Harry's determination to not get into more trouble did not last long. It would seem that Umbridge's entire teaching strategy revolved around forcing students to read endlessly boring chapters. Despite the annoyance, Harry was adamant that he wasn't going to give Umbridge a chance to punish him again. That was until Hermione protested of course. So really, this was all Hermione's fault.
Harry tried. He really did. But when Umbridge started to insist that Quirrell was the only defense teacher they had had worth his salt, Harry couldn't take it. After all, he mustn't tell lies.
"Oh yeah, Quirrell was the best," he said. "I'm sure having Lord Voldemort sticking out of the back of his head was really useful in planning appropriate lessons for schoolkids."
"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge.
The cut on his hand had not truly had a chance to heal. That night saw new, fresh cuts. Harry had thought ahead this time, and packed a cloth to wrap it in. He didn't make a single sound during his detention. He refused to give Umbridge an ounce of satisfaction. But that doesn't mean it wasn't getting to him.
As soon as he was out of her eyesight, he wrapped and cradled his hand, and found the nearest toilet. He wasn't familiar enough with healing spells to know how to fix it, and the ones Snape had given him for his scars didn't seem to work. He briefly thought that cutting might make him feel better, and then he remember Snape's words about one set of cuts being enough.
It was getting easier to make out the words. Soon "I must not tell lies" would be clear as day on his hand. Harry's frustration came out in a few silent tears. He stayed in the toilet until he calmed down before trudging to the common room. He bandaged his hand and got to work. After last week, he knew he couldn't afford to save all of his homework until the weekend. He had a choice to make. He could sacrifice sleep or he could sacrifice good grades. In the end, Harry decided he would rather be tired than risk further punishment from his professors for failing.
The following day only got worse when Angela confronted him about missing more practice. This in and of itself was not the worst thing Harry had experienced, but then her shouting attracted Professor McGonagall. To say his head of house was not pleased with his new detentions was a bit of an understatement.
"Are you telling me," her voice deadly low, "that after the warning I gave you last Monday, you lost your temper in Professor Umbridge's class again?"
"Yes," Harry muttered, speaking to the floor.
"Potter you must get a grip on yourself!"
"Do you think I want to get detention Professor!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm not any happier about this than you are!"
"Well you could have fooled me," she said. "Five points from Gryffindor."
"What!?" Harry exclaimed, but Professor McGonagall had already walked away in anger. As if this injustice wasn't enough, Hermione agreed with her of course. He spent his lunch in the toilet, fighting the urge to cut himself. He knew he had more lines to do, and there was little sense in harming himself further. But most days, it felt like the only thing he had control over. He could feel the walls begin to close in on him, so he put his head between his knees and took deep breaths until he felt able to go to class.
Charms was uneventful, but Umbridge was sitting in the corner of transfiguration when they arrived. Although McGonagall certainly didn't allow any of Umbridge's nonsense, it was overall a bit of a disappointment. Harry had hoped that was the last he would see of the High Inquisitor until his next detention, so his mood darkened when he saw her waiting, clipboard in hand, for their Care of Magical Creatures Class to begin. Harry was determined to stay out of her way, until of course Malfoy had to go and get involved.
"I understand there have been injuries in this class?" Umbridge asked.
"Oh yeah, that was me," said Malfoy. "I was attacked by a hippogriff third year." Harry ad Malfoy made eye contact and Harry narrowed his eyes. As if it what he and his father did to Hagrid third year wasn't enough, he had to attack a man that wasn't even present. Harry was seething.
"A hippogriff!" Umbridge exclaimed.
"Don't let that twat fool anyone," Harry interjected against his better judgment and his friends' protestations. "He was attacked because he couldn't follow basic instructions."
Umbridge smirked at Harry. "Another detention Mr. Potter. It seems not only do you enjoy spreading lies, but you must also deride your classmates."
It was nearly midnight by the time he returned to the common room with blood dripping from his hand. Hermione was waiting up for him, with a bowl containing a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, which made his hand feel much better. He told her to go on to bed, as he resigned himself to a couple hours of homework.
