Chapter Nineteen: Dumbledore and Daphne

Daphne, Susan and Neville were all admitted into the Hospital Wing as soon as Professor Umbridge was escorted out of the Grounds. Despite having not really taken too much skin off her hand, which both Harry and Hermione had insisted would be the case, Daphne was still put through rigorous checks by the bustling Madam Pomfrey.

While Harry and Hermione had also tried to insist that they go to Pomfrey straight away, Daphne had refused, pointing out that Pomfrey would likely tell Dumbledore — who like Harry would not want to see his students in any danger. Not that they were in any real danger. The quill had hurt, yes, but as long as they bathed it and looked after the wound it would heal fine enough. Provided Umbridge hadn't made them use it too much.

It was a picture seeing the old hag's face. It had been Susan who had got the word out, courtesy of her family House Elf. That was an ingenious idea from Harry. The rest had been easy enough to organise. Clandestine interviews with none other than Rita Skeeter had been arranged with Hermione; they'd be appearing in the Quibbler the next day or so. Neville and Susan had performed admirably, while it had taken all of Daphne's strength not to let on that it was a trap.

Umbridge, like many arrogant bullies, thought she knew everything and that everyone was scared of her. She had, of course, been wrong. Harry, rather conveniently, had been at Quidditch practice and so totally unable to be blamed whatsoever by Fudge or Umbridge. There would be accusations naturally, Neville and she were friends with Harry, but it wouldn't be proven and that was what mattered.

It had been even better when Umbridge had asked if she wanted tea. It was the most obvious attempted use of a truth telling potion Daphne had ever seen. She couldn't believe her luck. Even if she somehow managed to wriggle out of the quill, using Veritaserum on a child would be the final blow they needed to ensure that Umbridge would never return to Hogwarts.

And what of Fudge? It would be interesting to see if he tried to pass the blame, would he say he had nothing to do with it and knew nothing? Even if that was the case, he had endorsed Umbridge, even forced her on Dumbledore. With prisoners escaping Azkaban and now his woman in Hogwarts unmasked as a child tortuer, how long would it be until the public finally turned on him too?

Visiting hours were well and truly over by the time Neville, Susan and Daphne had entered the Hospital Wing that evening. It didn't take the matron long, but she refused entry to the other students who had been milling around outside, somehow having caught wind of what had happened and how the three of them had been involved.

"How are you holding up?" Daphne asked a rather nervous looking Neville, who was currently waiting to be seen by Madam Pomfrey.

"Not too bad," Neville said, so at least he wasn't claiming to be cheerful. Neville had been the first to agree to the plan when Harry had pitched it to him, while Susan, the ever bashful and authority fearing Hufflepuff, had taken a little longer to persuade. In fact, Daphne suspected it had only been the reference to her aunt, a woman who clearly despised Umbridge, to accept.

"You were great, you both were. She hadn't a clue."

"I just hope whoever they get in next isn't any worse," Neville bleated, sadly. It was clearly something that had been bothering him. "Maybe Fudge'll send someone else just like her, only this time he'll get rid of Dumbledore too."

"Oh, I think the Minister's days of meddling at Hogwarts are a way off yet," Daphne reassured him. "It'll take a while for everyone to calm down. That was the point of picking us three, good families, respected and everything the board of governors is. Even Lucius Malfoy wouldn't be able to bribe his way out of this one."

"Gran's furious," Neville said, a little off topic, but again it had clearly been bothering him and Daphne suspected that the diminutive Gryffindor had very few people to actually talk to about such things. "Not with me." He added hastily, "Umbridge. She said she was really proud of me for coming forward, said it's what my dad would've done."

Yeah, and look at the trouble it got him into. There was a small part of her that had hated the idea of taking on Umbridge, the part of her that wanted to hide everything out like her mother did until she was quite sure which way the wind was blowing. There was no denying people like Neville's mother and father were incredible, none at all. But they had painted targets on their back, a target Daphne knew she was beginning to draw rather perfectly on her own. The things she knew, the things perhaps Harry shouldn't have shared with her or Tracey but thanks to his foolhardy trusting nature had done it anyway. It was only a matter of time until other people suspected what she knew. Yes, it wasn't going to be pretty, Daphne knew that much.

