Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the owner of Harry Potter, not I. No, certainly not I. (Grumble)
A/N: So so sorry about the lateness of this chapter, but I've got assignments and they come first unfortunately. Plus I have other stories I have to update and it's all a very big mess in my head right now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and thank you to all who reviewed.
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Chapter Fifteen: Something new is happening at Hogwarts.
That night, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, went to bed late, and not just because they had spent almost the entire night pouring through Restricted Section books along with Fred, George, and Ginny, (Hermione and Ginny having snuck into the library under Harry's invisibility cloak earlier that night) but because Sirius had visited them through the Gryffindor Common room's fireplace.
Thinking of Sirius made him remember how cold his godfather had been when Harry insisted he not come to Hogwarts, as he'd wanted to do. He'd been most displeased with Harry, but he'd tried not to show it. Nonetheless, Harry still felt guilty.
Ron had conked out as soon as his head touched the pillow and was currently doing his best impression of a lion gone insane with his snoring. As Harry turned down the covers and changed into his pyjamas, he pondered on all he'd experienced that day.
It was true since meeting his sister he'd become more . . . he wasn't sure if 'aggressive' was the right word, but perhaps more 'intuned' and less gullible was a better portrayal. He suddenly found himself channelling the Mad-eye Moody aspect of his personality (an aspect Harry wasn't even sure he'd had up until a couple of months ago) and he found, to his surprise, that he rather enjoyed it.
This morning's incident with Filch proved that. He'd delighted in baiting and most especially, confusing, the slimy caretaker with his banter. And Cho had seemed to like it . . .
Feeling a grin spread on his face Harry got into bed and stared up at the ceiling.
The Filch incident wasn't the only thing unusual that had happened that day. And by unusual Harry meant that Hermione and Sirius had both found it suspicious that Filch had been tipped off anonymously and misleadingly about the Dungbombs Harry had supposedly ordered, a fact that Harry, after having thought it over, agreed with.
No, that hadn't been the only thing. Sturgis Podmore, a wizard of the Order that Harry had met himself over the summer holidays, had been arrested by the Ministry in attempting to break into some important room in the Ministry. They had their first Quidditch practise that day also, and it went amazingly horribly. The Slytherin team, including Malfoy, had shown up and Ron just couldn't seem to block any goals. And to top it all off Percy had written, advising Ron not to associate with Harry anymore and also to drop some not so subtle hints about Umbridge and something that would be happening with her tomorrow. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all agreed that whatever it was couldn't be good.
Yawning, — it was, after all, passed two o'clock in the morning — Harry turned into his pillow and let sleep claim him.
He dreamed of blood.
Spurting blood.
He was back at the graveyard, Cedric lying dead by his feet, Wormtail's harsh breaths sounding close to his ear and a sharp pain as he cut into Harry's arm with a long glinting knife. Suddenly, Harry's arm turned into Harry's hand and Elizabeth stood before him instead of Wormtail, still holding onto the knife.
"It's for your own good, Harry," she said. "For your protection."
"What are you on about?" But Elizabeth only smiled and seized hold of his hand. "What are you doing? NO! Stop!" Harry struggled in her grasp, knowing it was pointless as she was much stronger that he. He looked up into her familiar green eyes — but they weren't familiar anymore. They were red. Red and bloody. Harry screamed as she stabbed the knife in his palm. He tried to breathe. He couldn't breathe! Why couldn't he breathe?
". . . would you stop it! It's only me!"
Harry blinked, coming awake. Letting his eyes focus into the darkness he became aware of two things. One: It was too dark to see anything. Two: Someone was holding on to his mouth, clamping it down with their hand.
"I'm taking you out of here," the voice said. Harry didn't recognise the harsh whisper of it, became panicked, and started thrashing about again in hopes to dislodge the hand so he could scream properly and wake the others. "What are you doing?" it said. "It's Elizabeth!"
Harry's thrashes stopped immediately. His mind had gone completely blank. He watched, as if from afar, as Elizabeth hoisted him off his bed and hugged her too him. She didn't put him down but held him, dangled, from her fist by his shirt front. Then she stepped over to the open window, jumped onto the stone balustrade, walked out onto the outcropping then, with Harry still held tightly in her fist, closed the shutters behind her . . . and stepped of the ledge.
The wind was cold and fierce as it whizzed up Harry's body, blowing under his pyjamas and in passed his hair. A few seconds later, though it seemed a few hours, Elizabeth landed sprightly onto the ground some storeys below with Harry still held in her fist. She put him down gently onto the damp grass then, without waiting for either of them to speak, hugged her to him once more.
