Last time...
"You killed someone." Hera stated, straightforward, without judgement or bias.
"I did." Luna replied back with no hesitation; both because it was true, and she felt she had nothing to be ashamed of.
"When I hit Quirrell, I didn't quite understand what I'd done, what it meant. When I handed Lockhart to Jör, I did." Hera continued, taking Luna's hand into her own, and Luna relaxed at the concern she saw in her friend's eyes. It had been silly to worry that Hera would hate her for what she'd done, but even though Hera hadn't shut her out or treated her any different, seeing the blatant concern in her eyes meant the world to Luna. "What I mean is it's okay to not be okay, to feel guilt even when the situation isn't your fault. I should have checked on you before, but I didn't want to suffocate you. You seemed to be doing okay, but then it occurred to me that I should be more worried because you seem to be doing okay, not less."
"Is that what the wrackspurts have been bothering you about?" Luna blinked in surprise. It wasn't often that something surprised her, but Hera was routinely becoming good at that. Hera nodded. "I wish you would have told me sooner, Hera. I blamed myself for my mother, and it took a lot to recognize that if I was at fault then so was she. I was so young, and she was such a successful witch. It took a lot to realize the same things you're telling me now, but I'm glad you thought enough of me to check in and make sure I wasn't losing myself to internal guilt. The others haven't done that yet."
"They might not think to do so." Hera suggested, squeezing her hand lightly. "They've not been through that yet."
"You mean they haven't killed someone." Luna elaborated. It wouldn't do for her to let her friend sugar-coat things for herself.
Hera nodded. "I know it's likely to happen, what with the war, and…well, everything, but…Is it so wrong for us to want to keep them from it while we can?"
"No, it isn't," Luna acknowledged. "but we can't control what happens."
"Then we'll just have to make sure to be there for them," Hera promised. "for when they need to hear these things. You'll help me, won't you?"
Luna could only smile, as she regarded her friend fondly. "Always."
Though Luna didn't tell her, she wondered if Hera realized the same thing applied to her too.
Chapter 106
Before too long, March seemed to bleed into April with no thought at all. Hera worked hard to build up the DA lessons, seeking Snape's advice often. She'd asked Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout about the various aspects of their subjects. They were a fountain of information, and she used it to help the others with their O.W.L.'s, and N.E.W.T.'s. There were days when it was a true study group, with bits of every class being covered as needed, and Hera was especially proud of her little wandless non-verbal casting duckings; they'd really taken to it.
"Harry Potter Miss!" Dobby shouted – having popped into a space a little away from her – his voice more urgent even than when he'd tried to save her from 'the plot'.
"Dobby?" Hera questioned, before taking a good look at him, and kneeling to his level. He was shaking, eyes wide in terror. "Dobby, what happened to you?"
"That is not being important, Little Miss!" Dobby squeaked, even as he trembled from head to toe. "You must go…Dobby has come to warn you…Dobby only just got away!…"
"Someone managed to hold you against your will?" Hera demanded, with an even calm. She didn't need to scare Dobby with how angry she was. It didn't seem to matter, as she had to reach out quickly in order to stop him from running full tilt into the stone wall. "Dobby, there's no need to punish yourself. You don't want a relapse. You've been doing so well. Now, please, tell me what's wrong."
"…She…She…" Dobby tried, but clammed up, shaking his head.
Hera had a bad feeling she knew exactly who 'she' was, and made a decision.
"Class is cancelled!" She announced, pitching her voice to carry across the room; though the magic of Hogwarts certainly helped. "I want everyone to make your way to the closest door leading to your House. Umbridge is on the move, and I don't know what her play is. If you don't want to get caught, I suggest you get moving."
It wasn't as fast as she would have liked, but they did all leave. Her friends would have stayed with her, but she shook her head against it. It would be better if she were found alone. Besides, she knew her friends were not quite ready for her more violent tendencies; well, except for Luna. She'd kept those as tightly bound as she could manage, but they'd slipped every so often, and she'd caught the slight frowns of concern and confusion they'd made.
When the last of the students left, Hera made to leave as well. She didn't bother trying to hide. It wasn't past curfew, and there was no rule she was breaking 'to their knowledge'. Dobby was injured, and while she could more than likely heal him herself, she decided to carry him to the Hospital Wing instead. Madam Pomfrey was always willing to discuss healing with her, and she had no problem treating those of other races. However, a movement caught the corner of her eye, and she barely put up a shield charm in time to stop the tripping jinx that had been sent her way.
"PROFESSOR! I've got one!" Ledbury – a Slytherin she'd never really gotten to know much – shouted.
Umbridge came bustling around the far corner, but when she saw Hera with Dobby in her arms, her bright smile fell from her face before it made a valiant re-emergence.