"So he should be," Daphne said, forcing herself to smile. "Both of your families would be."

"And yours," Neville said, in an effort to mirror her kindness.

"My mother would give me up for a knut if it meant I didn't embarrass her or the Ministry," Daphne laughed, hollowly. "But that's my mother. No, your Gran's right to be proud, Neville. It's one thing going into that room not knowing what's coming, quite another staring it in the face and doing it anyway."

She had wondered exactly how Melissa Greengrass would react. She wanted to believe that her mother would be all concern, like she professed to be behind her mask of coldness and ineffectual child rearing. It was not an outcome Daphne had high hopes for, or in fact expected. Not until the Ministry's stock plummeted in the eyes of the public, then she would have been the perfect daughter. Funny how context shifts opinions, Daphne mused.

"It was horrible, wasn't it?"

"Can't say it was the most fun I've ever had," Daphne agreed, she could help but massage the now healing skin on the back of her hand. It had taken every morsel of self-restraint she had not to wince in pain or ask to go early. Bullies the world over thrived off being in control, that's what they loved. And every blossom of pain, every cut, every stroke of that quill had been worth it to see Umbridge's face twist in fury. "Still, I guess it was worth it. Though the next few days should be fun."

"What do you mean?"

"Statements, questions, more questions, making sure our stories add up in case for some insane reason she pleads not guilty and we have to go to trial."

Aurors were well known for being thorough to the point of stupidity, but who could blame them? Dodgy arrests here and there had caught them more than a few times, how else had people like Lucius Malfoy got off — aside from, of course, the waggon load of galleons he had chucked the Ministry's way. They might like to think they were whiter than white, but some Aurors were just as bad as Death Eaters as far as Daphne was concerned. If they had been above board maybe her father wouldn't have paid the price. But no, instead it had been backhanders and people like Malfoy, Knot, Crabbe and Goyle had walked free without a care in the world.

"Do you think that'll happen?" Neville asked, nervously.

"No idea, but that's another day's worry. Just enjoy the fact you might not get expelled for learning anymore."

"Right you lot," Madam Pomfrey said, interrupting whatever Neville looked like he was going to say. "You're all fine, as fine as can be putting yourselves in harm's way like that. Why you didn't come to me straight away." She sighed, an all too knowing exasperated sigh of a woman who had spent her life dealing with teenagers who thought they knew better — and in this instance did. "Anyway, you should all recover nicely. I want you back in here tomorrow night for checks, the last thing we want is anything reopening, you especially Miss Greengrass. Now, off to bed."

But before Daphne could obey the instruction, the Hospital Wing doors had swung open and the Headmaster strode in. Daphne had rarely seen him outside of the Great Hall. The only other time she had seen him had been the night she had bundled Harry into his office in a bid to save Mr Weasley. His face was as serene as ever and robes, a periwinkle blue, fanned out behind him gracefully.

"Ah, I had hoped I would arrive before you were discharged," he said, happily, eyeing Daphne. "I was wondering, Miss Greengrass, if I may have a word with you in my office before you retire for the evening?"

Not foolish enough to turn down a request from the Headmaster, and under the impression that this was not a request but in fact an instruction, Daphne nodded. Susan and Neville looked concerned and Neville, ever the Gryffindor, looked like he wanted to protest but Daphne said "it's alright. Of course, Professor."

She bade Susan and Neville good night, and left with the headmaster. They journeyed in relative silence, Dumbledore striding out ahead without a care in the world, while Daphne let her mind race on what he might want — drawing the same conclusion every time. Umbridge.

"Fizzing whizbee," Dumbledore said when they arrived outside his office. Dutifully the statue leapt aside and he, once again, led the way up the revolving stone staircase. Daphne could not help but be filled with a horrible sense of foreboding, Dumbledore, regardless of what her mother said, was not a wizard to be trifled with. He might look as threatening as a Muggle grandfather with an addiction to beard hair, but he was one of — if not the — most powerful wizards of all time.

