AN: Thanks for the reviews, they make me smile.


PROCLAMATION.

DOLORES JANE UMBRIDGE

HAS BEEN

APPOINTED TO

THE POST OF

HOGWARTS

H I G H

INQUISITOR

Harry glanced at his hand as he walked by the newest notice that Filch was hammering into the stone wall outside the Great Hall. The scarred words were extremely faint, not noticeable to someone who wasn't looking for them. He wasn't sure what a High Inquisitor was, but it sounded ominous. When Voldemort was still alive it had been easier to train for what was coming and to understand the dangers he faced. Voldemort wanted him dead, and he wanted to take over the wizarding world. Umbridge… Harry couldn't figure out her end goal.

The hallway bell clanged to signify five minutes before class started, interrupting his thoughts. As Harry headed off to Transfiguration, he pulled a special coin out of his pocket and sent a message to meet with Dumbledore's Army again.

…..

Molly laid out a bunch of papers and two books on the dining room table, moving Dumbledore's water glass as she spread out. Snape and Sirius sat on the opposite ends of the table, Sirius more animated in his perusal of Molly's research, Snape sitting back and observing. Grimmauld Place was lit up brightly with afternoon sun, which starkly contrasted with the subject matter of the meeting.

"Tom Riddle's father's family was Muggle," she stated, pointing to a small stack of papers. "And from what Albus has told me, and my research has shown, he was far more interested in learning about his magical family. They were known as the Gaunts."

She went over a short history on the family of the Gaunts, including their various incarcerations and meagre possessions.

"In summary, they were dirt poor and never had a drive to do any better. They made no secret of being parseltongues and the direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin. They had a few effects of his, such as a book and a signet ring, and used those as a form of status symbol despite their poverty. Knowing how You Know Who liked status and presentation, my assumption is that the ring is the horcrux."

"And where would we find it?" Sirius asked, his eyes gazing over the documents on the table.

"Well, this is where I'm stuck," Molly said. "I've not found much in the way of places he liked to visit."

"Should narrow down the potential hiding spots," said Sirius.

"Yes, certainly," Dumbledore said. "Sirius, when you were a teenager with something of value that you–"

"I was disowned with nothing of value," Sirius gently interrupted, with a bittersweet smile.

Molly gave him a gentle pat on the forearm, and then unfolded a map of England from 1944 across the table.

"Well, that is precisely my point," Dumbledore said. "Knowing that and that you had something valuable to hide, where would be the last place someone looked for it?"

"My family vault," Sirius said.

"And if you were poor and your family did not have access to a vault?"

"The decrepit house of my relatives, whom I felt superiority over," Sirius slowly answered. "But would he really do that?"

Molly tapped the poorly focused and yellowed photo of the Gaunt cottage, taken from the Ministry report Bob Ogden had submitted in 1925. "Other than the orphanage, I don't think he had any other places."

Sirius picked up the photo to study, grimacing at the look of it.

"How has progress gone with the item of the founders?" Molly asked.

Sirius dropped the photo and glanced around the table, scratching his hands.

"Peeves was very helpful. We've always got on, him and I," said Sirius, glancing toward Snape. "Gave me a little backstory on the Bloody Baron and his particular connection to The Grey Lady. I've yet to have a successful conversation with her, but I'll try again soon. I'm spacing out my visits in time with the full moon, so it's not as suspicious to why I'm visiting."

Molly, who was taking quick notes, nodded.

"Right, so that's the six," she said. "The snake, the cup, the locket, the ring, the diary, and this last item. And we're sure that's all?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "Relatively."

"No," said Snape, giving the headmaster a stern look as he broke his silence. "Harry was one."

"What?" Sirius blurted. He'd shot up in his seat and was leaning over the table, scattering some of Molly's papers. "He... how? How could he possibly be one? And what do you mean was?"

"It was unintentional, a consequence of the spell backfiring when Voldemort tried to kill him in Godric's Hollow," said Dumbledore. "Severus, what evidence do you have that he no longer is?"

"He's lost his parseltongue. He can no longer sense horcruxes – yes, I knew you asked him to hold some things you'd found, Black," Snape answered. "Both spell and the Sorting Hat also confirmed."

Molly was staring hard at her parchment as she added Harry to the list. Sirius looked like he had more questions and didn't fully understand the latter half of Snape's statement.

"Lastly," Snape said, his tone serious. "Harry has always reported that his worst experience was hearing his mother screaming before she was murdered. He can no longer remember this. He knows of it, but cannot bring forth the memory. This aligns with my theory that the memory was never actually his, but rather, the horcrux's worst memory."

