Chapter Eighteen
That week additionally heralded the beginning of Umbridge's reign as High Inquisitor. Tom approved whole-heartedly of the name, enjoying how nicely it suited the woman, even if he was disgusted at having to see even more of her. He waited until they had had a week of watching her sit in on classes before raising his hand and commenting, in his third DADA class, "Madam Umbridge, why are you still teaching?"
The woman's eyes narrowed. "Excuse me, Mister Potter, but I'm not sure I understand your meaning." She raised a hand to her mouth and tittered as though she'd said something amusing.
Tom smiled guilelessly at her. "Well, you've taken on so much extra work becoming the High Inquisitor, I can't begin to imagine how you have time to do both that and fulfill your duties as a professor. I applaud your dedication, but it must be exhausting. I'm surprised you haven't given the less important task to, well, someone less important."
Not only Umbridge, but most of his classmates were staring at him as though he'd spoken pure Gobbledegook. Only Hermione and, surprisingly, Longbottom seemed more exasperated than affronted or bewildered. Tom didn't change his expression in the slightest, continuing to pretend he had no idea why anyone would be confused by his statement.
After a moment, their professor recovered herself. "I… appreciate your concern, Mister Potter," she started, looking faintly ill, "but I consider both tasks to be equally important and equally worth doing."
Tom pursed his lips, drawing his eyebrows together worriedly. "I can understand how that would make it difficult to prioritize one over the other, but that only makes it more important to delegate some of your duties, wouldn't you agree? It would be terrible to make a mistake due to overwork, especially with how strongly you feel about things."
When she didn't say anything, but merely stood and blinked at him uncomprehendingly for several seconds, he sighed, opened up his glamoured book, and went back to reading, looking for all the world like he was completely engrossed in rereading the given material. At the front of the room, Umbridge stood, lip quivering as she realized nearly the entire class was watching her, waiting to see what she would do, yet she had no idea what had just happened. Harry Potter wasn't meant to be… this. He shouldn't be considerate toward her, and he shouldn't be thinking about how hard she was working. He was supposed to be fuming in impotent teenage anger at her unfairness. Why would that not be the case? She frowned as she came to the conclusion that he must have been mocking her.
Or so Tom supposed she felt. Some 'light' Legillimency between pages both confirmed and ensured it. (On the off-chance he lobotomized her, Tom was willing to write her off as an unfortunate sacrifice. Someone needed to be his guinea pig as he fought to regain control of all his strongest magics, and he could think of few more worthy subjects.)
Umbridge licked her lips. "Detention, Potter." She turned back to her desk and sat without another word.
Tom raised his head and looked at her pityingly, but merely nodded. "Yes, Professor." He returned to his reading.
When class was over, Hermione accosted him. "What was that? And why did she give you detention for it?"
Tom made sure to speak loudly enough for the other students to hear. "Don't you see? The work is already getting to her. The Minister must be insane, expecting one woman to cover both duties."
This, as intended, set his classmates off whispering to one another, even as another, less welcome voice spoke up. "You may extend your detention to cover the rest of the week, Mister Potter," Umbridge said shortly. "For your defamation of the Minister's character."
By the time dinner had nearly finished, it was all over the school that the Minister was taking advantage of his Undersecretary's devotion, and Harry Potter was paying the price as she took out her frustration on him.
Hermione stared hard at him. "I can't believe that you planned for all of this," she said. "It's not possible."
"Mmm, believe what you will," Tom said. He wasn't going to admit to using Legilimency to give the woman a nudge toward deciding on her course. In deference to his promise to Ginny, it really had been nothing more than a nudge as she wavered between possibilities. He might tell Luna about it though. She seemed like she'd appreciate a good plan at least, though the end of it had gone somewhat awry.
With a huff, Hermione elbowed him in the side, but a smile played at her lips. Toward the end of dinner, she looked up at him suddenly. "Will you start teaching us this weekend? I don't want to fall any further behind."
Tom sighed and considered it. "Fine. I will tutor you, Ginny, and Luna this weekend. If you like, you may each bring one person with you. After, I'll decide whether to allow more people to attend our study sessions."
