," Ron told Harry before continuing, "a dream. That's all it was." Anxiety rose in Harry's throat. It had been a pretty realistic dream.
"All the other times-last year, the dreams I had, they all eventually came true. Like the one about your dad Ron where I dreamt I was a snake and bit him and the dreams about the corridor to the Department of Mysteries. . .oh man."
"But Harry, in your dream you said that the Ministry was abandoned. It's not. All the other things in your dreams last year were true."
"No they weren't," Hermione implied. "The door to the Department of Mysteries was locked in Harry's dream. It wasn't when we arrived." Harry shook his head. Hermione had a point, but it was a bad one.
"I think I'm just going to ditch Defense Against the Dark Arts today," Harry joked. Hermione's eyes widened to the size of Luna's and her mouth formed a gaping hole.
"Harry! You can't ditch a class!" she half exclaimed, half whispered. Ron's fork dropped with an audible clang. His nostrils started flaring at first and then his lip started trembling. He started laughing.
"Are you serious?" he chuckled. "Harry was only joking." Hermione blushed, but it was underestimated by the glare she had fixed on Ron.
"It's not that funny. He didn't sound like he was joking."
"I know, but the look on your face! You looked like a fish outta water!" Ron laughed even harder at the thought. He picked up his fork as if he were holding a fishing pole and cast off in Hermione's direction. He then pretended to reel her in. "Look Harry, I done caught myself a good one." Harry couldn't help but begin to laugh himself. He stopped at the look of Hermione's face, which was still glaring at the both of them.
"Ah c'mon Hermy. We're only playing around," he comforted cautiously. Her glare stayed plastered for a few more seconds and then vanished.
"Oh! We better be heading to our classes now!" she exclaimed, the liveliness coming back to her tone. "We have Dark Arts first and then you guys have Divination while I-"
"Who cares? We have to go," Ron informed them reluctantly. The three of them stood up in unison and headed towards the door. Harry scanned the room for a sight of Umbridge, but spotted Luna instead. She looked over at him and he smiled back, but she didn't return the smile. She looked upset and slightly disappointed. Harry then remembered that he had never given Luna his reply. He plunged his hand into his pocket and found his crumpled response.
"Uh, I'll catch up with you guys in a second," he told Hermione and Ron before running over to catch up with Luna. "Luna!" She revolved slowly to meet Harry's eyes, her own protruding ones full of depth and not liveliness. Harry took out his reply and placed it into Luna's hands so that no one would see.
"What's this?" she asked monotonously.
"My reply to your letter from earlier. Sorry I'm getting it to you so late, but I've had other things to deal with first." He watched as a small smile came to her face and lit her eyes like candle flames. "You thought I forgot about it didn't you?" She nodded, fumbling with her butter beer cap necklace. Harry returned a small smile.
"Thank you. I'll read it later," she told him in her usual voice and spun around to hurry out of the room to her class. Harry retreated to Ron and Hermione, where they waited by the Great Hall doors.
"What was that all about?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "What did you give her?" Ron looked at Harry too with a wondering look.
"A response to something. It's not important. C'mon," he replied hastily, unable to meet their eyes.
"I feel bad now Harry," Ron said suddenly. "I mean that letter you wrote for Hermione that I was going to give to her, well I backed down, but you have to courage to give Luna a letter."
"It's not that kind of letter Ron!"
"You wrote me a letter Harry? About what?" Hermione asked unable to control a smile and once again blushing the slightest bit. He saw Ron start shaking his head frantically and throwing glances towards her.
"Nothing," Harry mumbled. "You guys are getting confused. Her letter was about Sirius and I was writing her back. That's all it was. Nothing more, nothing less. Now come on, as much as I hate to say it, we have to get to class." The two of them looked taken aback after Harry's explanation. Hermione's smile was gone and Ron concentrated on his feet on the way to the Dark Arts room. Harry's stomach was churning and writhing around inside him as the door lurked closer and closer. It suddenly loomed over him, consuming him in his own anticipation. He stood crowded against the other students, waiting to meet their fate in the Dark Arts classroom. Harry struggled with the urge to vomit. It can't be this bad, he reassured himself. It's just Umbridge. The door opened.
"Good morning students!" a sickly, girlish voice emerged from the toad like structure that faced them all. "Come in now. Come in," Umbridge ushered. Everyone trudged into the classroom and took their usual seats- Harry by Ron and Hermione next to Neville. Umbridge glided to the front of the class, still wearing a smile that would give small children nightmares.
"This is how it started yesterday," Ron whispered. "She's going to make us do bookwork again. She hasn't changed."
"Please take out your books and turn to page-"
"I'm not dealing with this. I'm not going to put up with her Ron," Harry whispered back.