After about an hour of trying to focus on his potion's essay instead of his altercation with Malfoy, and failing miserably, Harry's head was beginning to ache. He pushed his parchment aside, and took out the two-way mirror in his pocket to see if Sirius was awake. Lucky for Harry, he was.
"Hey Sirius," Harry said once his godfather's face was reflected back to him.
"Hey yourself Harry," Sirius said. "What's got you up so late?"
"Homework," Harry said with a sigh.
Sirius laughed. "Why didn't you do it earlier?"
"Oh and you were so good about completing homework on time when you were a student were you?" Harry teased.
"Not even a little bit," Sirius said with a smirk. "But as your godfather I am obligated to insist you develop better habits than me."
Harry laughed. Sirius certainly knew how to cheer a guy up. "Well you're up aren't you?"
"I am an adult with long-standing bad habits," Sirius indicated. "You must be sure to not follow in my footsteps," he added dramatically. "Now, why are you up so late?"
Harry sighed. "I have detention again this week," he admitted. "Last week everything piled up because I was so tired when I got back. It sucked trying to do it all at once, so this week I'm just sacrificing sleep to get it done."
Sirius' brow furrowed. "You got another week's detention? With who?"
I must not tell lies. "Uhh, Umbridge."
"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed. "What did I tell you about her!?"
"Well I didn't do it on purpose!" Harry said. "I don't want detentions!"
"Well, you could have fooled me," Sirius said with the most disapproving tone Harry had ever heard from him. "I suppose she has you doing more lines." Harry nodded. "Goddammit Harry. Look I know this is awfully hypocritical of me, but you have got to stop getting into trouble."
"Again, I'm not trying," Harry insisted. "All I'm doing is telling the truth."
"Well, have you considered lying?" Sirius suggested, only half joking. "Just where Umbridge is concerned."
Harry rubbed his hand. I must not tell lies. "I know that's the logical thing to do," he said. "But it just feels so much like losing. Or giving in. We can't beat Voldemort if we aren't honest about it."
"I know that Harry, but sometimes it is important to watch your tongue."
"You're one to talk," Harry said with annoyance.
Sirius ran his hand through his hair. "Harry believe me I know how this sounds coming from me, but you have got to try harder."
For some reason, this made Harry angry. He thought about taking Sirius' advice about Umbridge here in this instance, and simply lying about what he felt. I must not tell lies. But then he realized that maybe Sirius didn't deserve the lie.
"Actually, I don't see that I have to do anything," Harry said. "Not for you, or any other adult. The way I see it, if everyone wants to put the weight of the world on a 15-year-old's shoulders, they can damn well live with the consequences."
Harry heard Sirius start to protest, but he didn't stop to listen. Instead, he wrapped up the mirror and shoved it into his bag, before packing up and going to bed. As he lay there attempting to clear his mind, all he could think about was all the ways adults had failed him lately. Granted, his friends had also failed him. Only Neville hadn't, and that was because he wasn't much involved just yet.
Everyone failed him. Harry thought of Malfoy and their encounter at the quidditch pitch. Even those who could previously be counted on to be consistent in their behaviors. And that bothered Harry more than he wanted to admit.
I must not tell lies.
The following night was more of the same. Harry fumbled through his classes, struggled to complete his homework in between, and suffered through another detention. It was all becoming too much.
Those who were supposedly on his side, like McGonagall and Sirius, were angry with him, as if it was unreasonable that a teenage boy who had suffered through everything he had would have the occasional outburst. Those who he would have traditionally considered his friends, such as his quidditch mates and Hermione, were also cross with him. And those who were unsure, or outright hated him, were quite enjoying the drama.
By the time he finished his third detention for the week, you could clearly read the words on the back of his hand. He had written them so many times, they flitted through his head like snow in winter. Having become intimately familiar with the castle's toilets, they were the only places one could be alone during the day, Harry chose to make his way to the astronomy tower after detention for a change of scenery. It was past curfew, but he knew the common room would still have people. He wanted to be alone.