"You can come with me to the Headmaster's office, Potter." The woman ordered, in her softest most dangerous voice.
"Lets." Hera allowed a shark like grin to grace her face as she pinned the woman with a look. "I'd like to see what you've got to say for yourself."
Umbridge's face twisted in rage, and she made to grab Hera's arm in an effort to make sure she couldn't get away, only to jerk her hand away a second later as frost began rapidly climbing up her arm. Not deterred as Skeeter had been, Umbridge brandished her wand at her, gesturing towards the office. This was going to be good. Dobby curled into her as she held him in her arms, and Hera focused her attention once more. She didn't like that Dobby's healing was being delayed by this, but she wasn't sure what else to do.
Hera held him close, acting as if to kiss his forehead, and gently whispered. "I don't know what you need from me to heal yourself, but take it, whatever it is."
Dobby shook his head no, and stubbornly kept silent, clinching his fists to resist the urge he still had to punish himself.
"Fizzing Whizbee." Umbridge sang, happily, and the stone gargoyle jumped to the side in front of Hera, causing her to startle.
She'd been so focused on Dobby that she hadn't noticed how far they'd actually gone. Once the staircase to the Headmaster's office was revealed, however, Umbridge marched her up the stairs. They reached the polished door with the griffon knocker, but Umbridge didn't even bother to knock; instead opening the door, and shoving Hera inside, strolling along behind her. The office was full of people, and Hera took a moment to assess her situation. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, his expression serene, the tips of his long fingers together; his eyes paused on her only once, revealing an apology she couldn't quite decipher in time before it and his gaze was gone.
Professor Snape stood rigidly beside him, his face extremely tense. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, looked a mix of glee at Dumbledore's situation and hesitation at what was about to happen. She'd known it was a long shot that he'd grow out of that, but had hoped he could put it aside for the time being. It was clear to her now that she'd been wrong to do so. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a wizard she didn't recognize were strategically placed on either side of the door like guards. Percy looked torn but determined, hovering beside the wall, quill and heavy parchment in hand, clearly there to take notes.
"This one was headed back to the Slytherin Dungeons." Umbridge announced. There was something indecent about the excitement in her voice, the same callous pleasure Hera had heard as Umbridge watched Professor Trelawney dissolving into tears in the entrance hall. "The Ledbury boy cornered her."
"Did he?" Fudge inquired, appreciatively. "Well, Potter…I expect you know why you're here?"
"Yes." Hera agreed, ignoring Dumbledore's blatant eye communication. "I'm here to lodge a complaint against a professor for the imprisonment and torture of my house elf."
"What?!" Umbridge cried in outrage.
"He is injured, quite literally bleeding in my arms, and is even now cringing away from you." Hera snapped, glaring at the woman. "You clearly think nothing of other sentient life if it is not human and magical, and even less so if it is not pure, but I had thought you respecting of what you considered as another persons…property." She said 'property' with clear distaste and a sneer, as she hated to think of anyone in such a way. "Clearly, I was mistaken."
"While heavy handed in her approach, what Dolores means by bringing you in here is to uncover an illegal student organization within the school." Fudge began. "She insists that you are at the forefront of it all, and claims to have evidence."
"Really, Minister?" Hera drawled, levelling the man with a look. "Bleeding injured being right in front of you, or possibly made up mysterious shadow organization; which of these things are more pressing and right in front of you?"
Technically, both of them, but he didn't need to know that.
"I think, Minister," Umbridge cut in silkily from behind her. "we might make better progress if I fetch our informant."
"Yes, yes, do." Fudge allowed, nodding.
Umbridge left the room, and everyone waited. No one thought to help her with Dobby, and the portraits were all gathered for proper gossip. It was maddening. When the door opened once more, Umbridge came bearing one of the Ravenclaws – Marietta – if Hera wasn't mistaken. The girl was hiding her face in her hands, even as Umbridge manoeuvred her further into the room. A wave of fresh anger came over Hera as she realized that this girl was the reason why Dobby had been hurt, why her fellow students now feared for their lives, and she wanted to do something about it.
"Don't be scared, Dear, don't be frightened," Umbridge cajoled softly, patting her on the back. "it's quite all right, now. You have done the right thing. The minister is very pleased with you. He'll be telling your mother what a good girl you've been. Marietta's mother, Minister," she added, looking up at Fudge, "is Madam Edgecombe from the Department of Magical Transportation. Floo Network office — she's been helping us police the Hogwarts fires, you know."
"Jolly good, jolly good!" said Fudge heartily. "Like mother, like daughter, eh? Well, come on, now, dear, look up, don't be shy, let's hear what you've got to — galloping gargoyles!"