"Please, take a seat." Dumbledore said, gesturing to the chair opposite his own as he took his place opposite her at his desk. All around her the various portraits were watching her, some of them muttered to others in their frames. It was very disturbing being watched by so many enchanted faces, and despite being in a private room Daphne had never felt more exposed. Dutifully though she took the offered chair, straightening her Slytherin tie as she did so.

"I have asked you here," Dumbledore began, calmly, "as you might imagine, because I wish to discuss the fate of Dolores Umbridge." When Daphne said nothing, he continued. "Am I correct in assuming that her removal from the castle, along with the appearance of Madam Bones and the detentions of Mr Longbottom, Miss Bones and yourself were of your invention?"

Both sets of blue eyes met, there were times where lying worked, was necessitated even. Loaded questions where the answer was already obvious to both parties were, traditionally, those times. Bare faced lies to ensure that both could claim plausible deniability. Sadly, despite the obvious knowledge of her plan staring back at her across the table, this was not the time to lie.

"Yes, sir."

"And would I also be right in thinking that this was because of the same punishment she bestowed on Harry?"

"Partially," it was not the whole case. There were particular insinuations, insults and irritating instances that had earned the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor a place in Daphne's sights. "Though, he didn't tell you about that, sir."

"No, but I knew after a fashion. I saw the scars on his hand when you came to visit me at Christmas — and I must say they could only have been the cause of one thing. Minerva informed me this evening that she was aware, but had refrained from telling me at Harry's wishes. He believed, quite rightly, that the Ministry would never believe any allegation he made and that even if they had, Dolores would simply dispose of the quill prior to their arrival.

"I must say it was rather ingenious using Miss Bones' relationship with her Aunt to ensure that the Minister would be forced to take action. I would also be astounded if Augusta Longbottom did not make a request directly to the Ministry that the Educational Decree which allowed Madam Umbridge access to these halls be defunct within the week."

"If you already know all of that, then why did you need me here?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" Dumbledore said, with a thin smile. "Your friendship with Harry has been, I must admit, rather unexpected. Sirius informs me that you are quite close, Harry holds you in incredibly high regard — that much is evident by the fact that he agreed to your methods to dismiss Madam Umbridge from the castle."

"She was torturing people," Daphne said, as levelly as she could.

"But Harry would rather take on the pain of others than see his friends be placed in harm's way, as I am sure you well know." Dumbledore countered in that same calm voice. He steepled his fingers and looked over his half-moon glasses at Daphne. "Please do not misunderstand me, I applaud your efforts and had I been able to do the same I would have done. I am simply stating that you are close with Harry."

Daphne said nothing, unsure exactly where Dumbledore was going with this. If he had wanted to admonish her, he could easily have done so, but he was sitting quite calmly stating facts that didn't line up with the picture Daphne had painted in her head. Did he think she was putting herself in danger? Was he trying to get her to leave Harry alone?

"And it is that closeness which I hope I can rely upon," Dumbledore continued. Okay, so not leave then. "The removal of Madam Umbridge and your rather public relationship with Harry, has placed you in the eyes of many students in these halls on Harry's, and by extension, my side. Within Hogwarts, that may not be such a dangerous idea, but these same students' parents, well, you already know what they are capable of."

"I can look after myself," Daphne said, levelly, her heart pounding at the thinly veiled mention of her father.

"Of that I have no doubt, but it is worth considering that Lord Voldemort does not simply prey on those with whom he has a grudge directly. He may be in hiding currently, but that time will come to a close, sadly, sooner rather than later. I would ask simply if you have truly considered what this may mean."

"With all due respect, sir. I hate Death Eaters as much as you do, did I mean to be wrapped up in all this? No. But I'm sure as hell not going to help them either."