"Potter! We haven't even been in here five minutes and you're already not paying attention. Week's detention!" Umbridge fired at him. Harry's jaw dropped. He felt disapproving eyes on the back of his head. Umbridge smiled and clenched her fists at her side. Keep it under control, don't loose your temper. She's just a stupid git who doesn't know anything. Don't listen to her, Harry told himself. "I heard that Potter!"
"WHAT?" Harry yelled. "I didn't say anything!" Ron nodded vigorously in agreement with Harry.
"I thought I got it into your thick skull that you were not to tell lies in my presence. Another week's detention," Umbridge said in a cold tone that occupied the tense air of the classroom. Harry was a furnace and anger was burning, roaring inside him, but trying not to make matters worse he calmly he said: "I didn't say anything Professor Umbridge."
"Disturbing my classroom while I am teaching," Umbridge clicked her tongue, smiling all along. "That's another week of detention and thirty, no, forty points from Gryffindor."
"NO!" Harry yelled. "What are you doing? You don't know what you're talking about! You're probably still delirious from that snake attack!" Umbridge's fake smile extinguished. He could see her jaw clenching and unclenching in sync with her fists.
"You don't know anything about that snake attack," she started out calmly as he had before. "You don't know how horrid that was! How dare you! How dare you even assume that!" her voice was rising. "I am a certified, Ministry employed teacher! They wouldn't have me here if I were INSANE!"
"YOU ARE INSANE! YOU FAVORED LUCIUS MALFOY!" Harry screamed back. He was sick of Umbridge already. He had had enough of her last year and was not going to live through another two semesters of the torture she liked to inflict on him.
"That's because Lucius Malfoy works for the Ministry and would never harm anyone! He did not kill Ewan Renton!" Umbridge shrieked.
"He did too! I heard it all happen! I-" Harry paused realizing what Umbridge had just said. He suddenly realized why he had dreamt of her as Voldemort. "You-you're a Death Eater. That's why you're defending Lucius because he's one too. An-and Ewan was a former Death Eater, denouncing Voldemort and that's why Lucius killed him. It wasn't because of him bullying Malfoy; it was because he had turned his back on him." The room was in complete silence. No one moved. No one breathed. Umbridge's stare bored into Harry's eyes and his scar seared. The classroom swayed in and out of focus, burning his pupils every time it did. He threw a glance at Umbridge and for a split second, her eyes flashed jade and crimson. Harry collapsed onto the floor. The burning subsided and he sprinted out of the classroom. As soon as he had escaped into the deserted hallway, his searing scar stopped instantly, leaving his head with a whack. Harry had the worst head ache he had ever had. It was like someone slinging an ice pick into a block of ice. The sharp hook would crash into the ice, then be lifted, and then brought down again as it cracked and sent pieces of ice all over. He fell to his knees. Crawling to the most nearby wall, he sat up against it, catching his breath, the ice pick headache slowly drifting away. Harry heard the Dark Arts door click open and he stumbled to his feet and continued running.
"I will have you expelled so soon Potter!" Umbridge hollered after him, but he didn't catch anything else she was saying for he had just rounded a corner. At the same time, Snape had suddenly appeared in front of Harry, and before his Quidditch reflexes could apply brakes to his feet, he had smacked into Snape. Harry bounced off of Snape's frail body and stumbled backwards into a statue of Helga Hufflepuff almost knocking it over.
"What's your problem Potter?" Snape demanded, slightly doubled over from Harry's impact. "Another death you're trying to pin on me? Is that what you're escaping from?" The ice pick flew into the block of ice.
Harry quickly clutched where it had crashed. "Sorry Professor," he mumbled. As footsteps echoed down the hallway, butterflies danced in Harry's stomach. He started forward but Snape had clamped a hand down on his shoulder.
"You heard every precious detail of my life," Snape growled menacingly. "You heard every detestable comment I said about my childhood. You know about the actions of my cynic father," he accused.
"You think I wanted to learn all that stuff?" Harry asked as Snape's lower eyelid twitched. He didn't see Snape's point of telling him this. Harry knew it already. Footsteps grew closer. "I have to go."
"You weren't meant to know those things. No one was meant to hear those confessions. If anyone, any pupil catches one word of what you have learned," Snape paused, debating if he should say what he was going to say next. Harry's eyes darted for an exit to run to after Snape had finished his little lecture on how ungrateful he was to not be in Azkaban for telling the truth. "I'll personally make sure that you'll have a family reunion." Harry's darting eyes froze on Snape's pale face. He had never had a death threat from a professor. Anger overruled terror once again.
"It's not my fault! Dumbledore made me listen to you!"
"He didn't use force."
