Chapter 10: Not My Fault
Talked to Siri, and he had an interesting theory. He suggested that, since all this time I've been practicing controlling my powers, maybe surrendering control and trusting my abilities was the next step to getting everything to work right. Not sure if I want to try that just yet so I figure I'll just try my way for a bit first and then give his way a shot. The only thing I have to lose is my life, after all.
They left McGonagall's office and blended into the throng heading down the stairs. They heard whispers all around them, discussing what had gone on during Umbridge's class. Harry looked irritated at the gossiping, but Leo chose to ignore it in lieu of telling Harry about meeting with the Marauders on Saturday. Harry looked much happier after that, glad that he'd have something to look forward to after dealing with Umbridge all week.
They found Ron, Hermione, and Draco sitting at the Gryffindor table, waiting for them. Harry sat between Ron and Hermione, while Leo sat across from them next to Draco. He relayed to Draco in low undertones about him and Harry having to be late for their meeting with the Marauders, but the pale-blonde reminded him that McGonagall had said that they had detention during the week – not the weekend. Leo grinned broadly at this and enjoyed his meal more than he thought he would, even with all the people whispering loudly about him and Harry.
"What I don't get," said Harry in a shaking voice, laying down his knife and fork, "is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them..."
"The thing is, Harry, I'm not sure they did," said Hermione grimly. "Oh, let's get out of here."
She slammed down her own knife and fork; Ron looked sadly at his half-finished apple pie but followed suit. Leo waved farewell to them, choosing to remain at the Gryffindor table with Draco instead. Draco threw a bread roll at the side of his head.
"Remember that talk about subtlety we had this afternoon, Black?"
"If I say 'yes', do we still have to continue this conversation?"
Draco rolled his eyes.
"I realize that, as a Gryffindor, the concept is hard to grasp -"
"You're a Slytherin sitting at the Gryffindor table," Leo raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you really the one to lecture to me on subtlety?"
Draco opened and closed his mouth several times before scowling and telling him to shut up and eat his food. Leo grinned, chuckling slightly before returning to his chicken and dumplings. He paused suddenly, his spoon halfway to his mouth as a feeling of foreboding flooded through him as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He was about to turn around to see what was going on when he heard a familiar throat clearing sound behind him. He didn't even bother stifling his groan.
"Mr. Malfoy," spoke Umbridge's high-pitched voice. "What are you doing?"
"Eating dinner, Professor," Draco replied, sending Leo a silencing look when he opened his mouth to respond.
"And why are you eating at the Gryffindor table instead of your own House?"
Leo could practically hear the fake smile in her voice. He prepared himself to turn around and make a sarcastic remark when Draco grabbed his wrist and stepped on his foot under the table. He glared at the pale-blonde, who subtly shook his head before turning to face Umbridge.
"As a Professor and – more importantly – a representative of the Ministry," Draco responded in a cool tone, "I thought you'd be supportive of – even pleased with – a little inter-House unity. In the Ministry, you have to interact with people from other Houses, so I figured I'd get a head start on it and start preparing for a future career there as early as possible."
Umbridge looked thoughtful, seeming to consider his response before she nodded.
"Twenty points to Slytherin for your initiative, Mr. Malfoy. Carry on."
Umbridge walked away, leaving Leo to gape at his friend as Draco turned back to his soup. He ate a few spoonfuls, took a long drink of his pumpkin juice, and finally turned back to Leo, who was still staring at him. Draco smirked.
"That is what subtlety looks like, Black. Notice how I didn't get detention?"
Leo scowled before pasting on a neutral expression.
"That looked more like lying than anything else."
"Yes, well," Draco took another drink of his pumpkin juice. "Sometimes the two go hand-in-hand. As an accomplished liar yourself, all you have to do is master the art of subtlety and you too can avoid detention and gain points for your House."
"You really think I'm accomplished?"
"Priorities, Black. Find them."
The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Hagrid was still absent from the staff table, but Leo wasn't too bothered by it. He was more focused on planning ways to get Umbridge back for – among other reasons – giving him and Harry detention. Much to his friends' dismay, they could not dissuade him.
Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Flitwick and McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing the class on the importance of O.W.L.s.