"Pragmatism has driven you to a point where loyalties are to be examined." Dumbledore said, "I did not think for a moment that you had believed you would become so close to Harry, nor did I suspect you would find yourself here. And yet, our paths move in mysterious ways."

He looked pensievely at Daphne, but she felt as though he wasn't truly looking at her. His eyes appeared slightly glazed, as though lost in thought she could not and did not dare to guess at. There were secrets behind every great witch and wizard, after all. Well, maybe not every secret.

"I do have one question though, sir."

"By all means," Dumbledore smiled, bringing himself back to the conversation with a merry glint in his eye as if they were discussing something as simple as Gobstones.

"If you're getting Harry to study Occlumency, and if he's linked to Voldemort like I think he is, why aren't you teaching him?" It was a question that had been nagging at the back of her mind since Harry had told her, and judging by the slightly concerned look on Dumbledore's lined face, one he did not want to give the answer to. These were the best questions to ask. "Only, I don't think Professor Snape is helping him."

"Professor Snape is an excellent Occlumens."

"That doesn't mean he's a good teacher," Daphne countered before adding hastily, "for Harry, I mean. Occlumency is about trust as much as it is about being good at it. You need someone who you're happy to let your guard down with so they can help you build it back up. Harry's just getting his mind battered and it's making things worse."

For a second time Dumbledore was silent, so Daphne pressed her advantage as her mother had irritatingly taught her. "My dad learned Occlumency, he taught some things too and from what I know, this isn't going to work. He needs a different teacher, they both hate each other too much. It's not working. Harry's said as much."

"And who would you suggest?"

"You," Daphne answered, because she thought it would work and because she wanted to know exactly why Dumbledore was refusing to even look at Harry. It was weird for the man who had spent all summer defending Harry, praising him to the press and saying he was right about Voldemort, for him to then ignore the same student entirely when they were back in the castle. It was little wonder that Harry was feeling rejected, angry and upset.

"There are, sadly, reasons beyond my control which prevent my direct tutoring of Harry," which loosely translated as I'm not going to tell you a damn thing — so stop asking.

"He trusts you, sir." Daphne fought, but she knew it was a losing battle. Whatever Dumbledore was hiding, he was not going to reveal to her. No matter how much she held Harry's best interests at heart.

"Be that as it may, I cannot tutor Harry." And he finally sounded not like an old man giving her advice, but her Headmaster. "However, I must confess that your revelations are somewhat startling. I will speak with Professor Snape and perhaps seek alternative arrangements, of course, after I succeed in finding a new Defence Against the Darks Arts professor."

"And if you don't?"

"You have already seen what transpires if I am unsuccessful," Dumbledore said sadly. "Although, I imagine Cornelius will be more restrained before recommending one of his own staff. Which brings us on to the subject of your upcoming questioning. Madam Umbridge is currently being interviewed by Madam Bones personally, but it will not be long until you and your friends are also brought to the Ministry.

"You will be allowed to leave classes as and when required, any homework you are set will be nullified and sessions with the appropriate teacher can be arranged for you to take during an evening in order to catch up."

"And what about Harry? I'm going to have to tell them how we found out."

"Yes, but Dolores has already been, shall we say 'caught red-handed.' I would not worry about mentioning Harry's name, though you did well to keep it out of the Quibbler." His eyes sparkled and Daphne did not take the bait of asking how Dumbledore knew about that. "Xenophilius and I are old friends, of a sort, he contacted me to ask for a quote on the accusations my staff were abusing my students — as all good editors should."

Night had truly descended outside the windows now, moonlight was filtering through to the office and casting Dumbledore in a faint luminescent glow. How long had she been in the office talking to him? Dumbledore spotted her eyes drifting to the window, but did not bid her farewell. Instead he teetered on the edge of speech, like a man suddenly unsure of himself. It was more than a little odd, but Daphne, who knew better, said nothing. People like to fill silences, after all.

"How is Harry?" He asked, eventually, his voice somewhat less authoritative than it had been only moments before. It was as if he was genuinely worried about Harry, something Harry himself was under the impression was a complete lie. From the little Daphne had scraped together, she could tell he was starting to feel cut-off, abandoned by the Headmaster.