Harry just stood there and let himself be hugged. His mind was still on spin and had yet to catch up with his body. When it did his first instinct was to pull away; instead he found himself returning the hug, grudgingly.
"What are you doing here?"
The night was still heavily cloaked in darkness so Harry couldn't see whether he was talking to Elizabeth's face, or Elizabeth's forehead. It also meant he couldn't see her expressions.
"I got your, ah, kick," she answered.
For a moment Harry wasn't sure what she was talking about, then remembering, became both agitated and furious once more.
"Yeah? That's good then! I'm glad you saw! I wanted you to see! Spying on me like some sort of . . . spy person! And after you did! Acting like you cared when you really. . ."
There was silence after Harry's outburst. So long in fact that he became mildly uncomfortable. Wasn't she going to say anything? When Elizabeth's voice came it was soft. "What did I do?"
"Don't pretend like you don't know!" Harry fired back at once.
"If you mean your hand—"
"Of course I mean that! What else? Let me guess, you thought I wouldn't figure it out? Well you thought right! I didn't! Hermione did! And she told me!"
"Harry—"
"No! You don't get a say yet!" He waited a bit to make sure she wouldn't interrupt, before continuing, more softly, "I trusted you. You're my sister. You were the only thing that I—" He felt tears in his eyes, but, safe in the knowledge that she probably couldn't see them, continued, "—you were the only person that I really truly cared about, utterly. You have no idea . . . Do you know what's it's like to feel betrayed? I do. I've been betrayed a lot in my life. But never in the magnitude I felt when you did it. Not even when Ron was acting like such a git last year did I feel this horrible."
He waited for her to say something. She didn't
"I just want to know why. Why did you do it? Why did you pretend to care afterward?"
She didn't speak.
"Say something."
He heard her low sigh. "If you want to believe I don't care about you, Harry, I can't stop you from doing that. But know that I'd die for you in the most painful way over and over again for eternity just to stop you from getting a particularly stubborn knot in your hair that you have to yank out . . ."
Harry tried to stop his face from twisting into a smile, but couldn't quite manage it.
". . . You are everything to me. You are my life. You are my blood."
Harry suddenly felt there was something much more important in that sentence then just mere expression of feeling. "So why did you hurt me, then?"
"To protect you."
"Then Hermione was right!" Harry could hear the accusation in his tone.
"Yes, she probably was," Elizabeth said sadly.
They stood in mutual silence for a few minutes. An owl hooted in a nearby tree. A spatter of receding rain caught on the end of his nose. "Why did you do it? Why did you have to protect me? Why did you set up a scene? Why didn't you just ask me?"
"Because, I knew you would protest."
"If your reason was valid—" Harry cut in.
"No, Harry. I know you. You would have protested, because I know how much you love me."
Harry felt heat spread all the way from his chest up onto his face. It was just like Elizabeth to be so blunt. "Go on."
"Wait." He felt her move away from him. "Let's find some place to sit down."
"It's going to take that long?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Quite possibly," she grumbled.
Harry let himself be led around the lake until, reaching the birch tree, they sat down among its soft grass and armchair-like roots. Here, the lake and surroundings were bathed in moonlight and Harry finally got a look at his sister. What he saw bought him up short!
"What in the hell is that!"
Harry couldn't be faulted for swearing, because he never thought he'd be as shocked and horrified as he was in this moment.
Sitting directly in the silver glow of the moon, Elizabeth looked as though she'd stuck her head in a mincer. Two gigantic shiners, one on each eye, adorned her face. Her lip was split, her nose was out of joint, and her hair was dishevelled. It looked like she'd gotten into a fight with a gang of street thugs. Or a gang of giants.
Her answering smile looked more like a grimace. "Never mind that now—"
"Of course I'll mind that now!" Harry spat. "It's the giants isn't it? They beat you up!"
She looked surprised, then admiring. "Who'd you wangle that info out of? Never mind, do I want to know?" She shook her head. "We'll talk about that later. I promise," she added, seeing Harry open his mouth.
He nodded. He was satisfied with that. "Okay."
"Good." She stretched out her legs in front of her and looked up at the sky. "You wanted to know why I did it. It begins with Hank Summers."
Harry frowned. Where had he heard that name before? "Isn't he one of the Slayers? The one from, erm . . ."
Elizabeth smiled. "Los Angeles. Yes. It was around seven years ago when his daughter, Buffy—" Harry sniggered. Elizabeth noticed and smiled. "—strange name, I know. But, you know Americans . . . anyway, Buffy was seven then, I think, and was walking from school one day with her mother, Joyce. They'd stopped by the side of the road and were about to cross it when Joyce dropped something. A hat, I think it was. Or a jumper. She bent to pick it up, and Buffy, being only a little girl and full of boundless energy, didn't wait for her mother to cross the street, didn't bother looking both ways. She was hit by a truck."