"What you must remember," said little Professor Flitwick squeakily, perched as ever on a pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"
They then spent more than an hour reviewing Summoning Charms, which according to Flitwick were bound to come up in their O.W.L., and he rounded off the lesson by setting them their largest amount of Charms homework ever.
It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration.
"You cannot pass an O.W.L.," said McGonagall grimly, "without serious application, practice, and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work." Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise. "Yes, you too, Longbottom," said McGonagall. "There's nothing wrong with your work except lack of confidence. So... today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until N.E.W.T. level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your O.W.L."
Leo stared at her for a moment before glancing down at his snail. He didn't think Vanishing Spells would be so difficult, especially not after he had learned how to become an Animagus. Granted, his father had put forth most of the effort and all he had really done was hold a leaf in his mouth for a month, said a few words of Latin, and drank a potion. But we still mastered a very complex form of Transfiguration. He nodded to himself firmly before turning his attention back to the snail and Vanishing it on his second try. Hermione was the only other person besides himself who managed it by the end of class.
Ron and Harry were now so behind on homework that they headed up to the library for lunch, and with Leo choosing to eat in the kitchens with Luna, Hermione and Draco were left by themselves. Leo joked with Luna all through lunch about how awkward and/or nerdy their conversation was. When lunch came to an end, he walked her out to the grounds before the two separated, Luna going to Herbology and Leo to Care of Magical Creatures.
His friends caught up to him about halfway down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid's front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with many twigs. Leo heard a sound behind him and turned his head slightly to see it was Zabini and the other Slytherins, who were all laughing at something he had said. Leo rolled his eyes and led his friends closer to the paddock.
"Everyone here?" barked Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. "Let's crack on then — who can tell me what these things are called?"
She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. Hermione's hand shot into the air. Behind her back, Zabini did a buck-toothed imitation of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question. Leo pointed his wand behind his back and muttered a spell, and Zabini suddenly found himself slipping on a patch of ice and landing in the mud, much to the amusement of all the Gryffindors and Draco.
Luckily, before Grubbly-Plank's attention could be drawn to the commotion, the twigs on the table leapt up, eliciting shrieks from a few of the girls. Leo crept forward slightly, eyeing them with renewed curiosity.
"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" said Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food. "So — anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?"
"Bowtruckles," said Hermione. "They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees."
"Five points for Gryffindor," said Grubbly-Plank. "Yes, these are bowtruckles and, as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"
"Wood lice," said Hermione promptly as Leo's nose wrinkled in distaste. "But fairy eggs if they can get them."
"Good girl, take another five points. So whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of wood lice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a bowtruckle — I have enough here for one between three — you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labeled by the end of the lesson."
The students each paired off into groups of three until only Draco, Leo, and Neville remained. The round-faced boy looked a bit nervous when he asked if he could join the two, but Leo said it didn't bother him and Draco didn't care. Draco made Leo hold onto their bowtruckle while they sketched it, thinking that with his gift with animals he'd be able to keep the bowtruckle calm and steady. He was very wrong.
The bowtruckle turned out to be more plant than animal and didn't appear to like Leo very much. He spent most of the lesson trying to keep the bowtruckle from marring his face and, as a result, ended up with many scratches across his hands and some along his jaw-line until Leo got fed up and eventually Stunned the thing. Things went much more smoothly after that. Or, at least, they would have if Grubbly-Plank hadn't taken one look at him and sent him to the hospital wing.
Despite his attempts to argue against it, he gathered his things and tramped up to the castle and up the stairs. He only ran into McGonagall on his way up to the hospital wing. She looked like she was about to ask what had happened, but seemed to think better of it and shooed him off to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey managed to get him fixed up in time for Herbology, where Sprout spent most of the lesson – much like the other teachers – talking about O.W.L.s. Even Leo was starting to get tired of hearing about them at this point.
He left the greenhouses with his classmates, smelling heavily of dragon dung just like the rest of them. Knowing that his detention with Umbridge was at five o'clock, he could either head to dinner or shower. There was no time for both. Deciding that he could just nick food from the kitchens later, he ran up to Gryffindor tower and showered as quickly as possible. When he found himself smelling much better, he ran down the stairs and waited on the second floor for Harry to show up, not wanting to see Umbridge just yet.