It was a clear night. Harry stood by the open window and took a deep breath of the fresh night air. If he focused on the stars, the pain in his hand faded away. Of course, he couldn't help but remember that the last few visits to this tower included a certain blond. For a moment, he wished Malfoy was here with him. The desire quickly turned to anger.
Why would I want him here with me, Harry thought. He'd only mock me, and anyway, I came here to be alone. No sooner had he decided that he most certainly did not want Malfoy there, an all-to-familiar voice startled him out of his reverie.
"Well, well, well," Malfoy drawled, echoing the very first night they met in the tower. "It seems we have a lost little lion out after hours."
Harry regarded Malfoy coolly. For once, his temper was completely under control. Perhaps it was because he had worked through his emotions just seconds before. Honestly, Harry thought, this castle must read my mind; as soon as I think something, it happens.
"Well, well, well," Harry mimicked. "It looks like we have a little snake desperate for some attention from his favorite hero." Harry smirked when he saw an obvious blush fill Malfoy's cheeks.
"You're just as crazy as the Daily Prophet claims Potter," Malfoy spat back. "And I do think perhaps some punishment is in order. How about…10 house points?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "You can take 100 if you want Malfoy. I could really care less about house points."
"Well I'd give you detention, but I hear you're already neck-deep in it?"
Harry sighed. "Yeah, well I'm certainly not scared of whatever detention you could come up with."
"Bet you're scared of our High Inquisitor," Malfoy said. "I heard she's gone and put you in your place."
"Oh yeah?" Harry asked. "You're so eager for news about me you're scouring the castle for any little tidbit? Or perhaps you've asked about me? Such a devoted little fan."
If possible, Malfoy blushed even harder. "Don't you…it's not…" Malfoy struggled to find words. "It's not my fault the entire castle knows your business. It's not exactly hard information to find," Malfoy finally spat out.
"Well, that must make things easy for you then," Harry retorted. "You don't even have to go looking for news. Must make it easier to keep your friends from knowing how big of a Harry Potter fan you are." Harry made to walk out of the tower. "Be a shame if someone were to tell them about your obsession with a certain Gryffindor boy."
With that, Harry tried to leave. "Don't you just walk away from me," Malfoy exclaimed. He leaped towards Harry and grabbed the first thing he could, which just so happened to be Harry's injured hand.
"OW!" Harry yelled. He leaped back and cradled his hand to his chest. "Fuck," he said through clenched teeth. "Watch it." Harry couldn't be sure, but for a moment he could have sworn a look of worry passed over the blonde's face.
"What's wrong?" Malfoy asked.
"Like you care," Harry replied. There was a moment of tense silence, where they both stared at one another. Eventually, Malfoy took a tentative step forward and held out his hand.
"Let me see," he said quietly.
"Are you mad?" Harry asked.
"Look," Malfoy began, "I know you don't have much reason too, but please just trust me. I'm more than decent at healing magic."
Harry was startled. He wouldn't have thought healing magic much worth Malfoy's time. He had questions, but now was neither the time nor place. "Healing magic won't work on this."
"How do you know?"
"People smarter than you have tried."
"Who?" Malfoy sneered. "Granger? She's talented. I'll give her that. But I've been around magic my entire life. Trust me. There are just some areas a raised wizard is more knowledgeable of." Harry didn't budge. Malfoy sighed. "What's the real reason you won't show me?"
That gave Harry pause. He looked down at his hand and tried to figure out what to say. He didn't want to admit the truth. I must not tell lies. Harry looked back at Malfoy.
"I don't want you to think less of me," he said quietly.
Malfoy nodded. "I understand," he said just as quietly. "I won't think any less. Whatever it is." Harry looked doubtful. "How about a truce? A temporary moment of niceness between enemies."
Harry thought about it for a moment. Realizing it really couldn't hurt anything, and that he genuinely did trust Malfoy for some unfathomable reason, he gingerly handed over his hand.
Malfoy took it gently, and carefully unfolded the cloth that covered it. Harry had just enough time to wonder at the softness of the Slytherin's hands before Malfoy took in a sharp breath. He looked from the hand to Harry and back again.