"Oh my God!"
"She would have died. Should have died. Almost did die, but something saved her. Do you know what that was?" She turned to Harry. He shook his head, slowly. "Her father's blood. As she lay dying in the hospital, fighting for her life, her father apparated into the emergency room, stupefied the muggle doctors, and performed a blood transfusion. The girl's condition stabilised to the point where she didn't need a mask to help her breathe. Later he oblivated the doctors and apparated to the American version of St Mungos. That was the first time since he'd married his wife that he'd used so much magic in one day."
"So, so, Buffy, survived because of his blood. Because of his Slayer blood?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Yes."
"But that still doesn't explain . . . I mean I wasn't dying when you performed, which I now know to be an impromptu blood transfusion, with me. Why did you—?"
"I'm getting to that, babe" she drawled. "Anyway, seven years later I apparate to the Summers' place and Hank tells me something . . . I know you don't know the extent of my powers, Harry, but one of them is sometimes getting visions of the future, in the form of dreams, and we have to learn to interpret those dreams. Which is probably why Slayers get along well with centaurs . . ."
Harry blinked.
"Well, Hank had one such dream of the future, and it told him something spectacular, something that shocked me."
Harry could feel anticipation building. "What was it?"
Elizabeth looked straight into his eyes. "That Buffy would be a Slayer."
Harry knew there was something important he was missing. "But she's his daught-oh! I get it. She's a girl."
"Precisely. She isn't supposed to be a Slayer when Hank dies. Her son is—or her brother, if Hank and Joyce ever decide to have another kid. But something happened when Hank performed that blood transfusion. Something that we, as Slayers, should have predicted, should have guessed at long before then. But who knows, perhaps we had known but the knowledge was lost over the millennia, whatever, it doesn't matter now. Hank wasn't really convinced it would work with a Slayer's relative until that relative was close to death, but I thought I'd try with you anyway."
Harry knew he was still missing something. "But what . . ." His brain froze. The phrase 'When Hank died', seemed to be the only thing in it now. His head shot up. "Are you planning on dying anytime soon then, Elizabeth!"
She raked a hand through her hair and sighed. "This is precisely why I didn't want to tell you in the first place. I knew you'd take it the wrong way."
"I'm not allowed to care about you now?"
"Make up your mind, babe, really."
Harry was taken aback, but then saw the grin on her lips. He glowered. "So, when, if, you die, you think I might be a Slayer?"
"I can hope."
Harry exhaled. This was a lot to take in. "I don't want you to die." He hadn't even known he was going to say it, and so fiercely.
"I know."
"And you don't want me to die either, which is why you did all this. You thought it'd protect me when you're not here anymore."
"Yes."
"But you're not even sure if it might work?"
"No."
Harry gritted his teeth, growled, "Why are you being so monosyllabic?"
She stared at him incredulously, then burst out laughing. "Have you been hanging around Hermione too much?"
"Contrary to Snape's belief, I'm not stupid," Harry said stiffly, though inside he was pleased to have gotten her laughing. He suddenly wondered when he'd actually stopped being furious with her.
Elizabeth stopped after a minute or so, still holding her stomach. "Ah, I haven't laughed like that in, well, a week."
She looked at him and Harry exhaled air in surprise.
The bruises on her face were gone. Or almost gone. Her left eye was currently a faint yellow and purple, but other than that, everything was as it should be.
Elizabeth noticed his shock, touched her face tentatively. "Yeah, I know. I heal very fast."
"But why did you have to heal?" he asked angrily. "And that's not very fast either, in my experience. I've seen you heal much faster than that. I thought Slayers healed straight away."
"Not if a strong magical creature, like a giant for instance, were to hit us. It takes longer then."
Harry thought over something. "But doesn't this mean that you were fighting giants right before you came to me tonight?" She looked apprehensive. "Remember you promised you'd tell me!"
"All right, all right. Impatience: thy name is boy," she breathed. "Okay. As you no doubt know from a source we'll leave anonymous for now . . . woof woof." Harry looked at her in amazement, but she didn't notice. "I went to find the giants to get them to support Dumbledore, along with Hagrid and Olympe—"
"That name sounds very familiar," Harry injected.
"No doubt. You'd know her as Madame Maxime."
