Defending the Light
Summary: When Harry made up his mind to do anything to destroy Voldemort, he had no idea it would include werewolves, elves, the Veil, the Chamber of Secrets, wandless magic, Azkaban, unimaginable power, his own army, and… a secret identity?
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter so don't sue.
Just then an owl flew through the open window and landed gracefully on the hard bed, its wings whispering softly as it landed. Harry untied the letter from its leg and started to read. As he did, he totally forgot about the swelling black eye he had just received. In fact, he totally forgot about any physical feeling he possessed.
"Damn you Umbridge!"
Chapter 2: Retaliation with Uncertainty
The letter was actually two letters sent to him from Ron and Hermione, and the first went as follows:
Dear Harry,
You'll never guess what Hermione found out about while spying on the adults!
I was not spying Ron, I just couldn't help overhearing!
Yeah, whatever. Anyways Hermione found out that Umbridge is pressing charges against Professor Lupin! And do ya know why mate? Well see
Ron, your grammar is atrocious! And it was because he was trying to get a job and FEED HIMSELF, PERHAPS!
And just because he happens to go furry once a month (Know what I mean)! Thought you might want to know.
Ron
And Hermione
P.S. We managed to nick this from Lupin's coat pocket.
The other letter was a ministry notice to Lupin from Umbridge herself. It appeared as if she had gotten over her little centaur incident and was back to persecuting halfbreeds at full force.
Remus J. Lupin,
You are herby sentenced to trial in courtroom 10 at the Ministry next Tuesday for requiring a position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As you know, the new Werewolf Degree clearly states that no one with lycanthropy can have a job that takes them within a ten foot radius of those around them. You are currently facing heavy fines and imprisonment. Failure to show up at the trial will result in immediate execution the second you are found.
Forever your superior,
Dolores Jane Umbridge
Dolores Jane Umbridge
Mad, was definitely an understatement to how Harry was feeling at the moment. Other understatements might include: furious, enraged, livid, angry, irate, infuriated, outraged, heated, irritated, and as many other synonyms that existed. He could almost feel the anger flowing through his blood. Professor Lupin was the last connection he had to his parents since Sirius had gone. He would not let Umbridge take everything he had away from him. Harry sat on a small wooden stool and re-read the letter.
'Facing heavy fines and imprisonment'! Lupin does NOT have the money for heavy fines; he can't even afford the wolfsbane potion anymore. How am I going to get the potion to him without letting on that it's me anyway? Umbridge will throw him into Azkaban for sure! Maybe I can lend him my money. Good God, how could this happen? First Sirius… no, don't think of Sirius. He's dead. Pull yourself together. I can't believe Umbridge would do this. Okay, so maybe I can. But how could people just let her? That law wasn't even made when he taught at Hogwarts! Maybe I'll write to Dumbledore. Yes, I'll write to Dumbledore and ask him if I can come to the trial."
And with that, Harry scribbled a note to the headmaster and tied it to the leg of the tawny owl (he supposed Ron hadn't trusted Pig with the message). Hedwig hooted disdainfully at the fact that she was unable to assist her owner and turned her back. Trying not to think about adding 'my owl hates my guts' to his list of 'All the Things Wrong with My Life' (which currently resided in an old busted up journal he'd found) Harry watched as the other owl flew off into the distance, its feathers glowing in the waning crescent moon.
The Department of Mysteries was filled with wand-fire. The prophesy lay smashed on the floor. Sirius Black fell through the veil, his body in a graceful arch. Bellatrix was screaming, Voldemort was screaming, the Order members were screaming… all the screaming filled Harry's head like steam fills a kettle and soon he was screaming as well…
"WILL YOU STOP THE BLOODY SCEAMING ALREADY AND MAKE BREAKFAST!" Vernon's voice cut into Harry's dream like a steak knife cuts into partially melted butter.
Harry groaned, thankful for the unintentional mercy his uncle had shown by waking him from his dream. The 'mercy' didn't last long though. Harry felt a sharp pain in his stomach as Vernon kicked him and continued screaming about why Harry wasn't aloud to scream. Ahh, irony.
On his way downstairs, Harry glanced at his weary-eyed face in the mirror.
"Pull yourself together Potter," he told himself quietly. "He's dead, it's in the past, and you can't do anything about it. Nothing you could ever do would make a difference in that. Hell, you can't make a difference about anything. And you probably never will. Stop kidding yourself."
Little did he know, Harry would soon find out just how wrong he was. About everything.
By dinnertime that night, Harry had weeded the garden, finished the wolfsbane potion, mowed the lawn, started attempting a Patronus with wandless magic, vacuumed, swept, and dusted every room in the house (except for his room), and waited impatiently for Dumbledore's response. A response came at last in the middle of dinner by way of a large black owl, an episode which was followed up by an overturned roast chicken and a fork being chucked at Harry's head.
On returning upstairs, Harry quickly ripped open the envelope to find that the letter was not from Professor Dumbledore. It was from Snape!
Dear Potter,
I hope the beginning of this wretched letter does not give you even the slightest impression that you are in any way dear to me, because you are not. I am writing this only on orders from Dumbledore as an answer to the letter that so annoyingly interrupted an Order meeting this morning. Dumbledore just HAD to make it known to all present what you had written, and told me to respond. If Molly calls you a 'sweet boy' one more time I think I shall vomit. Preferably on Lupin, perhaps it will make him look even more depressed then he already is. I delight in the beast's misery. But, I am afraid that he cannot be lost to Azkaban as he is an important part of the Order. So you, Potter, CANNOT come and screw up the trial. That's right Potter, I said cannot, as in no. You hear that Potter:
NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!
I'm glad someone is telling you NO at last. You need to be kicked around a little if you ask me you spoiled, arrogant Gryffindor.
Professor Snape
At the exact moment Harry finished reading the letter Vernon stormed into the room.
"How many times have I told you boy that I won't stand for those ruddy owls making a nest of MY home! NO OWLS, NO MAGIC, NO DINNER! "
With that, he kicked Harry in the shins and stormed back out.
"No boy, no Potter, no Harry," Harry started chanting, "no magic, no Quidditch, no dinner, no privacy, no freedom of speech, no heroics, no, no, no, no, NO! I am friggin' tired of people telling me no. From now on, I'll decide for myself what's no and what's not."
Harry crossed over to his desk and started to write:
I don't care what you say, I'm coming anyway.
The next evening, Harry got a letter back from Snape that said:
I'd like to see you try.
To this, Harry wrote but two words:
Watch me.
As he sent off his brief correspondence to Snape, Harry noticed something rather odd. The mirror Sirius had given him was glowing. But a second later it stopped, and Harry dismissed it as a figment of his imagination. Harry wasn't even sure why he kept the mirror anyway, nonetheless fixed it. But he was attached to it in a way, even if it did seem to give him more bloody hallucinations then a whole bottle of sleeping pills.
Harry then started planning how he was going to get to London. He had twenty-four hours to think up an idea, and flying just happened to be banned in Muggle areas during the daylight…
Next Chapter: Harry goes to the trial anyway and nearly gives a ton of people heart failure.
Includes:
A fight between Harry and Umbridge,
An all-new OC
Confused people
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