"Oh, oh my goodness," Molly finally said. "Oh Harry."

"It is gone now," Snape said, with an uncomfortable smile meant to be reassuring. "And shall never be spoken that he was one."

"How?" Sirius asked, staring right at Snape. "I know what I had to do to destroy the snake. How did you rid him of it?"

"I didn't," Snape replied. "It seems I now know why he spent some time in between being dead and alive in the graveyard. The Dark Lord cast the killing curse, and somehow killed his own horcrux instead of Harry. Likely because of the blood protection from Lily."

Molly gave him a grim, determined look.

"I know you have already given him a lot," Molly said, putting her quill down. "But you must continue to give that boy has as much of a normal life as he can."

"I am doing just that," Snape confirmed, without offering any details. "With considerations for managing the fall out of this cover up, of course."

The talk moved on to where Sirius could find the mystery item of the founders, but Snape found himself replaying the words Molly had said in his mind. Snape's father had never been much of a role model to him growing up and he'd taken on the role of Harry's parent by applying his learnings as Head of House and a few books he'd read on raising teenagers. To have Molly Weasley's praise settled oddly in Snape's stomach, and to his surprise he found that he didn't dislike it.

…..

With each week of secret meetings, the Room of Requirement added a few more tweaks for their practise session. The floor already had certain areas with padding for spells that either went wrong or knocked someone off their feet, and after the last session, it had a rest area with water and refreshments for breaks.

There was a posterboard along the west wall that had a list of every spell they'd worked on since the group started in mid-September. Most had been able to produce a small whisp of patronus, and everyone had become experts at the disarming spell. Some, like Seamus and Dean and some of the Ravenclaws, had moved on to blasting spells.

Harry debated back and forth on what he was going to teach next, whether it was Lupin's latest lesson, or something completely different. The papers had been filled with more and more letters to the editor discussing Azkaban and the weird weather in London, and comments of feeling that something was coming. He knew powerful spells that were beyond the curriculum, but debated mentally if his classmates understand the use and the need to learn them.

This session, the room was quiet and sombre, with Harry and most of the group standing on one side, and Ginny, Fred, and George standing on the other. He'd made his decision, and hoped they wouldn't think that this was actual Dark Arts, and not Defence of.

"This spell isn't nice, but it's also not permanent. It'll last for a few hours, or until someone casts rennervate. Finite incantatem won't work, which is helpful in battle because that's what people tend to use if someone is hit with a curse," Harry said, holding his wand loosely in his hand.

Ginny had volunteered to demonstrate the spell, and stood calmly across the room by the giant fireplace. Fred and George were standing on either side of her, to help catch her if she fell.

"It doesn't hurt," Harry said. "But it causes dizziness, and confusion, and partial paralysis."

He lifted his wand and took a calming breath.

"Like a stroke," Hermione said.

"Yes," Harry agreed, casting the spell. Ginny immediately dropped her wand and stumbled a bit, a cloud of confusion shadowing her face.

"Muh wand," she mumbled, looking at the ground and seeming to have trouble trying to figure out how to get it. George picked it up and handled it to her, but she could only lift one arm and missed it twice.

Her frustration with dropping it was evident, but as she looked around the room it was clear that she didn't really recognise where she was, or why she was there. Worry clouded her face, and even though Fred tried to talk quietly to her to reassure her, everyone else in the room was quickly becoming uncomfortable.

"Rennervate," Harry quietly cast. Ginny shook as she came back to full control of her body.

"You're not killing or permanently harming your enemy, but you're taking them out of commission immediately," Harry reminded them. He looked around, and several people had slack open mouths as they stared at Ginny.

"Harry," Angelina said, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "Harry, where did you get this spell?"

"I know the creator," Harry bluntly said, leaving the name unmentioned. "Remember that you're using this against people that want to hurt you. People who are going to use spells that will cut or incapacitate you. This spell blocks them from doing that, and if there's more than one, makes them a liability to their friends."

"This is a bit brutal," Anthony Goldstein said. "Are we actually allowed to use it?"

"If you're up against someone who wants to hurt you, use anything and everything you know," Harry darkly said.

"Yeah, but…"

"Is this Snape's spell?" Ron asked, causing a few others to nod.

"Yes," said Harry. "It's made to be useful in battle and to cause confusion and chaos. It's also useful if you're being chased by someone in the middle of a muggle area because, as Hermione mentioned, it looks exactly like a muggle experiencing a stroke."