"Well what was I supposed to do? Cover my ears and pretend I never heard anything?"
"I thought my failed attempts at teaching you Occlumency would have at least developed one thing in your head! Block it out! You could have shut it out Potter!" Snape snapped. "Detention with me tomorrow night," he mumbled. They exchanged hate filled glances before Snape took his hand off Harry and sped away briskly. Harry watched him walk away with a sour, acidic feeling in his stomach. Umbridge appeared.
"You-here-now!" she panted. Students appeared at her heel watching anxiously. He saw Ron and Hermione walk up together with expressions of bewilderment plastered on their faces. His mind could no longer make up decisions and so went with his instinct on what to do next. Harry took off sprinting once again.
Up in the dormitories, Harry stood staring out the window. The sky purpled and the first flickers of stars shone brilliantly in the atmosphere. He had never taken the time to appreciate how beautiful the night was at Hogwarts. To Harry, night had always meant realistic nightmares, and the death of a nice day. Death was represented by black, and the sky became a vicious black at night. Now night, and especially this night, Harry wished would last a lifetime. Tomorrow could take its time coming, no hurry. Tomorrow he would have to deal with the choleric actions of Snape and the return of Umbridge. The days that followed tomorrow only meant days closer until his Prophecy was fulfilled, but the night could delay that. The night could help him maintain sanity until the rays of the sun spilled in through the dormitory window and awakened the school. Night was something to appreciate.
He pried his eyes away from the window and actually went to go examine Ron's Quidditch equipment. His broom was in horrible shape. It was splashed with mud, the bristles were falling out, and the wood was starting to splinter. Ron really does need a new one, he told himself. He deserves a new one. Harry locked the broom up and placed it under Ron's bunk. He then flopped down onto his own bed. Although the figures of night and the mild thoughts of Quidditch had comforted him somewhat, he felt extremely alone. He was up in the dormitories by himself, completely isolated, while Ron and Hermione and all the other Gryffindors relaxed in the common room, bodies warm with dinner. Harry suddenly felt cold and grey. He never knew that anyone could feel a specific color, but he imagined that this would be what grey felt like: cold and depressed. He couldn't take it. The silent hum of emptiness blared in his ears. Harry shuttered and made his way downstairs.
The hum of nothing was cleared away as his ears adjusted to the common room noise. He spotted Ron and Hermione over by Ginny and Neville. They all smiled as they saw Harry make his way over. Ron and Neville parted so that Harry could sit in between them. Harry glanced at Ron. There was a brief understanding between them. He didn't know quite what Ron was thinking, but could read his eyes like an open book. Trelawney would have been proud. Ron shook his head slowly; he hadn't given Hermione the letter. What did you give her then? I heard you rustle something!
"Nothing," Ron had replied to Harry's thought.
"Wha-you, but how? What?" Harry sputtered.
"He just answered my question Harry," Neville laughed worryingly. "Is that okay?"
"Yeah. Sorry-I. . .sorry," Harry managed to spit out. Ron gave him a semi-frightened look and then cast a glance towards Hermione. Harry did the same; she was smiling and talking as usual. "I wrote that letter for nothing," he grumbled under his breath. Ron saw the tint of disappointment in Harry and cleared his throat.
"So how's my stuff mate?" Harry caught on almost instantly.
"Uh it's in pretty good shape, although you should see the bristles. They're pretty messy. Here, come upstairs with me and I'll loan you my kit."
"Right then. Be right back guys," Ron smiled as he followed Harry, once again, back up into the dormitories. When they reached their room, Harry flopped down on his bed and sighed.
"Why didn't you give her the letter Ron?" Ron looked down and started rubbing his sore shoulder. His ears turned a shade of pink.
"Well," he hesitated, as if waiting for Harry to assume that that explained everything. When Harry shrugged, Ron continued. "It's embarrassing. Have you ever given Cho or anyone a confession letter?" Harry suddenly felt bad that he was annoyed with Ron for not giving Hermione his love letter. He never stopped to think of what it must be like, telling someone who you've liked for so long, all that you felt. He smiled sympathetically.
"No I guess I don't," he said slightly ashamed. Ron smiled and nodded.
"It's kinda, you know, nerve wrecking. I couldn't do it. Sorry I pushed you to write it so soon." Harry started shaking his head. He told Ron that he was sorry for getting annoyed with him. They accepted each others apologies and went back downstairs.
"Broom alright Ron?" Ginny asked as soon as they took their seats again. "We can't afford to lose another good player."
"Yeah it's alright I guess. I could use a new one though. I wish Mum would understand that a Nimbus 2001 is what I want for Christmas," he said blushing. "I wouldn't need anything else. I hate those damn sweaters she always makes! She can save those sickles for my broom."