Harry showed up five minutes later, reminding him that they had detention on Friday when they were supposed to be attending Quidditch tryouts. Leo wasn't too bothered by this but became alarmed when Harry also told him that he was going to ask Umbridge if they could skip that day and make it up. Leo placed his hands on Harry's shoulders.
"Harry," he said. "That is the dumbest thing that has ever come out of your mouth."
Harry scowled and pushed his hands away.
"Have you got a better idea then?"
"Don't even bring up Quidditch," Leo replied as they made their way down the corridor to Umbridge's office. "Don't give her the satisfaction of knowing that she's making us miss something we'll enjoy."
"... That's oddly well thought out for you."
"I have my moments," the blonde grinned, knocking on Umbridge's door.
"Come in," a sugary voice replied.
Leo opened the door and stopped at the threshold, looking around in abject horror. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. Leo felt the strong urge to walk out of the room and never come back.
"Good evening, Mr. Potter and Mr. Black."
"Evening," Harry said stiffly.
Leo said nothing, still debating whether it would be worth it to run or not. Harry nudged him and he blinked, realizing he couldn't leave his cousin at the mercy of this toad lady. He gave a small jerk of his head, the most greeting she would ever get from him. Aside from his favorite vulgar one, of course.
"Well, sit down," she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up two straight-backed chairs. Two pieces of blank parchment lay on the table, one for each of them.
The cousins exchanged a look before sitting down in the chairs, Harry dropping his bag beside him.
"Now, the both of you are going to be doing some lines for me. No, not with your quill," she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. "You're both going to be using a rather special pair of mine. Here you are."
She handed them each a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.
"Mr. Potter, I want you to write 'I must not tell lies,'" she informed him before turning to Leo. "Mr. Black, you will be writing 'I must respect my superiors.'"
Leo stared at her for a moment, wondering if she actually believed that making him write that over and over again was actually going to have any sort of impact on how he behaved. If so, he was going to enjoy bursting whatever delusional bubble she was currently living in. It was only a question of how he was going to do it.
"How many times?" Harry asked.
"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," Umbridge said in a tone Leo didn't really like. "Off you go."
She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Leo placed the tip of the black quill down on the parchment and was about to begin writing the first of many lines when Harry spoke again.
"You haven't given us any ink," he said.
"Oh, you won't need ink," said Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.
Leo felt uneasy at that remark and couldn't help but wonder how the quill would write. With the power of positive thinking, Leo. He rolled his eyes and placed the tip of the quill back on the parchment, writing: I must respect my superiors.
He hissed, pulling his hand back rapidly as he winced in pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Leo's right hand, cut into his skin as though with a knife. The skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth. He turned his head when he heard Harry gasp, seeing a similar injury that quickly healed over.
Leo tried to rein in his growing anger as he glared at Umbridge. She was watching them, her wide, toad-like mouth stretched in a smile.
"Yes?"
"Nothing," said Harry quietly.
Leo sat there, hands clenched and silently fuming as he fought the urge to light the whole bloody office on fire. Taking on Umbridge is like taking on the Ministry. He recalled, paraphrasing McGonagall's words from the previous day. She was right, he wasn't ready to take on the Ministry – and lighting Umbridge on fire would practically be a declaration of war. He couldn't draw Harry into that war – and he most assuredly would be drawn in, given he was also in the same room - not when they were already in one with Voldy.
He unclenched his fists as he reluctantly let go of his rage. Instead, he stared down at the parchment, its words still shining with his blood. He sat there for a full minute, deep in thought. Umbridge's voice broke him out of his thoughts.
"Mr. Black, is there a problem?"
"Just thinking about what to write," he frowned, rubbing his chin.
Umbridge looked perplexed before she smiled sweetly.
"I've already told you what to write, Mr. Black," she reminded him.
"If I'm going to be carving a bloody message into my flesh, then it'll be my kind of bloody message," Leo retorted before turning to Harry. "What do you think I should write? Something inspirational? Something funny? An obscure reference?"
"Well, you should probably keep it short," Harry responded slowly, eyeing Umbridge, who looked close to yelling again. "You are carving it into your own hand, after all."
"Hmm. Fair enough. Four words at most then -"
"Black, this is -"
"Hey, I'm trying to have a conversation here, and it's very rude to interrupt," Leo cut her off abruptly.
"You're in detention!"
"And whose fault is that?" he raised an eyebrow at her.