"I'm okay," Ginny reassured them, holding both her arms up and showing that she had full control of her limbs again. "You're right; I couldn't have attacked."

Harry nodded.

"I know this looks harsh, and it looks beyond what we've been able to do. What we should do. Remember that it's because we're currently students, and we're not supposed to hurt each other. But if those Death Eaters at Azkaban ever get out, they don't play by the same rules. They won't care."

Cormac McLaggen nodded and stepped forward.

"Fair point, Potter. Let's do this."

….

PROCLAMATION.

ALL STUDENT ORGANISATIONS

ARE HENCEFORTH

DISBANDED

ANY STUDENT IN

NONCOMPLIANCE

WILL BE

EXPELLED

On the first Tuesday of November Ron pointed up at a new proclamation as they passed by the Great Hall. There were seven up there already, born out of student behaviour through the past two months that Umbridge disagreed with.

Dumbledore's Army had been very careful to hide their activities both by using the coins to communicate and the Room of Requirement to hide in, but Harry knew that it was only a matter of time before Umbridge became suspicious. She had her inquisitorial squad and Filch wandering the halls, and someone probably had noticed students of various houses disappearing together on the seventh floor.

Harry also knew that she distrusted him ever since his court hearing in the summer and Snape had warned him that she'd try to get Harry in trouble any way that she could. The risk in teaching Dumbledore's Army had always been there but now the punishment had been revealed if caught. Expulsion.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked silently into Defence class, wondering who was going to be teaching. Snape hadn't mentioned that he would be, but Harry knew it was a full moon and that Professor Lupin would be out. His stomach sank as he saw a garish pink colour near the board, and he slipped into his seat, determined to keep his mouth shut and avoid another detention.

"Today in class we are going to discuss prophecies," Umbridge said, standing up at the front of the class and smiling at them. There were a few confused mutterings but Harry had narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Prophecies were something for Divination, not Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"Told by seers, they can foretell events and dark wizards," she continued, her beady little eyes surveying the room. "There's no rule or reason about who a prophecy is foretold, in fact, there may even be some in this room who have a prophecy told about them."

At this she stared at Harry, who didn't flinch.

"Personally, I do not put much faith in seers, as I find that they mostly tell malarky and lies that people want to hear," Umbridge stated, reminding many in the class of how rude she was whenever she spoke to Trelawney. Behind him, Harry heard Lavender Brown suck in a breath.

"But many people place trust in them, and therefore they can be used to predict, or prove, people's actions and behaviours," she continued.

She was teaching the class with a happy voice, as if they were all learning about a spell that provided endless sweets, instead of a foretelling that doomed Harry and his parents.

"Now, how would one find a prophecy?" Umbridge asked, with a falsely sweet tone.

"Prophecies are kept in storage in the Ministry. They are kept in order, each with a label detailing who told them, who they were told to, and who they were about," Hermione said, after raising her hand.

"Precisely," Umbridge answered. She stood in front of the board and drew a rectangle, adding a little taper and circle at one end so it looked like a label.

SPT to HJP.

Dark Lord, HJP, and ?

"This is an example of a label," Umbridge said, looking out over the class. Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see some of his classmates starting to look between the blackboard and him.

"What would this one be about?"

No one raised their hand as she looked around the room. The silence was uncomfortable enough that a few people started fidgeting.

"Mr Potter," Umbridge said, staring directly at him. "What would this one in particular be about?"

"I don't know," Harry said, looking right back at her. He was fairly certain that she could not do legilimency, but kept his mind occluded as much as he could to be safe.

"I believe you do," she said. "Are your initials not HJP?"

"I'm sure I'm not the only one," Harry said. Snape had taught him to answer the direct question only, and not offer any further information, so he added nothing else.

"That's very interesting," she said. "What a curious coincidence that someone with the very same initials as yourself was told a prophecy regarding you, or them, and He Who Must Not Be Named."

Her dark eyes were focused and hard as they stared at him, but Harry had gone against Voldemort and Umbridge didn't scare him as much. He wasn't sure what her goal was, but he was fairly certain that it wasn't to outright kill him.

"I imagine, Professor, that if this prophecy is about me and him, then it would have been told to me as a baby. So again, I don't know what it's about."

She made a funny pinched face at him, as Hermione shook her head subtly.

"Detention, Mr Potter," Umbridge said, turning her head slightly up as she glared at him. "I will have order in this classroom."

Harry's lip twitched as he fought a scowl, and under the desk Ron kicked him in warning. She watched, like a challenge, to see if he would say anything else, before turning and flicked her wand at the board. It showed what looked like a globe that was illuminated.