"You've got a perfectly good broom. I can see why she hasn't gotten you a new one," Hermione said matter-of-factly. Ron rolled his eyes and shrugged incredulously at Harry who chuckled.
"What do you know about Quidditch anyway? Do you know what it's like flying around up there with nothing but a splintering broom beneath you? It's not the most comfortable feeling."
"But it's not something you need you see. It's not something you need to carry out daily tasks. Take those poor house elves for an example. They need clothes. They need love. They need-"
"They need you to stop making such a fuss about them Hermione!"
"How would you like to spend your whole life working? To never know freedom or-or know how nice a holiday is once in a while? I'm trying to help them!" Hermione fired back. Harry started coughing into his hand to hide the fit of laughter that was collecting in his throat. To him, Ron and Hermione's arguments were like watching a fiery, energetic, muggle sport called a tennis match. The ball was in Ron's court.
"If they wanted freedom or a holiday they would have revolted against us all by now!" Ron argued. Hermione started tapping her fingers on the armchair of the couch in a very irritated manner. Her lips took the form of Professor McGonagall's as she pursed them and she refused to look at Ron. Just when Harry thought the argument was won, Hermione made eye contact with Ron.
"They were taught not to have their own opinion. They were bred not to revolt against their masters," she started out calmly, her voice rising in crescendo. "They were born into slavery and born to believe one thing."
"Oh you reckon? And what would that one thing be?" he yelled. Harry had stifled his urge to laugh. If he had let one little giggle escape between his lips, Hermione would round on him. He shifted his gaze to Neville, whose mouth was gaping open, staring unblinkingly at Hermione. Ginny sunk low into her chair and was covering her mouth, obviously laughing to herself. Harry's laughter was resurrected.
"Well I'm starving. Anyone care to join me to get something to eat?" he asked briskly as he strode across the room. Neville and Ginny jumped up from their seats and rushed out after Harry. Just as the portrait was swinging shut, Hermione's yells echoed out.
"Blimey," Neville breathed. "Those two can really go at it can't they?"
"Tell me about it. Hermione's house elf theories are hilarious though. Ron's right on this one," Ginny agreed through giggles.
"Yeah, but you must agree that she has the best of intentions." Both Ginny and Neville considered this for a split second and then agreed with Harry. The Great Hall loomed in front of them and drew them into it with its warmth. Harry no longer felt gray or cold as he looked around the last bit of students finishing dinner and the reappearing foods that filled the plates. He found a seat and instantly began filling his plate. Light conversation drifted back and forth between Neville, Ginny, and Harry until they had finished. The three of them rose to go when Ron stormed into the hall.
"Bloody friggin' hell," he sighed when he reached Harry. "I don't even know why she is mad at me! What did I do? What did I say?" he shook his head angrily. "Girls!" Harry, being quite used to this, clapped a hand on Ron's shoulder.
"Just let it be. We'll all be," he paused, looking for the right word, "jolly tomorrow." Ron slowly turned to meet Harry's face, his own drawn in a disgusted manner.
"Jolly? Who uses the word jolly?" Harry forced out a courtesy laugh because he couldn't tell if Ron was being sarcastic or serious. He shrugged it off and sat back down with Ron. "No it's okay. If you wanna leave then go.you don't have to wait with me."
"No I'll wait."
"We'll we're heading back," Ginny retorted. "I'm sleepy and full and have to finish this last bit of work. Night!" She waved goodbye to them and was followed by Neville who said he needed help on something and was going to see if Hermione was up to it. Harry glanced at Ron who would still shake his head every now and then.
"She needs to give it up," he said finally. "Those house elves like what they're doing and are not going to quit. I wish she'd just drop it already."
"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Me too."
"But I don't want to talk about her right now. Wonder what happened to Malfoy's dad," said Ron trying to change the subject. "I haven't seen Malfoy around lately. He wasn't in Care of Magical Creatures or Potions today. Think he got busted for something?"
"I hope so! I could use a year without the little ferret. Has he had his detention yet?"
"I don't know. Maybe that's where he is now and I just didn't notice he was in class today."
"I wish I could be oblivious to him," Harry responded. He looked around the rest of the Great Hall and watched as it cleared out. The morning was dawning. Harry felt his stomach lurch in effort to control the speed of the night. "C'mon Ron, let's go," he said gloomily. Without protest, Ron got up and grabbed a dinner roll on their way out. The two of them walked back up to the common room against the current of yawning students heading towards their own rooms. Harry saw a light glowing from the Dark Arts room and his stomach gave another unpleasant twist. "So it really is Umbridge then?"