Harry wasn't surprised. "She went with you too then. Of course. Dumbledore said in the infirmary last June, that Hagrid was to find Madame Maxime . . . but how did you find them? They were on their mission already weren't they?"
"I'm a Slayer, Harry," was all she said, and he knew that meant she could sense them because they were half giants.
"Go on."
"Well I found them, and . . . I'll let Hagrid tell you the details about that particular adventure. We crossed country on foot, eventually found the giants, and for a while it seemed like we were really making progress, but then a new Gurg, that's a leader of the Giants," she explained, to Harry's confused look, "rose up in the night. There'd been a mutiny. But this new Gurg didn't like us much, and, well, tried to kill us . . ."
Harry was too surprised and too awed already to feel anything about that. "Is that where you, got hurt? And how did you escape? Did Hagrid escape? What about Maxime?"
Elizabeth frowned, probably thinking which question to answer first. "No, that happened tonight. When I got hurt, I mean. We'd gone looking for all those giants that weren't supporters of the new Gurg. Found them all, or should I say all three, squished into a large cave, no room for even breathing, but they were scared for their lives. I talked to them—"
"You talked to them!"
"Well one of them knew a bit of English, but I know a lot of Giant. I fight giants nearly all the time, after all."
Harry blinked, said flatly, "You can speak Giant."
"Not fluently," she admitted, frowning a little.
"Oh."
"Anyway, they seemed interested in what we had to say, but, a bit apprehensive as you can imagine. Hagrid and Olympe left after we talked a bit with them, but I decided to stay . . ."
"One question." She looked up at him. Her face was completely hurt free now. "Did the Giants know what you are?"
"That I'm a Slayer?"
He nodded.
"Not really . . . Let's just say they knew I was different. Anyway, I stayed with the three, whom I unconsciously named The Three Stooges for some really weird reason . . ." Harry grinned. "And that night, which was tonight, other giants, supporters of the new Gurg, came looking for them. To kill."
"You fought them," Harry guessed. "How many were there?"
"Too many. Too many for me on my own." She noticed his look. "There were six. But don't worry, babe, I got out of there alive."
"How many did you kill? Or did you kill any at all?"
"Some were killed; it's unavoidable when messing with a brassed off Slayer."
Harry grinned at her grumble, suddenly feeling very proud of his sister. "What did you say to them when they came? You had to have said something."
"I walked out of the cave to meet them." There was a shrug in her voice.
"Just like that? You walked out to meet six giants that you knew had killing on their minds?"
"Sure." Again, the shrug.
"You must have used your magic," Harry speculated, suspicious.
She grinned slowly. "Of course I used magic, I'd be dead otherwise."
"But I thought you had, you know, super-speed," he said, thinking back to her injuries. "How could they hit you? They shouldn't have been able to hit you. I mean, couldn't you dodge?"
"Super-speed is all well and good when you want to run away from something, but I didn't. I wanted to stand and fight. And there were six of them. And I was in the middle. I don't have eyes in the back of my head. Plus giants are pretty fast themselves . . . And I did dodge, thank you very much, Harry Potter."
"You were in the middle?" Harry couldn't keep the disbelief, worry, and shock out of his voice.
She rolled her eyes, exhaled, and threw him an exasperated look.
"Sorry," he grumbled. "I worry about you. What happened to the three giants you were protecting?"
"They survived. Barely. I'll let Hagrid tell you that story. In the meantime, what's been happening here?"
He blinked at the abrupt change of subject, but realised there wasn't anything more to say about the giants. "Umbridge," he groaned.
Her eyes flicked between his. "Umbridge. That name sounds familiar."
"She used to work at the Ministry, but now she's Defence teacher at Hogwarts." Harry suddenly found himself telling her everything. From the lies the Prophet printed about him, to everyone at Hogwarts thinking him a liar, to Seamus and his mother, his feelings for Cho, the animagus research. Sorry Hermione, he thought. His unfair detentions, and finally—"
"What do you mean she used a blood quill on you?"
Harry jumped at the vicious tone in her voice.
"Give me your hand!" she said briskly and Harry handed it over. Sucking in a breath, she spat, "That bitch!"
Harry nodded vigorously.
Her hand reached over and cupped his face. "Don't worry, Harry. Tomorrow she's going to wish she'd never got out of bed."
"What are you going to do?" He couldn't stop the grin in his voice.
"Something inventive. And you won't have to go to your second bout of detentions either."
"What are you going to do?"
"Don't worry your pretty eyes over that."
"If I ever worry about Umbridge, it'll be how she has to die," he said nastily, but Elizabeth only smiled.
They leaned back against the tree, staring across the lake, which was already becoming clearer to see as dawn was not too far away.