"Prophecies are illuminated if yet to pass; dimmed if they have either happened or are no longer possible."

Harry remained sitting tensely in his seat, fully aware that there were actually two prophecies with the same label, both dimmed because they had both occurred. One, regarding Wormtail which proved that Voldemort had returned, and the other, involving Snape, which proved his final defeat.

Harry nearly crashed into the stone wall next to Snape's office as he rounded the corner at speed. No one was in the hallway and Harry wasted no time yanking the door open and then slamming it shut behind him.

"Muffliato. Dad, she knows about the prophecies," Harry said, slipping into the seat closest to Snape's desk. Lunch breaks were only an hour long, and Harry had asked Dobby to make sure Snape was in his office before running downstairs from Defence class.

Snape, who had been bent over marking an essay, looked up at the sound of Harry's spell and frowned with concern as the words sunk in.

"Knows of them, or has heard them?"

Harry, whose nerves were a mixture of agitation and anxiety, paused.

"I think just heard," Harry said. "She was just asking me about them in Defence class."

"And?" Snape asked, putting his quill down.

"I didn't confirm anything. Pretended to…"

Through the muffliato spell they heard a chime, and then two knocks on the office door.

"Home, now," Snape demanded, pointing to the bookcase door that led to his flat. Harry jumped up, nearly dragging the chair with him as he grabbed his bookbag to run. He closed the hidden door behind him just as Snape reached his office door to open it to whoever had knocked.

"Yes?" said Snape, in a bored tone that did not match at all the urgency from a few seconds earlier.

Harry, who had finally figured out which book in the bookcase door had been made semi opaque so he could hear and somewhat see what was happening in the office, watched Umbridge walk in.

"Professor Snape, could you kindly tell me where Mr Potter is located?"

"Why?" Snape mildly asked, which seemed to immediately annoy her. Snape still blocked most of the door, but Harry could see shifting bits of pink fabric, as if Umbridge were trying to see around him.

"He has earned a detention and must serve it," she replied, in a crisp tone.

"Detentions are not to be served over lunch," said Snape, still not moving from the door. "This has been a rule for over twenty years."

"Which is precisely why it must be scheduled. Is Mr Potter there?"

It was barely a question, as if the end of the sentence was tense with anger as she pushed it through taut lips.

"Whether he is or isn't is none of your business. You are not his head of house," Snape replied. He opened the door a little anyway, so she could see that the office was empty.

"And as head of house do you know where your students are at all times?" she snapped, making no secret of her inspection of the room.

"I can locate them if needed. My students are not criminals that need to be monitored every hour of the day."

She turned her head up at that.

"You are saying that Harry Potter is? He is neither in the Great Hall nor in his dormitory. Ergo, he is here."

"No," Snape replied. "You are aware that this is a significantly large castle with many rooms that students secret themselves away to?"

Harry saw her flex her fingers by her side, one hand holding her wand but the other hanging rigidly.

"Rooms that cannot easily be seen," she said. "It is not appropriate for students to be in professors' quarters, Professor Snape."

"I cannot tell you how little I care of that opinion," Snape said, crossing his arms.

"Professor Snape," Umbridge said. "I don't know if the headmaster has sufficiently explained to you the powers that I as the Ministry have to enact changes at Hogwarts."

"Miss Umbridge," said Snape. "Professors' quarters are separate from the school in that they are located within the building, but are provided as part of our salary packet as our homes. As such, the Ministry has absolutely no say into what happens within them."

"It is still in appropriate for any student to…"

"It is my home and therefor also his," Snape interrupted.

Umbridge looked incensed, and a tense silence hung for a few seconds.

"This is a strange situation, Professor Snape."

"I'm certain other professors have had children before. And unless they shipped them to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, they would have come to Hogwarts as well."

She narrowed her eyes at that and Snape gave her a small malicious smile.

"Potter spends most of his time in his dormitory, with his classmates. He comes to visit upon occasion but other than that he prefers, as all teenagers do, to spend his time with his friends. Especially throughout the school day."

"How often is 'upon occasion?'" She asked.

"I don't track his visits," Snape bluntly said. "If that is all, I have marking to finish and lunch to consume."

He stepped back from the door but she remained in the doorway, stance stiff and challenging.

"You could be removed as professor and Head of House."

"I have taught for fifteen years," Snape said, returning to his desk. "If you spend more than a term around the children here you will realise that that is not as much of a threat as you think."

Snape picked up the quill and Harry watched and he appeared to return to his marking, as if he'd already dismissed Umbridge like a student he was tired of.