"Yep," Ron replied and that's all they discussed until they reached the Fat Lady. Harry gave the password and was surprised at how much the room had cleared out since they had left. Hermione was in a corner of the room, gazing out the window at the stars that gleamed and flickered like candle flames. Harry's unpleasant stomach churning stopped at the sight of her. Hermione turned her head as if in slow motion, flicked her hair and smiled at Harry. He returned the smile and made his way over to a chair. As he was walking over to Hermione, her smile faltered and then died. Ron had pulled up a chair next to Harry and his guilt returned. I don't fancy her! he yelled at himself.
"I don't want to see you at this moment. Please leave," Hermione requested stiffly at Ron. He shook his head no and nestled into the chair, acting out to her that he was fine where he was at. Harry searched for a place to rest his eyes on. He couldn't look at either of them so he stared at the stars.
"Is that the Dog Star?" Harry asked trying to avoid another argument. No one answered. "Leave!" Hermione demanded.
"No!" Ron fired back. "Why are you mad at me anyways? What did I do? I don't understand you!"
"Don't-under-stand? I. . ." she started to rise from her chair. Before she could say anything else, Harry jumped up from his seat, tearing his eyes away from the sky and fed up with their fighting.
"No, no. It's my turn," he told them as he gently pushed Hermione back down into her chair. Before anyone could say anything else, Harry let out an extremely dramatic sigh and threw his arms up into the air in disgust. He then spun around on his heel, trying to suppress a laugh and stormed up into his dormitory, giving another dramatic sigh. "I don't understand you!" He cried sarcastically before slamming the door to Ron and Hermione's startled, yet amused faces. Harry smiled wearily to himself. He spotted Neville sitting on his bed scribbling something down, looking up every few seconds.
"Hermione didn't help you?" he asked. Neville threw down his quill and splattered ink on his sheets.
"I'm not doing homework!" he answered the wall facing his bed before picking up his quill and writing again. "I'm writing a letter to my gran if you must know."
"Are you," Harry paused trying not to offend the already annoyed Neville, "feeling alright?"
"I'm fine!"
"No you're not! You were fine at dinner, but something's wrong. I-"
"Would you just leave me alone Mr. Super Hero? I want to finish my letter."
"Super hero?" Harry asked taken aback. "What do you mean 'super hero'?" This time Neville turned to meet Harry's face. His eyes were red with exhaustion and he looked pale.
"You know what I mean! You were the one chosen to fight off Voldemort! The one who gets to save the entire wizarding world! The one who gets all the glory because you were the one chosen as the seventh month dies! Not me! You! You are the chosen one! The one who, since birth, has always been better than me! How do I know? Because Voldemort chose you to mark as his equal! Chose you to be the hero! That's what I mean by super hero. So now that I answered your question, would you please just let me finish my letter?" Harry stared at Neville in shock. All six years that he had known him, he would have never expected Neville to blow up like that. As Harry started recovering from his minor shock, it came to him that Neville had interpreted his prophecy. But how could he have known? He couldn't have heard it when it broke last year. It was too loud, Harry thought furiously.
"How do you know that?" Harry demanded. He had always like Neville, but this had gone too far.
"Dumbledore told me."
"What? Why would he tell you my prophecy? That's a private business! I probably wasn't supposed to know! Why would he tell you?" Neville stood up and locked eyes with Harry.
"Am I not good enough to know Potter?" Neville snarled dangerously. Harry didn't respond. Instead, he shoved his hands in his robe's pockets to hide the fact that they had become slightly moist with nervousness. "He didn't tell me the whole thing, just the part that concerned me which was the seventh month dying thing," he said more calmly, breaking eye contact with Harry and sitting back down on his bed. Harry swallowed.
"Well if you want to face the fact that you don't have any chance at defeating Voldemort and knowing you are going to die when you fight him, then go ahead. You be the chosen one. You try and be the 'hero' if you want it so bad. Have fun with your glory Neville! That is if you live to receive it," Harry spat as the cold, grey feeling started over coming him once more. He watched as Neville lowered his head, signed his letter and then mumbled something into his chest. "What?"
"Sorry Harry," Neville repeated, folding his letter and placing on his night stand. "It's just that it's always been you. You are the one who gets to save the day. I never thought of it like that.
"Yeah well just keep that in mind," there was a moment's silence and then, "aren't you going to send that?" Neville laid down on his bed and pulled the covers up to him. He placed his hand over his eyes and shook his head.
"Nope. Night Harry." This is going to be a long year, Harry assumed.
