Harry Potter and the Puppetmaster of Hogwarts, Chapter 2
Halfway to the library, Harry stopped, and began returning slowly to the common room, mulling over what he had witnessed and trying to figure out what he was going to do next. First things first: he was going to have to figure out how to counter all those spells. He knew what the imperius and the crucitus were, obviously, he'd read about the memory charm, but the others, parea, culpa exacerba, and vinculas, were uncharted territory, and he didn't even know how to start looking for such information. Ordinarily he would ask Hermione to help him research...but after the man he had trusted most, Dumbledore, had literally just tortured and tried to mind control one of his staff members, Harry felt justified in being just a little bit paranoid. What if his friends were spying on him for Dumbledore; didn't he always seem to know what Harry was doing? Or- *×÷×+*! What if Dumbledore could read minds!
Come to think about it, that was probably possible, seeing as Dumbledore always seemed to know what he was thinking. Even a Slytherin couldn't be that good at reading body language.
Harry frowned. The logical next step would be to find someone to bring his queries to, or go to the library, but he knew that any such behavior would definitely be considered out of character, and he didn't want to deal with any questions that might arise, especially if their answers could get back to Dumbledore. And unfortunately, he had let Hermione bully him into finishing all his homework for the day, and the upcoming weekend...so he couldn't claim that he needed to go to the library to do research for an unfinished transfiguration essay. Besides, even if he hadn't, he knew Hermione would want to help him with whatever research he had, and Harry didn't feel like trusting anyone right now.
Harry slowed still further, then stopped altogether, leaning back against the tapestry-draped wall. He could sneak into the library after hours, but he didn't know precisely where to look for his answers, and there was always the chance that he would be caught. And it wouldn't look good if the Gryffindor Golden Boy was discovered researching unforgivables and possibly Dark spells, even if Dumbledore didn't obliviate him for the "Greater Good".
No. He had to talk to someone. Someone whom he could trust to keep his secrets, who wouldn't go running to Dumbledore as soon as it suited him. Someone whom he could trust to always be in his corner, who wouldn't be afraid to tell Dumbledore, and possibly the entire Order of the Barbecue Chicken, where to stuff it. In other words, he had to talk to Sirius. In secret.
Harry frowned, then padded back down the hall towards the Great Hall, then across it to the corridor that led to the owlry. He had to use a school owl, so that no one would suspect that the missive was from him until it was opened, and he needed to write it in such a way that neither Dumbledore nor Umbridge, assuming that they intercepted it, would be able to pick up any sensitive information. Once in the owlry, he picked out a suitably boring-looking school owl, placating a ruffled Hedwig with a few owl treats and a promise to let her take his next letter, and sat down, back against the wall, to write his letter. After fumbling around in his book bag for a few moments, he managed to withdraw a sheet of parchment, a self-inking quill, and a textbook to write on.
It only took a few moments of thinking and chewing on his quill before he knew what to write.
Dear Snuffles,
I hope my message finds you well. I miss you and want to talk to you. Can we meet somewhere secure? The thing which I've told you about before has been happening a lot lately, and I have a new friend. Oh, and our defense teacher this year reminds me a lot of your mum. Can we meet where your old friend used to stay over?
Sincerely, Prongslet.
Harry glanced down at the letter again, still chewing on his quill, and then smiled and started fitting it into an envelope. It was perfect. Sirius should get the message that it was urgent (and Dumbledore could probably get that from the letter too) but they would both think it was a completely different kind of urgent. Which was fine by Harry. It wouldn't take much to disabuse Sirius of that notion, but Dumbledore, of course, could carry on making assumptions for as long as he cared to, so long as he didn't learn the truth.
Harry at last pulled the wet quill out of his mouth and got up to tie the letter to the school owl's feet. With any luck, Sirius would be able to help. If not, Harry had a plan B. That is, if he could get a hold of some quasi-veritaserum. He needed to make sure his friends were loyal before he tried to confide in them.
And in the meantime, well, he would simply have to wait. With a faint sigh, he got up, shoved the moist and frazzled quill into his bag, along with his charms textbook, and stalked out of the owlry, going back to the common room. It wouldn't be well if he was seen to be distracted, even if he had a damn good reason for it. Hermione would be sure to ask if he was ok, and Ron if he wanted a game. And he could not answer either of those questions with what he wanted to say. Somehow "Hell no, I just saw the headmaster torturing our Potions teacher," and "When have I ever wanted to play chess, Ron" didn't seem like a good answer.
Harry strolled easily down the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower, coming to a full stop by the portrait of the Fat Lady.
"Slimeballs," he told her, and she swung inward on her hinges, letting him into the warm, but somewhat gaudy Gryffindor Common Room. Slimeballs indeed.
It was going to be a long year (aren't they all?) and he would need every scrap of his admittedly ample Slytherin cunning to get through the day. Fortunately, he was extremely persistent...and the amusing aspect of playing Umbridge against Dumbledore while he sat back and...well...tried to figure out a way to defeat Voldemort, seeing as the adults weren't actually doing a thing about it besides forming committees or ignoring it entirely certainly helped
With an inaudible sigh, Harry walked over to the armchairs that he and his friends had claimed since first year. "Hey guys, what's up? You want to play Exploding Snap?"