"So you've started researching to become an animagus, have you?" Harry flushed suddenly. Elizabeth noticed. "I wasn't supposed to know, was I?" she said blandly.
"We were going to keep it a secret," he admitted, "but I wanted to tell you."
"You say you're having troubles searching for a particular ingredient. Brillog-something . . ."
"Brillogsapor Clanniria. Yeah, we can't seem to find it anywhere. We looked in all the books at Grimmauld Place. And now we're going through the Restricted Section of the Library, illegally."
"Hmm. Has it occurred to you that after the Marauders' exploits McGonagall or Dumbledore removed all the animagus books out of the library, to prevent certain students from getting tempted?"
Harry blinked. "Oh bollocks! If that's true we've been searching blindly for no reason!"
"Well I never claimed to know if they actually did do that, but its best to explore all options. But it doesn't matter anyway. I know someone who's an illegal animagus, and he might be able to help—"
"Sirius doesn't count, Elizabeth," he said flatly. "We weren't planning on telling him, even though I wanted to."
"Maybe after you've finished the transformation? But I wasn't talking about Sirius. Mabani, you know, the old eccentric Slayer, he's an unregistered animagus too."
Something niggled on Harry's thoughts upon hearing that; something that seemed like it should be really important. "Erm, yeah, isn't he the one that lives in the jungle?"
"Yep. He's also the one who smokes a lot. I still swear that powder he gave you is something illegal."
Harry sat up. Something illegal. "The powder! I'd forgotten all about that! Elizabeth, what exactly did he tell you when he gave you the powder?"
She looked perplexed. "Um, only that you'd know what to do with it. You can't be thinking . . . ?" She looked at his grinning face. "Okay you are thinking that. And I do recall him using Legilimens on me, which could be the reason how he knew you might be attempting to become an animgaus as he would have seen that I gave you the book for your birthday. That sneaky old . . . so and so!"
"But this is excellent! That powder is the ingredient we've been looking for!"
"Alright, no need to get so happy," she grumbled.
He looked at her askance. She should be feeling happy that he was happy. "What's got you so grumpy?"
"I got played, that's what. Ooooh! Just wait till I see him again. But seriously now, don't get too pleased, Harry. You still have to find out what it does, and how to use it, and the amount you have to use, etcetera and so forth."
"Yes, but now that we know what it is it should be easier to find."
She shrugged. "Alright, whatever. It's your adventure, not mine." She checked the watch on her wrist. "Damn Buggers! I forgot electronics don't work in Hogwarts. Oh it doesn't matter, the sun's almost out and it's time for you to go back to bed anyway. Have at least a couple hours sleep until classes start."
They stood up, stretched, and walked back around the lake in a leisurely silence. When they reached Hogwarts Castle Elizabeth stopped and Harry followed. She looked up. "What would you prefer? Levitation or, erm, jumping?"
Harry grinned. "I think I'll stick with levitation." He wasn't keen on jumping up to a window some storeys above the ground as it was rather small and Elizabeth could miss.
Elizabeth must have known what Harry was thinking because she drawled, "Afraid I'm gonna skip the ledge and we'll be forced to fall to our doom, are you?" At Harry's blush, she shrugged dismissively. "It won't matter anyway. It's not like we'd die if that happened. But, I'll adhere to your wishes and levitate you up. But first come here so I can say goodbye properly."
He didn't waste a second but embraced her, breathing in her familiar fruity scent. He didn't care if it made him look like a five-year-old; there was no one around to see anyway. Besides, he didn't know when he would see her again. "Where are you going now?" He mumbled against her shoulder.
"I assume you mean after I deal with Umbridge? Back to the giants. We're still not giving up. Besides I think Hagrid wants to do something . . . never mind." She drew back to look at him. "After that I think I might go to Grimmauld place and keep old Padfoot company."
"You mean annoy him?" Harry guessed shrewdly.
She grinned. "That too."
They looked at each other. Harry decided to try his luck while she was in such a mellow mood and ask about the missions Dumbledore sent her on. "What other stuff do you do for the Order?"
She blinked at him. "That was a bit out of the blue wasn't it?"
"I want to know," Harry insisted, perfectly reasonably in his opinion.
"Do you now? Oh alright. I suppose there isn't any harm."
Harry couldn't believe she'd given in so easily. "Why are you so keen on telling me? And isn't it supposed to be a secret?"
She wrinkled her nose, looking confused and bemused. "Do you want to know or what?"
"Yes!" he answered quickly, knowing he'd almost put his foot in it.