"Fine, better now Umbridge is gone."

Dumbledore smiled thinly, but there was a sadness to it that Daphne recognised all too well. It was the same look on her father's face whenever he had pushed her away in the name of keeping her safe.

"You really care about him, don't you?" Daphne wasn't sure why it took her so by surprise. Maybe it was the fact that she had never even spoken to Dumbledore until she knew Harry, or that the Headmaster had always seemed to her so untouchable. A figurehead at the bow of a ship, leading the way but never truly connected to those who he led.

"Thousands of students pass through these halls. Some, like yourself, I may not come into contact with directly unless absolutely necessary. Yet, Harry's life is one I have been forced to become involved with beyond my usual restraints. I would simply hope that my efforts have not been in vain."

What efforts? Something tripped in Daphne's mind, like an alarm bell ringing in the distance. There was regret in Dumbledore's voice, as if he had done something in regards to Harry that he shouldn't have. Was he keeping something from Harry, something he ought to know?

"He's alright, really, sir. I wouldn't worry." Daphne said a little awkwardly, only half aware of what she was saying as the various permutations of what Dumbledore could be hiding rattled off in the background of her mind. "The DA helped a lot. He was great, actually."

"Ah yes," Dumbledore smiled fondly. "I am, of course, officially unaware of such a group — but I must say your exploits have been commendable. Regardless of who I appoint in the coming weeks, I believe that Hogwarts stands to benefit from the continuation of such a group. Or should I say its official beginning."

"But it is late," Dumbledore said, "and time for bed." He pulled a quill from the inkwell on his desk and quickly wrote a note, which he passed to Daphne. "Just in case Mister Filch attempts to stop you for being out after curfew." He explained.

"Thank you, sir."

Daphne got up and headed out of the office and just as the door closed behind her, she heard a small, smug voice say. "You see Dumbledore, Slytherin is an excellent house."

Luckily Filch did not stop her on her way down to the dungeon, in fact the entire castle was deserted — save for a few ghosts floating around and Peeves, who was happily trashing the trophy cabinets loudly. All Daphne wanted to do was get into bed and let the ramifications of what she had just been told wash over her, but she was instead met by a small group of Slytherin students in the Common Room.

Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent Bullstrode and Pansy Parkinson were all waiting for her. She knew they were expressly waiting for her because, as she entered, she heard Draco hex Goyle awake. It had to happen sometime, and if she was entirely honest with herself she was stunned that it had yet to happen at all. No doubt, they'd been waiting for proof that her actions were not some part of an elaborate scheme, or else they simply hoped she would come to her senses. Neither had occurred and so, given that none of them were actually cunning as their house suggested they should be, they had waited for her. It would have been far more effective to do something else, charm Harry into saying he hated her for example, or curse her bed so that it continually caused her pain, even shrinking her shoes would've been more ingenious.

"You waited," she remarked, not bothering to let them speak first. "I didn't know you cared."

"We don't," Goyle grunted, Crabbe gaffored stupidly beside him.

"It's called sarcasm," Daphne sighed, "but I wouldn't expect you to understand." Tiredness was starting to creep behind her eyes and she could feel her legs beginning to ache. All she wanted was sleep. "Shall we just skip this whole little dance and I go to bed while you feel self-righteous and all pat yourselves on the back for a job well done?"

"Or," Draco announced from the slouched position on the leather sofa, the only who did not have to twist to look at Daphne. "You could hear what we have to say and put an end to your idiotic friendship with Potter."

"No," Daphne said, slowly, pretending to think about it and then discarding the idea.

"Would you really be so moronic? Potter isn't one of us, and even you could do better than to waste your time with him. Besides, the Dark Lord will ensure he is punished and those who make the fatal mistake of being his friend." The final word was filled with the kind of disgust normal people associate with sewage.