Her face turned such a dark shade of red it almost made the blood on Leo's parchment look neon by comparison. He suppressed a wicked grin.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" she shouted. "And detention on Saturday, two o'clock!"
"Morning or afternoon?" Leo inquired in the politest tone he could manage.
"Afternoon," she snapped. "Now, get back to writing."
Leo gave a mock salute as he picked the black quill back up and hovered it over the parchment. He stared at it thoughtfully for a second before he finally came up with a phrase and began writing, suppressing a smile. Over and over, he wrote: Don't trust authority. He was grateful that Umbridge was so immersed in her work, otherwise he was quite certain he'd have detention from now until the end of September. He didn't want to spend that much time with her.
"Come here," she said, after what seemed hours.
He and Harry stood up. Leo's hand was stinging painfully, but he was feeling quite triumphant with his little act of rebellion. When he looked down at his hand, he saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw.
"Hands," she said.
Harry handed her his while Leo just held his up, not wanting her to touch him. She tried to grab Leo's when she finished examining Harry's, but he pulled it away, looking mildly disgusted. Thankfully, she misinterpreted it as a look of pain.
"I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet," she said, smiling. "Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."
They left without a word, Leo only briefly pausing to slip his parchment into Harry's bag before they walked slowly out of her office and down the corridor. They didn't talk until they had turned a corner and Harry spoke.
"Was that... was that even legal?" Harry questioned with an expression that clearly said he knew the answer.
"No, I don't think it was," Leo glowered, glancing back before facing forward once more. "Doesn't matter, I'll get her back for this."
"Leo -"
"Don't bother trying to convince me not to, Harry," Leo retorted. "She deserves everything she's getting -"
"I wasn't going to tell you not to do anything," Harry cut across him, a mixture of amused and irritated. "I was just going to tell you not to get caught."
"Oh," the blonde replied in a surprised tone before grinning broadly. "Well, all right then. Let the games begin."
Leo sat at the Gryffindor table the next morning, sipping his tea and looking tired but quite satisfied. He had stayed up all night, staring at the Marauder's Map and waiting for Umbridge to go to sleep. When she finally went to her room, he grabbed Harry's cloak from out of his trunk, threw it over himself, and snuck down the stairs to her office. To his surprise, her door had unlocked with a simple Alohomora charm and allowed him entrance.
He immediately sifted through her desk, stealing all of her normal quills and tossing them out of the window before looking for the black quills he and Harry had been forced to use. He scowled when he couldn't locate them. Must have them in her room somewhere then. Or on her person. He shrugged, deciding to move to his back-up plan and turning to the plates on her walls.
He raised his wand, prepared to Transfigure the plates when a different thought occurred to him: subtlety. Internally berating and praising Draco, he leaned out the window and angled himself to where he could see the Owlery. He cast a few Summoning spells, and the corpses of various rodents, feathers, and a few owl droppings flew toward him. He dove to the side, avoiding the mess as it splattered everywhere, looking as though a flock of owls had partied in there.
He smiled into his teacup as Umbridge strolled into the Great Hall, looking quite irate as she made her way to her seat up at the staff table. The look on her face bolstered him throughout the day, keeping him smiling through Ancient Runes, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Astronomy. McGonagall had stared at him all through class but seemed to decide, once again, she was better off not knowing. Not even Angelina yelling at him and Harry during dinner could ruin his good mood.
The second detention that night was just as bad as the previous one. The skin on the back of Leo's hand became irritated more quickly now, red and inflamed; Leo thought it unlikely to keep healing as effectively for long. Soon the cut would remain etched in his hand, a permanent reminder that authority figures were not to be trusted. He couldn't wait to see the look on Umbridge's face when she discovered he had been writing a different message this whole time.
He and Harry parted ways that night after detention as Harry still had a mountain of homework to complete. Leo ran around the forest for a bit in the form of Aslan, contemplating what else he could do to ruin Umbridge's life. He couldn't do anything else this week, everything had to be carefully executed to the point where it looked like an accident – Harry had told him not to get caught, after all. Leo didn't think he'd ever considered what consequences his actions would have as much as he did that night.