Light cascaded over Harry's eyelids and thawed the comfort of night away. He reluctantly sat up on his elbows and looked around the blurry room. He groped for his glasses and when he found them glanced out the window. The sun was shining brightly as if smiling on all the Hogwarts students. The lake sparkled temptingly and the grass could not be a more brilliant shade of green. To Harry it was like the sunshine was rubbing in the fact that today he'd have to meet with two uptight professors. He dressed slowly and lingered down into the common room. Ron was sitting in the same chair as last night and was drooling onto the table. Harry smiled to himself.
"C'mon Ron! Wake up!" he shook him briskly. Ron swiped at Harry's hand and slurred upset grumbles. "Let's go Ron! The sun is shining! It's morning." At this he sat bolt up right and looked out the window.
"Thank heavens its tomorrow! I couldn't sleep. I thought last night was going to drag on forever," he said smoothing out his shirt.
"I wish it would have lasted," Harry said under his breath. "So what happened?"
"I guess we're on good terms. I don't really know," Ron yawned and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really care all that much right now," he added barely above a whisper so that it was not audible to Harry. Harry decided that he would keep the argument he and Neville had had the previous night secret until he told Ron about the prophecy. He took off his glasses, cleaned them, and then flopped down onto the couch with a sigh.
"I hate Umbridge," he informed Ron. "I'm not going to put up with her this year. If she is enforcing those stupid rules again-"
"You'll do what?" Malfoy had stepped out of the portrait of Godric Gryffindor and into the common room wearing his sickening smirk, his polished Head Boy badge contrasting against his Slytherin colors. "Is that a threat against one of our professors Potter?"
"Get out of here Malfoy," Ron demanded as he tucked his hands into his robes reaching for something. He frowned at Malfoy, a snarl plastering itself on his face. Malfoy's smirk grew even wider and he shook his head sympathetically.
"Don't even think about it Weasley or I'll have my father-I'll have you expelled," he covered up quickly. Harry sat up at the mention of Lucius and was wearing the smirk this time. "Don't say anything Potter. Don't. . .say. . .anything."
"Where you been Malfoy? In Azkaban visiting your dad?" Harry's smile broadened as he asked the question that he knew would wriggle itself under Malfoy's skin.
"NO!" Malfoy yelled. "I told you not to say anything!" He too placed his hands inside his robes pocket. Harry's finger tips tingled with adrenaline, ready to whip out his wand and curse Malfoy. He was waiting for him to cross that line.
"What's going on?" Malfoy nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around, robe twirling at his feet. "What are you doing in here?"
"None of your business Granger," Malfoy spat before retreating back behind the portrait. He shot one last scowl in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's way and then plodded out of sight grumbling. Harry watched him go and for the first time in six years, he noticed that Malfoy walked with the slightest limp.
"Morning!" Hermione greeted them with the satisfaction of scaring Malfoy away.
"Hello Hermione," Harry smiled. Ron gave her a welcoming glance and mumbled a greeting back. She smiled politely, but there was still something tense between the two. Breakfast was the slightest bit quieter than it usually was. Ron and Hermione had not argued since they first saw each other and Harry kept trying to avoid eye contact with Neville. It was a bad start to a day that was worsening with every thought of Umbridge and Snape.
"I'm actually a little excited about our Dark Arts class," Hermione said hurriedly.
"What?" Harry exclaimed. She smiled sheepishly as Ron stopped mid- chew. "Excited about Umbridge?"
"How could ya be exthited about that thupid witch?" Ron asked through a breakfast roll.
"Well, I want to see how she's, if she even has, changed. I'm not happy about it."
"But excited?"
"Erm-I, uh, I dunno. I don't think I meant excited. I. . . I think I meant, err, I meant apprehensive," she replied quickly to Harry and Ron's accusations. Ron raised his eyebrow and then swallowed hard.
"She hasn't changed. I bet you anything she hasn't," he stated.
"She could have! Remember Harry's dream?" Hermione replied in defense. Harry shuddered. The thought of Voldemort dwelling behind Umbridge's eyes, the rancid smell of decaying flesh and the cold voice that filled the abandoned Ministry of Magic diminished his appetite. "Green and Red eyes are definitely a change Ron," she finished.
"But it was only, and I mean this in the best possible way," Ron told Harry before continuing, "a dream. That's all it was." Anxiety rose in Harry's throat. It had been a pretty realistic dream.
"All the other times-last year, the dreams I had, they all eventually came true. Like the one about your dad Ron where I dreamt I was a snake and bit him and the dreams about the corridor to the Department of Mysteries. . .oh man."
"But Harry, in your dream you said that the Ministry was abandoned. It's not. All the other things in your dreams last year were true."
"No they weren't," Hermione implied. "The door to the Department of Mysteries was locked in Harry's dream. It wasn't when we arrived." Harry shook his head. Hermione had a point, but it was a bad one.