Suddenly a mass of bushy, brown hair engulfed his vision, and he felt both very warm and very confined. It took, actually, several moments and seeing Hermione pulling away, blushing, to realize that she'd just hugged him… and he almost wanted her to do it again. He blinked once and closed off his awareness of the bond. "It's time for my detention," he said. Then he stood and left without another word. Behind him, he heard a furiously whispered argument break out between Ginny and Hermione, but he ignored it. Instead, he wandered through the halls in a daze until he reached Umbridge's rooms. He stood outside and let his wand slide into his hand. He raised his hand to open the door…
...and a small, pale hand grabbed his wand hand and pulled it to the breast of an equally small waif of a girl.
"Luna," he said evenly. He could see small, reddish blistering lines radiating out from where her skin touched his and realized his magic was breaking free of his control and lashing out at her.
She didn't flinch, but rather looked at him with far too knowing eyes. "If you do this, your plans will fall apart," she said seriously. "The heliopaths will come, and they will burn everything that matters to you until there is nothing left."
"Then I'll kill them too," Tom said, but his grip on his wand loosened. He let Luna pull it from his hand and gently return it to the make-shift holster he'd added to his sleeve.
She gave him a sad smile. "You know that won't be possible."
She didn't demand that he change his mind, and she didn't didn't ask him to stop hurting her. She only held his hand to her chest, breathing slowly. He could feel the steady beat of her heart and was reminded absurdly of a cat purring. Slowly, his own heartbeat slowed to match, and his breathing returned to normal as well. Tom pulled his hand away.
The door opened, and Madam Umbridge smiled a sickly sweet smile at them. "You're late, Mister Potter. That will be another day's worth of detention."
Tom pushed Luna away, silently telling her to leave before Umbridge thought to give her detention as well. He entered the room and sat, but rather than pick up the quill and begin his lines, he watched Umbridge as she closed the door, locked it, and sat back at her desk. "Is it just because I'm a halfblood?" he asked.
The woman cocked her head. "Whatever do you mean, Mister Potter?" she asked innocently, but her smile was a touch too smug.
Tom gave her a flat stare. "My official stance doesn't contradict the Ministry's, so there's no reason for the Minister to target me. I want to know why you're still pursuing this vendetta."
"Do I need a reason to remind filth just what it is?" she asked rhetorically. "You are a nasty little boy whose wild lies set the entire government into chaos. This is the very least you can do to repent. Now write." She set to making herself tea, and Tom obliged her by beginning his lines without any further complaint. As he wrote, he sunk himself deep within his mind, shielding himself from everything.
When he was finally released and returned to the Common Room, Hermione laid, asleep, on the couch. Tom considered her, then conjured a velvety, sage green blanket and draped it over her. With another thought, he added twining silver vines embroidering the edges. He smiled faintly at the sight of a Slytherin blanket covering such a quintessential Gryffindor before going up to his dorm. To his surprise, when he'd changed into his night clothes and climbed into bed, there was a suspicious indentation in the blankets. Moreover, the faint scent of flowers hung in the air. He raised an eyebrow and completed his routine before reaching out and pulling at the silky fabric he felt but couldn't see. Underneath laid Ginny in what he assumed were her pajamas, watching him with a smile. "Hey," she said.
Tom nodded and leaned against the headboard. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling tension he hadn't even noticed melt away.
Without any invitation, Ginny moved to curl up closer to him and pulled out her own book. They read for a while, Ginny leaning against him, before she asked, "Was Hermione still downstairs?"
"Yes. Asleep."
Ginny giggled softly. "She'll be upset with herself in the morning."
Tom snorted. "Probably."
It wasn't long after that he felt Ginny's head become heavier and, looking over, found that she'd fallen asleep. He removed the book from her hands and shifted her into a more comfortable position. He returned to his reading, forcing his mind to focus on the task at hand, namely, restoring Potter. When he fell asleep, his dreams were confused, halls of doors opening into chaotic scenes of fiery horse-like creatures rampaging through the halls of Hogwarts, the flickering form of a young man with black hair and unearthly, glowing eyes astride them.