As Marietta raised her head, Fudge leapt backwards in shock, and Hera could understand why. The culmination of all the jinxes and curses that had gone into that paper were now all over that girl's face. Gasps went up about the room, and Marietta pulled the neck of her robes right up to her eyes, but Hera just stared at the girl. She'd warned them all that more than one person had added to the security of the parchment, and they'd signed it anyway. However, even she could admit that the resulting mess looked horrific
Marietta's face was horribly disfigured by a series of close-set purple pustules that spread across her nose and cheeks to form the word 'SNEAK'; Hermione's contribution. While seemingly simple and benign enough, the longer the jinx went on, the pustules would begin bursting and reforming when the pressure got to be too much. It would scar if not taken care of soon enough, and then the girl would be branded forever by her decision. Draco's contribution had been a rendition of the Anteoculatia curse, and Hera was already starting to see the beginnings of antler like horns growing… only it didn't appear that he'd focused on what type of horns; as the nubs were already trying to split and spiral at the same time. Luna had sneaked one in, and Hera wondered if she'd known even then that the five of them would be as close as they now were; though there was no visible sign of the curse Luna used, so there was only Hera's ability to see magic that alerted her to its existence.
Ron's contribution surprised her, though she'd expected to see evidence of his. He'd done some sort of mix of the conjunctivitis curse, and ear shrivelling curse, causing Marietta to have her eyes swollen nearly shut as well as her ears shrivelled into little nubs. Hera supposed that with the other visible curses, her own addition looked that much more horrific for it. Marietta's lips were now bound by thread do tightly that she could barely do more than moan in agony. There was no blood around the points where thread and skin met, allowing for the pulled skin to be seen in all its horror; Hera had designed the curse to be quick and painless, not wishing Loki's experience on anyone, but there was something to be said for the sheer terror in Marietta's barely visible gaze.
"Why isn't Professor Flitwick here?" Hera demanded, turning to Dumbledore.
"I am perfectly adequate to represent Miss. Edgecombe, Miss. Potter." Dumbledore reminded her, though he didn't look opposed to the idea.
"In matters that require the Ministry to be present, you represent Hogwarts. Even if it was a student's needs being brought to your attention, they are entitled to representation from their Head of House, and you will not deny her that." Hera argued, dismissing him in favour of Marietta. "Do you want Professor Flitwick here?"
Marietta must recognize something in her voice, or perhaps the magic she'd woven into the threads had responded, but the girl stills for a moment before nodding.
"Winky." Hera called, not moving her eyes from Marietta when she heard a small pop in the room. "Will you go to Professor Flitwick, and ask him if he would mind representing Marietta in a matter that pertains to Hogwarts and the Ministry? It seems the poor dear has managed to get into something she shouldn't have."
"Dobby?" Winky inquired.
"Dobby will be fine. I'll get him to Madam Pomfrey as soon as we're done here, unless you know a better way. I'm open to suggestions." Hera revealed.
Winky is gone with a pop, and another alerts her Winky's return not long after.
"Miss Edgecombe?!" Flitwick gasped, alarmed at the very sight of his student, before he's a ball of righteous fury at the closest authority figure; in this case Dumbledore. "Why hasn't this been fixed?! You're all just standing here while one of my Ravenclaws is injured?! Let's go, Miss. Edgecombe-"
"I'm afraid it's not that simple." Fudge maintained, gathering his wits about him. "Miss. Edgecombe is involved in a plot against the Ministry, and-"
"What exactly is she supposed to be able to tell you like this?" Flitwick snapped angrily.
Hera might be angry at Marietta right now, but she's not about to deny the girl the best representation she could possibly have.
"She is evidence." Umbridge stated dismissively. "Miss Edgecombe here came to my office shortly after dinner this evening, and told me she had something she wanted to tell me. She said that if I proceeded to a secret room on the seventh floor, sometimes known as the Room of Requirement, I would find out something to my advantage. I questioned her a little further and she admitted that there was to be some kind of meeting there. Unfortunately at that point this hex," she waved impatiently at Marietta's now concealed face, "came into operation."
"Haven't we got a counterjinx for this?" Fudge asked Umbridge impatiently, gesturing at Marietta's face. "So she can speak freely?"
"I have not yet managed to find one," Umbridge admitted grudgingly, and Hera couldn't help the surge of pride at her shield-brethrens cursing abilities. "But it doesn't matter if she won't speak, I can take up the story from here. You will remember, Minister, that I sent you a report back in October that Potter had met a number of fellow students in the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade —"
"And what is your evidence for that?" Professor Snape cut in.