"I think I'm just going to ditch Defense Against the Dark Arts today," Harry joked. Hermione's eyes widened to the size of Luna's and her mouth formed a gaping hole.
"Harry! You can't ditch a class!" she half exclaimed, half whispered. Ron's fork dropped with an audible clang. His nostrils started flaring at first and then his lip started trembling. He started laughing.
"Are you serious?" he chuckled. "Harry was only joking." Hermione blushed, but it was underestimated by the glare she had fixed on Ron.
"It's not that funny. He didn't sound like he was joking."
"I know, but the look on your face! You looked like a fish outta water!" Ron laughed even harder at the thought. He picked up his fork as if he were holding a fishing pole and cast off in Hermione's direction. He then pretended to reel her in. "Look Harry, I done caught myself a good one." Harry couldn't help but begin to laugh himself. He stopped at the look of Hermione's face, which was still glaring at the both of them.
"Ah c'mon Hermy. We're only playing around," he comforted cautiously. Her glare stayed plastered for a few more seconds and then vanished.
"Oh! We better be heading to our classes now!" she exclaimed, the liveliness coming back to her tone. "We have Dark Arts first and then you guys have Divination while I-"
"Who cares? We have to go," Ron informed them reluctantly. The three of them stood up in unison and headed towards the door. Harry scanned the room for a sight of Umbridge, but spotted Luna instead. She looked over at him and he smiled back, but she didn't return the smile. She looked upset and slightly disappointed. Harry then remembered that he had never given Luna his reply. He plunged his hand into his pocket and found his crumpled response.
"Uh, I'll catch up with you guys in a second," he told Hermione and Ron before running over to catch up with Luna. "Luna!" She revolved slowly to meet Harry's eyes, her own protruding ones full of depth and not liveliness. Harry took out his reply and placed it into Luna's hands so that no one would see.
"What's this?" she asked monotonously.
"My reply to your letter from earlier. Sorry I'm getting it to you so late, but I've had other things to deal with first." He watched as a small smile came to her face and lit her eyes like candle flames. "You thought I forgot about it didn't you?" She nodded, fumbling with her butter beer cap necklace. Harry returned a small smile.
"Thank you. I'll read it later," she told him in her usual voice and spun around to hurry out of the room to her class. Harry retreated to Ron and Hermione, where they waited by the Great Hall doors.
"What was that all about?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "What did you give her?" Ron looked at Harry too with a wondering look.
"A response to something. It's not important. C'mon," he replied hastily, unable to meet their eyes.
"I feel bad now Harry," Ron said suddenly. "I mean that letter you wrote for Hermione that I was going to give to her, well I backed down, but you have to courage to give Luna a letter."
"It's not that kind of letter Ron!"
"You wrote me a letter Harry? About what?" Hermione asked unable to control a smile and once again blushing the slightest bit. He saw Ron start shaking his head frantically and throwing glances towards her.
"Nothing," Harry mumbled. "You guys are getting confused. Her letter was about Sirius and I was writing her back. That's all it was. Nothing more, nothing less. Now come on, as much as I hate to say it, we have to get to class." The two of them looked taken aback after Harry's explanation. Hermione's smile was gone and Ron concentrated on his feet on the way to the Dark Arts room. Harry's stomach was churning and writhing around inside him as the door lurked closer and closer. It suddenly loomed over him, consuming him in his own anticipation. He stood crowded against the other students, waiting to meet their fate in the Dark Arts classroom. Harry struggled with the urge to vomit. It can't be this bad, he reassured himself. It's just Umbridge. The door opened.
"Good morning students!" a sickly, girlish voice emerged from the toad like structure that faced them all. "Come in now. Come in," Umbridge ushered. Everyone trudged into the classroom and took their usual seats- Harry by Ron and Hermione next to Neville. Umbridge glided to the front of the class, still wearing a smile that would give small children nightmares.
"This is how it started yesterday," Ron whispered. "She's going to make us do bookwork again. She hasn't changed."
"Please take out your books and turn to page-"
"I'm not dealing with this. I'm not going to put up with her Ron," Harry whispered back.
"Potter! We haven't even been in here five minutes and you're already not paying attention. Week's detention!" Umbridge fired at him. Harry's jaw dropped. He felt disapproving eyes on the back of his head. Umbridge smiled and clenched her fists at her side. Keep it under control, don't loose your temper. She's just a stupid git who doesn't know anything. Don't listen to her, Harry told himself. "I heard that Potter!"
"WHAT?" Harry yelled. "I didn't say anything!" Ron nodded vigorously in agreement with Harry.
"I thought I got it into your thick skull that you were not to tell lies in my presence. Another week's detention," Umbridge said in a cold tone that occupied the tense air of the classroom. Harry was a furnace and anger was burning, roaring inside him, but trying not to make matters worse he calmly he said: "I didn't say anything Professor Umbridge."