"Okay then. It's because nothing came of it, that's why. Dumbledore sent me on this task the night before you lot were supposed to leave for Hogwarts, because he knew the good relations Slayers have with other creatures of light."
"Don't tell me he asked you to recruit unicorns or something?"
She snorted. "No, but your damned close, sort of. It was centaurs." She saw the surprise on his face. "The ones in the Forbidden Forest, yeah," she answered without his having to ask. "Some seemed interested, I even made a friend. Firenze. And let me tell you I can spend the rest of my days just staring at him . . ." She trailed off on the look of shocked amazement on Harry's face. "Hem, anyway, the majority just wanted to be left alone, but they made a point of telling me to come visit any time. Seems they make exceptions for Slayers, unicorns, and other light creatures."
"Right. So that was the 'unconstructive mission' you were shouting about when I came to wake you up that morning."
She went red. "I'm grumpy when woken up by little brat brothers."
Harry only smiled. "You know you love me."
Tears filled her eyes at that, and he almost drew back in alarm. "Oh go on with you," she sniffled.
He kissed her cheek. "Don't be sad Elizabeth, I'll see you again at Christmas break," he promised, and spread his arms wide. "Now lift me up!"
She laughed. "All right, all right, babe." She whipped out her wand. "Say hi from me to your friends!" she shouted as Harry rocketed skywards.
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The next morning Harry was shaken awake by Ron, who'd already put his clothes on. He commented that Hermione and Ginny were waiting for them in the common room.
"That's good, because I have something to tell you guys," Harry said between yawns, and Ron just looked at him.
"Tell us on the way down to breakfast," he said, chucking a sock at Harry's head.
But Harry didn't get a chance to tell them on the way down to breakfast because a chattering crowd of Gryffindors, also on their way down to breakfast, encompassed them. Instead they speculated about what new dastardly thing Umbridge was to be doing at Hogwarts, and what Percy's role in it all was.
None of their speculations were very serious. Ron's suggestion that she was to replace Madam Pince in the library was met with disbelieving snorts, whilst Ginny thought she might finally have decided to quit and brought Professor Lupin back to teach in her stead. Strangely, that suggestion was taken more seriously than Ron's.
"It's fun to hope," Ginny had said, to Hermione's snort.
At last they arrived at the Great Hall where Harry was free to tell them about Elizabeth's visit last night.
Ron spewed a mouthful of pumpkin juice across the table at hearing that. "She was in our dorm?" was all he could shout.
"Yes, and that's not the best part . . . shouldn't we wait for Fred and George?"
Ginny flapped a hand. "We can tell them later. Besides, Lee'd be with them anyway. What I want to know is how she managed to come inside our common room? She doesn't know the password. Or did you tell her, Harry?"
"No I didn't. She used her broom," he answered. He couldn't very well tell her that Elizabeth had jumped up through the window. Ginny didn't know the truth about her after all. "Anyway, I figured out what Brillogsapor Clannira is."
This time it was Hermione who almost sprayed. She stopped herself in time and choked on a piece of egg. "How did you manage to do that?" She sounded suspicious, as if she couldn't quite believe that Harry had managed to work out what it was all by himself.
"Well I didn't exactly figure it out, but I did one thing better. I remembered."
Hermione frowned. "What are you—?"
"You know that souvenir Elizabeth brought me from Africa?" Ron, Hermione, and Ginny nodded. "It turns out that the powder in the barrel is the missing ingredient."
"Harry, that, that's fantastic!" Hermione gushed. "Do you realise this means we won't have to go search for it and dig it up or whatever! It saved us so much time! And Elizabeth knew, didn't she? What am I saying, she must have known! She gave it to you after all." Harry took a sip of coffee so as not to answer that, but Hermione still looked disconcerted. "I suppose then, she must have known you would have started researching. Oh well, there's nothing we can do about it now. But how did you work out that the powder was the ingredient?"
"Oh," Harry thought quickly, "just something Elizabeth mentioned. It struck a chord."
Hermione seemed satisfied with that answer and went back to scooping egg in her mouth.
The breakfast owls arrived not too long after and they finally found out what the whole business with Umbridge was.
"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this 'Educational Decree' and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers!" Hermione spat after reading out the article to them. She was breathing fast and her eyes were very bright. "I can't believe this. It's outrageous!"
"I know it is," Harry said, glancing down at the faint outline of words on his right hand.
Ron, however, grinned.
"What are you so happy about?" Ginny asked. But what Ron was so happy about they never found out. Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, the twins' best friend, plonked down next to them looking positively gleeful.
"Is everyone happy today? What's going on with you lot?" Ginny asked them, substituting Ron.