The cousins' third detention passed in the same way as the previous two, except that after two hours the words "Don't trust authority" did not fade from the back of Leo's hand, but remained scratched there, oozing droplets of blood. He glanced over to see Harry's was the same. He quickly put his hand down as Umbridge looked over at them, hoping the flowing blood would smudge and obscure the message on his hand. He didn't want her to find out until their last day of detention. Thankfully, she only seemed to notice all the blood on his hand and not the message itself as she came around to examine their hands.
"Ah," she said softly. "Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it? You may both leave for tonight."
"Do we still have to come back tomorrow?" said Harry, picking up his schoolbag with his left hand.
"Oh yes," said Umbridge, smiling widely as before. "Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evening's work. And, of course, you still have detention Saturday, Mr. Black."
"Can't wait," Leo replied dryly as he rose from his seat.
Once more, he and Harry parted ways, Leo preferring to be alone to gather his thoughts after the sessions with Umbridge. Being in his lion form muted the growing anger and rage that was bubbling up inside him, growing stronger with each passing second he and Harry spent with that – that thing. He shook his head as he reached the tree line, falling forward into his Animagus form and racing off through the trees, all thoughts of Umbridge vanishing from his mind.
Friday dawned sullen and sodden as the rest of the week. Harry found him early that morning as he was returning to Gryffindor tower and informed him that Ron and Hermione knew about their hands now. Leo scowled at this before heading up the stairs, showering and dressing quickly, and running back down to the Great Hall in time to catch the tail end of breakfast.
The lessons passed by in a bit of a haze for the teen until after lunch, where he slept through History of Magic before heading off to his next class and then, finally, dinner. Draco switched between scowling at him and Umbridge all through the meal, leading Leo to believe that Ron and Hermione had also told him about their hands. While upset that he hadn't been consulted beforehand, he was pleased that Draco was being included more and more in the group's secrets.
At five o'clock that evening, he and Harry knocked on Umbridge's office door, were told to enter, and did so. The blank pieces of parchment lay ready for them on the lace-covered table, the pointed black quills beside them. The cousins exchanged a grim look.
"You two know what to do," said Umbridge, smiling sweetly over at them.
Once more, by the end of their session, Leo's hand was covered in blood alongside Harry's. He stared down at his own hand with vague interest, wondering what it would look like after tomorrow's detention.
"Let's see if the two of you have gotten the message yet, shall we?" said Umbridge's soft voice not long after night had fallen.
She moved toward them, stretching out her short be-ringed fingers for Harry's arm. The moment she touched him, Harry wrenched his arm out of her grip and leapt to his feet, staring at her. She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth. Leo ran over to his cousin, grabbing his arm worriedly and prepared to take out his wand in case she had done something to him. Besides the obvious, anyway.
"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" she said softly.
Leo glowered at her.
"Well, I think I've made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go. Mr. Black, I shall see you tomorrow."
Leo grabbed Harry's schoolbag and pulled him from the room as quickly as possible. He didn't say anything until they were halfway up the stairs, at which point he asked Harry what had happened. He responded that his scar hurt when Umbridge had grabbed him, just like it had in the graveyard when Voldemort had touched him. Leo was quiet for a moment.
"You think Moldy was controlling her like with Quirrell?"
"Well," said Harry, dropping his voice, "it's a possibility, isn't it?"
"I don't think he could do it in the same way. Not now that he has a physical form," Leo shook his head before a dark expression swept over his face. "I kind of hope he is possessing her that way. That would change everything."
Harry stared at him somewhat nervously.
"Would you kill her?" he finally whispered. "Like you did with Quirrell?"
Leo was silent for a moment. Could he kill again? Well, yes, he supposed he was capable of it. But would he? He wasn't sure. Killing Umbridge in cold blood was far different from killing Quirrell beneath the trap door. Killing Quirrell had haunted him through his entire second year and he wasn't able to accept and make peace with what he had done until he was faced with the opportunity to do so again – to kill Riddle. Granted, he didn't think he could kill a memory, but the point still remained.
He didn't even think he would've been able to kill Pettigrew, despite his words to Sirius, Remus, and Voldemort. He had wanted Pettigrew dead, without a doubt, but he hadn't wanted it to be at his hand. Not truly.
But Umbridge... he hated her more than he had ever hated anyone in his entire life. More than Lockhart, more than Pettigrew, and more than Voldemort. Did he hate her enough to end her life though?
"I don't know," Leo finally mumbled.