"Disturbing my classroom while I am teaching," Umbridge clicked her tongue, smiling all along. "That's another week of detention and thirty, no, forty points from Gryffindor."
"NO!" Harry yelled. "What are you doing? You don't know what you're talking about! You're probably still delirious from that snake attack!" Umbridge's fake smile extinguished. He could see her jaw clenching and unclenching in sync with her fists.
"You don't know anything about that snake attack," she started out calmly as he had before. "You don't know how horrid that was! How dare you! How dare you even assume that!" her voice was rising. "I am a certified, Ministry employed teacher! They wouldn't have me here if I were INSANE!"
"YOU ARE INSANE! YOU FAVORED LUCIUS MALFOY!" Harry screamed back. He was sick of Umbridge already. He had had enough of her last year and was not going to live through another two semesters of the torture she liked to inflict on him.
"That's because Lucius Malfoy works for the Ministry and would never harm anyone! He did not kill Ewan Renton!" Umbridge shrieked.
"He did too! I heard it all happen! I-" Harry paused realizing what Umbridge had just said. He suddenly realized why he had dreamt of her as Voldemort. "You-you're a Death Eater. That's why you're defending Lucius because he's one too. An-and Ewan was a former Death Eater, denouncing Voldemort and that's why Lucius killed him. It wasn't because of him bullying Malfoy; it was because he had turned his back on him." The room was in complete silence. No one moved. No one breathed. Umbridge's stare bored into Harry's eyes and his scar seared. The classroom swayed in and out of focus, burning his pupils every time it did. He threw a glance at Umbridge and for a split second, her eyes flashed jade and crimson. Harry collapsed onto the floor. The burning subsided and he sprinted out of the classroom. As soon as he had escaped into the deserted hallway, his searing scar stopped instantly, leaving his head with a whack. Harry had the worst head ache he had ever had. It was like someone slinging an ice pick into a block of ice. The sharp hook would crash into the ice, then be lifted, and then brought down again as it cracked and sent pieces of ice all over. He fell to his knees. Crawling to the most nearby wall, he sat up against it, catching his breath, the ice pick headache slowly drifting away. Harry heard the Dark Arts door click open and he stumbled to his feet and continued running.
"I will have you expelled so soon Potter!" Umbridge hollered after him, but he didn't catch anything else she was saying for he had just rounded a corner. At the same time, Snape had suddenly appeared in front of Harry, and before his Quidditch reflexes could apply brakes to his feet, he had smacked into Snape. Harry bounced off of Snape's frail body and stumbled backwards into a statue of Helga Hufflepuff almost knocking it over.
"What's your problem Potter?" Snape demanded, slightly doubled over from Harry's impact. "Another death you're trying to pin on me? Is that what you're escaping from?" The ice pick flew into the block of ice.
Harry quickly clutched where it had crashed. "Sorry Professor," he mumbled. As footsteps echoed down the hallway, butterflies danced in Harry's stomach. He started forward but Snape had clamped a hand down on his shoulder.
"You heard every precious detail of my life," Snape growled menacingly. "You heard every detestable comment I said about my childhood. You know about the actions of my cynic father," he accused.
"You think I wanted to learn all that stuff?" Harry asked as Snape's lower eyelid twitched. He didn't see Snape's point of telling him this. Harry knew it already. Footsteps grew closer. "I have to go."
"You weren't meant to know those things. No one was meant to hear those confessions. If anyone, any pupil catches one word of what you have learned," Snape paused, debating if he should say what he was going to say next. Harry's eyes darted for an exit to run to after Snape had finished his little lecture on how ungrateful he was to not be in Azkaban for telling the truth. "I'll personally make sure that you'll have a family reunion." Harry's darting eyes froze on Snape's pale face. He had never had a death threat from a professor. Anger overruled terror once again.
"It's not my fault! Dumbledore made me listen to you!"
"He didn't use force."
"Well what was I supposed to do? Cover my ears and pretend I never heard anything?"
"I thought my failed attempts at teaching you Occlumency would have at least developed one thing in your head! Block it out! You could have shut it out Potter!" Snape snapped. "Detention with me tomorrow night," he mumbled. They exchanged hate filled glances before Snape took his hand off Harry and sped away briskly. Harry watched him walk away with a sour, acidic feeling in his stomach. Umbridge appeared.
"You-here-now!" she panted. Students appeared at her heel watching anxiously. He saw Ron and Hermione walk up together with expressions of bewilderment plastered on their faces. His mind could no longer make up decisions and so went with his instinct on what to do next. Harry took off sprinting once again.