"I'm surprised at your antagonism, Severus Snape," Umbridge quietly said, as she stepped just inside the room. Harry almost opened the door by accident as he leaned in closer to hear her. "Given your association with people who rightly believe in the purity of wizarding blood."

Snape paused with his marking and looked up toward the door.

"You should be careful of which rumours you believe," Snape carefully told her.

"Should I? I may be mistaken, but do you not apply for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position each year? And are denied?" Umbridge asked, tucking her wand into her skirt pocket.

Snape gave her a withering look.

"Yes," he said.

"In light of that, perhaps you have found another way to train the students," said Umbridge, before walking out of the room. She walked with her head held snobbishly high, as if she'd won the final point in the conversation.

The door banged shut behind her and Harry waited a second before coming out of his hiding spot.

"She's…" Harry started, but Snape still looked angry and he stopped.

"Whether by her or someone else, the coverup will not remain so for very long," Snape said, his voice low. "Be very careful."

Harry nodded.

"I will, Dad. I know the plan."

Snape nodded and waved to the fireplace.

"Use the floo to your secret room on the seventh floor, and leave from there for your class."

Harry, who was slinging his bag over his shoulder, froze.

"You know about that?"

Snape sat back in his chair with a smug look.

"John. You thought that I, of all people, would not know what you and your classmates are up to?"

Harry's shoulders dropped a bit.

"We've tried to hide it so Umbridge wouldn't know."

"She's suspicious, as you've seen, but has no details," said Snape. "For example, she does not know of the training journal that you keep sneaking a glance at for ideas when I am otherwise occupied in the flat, nor your ability for private interhouse communication, nor does she own a replica of your map."

"You copied my map?" Harry blurted, not arguing against the other examples.

Snape closed the folder of essays on his desk and stood up, walking toward Harry.

"I told you I would," Snape said. "One can never fully predict what The Boy Who Lived is up to."

Snape handed Harry some floo powder and pushed him toward the fireplace.

"He's hoping for a normal year at some point," Harry said, stepping into the flames.

…..

Friday morning was snowy and chilly outside, making it quite a bit harder to get out of bed first thing. By the time Harry got to the Great Hall, most of his classmates were already there, and Harry could tell that something was wrong right away.

He slipped into his seat at the bench and looked around suspiciously. The Great Hall was normally rowdy on a Friday morning, students more awake than usual as they looked forward to the weekend. This morning though, the chatter was an excited whisper as everyone seemed to be hunched over the Daily Prophet.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and looked at Hermione.

"How bad is it?" Harry asked.

She slipped him the paper and he saw the headline immediately, doing his best to control his reaction.

"YOU KNOW WHO SECRETLY MURDERED – THIS YEAR!"

Harry slowly stirred cream into his cup as his stomach plunged down to his feet. It was a Skeeter article without a photo, and he was trying to figure out how the hell she found out.

Boy Who Lived a lie? Does the government have a figure head for us to worship? In 1981 Harry Potter survived a killing curse that rebounded to kill He Who Must Not Be Named, but now the Death Eaters remaining at Azkaban claim it's NOT TRUE (For a list of Death Eaters currently at Azkaban please see page 7 for my article: Damn the Death Eaters). Sources close to one of the jailed claim that the Dark Mark, previously used to summon his followers, remained clear and waiting for years, only to disintegrate painfully this spring. They say it's a sign that You Know Who is actually dead, whereas there'd been the hope (for them!) for years that he was in hiding. Did Fudge's absentminded Ministry know this? Did the Ministry kill him once and for all, hoping we'd never find out that the threat had been alive all this time?

"Is Snape watching me?" Harry quietly asked, his eyes still on the paper as if he was still in the midst of reading it.

"Glaring, more like," Ron said, spearing two rashers for his plate.

"Well," Hermione confirmed. "He's not glaring, just looking at you over his copy of the prophet."

Harry took another sip of coffee and folded the paper back up, casually tossing the paper aside as if he didn't believe a word.

He glanced up at the table and made eye contact with his Dad, who indeed wasn't glaring but rather watching Harry for Harry's reaction. He made a show of rolling his eyes, noticing that Umbridge was also watching, and then focused on filling his plate for breakfast.

He would absolutely be going to talk to Snape as soon as he could, but there was no way he was going to let anyone else see that he was rattled. They'd talked about this happening, Harry reminded himself. They were prepared.

….

PROCLAMATION.

STUDENTS MUST

NOT DISCUSS

UNTRUE REPORTS

FROM THE

DAILY PROPHET