"How?" he asked.
"Umbridge," Harry answered.
Malfoy's eyes grew big with shock. "Umbridge did this to you?"
"Apparently, it's called a blood quill," Harry said. "So yes, Umbridge did this to me. What did you think she had me doing in detention all this time?"
"I…I don't know," Malfoy said. "I didn't…I…"
"You what?" Harry said, snatching his hand back. "You weren't aware of the sort of people you were aligned with? The fact that your father sold his soul to a man who has no qualms killing babies wasn't a bit of a clue in?"
Malfoy refused to meet Harry's eyes. He had nothing to say. Harry's anger grew. They had been here already. He had already told Malfoy why they couldn't be friends. He knew better.
"I hope Malfoy," Harry offered, "I hope that one day you wake up, and realize exactly whose side you're on." With that, Harry turned and marched out of the tower.
The following night, after yet another detention, Harry found himself in the common room completing homework with Neville, Ron, and Hermione.
Harry sighed as he finished up an essay. He glanced at Neville beside him. "One of these days we'll get to those lessons Neville," Harry said. "As soon as I can manage to stop landing myself in detention."
"I know you will Harry," Neville said. "You're not one to go back on a promise."
"About that Harry," Hermione interrupted. "I had a thought." Everyone stopped to look at her. "Well we have our exams at the end of the year. And with Voldemort out there, we really need to be prepared. With Umbridge as our teacher, I can't see how we'll be prepared for anything."
"Well what do you suggest Hermione?" Ron asked. "It's not as if we can just get her fired."
"No, but perhaps we can find someone else to teach us," Hermione responded.
"Who?" asked Ron.
"Well, Harry of course," said Neville. Harry and Ron both looked up at him in surprise. "Well, that's what you were going for right Hermione? It makes the most sense."
"Yes Neville," Hermione said with a smile. "That is exactly what I was going to suggest."
"Wait a minute," Harry protested. "Let me get this straight. You want me to teach others defense?"
"Well weren't you already planning on doing that?" Hermione asked.
"Well, I mean," Harry began, "I've been calling them "lessons," but I was thinking more it would be Neville and I helping each other with our classes. And then Ron asked to join, and I figured the more the merrier…but I never really considered myself as a teacher."
"Well you could be," Hermione said.
"I don't know Hermione," Harry said uncertainly. "What makes me qualified to teach anyone anything?"
"Are you kidding mate?" Ron asked. "You've beat Voldemort, what is it now, four times?"
"I don't think the time I was a baby should count," Harry protested.
"So three then," Neville said. "That's still more than just about anyone else could boast about."
"Okay, maybe," Harry said. "But most of that was sheer dumb luck and a great deal of help."
"You're selling yourself short mate," Ron insisted.
"I'm really not," Harry protested. "I would have never made it to the stone first year if not for you and Hermione. And I only defeated Quirrell because of some arcane magic left over from my mother's sacrifice."
"Okay, but…"
"And second year I only survived because Fawkes showed up with a magical hat that gave me weapons."
"You still had too…"
"And last year I only survived the tournament because Crouch wanted me too," Harry said. "And if it wasn't for that weird wand thing where the spirits of my parents and Cedric helped me out I wouldn't have survived the cemetery."
"Enough Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. They all looked at her in surprise. "We get it. You've had help and a fair share of luck. But the matter stands that you've always been better at defense than the rest of us AND you're the only one among us who has actually faced Voldemort. You're the best choice."
Harry sighed. "Okay, so let's say I agree to this," Harry began. "Who exactly am I teaching? People think I'm a nutter remember?"
"More people believe you than you realize Harry," Hermione insisted. "And even more people would be willing to put that aside to get some proper lessons."
Harry looked at their three expectant faces and sighed in defeat. He wasn't sure why he was even protesting. Hermione doesn't give up on something once she's put her mind to it, and he was rather excited about the prospect if he was being honest. I must not tell lies.
"Alright," he said finally. "I'll do it."