"So you're saying you believe Harry and Dumbledore then, Draco? Or are you finally admitting that daddy dearest is actually a Death Eater?"

"Don't talk to him like that!" spat Pansy.

"Oh, don't be so pathetic," Daphne sighed, she didn't even have the energy to get annoyed. In all honesty she felt sorry for Pansy. Led on for years by Draco until something better came along, she'd deluded herself into thinking that she would actually be the next Lady Malfoy.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Pansy demanded, hotly. They were all closer to Gryffindor than they knew, it was embarrassing. Ambition, cunning and self-promotion, yeah right. They were a little gang desperately clinging onto the wrong coat tails rather than actually doing anything that would better their future.

"That Draco's about as much interest in you as I do in the Whomping Willow."

"You bitch!"

"I'm just telling you the truth, it's not my fault if you don't want to listen." Pansy drew her wand, Crabbe and Goyle leapt to their feet too, each drawing theirs too. Not that it would do much good. "Put it away. Please."

"No point begging now," Pansy snapped, clearly under the impression that Daphne had been asking for her own benefit. Months of training with the DA had drastically improved her skills with a wand, and thanks to some of the books Sirius had lent her she'd started picking up on wordless magic too.

"Confrin —"

But Daphne, who had been expecting it, was quicker and with a flash of light Pansy's wand sailed across the room and into Daphne's outstretched hand.

"Try anything else and I will snap it," she said, her voice was tired and her patience was wearing thin. "That includes you two, put them away."

"Do it," Draco instructed and with much muttered grumbling his two henchmen did as they were told. The only that hadn't moved the entire time was Bullstrode, who was watching the entire exchange with a morbid sense of curiosity — as if it were free theatre rather than her friends going to war. Daphne pocketed Pansy's wand, ignoring the screams and curses that came her way and instead focused her attention on Draco.

"Draco, I really don't care what you have to say. You can threaten me all you like, we both know you won't actually do anything about it because if you do," she paused, smiling at him, "well, let's just say you're an idiot if you think I used all of my imagination on how to get rid of Umbridge."

For a moment Draco's skin flushed, but then he managed to pull a very unconvincing smile onto his sanguine face.

"You misunderstand me, this is a warning."

"I'm not scared of you." But she was well aware that Draco was not flexing his own muscles in this particular fight. That was the trouble with people who thought they had connections everywhere and ways to make you do what they wanted, they usually did. Regardless of what she'd said in Dumbledore's office, and what she was now saying to Malfoy, Daphne knew that sooner or later she was going to have to face up to the threat Voldemort posed to her and her family.

"You should be, things are changing. Take my advice and make sure you're on the right side."

"Any side you're on is the one I want nothing to do with, so thanks, but I'll take my chances."

"Pity," Draco said, his lip curled. "I'd sleep with one eye open if I were you, Greengrass." He gestured at Pansy, who was silently seething.

"I'm not that worried," Daphne smiled thinly. "If that's everything?"

She did not wait for an answer, but instead strode towards her dormitory and discarded Pansy's wand at the foot of the stairs. She wasn't stupid enough to actualyl break it, there was nothing worse you could do to a witch or wizard than break their wands and besides, she was an idiot nothing more. A fool who had fallen in love with the wrong person, Daphne couldn't begrudge her that.

Tracey was asleep, but the eyes of her other dorm-mates were on her almost immediately. Daphne ignored them all, spying a glass of water half-empty by Tracey's bed. After inspecting it, Daphne was almost certain the distinct smell of lavender was a sign of a simple but powerful sleeping draught. That would explain why they'd been so confident as to wait downstairs without any other confrontation.

Aware that Pansy would definitely attack her in her sleep if she got the chance, Daphne spent the night behind her curtains waiting for the girl to fall asleep and only when she was sure her snores were genuine did she let herself fall asleep. Not before she'd enchanted the bedframe with some new defences of her own.

As she was drifting off to sleep, she couldn't help but realise that this kind of thing might well be the exact reason that Slytherins avoided Gryffindors and it was only, surely, going to get worse.