"Miss Edgecombe said the girl's name, and then this happened!" Umbridge snapped, and then continued as if the man hadn't spoken. "the purpose of Potter's meeting with these students," continued Professor Umbridge, "was to persuade them to join an illegal society, whose aim was to learn spells and curses the Ministry has since decided are inappropriate for school-age. Miss Edgecombe tipped me off and I proceeded at once to the seventh floor, accompanied by certain trustworthy students, so as to catch those in the meeting red-handed. It appears that they were forewarned of my arrival, however, because when we reached the seventh floor they were running in every direction. It does not matter, however. I have all their names here, Mr. Alas ran into the Room of Requirement for me to see if they had left anything behind…We needed evidence and the room provided…"
To Hera's horror, Umbridge withdrew from her pocket the list of names and handed it to Fudge. "The moment I saw Potter's name on the list, I knew what we were dealing with"
"Excellent," said Fudge, a smile spreading across his face. "Excellent, Dolores. And…by thunder…" He looked up at Dumbledore, who was still standing beside Marietta, his wand held loosely in his hand.
"See what they've named themselves?" Fudge noted quietly. "Dumbledore's Army."
Dumbledore reached out and took the piece of parchment from Fudge. He gazed at the heading scribbled by Hermione months before and for a moment seemed unable to speak. Hera was beside herself. Hermione had gone against her wishes, had pinned it Dumbledore's Army anyway, despite knowing that Hera hated the idea of it having anything to do with either of those things. Hera found it strange, however, that Dumbledore would smile upon seeing such a thing; especially given that they were at odds much of the time. He would know this hadn't been her idea, but she couldn't know what else he was thinking.
"Well, the game is up," Dumbledore stated simply, still smiling. "Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius, or will a statement before these witnesses suffice?"
Hera saw Snape and Kingsley look at each other, fear in both faces.
"Statement?" Fudge questioned, clearly uncertain. "What…I don't…?"
"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius," Dumbledore pointed out, still smiling as he waved the list of names before Fudge's face. "Not Potter's Army. Dumbledore's Army."
"But…but…" Understanding blazed suddenly in Fudge's face. "You?"
"That's right," Dumbledore agreed, pleasantly.
"You organized this?"
"I did," Dumbledore continued; a lie if there ever was one.
"You recruited these students for…for your army?"
"Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting," Dumbledore nodded with a sigh. "Merely to see whether they would be interested in joining me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course."
"Then you have been plotting against me!" Fudge yelled, indignant once more.
"That's right," Dumbledore nodded cheerfully.
"I'm afraid that you will have to now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged and then sent to Azkaban to await trial." The Minister informed him, before gesturing to the guards stationed by the door.
"Ah," Dumbledore murmured, gently, like it was an afterthought. "yes. Yes, I thought we might hit that little snag."
"Snag?" Fudge echoed, both grim and confused. "I see no snag, Dumbledore!"
"Well, you see," Dumbledore informed him, apologetically, "I'm afraid I do."
"Oh really?"
"Well…It's just that you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to — what is the phrase? 'Come quietly?'. I am afraid I am not going to come quietly at all, Cornelius. I have absolutely no intention of being sent to Azkaban. I could break out, of course — but what a waste of time, and frankly, I can think of a whole host of things I would rather be doing." Dumbledore revealed, reminding Hera far too much of herself, and she wondered just what he thought he was doing.
Umbridge's face was growing steadily redder, she looked as though she was being filled with boiling water. Fudge just stared at the man as though he'd just been stunned by a blow to the head, and couldn't quite believe it had happened. He made a small choking noise and then looked around at Kingsley and the other auror, who alone of everyone in the room had remained entirely silent so far. The latter gave Fudge a reassuring nod and moved forward a little, away from the wall. Hera saw his hand drift almost casually toward his pocket, and would have moved to intercept if it had not been for the subtle hand twitch that was a signal from Dumbledore. He wanted this.
"Don't be silly, Dawlish," Dumbledore insisted, kindly. "I'm sure you are an excellent Auror, I seem to remember that you achieved 'Outstanding' in all your N.E.W.T.s, but if you attempt to…er…'bring me in' by force, I will have to hurt you."
The man called Dawlish blinked, looking rather foolish. He looked toward Fudge again, but this time seemed to be hoping for a clue as to what to do next.
"So," sneered Fudge, recovering himself, and Hera couldn't help but wonder how much of this was a cover and how much was the man really wanting to stick it to Dumbledore. "you intend to take on Dawlish, Shacklebolt, Dolores, and myself single-handed, do you, Dumbledore?"
"Merlin's beard, no," Dumbledore denied, benignly. "Not unless you are foolish enough to force me to. You aren't foolish, are you Cornelius?"