Fred lowered his voice. "Umbridge. She's gone and had a tantrum."
Pause. "What!" They all asked.
Harry looked up at the teachers' table and noted that Dumbledore, McGonagall and Umbridge were absent. It had to be something to do with Elizabeth, Harry thought astutely. "What's happened?"
"We don't know," Lee said, leaning forward. "But the rumour is that she woke up this morning, went to her office, and started yelling. Showed up in Dumbledore's office to complain even. Rumour has it Fudge is even coming. Something about sabotage."
"It's Elizabeth," Harry mumbled. Everyone besides Lee looked sharply at him; because he didn't know Elizabeth, but mostly perhaps because he was looking the other way.
"Don't look now, but it's McGonagall."
Harry didn't even have a chance to glance around before: "Potter!" Harry's transfiguration Professor strode briskly up the Gryffindor table.
She came to a stop before him. Hands folded sharply in front of her.
Harry found he wasn't really surprised to see her there. "Yes, Professor?"
"The Headmaster would like to see you, Potter. No leave your things, you're friends can carry them for you to your next class. I doubt Professor Dumbledore will want to keep you for a very long time. There's no proof either way . . ." Her brow creased in irritation. "Follow me!"
Exchanging resigned looks with those closest to him Harry stood and followed McGonagall out of the hall and along the corridors, ignoring the whispers of the students' about him. There was no doubt in his mind now that whatever Elizabeth had done Umbridge had somehow found a way to blame him. It didn't matter anyway. They had no proof that he'd done . . . whatever it was he was supposed to have done.
But what had Elizabeth done?
Harry hurried after McGonagall, which wasn't nearly so hard to do now that he was of a height comparable to hers. He was beyond curious now, though he knew it wouldn't be a good idea to ask his transfiguration professor. If he was right about all this being Elizabeth's doing he'd find out soon enough anyway.
" . . . It's Harry Potter, I know it is!" Harry could hear Umbridge shout as they approached her office. "Somehow he found out about my new position and deigned to sabotage me!" There were a few angry breaths.
"If you would tell my why you think Mr Potter had anything to do with this, Delores, then I shall be very much inclined to hear your side of the tale, as it were. But since you refuse to say anything of the kind, I'm afraid that for now Mrs Potter has abstinence. And sit down please, my dear Professor. I'll draw you a cup of tea."
"No I don't think I will, Dumbledore! That boy has had it in for me since I started teaching here at Hogwarts. Why, all the detentions he's managed to accumulate should tell you something about that!"
"Of course," Dumbledore said quietly, "there are ways to check—Ah, Professor McGonagall . . . and Harry. So good of you to join us!" Dumbledore made it sound as though he and McGonagall had just arrived at a tea party via invitation from the headmaster himself.
But the room was certainly not fit to host a tea party in. Or anything for that matter. It was complete chaos. The desk Harry had so often been forced to write on was now crumpled against the far left wall, broken in two, and its legs were twisted and bent, as though someone had thrown it against the wall. In fact, a deep spider-webbed dent sitting about two meters above proved that theory. Bits of wall had even crumbled onto the desk and surrounded it in a fine layer of dust and small chunks of debris.
Other items of furniture seemed to have gone the same route. Cabinets were broken in half and bent, chairs were completely splintered, important looking parchments were strewn everywhere and some looked as though they'd been put in a food processor. The large pot plant that used to be in the corner was now half sticking out of the floor like someone very strong had pushed it into the concrete. Even the window was smashed.
Must have been how Elizabeth got in, thought Harry. It took considerable effort on his part not to grin like an idiot.
But the focal point of the room had to be the blood quill floating directly in the centre, broken in half, with the words "IF YOU USE THIS ON ANOTHER STUDENT, I WILL KILL YOU" written under it in much the same way the memory of Tom Riddle had done down in the Chamber of Secrets three years ago. Harry had to admit that if he was Umbridge — a horrid thought — he'd be deeply distressed. The whole incident looked like a scene from a muggle horror movie.
"We were just discussing—" Dumbledore began, but stopped abruptly. He'd stopped because Umbridge's so often heard "Hem hem," had interrupted him.
The headmaster blinked and turned to the direction of the sound. Harry clenched his fist. Umbridge hadn't stopped looking at him since he'd walked in. Her look suggested she'd like murder him sometime in the near future.
"I was wondering, Headmaster," she said in her simpering girlish voice, "if I could be permitted to question Mr Potter, as he was the one most likely to be responsible for all this." The tone in her voice had started off nice and friendly, but finished like she had a frog stuck in her throat.
