Harry Potter and the Puppetmaster of Hogwarts, Chapter 8
Harry instantly ran over to his godfather, easing him to the ground; evidently the strain of trying to counter all those spells had done a number on him.
"Dobby!"
"Yes Master Harry Potter sir?" asked the elf, instantly next to them.
"Can you get me another bed?"
"Yes Master Harry Potter sir!" Dobby said at once, and popped out. He returned quickly with another bed, and Harry, who had looking around the Chamber, called him into a room next to the study Snape was in; he sensed that neither man would enjoy waking up in the same room together, however much their rivalry was fueled by compulsions. Once Sirius was situated (and a little free elf Dobby felt they could trust was watching him) Harry called Dobby to fetch him some parchment and ink, so that he could write a note for each of them. Then he had Dobby pop him back into Hogwarts, where he was astonished to find that it was nearly dark out, and there were no one in the halls.
There was no one in the common room either, though, and after a panicked moment Harry realized that it was likely that dinner had already began, so he headed for the Great Hall. It had indeed; everyone looked up as he strolled up and took his usual place next to Ron and Hermione, as if he had not just been in a legendary hideout of the Founders trying to heal the "dungeon bat" with the help of an escaped convict.
"Harry!"
Harry managed a smile as he looked at his friends, attempting to pretend that nothing was wrong. Ron, who was stuffing his face with mashed potatoes, seemed oblivious, but Harry noticed the glint of concern in his blue eyes, and realized with a shock that he would never have picked up on that before. It seemed the ring was doing what it had been designed to do and clearing his head. Hermione also looked concerned, but she was much more vocal.
"We were looking for you all over the place, all day- where were you?"
"Just around, you know. I took dad's cloak and wandered around; I was thinking some things through, about Snuffles," Harry said calmly, using the code name for Sirius, although he cringed just a little at the omission of the rest of what he'd been doing. He would have liked to tell his friends everything right then and there, but even without his newfound paranoia that his friends were reporting everything he said back to Dumbledore, such things as he wanted to discuss could simply not be brought up in the Great Hall- the other Gryffindors already thought he was barking mad because of those infernal Daily Prophet articles, and overhearing what he would have wanted to say would simply confirm their suspicions. Not to mention that Dumbledore would quickly hear of it and know they were on to him.
"About Snuffles? Is it anything we can help with?"
Harry hesitated. This would be a good opportunity to get advice for how to deal with his conflicting emotions regarding his godfather, but he wasn't sure how they would take it, and he wasn't even sure that he ought to be sharing confidences with them, anyway- he really needed that truth serum! But he supposed if he just left names out of it it should be okay. And he needed to talk to someone. Luna might be helpful, but she was at the Ravenclaw table, and there was no one else he could confide in, with the possible exception of Hedwig. "Um...yeah, actually. I always thought my dad and Snuffles were...well, not perfect, but just mischievous, you know, like the twins. But the last time I talked to Snuffles, he let slip that their pranks often got nasty and bullying. It just...it hurts, you know? I don't know what to do, what to say to him. "
The other two stared at him. "Seriously, mate?" was Ron's contribution. "I'd say chew him out and then forgive him, I mean, it's probably been years, you know. I mean, I know he hasn't really grown up much, from what I've seen he's decent now, I think that-"
But at that moment he was cut off with a quiet "hem, hem." Umbridge. As if the day couldn't get any worse.
"Yes Professor Umbridge?" Harry said, perfectly pleasantly, turning around.
"Mr. Potter," she began in that insidious confectionery voice that always reminded Harry of frosting that hadn't set up yet, "are you ill?"
Harry rubbed the raised welts on his blood-quill-abused hand beneath the table, knowing that there was no way this could turn out well for him.
"I don't believe so, ma'am, why?"
"You haven't shown up to your detention, dear. I'm afraid I will have to add another two- the lesson hasn't seemed to have sunk in yet."
Harry gritted his teeth, longing to say what was in his mind: "I had more important things to do than let you torture me with a Dark artifact, such as saving my Potions professor from being railroaded into Azkaban and trying to save the whole miserable Wizarding world from one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Doublecrosser, you miserable ministry flunkie- why don't you go crawling back to the minister so we can get someone competent."
Instead, he smiled tightly. "Yes Professor Umbridge," he replied, knowing he had to pick his battles. Cutting up his hand was, quite literally, torture, but he simply had greater enemies to deal with. Not to mention that he was the son and godson of a Marauder. He could, and would, make her suffer, in a nice, humiliating, and quite untraceable way that would put the Weasley twins to shame. Employ quiet dissention and untrackable pranks until Voldie and Dumblemort were taken care of- then she, and Minister Fudge, would be out on their arses without so much as a by-your-leave- and in Azkaban if he could help it. (Well, Umbridge at least; Harry would probably rather let Fudge of on community service, both because it would horrify the pompous pureblood almost as much as Azkaban and because Harry would rather not sent anyone there after what happened to Sirius...Umbridge being the notable exception. No one should be able to get away with torturing school children, and it spoke volumes about the wizarding society that she was even still free.
Harry suddenly couldn't wait to brainstorm ways to torment her with Sirius and possibly the Weasley Twins. Possibly something to turn that horrible rotting-cupcake pink cardigan into a writhing nest of squid tentacles? Or something involving foul odors and medusa hair? Or maybe making her clothes fall off of her in the middle of her defense class, or the Great Hall...the possibilities were endless.
"That wasn't fair, none of this is! She doesn't have the right to torture you like this!" Hermione was fuming. Harry appreciated the sentiment, and so neglected to tell her that life did not come with an innate quality of fairness.
Besides, he was too busy trying to figure out how he could get to the library and check out a book containing a recipe for a truth serum without being suspected. Hmm. Maybe he could take the Weasley twins into his confidance, at least in this. He would be the first to admit that he was hopeless at brewing and that he had never been a bookworm...and getting Hermione to brew the damn thing would be out, considering that he would be using it on her and Ron first. Perhaps he should just wait for Snape to wake up...