Dumbledore looked at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles. "Innocent until proven guilty, Delores. And again, I shall ask you, why you believe Mr Potter to be responsible?" His voice was polite but everyone could hear the underlying warning in it.
Umbridge's gaze flitted to Harry, and he stared back. They both knew why she thought Harry to be the one to have done it, but she couldn't very well say why, not in front of Dumbledore. Admitting that Harry wanted revenge because she'd used a blood quill on him would not go down well with her or her boss. And any other excuse she used, such as saying Harry had it in for the Ministry or Harry was mentally disturbed, just wouldn't cut it. It was too weak, and certainly didn't warrant an attack of this sort on her office. Merlin, but it felt good to hold this over her ugly head. For the thousandth time he thanked God for bringing Elizabeth into his life.
"In that case," Dumbledore continued cheerfully, obviously interpreting Umbridge's silence as not having sufficient proof, "I believe I shall get on with the questioning. Now, Harry, you are no doubt aware as to why you are here?"
"I think it's something to do Professor Umbridge's office, sir."
Dumbledore's lip tweaked. "Quite right! Now, I will ask you: Did you sneak into Professor Umbridge's office sometime between eleven o'clock last night and seven this morning, to, for lack of a better word, trash it?"
Harry stared at the toad woman. "No, sir."
"Did you write this message using your wand—" Dumbledore gestured to the scarlet lettering in mid-air "—which threatens Professor Umbridge's life, in an attempt to frighten her into leaving Hogwarts?"
"No, sir."
Umbridge was trembling with anger. "He's lying, Headmaster!"
"I do not believe so, Delores," Dumbledore said quietly.
Umbridge's stared at him, face turning blank, lips compressing. She looked in danger of blowing up from the inside. "What exactly do you mean, Dumbledore, the boy is clearly guil—"
"I mean that no student below sixth year could've possibly lifted your desk and thrown it against the opposite wall. They do not have the knowledge, or the magical power, do to so. However, if you prefer, I will allow Mr Potter's wand to be thoroughly looked over, and if it coincides with the magical signature found in this room, then, Mr Potter is guilty. But not before."
"I have no problem with that," Harry said when Umbridge started to look gleeful. Her face fell abruptly. Ha, take that you slimy toad! The fact that Harry was so eager to have his wand checked must have thrown her.She wasn't looking so confident now.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said when Harry gave him his wand. "Delores, if you will."
Umbridge looked sour but she whipped out her wand and flicked it over Harry's. A tiny puff of gold and scarlet smoke, distinctly lightening-bolt shaped, appeared out of his wand. Umbridge took a moment to glance at Harry before she flicked her wand in front of the writing in the air.
For a split second Harry got a fright because gold and scarlet smoke also appeared, and he hoped it was only because Elizabeth was family, but the smoke changed in the last second and became completely white. An indistinctive shape appeared, rather like five people all compressed together with arms, legs, and heads being the only clear thing to see.
Everyone stared at it.
"I think this proves that Potter wasn't the culprit!" McGonagall said, hand on Harry's shoulder. "You should go to class now anyway, Potter. I'll walk you there. I must speak with Professor Binns as it is. Rest assured, Delores, that Professor Dumbledore and I will do everything in our power to find the real culprit. Good day."
Umbridge looked deeply hateful as she watched Harry walk out with McGonagall. The last thing he heard before McGonagall closed the door was Dumbledore saying, "Now that we have ascertained Mr Potter is not responsible, would you mind explaining to me the meaning of this message, Delores?"
Barely refraining from laughing outright Harry followed his transfiguration Professor along the corridor.
As soon as she and Harry arrived at the second corridor McGonagall stopped. "Both the Headmaster and myself know that it was Elizabeth, Potter." His mouth opened. "I don't know how she managed to gain access to Professor Umbridge's office let alone Hogwarts itself, and no I don't think it was a broom. But I also know she came to visit you last night. She came to visit the Headmaster early this morning also, right before meeting you I believe."
There was something in McGonagall's eyes that made Harry think that, despite putting on a disproving front, she was rather pleased with the havoc Elizabeth had caused in Umbridge's office.
"Did she tell you she would be doing this?"
"Not directly, no," Harry admitted. "She only told me she'd be doing something."
McGonagall stared at him, then sniffed. "Well you can tell her thank you from me. Don't look so surprised, Potter. I never speak ill of my colleagues, and this is no exception, but I do, on occasion, indirectly speak ill of them."
They exchanged smiles and, without another word, continued down the hall.
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A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I think you know what the white smoke represents. Tell me what you think of this chapter and press the little review button.