Chapter 47: Skin Deep

He felt old that night, far older than he could remember feeling for a very long time.

It was the night of the welcoming feast and Albus had gone down to the Great Hall just as the students were all arriving, as he always had done.

The Entrance Hall was glowing with the bright torches and there was a starless black ceiling, which made the light feel even warmer than before. He watched as the faces of his students talking eagerly with one another, trying to make up for two months of lost time. He took his seat calmly, as he could see that many of them were now starting to stare at him darkly and suspiciously. He didn't mind… he knew that this would happen.

He looked to the doors to watch the students coming in like a flood, and soon he spotted them. The trio had just arrived with Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and, to his surprise, Miss Lovegood from Ravenclaw. He smiled as he watched her drift off towards the Ravenclaw table—he had heard a great deal about her from his staff… a more unique girl you couldn't find anywhere.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick. Suddenly, the trio put their heads together and was whispering to one another, their faces looking a little worried.

"What are you looking at, Dumbledore?" asked an overly-sweet voice from next to him. Closing his eyes for a moment, he turned his head and inclined it slightly so that he could hear her better, though he wasn't pleased about it.

"Just admiring all the students," he said deeply.

"Really?" she asked with a girlish giggle. "Now why would you do that? They're all the same." She looked over all the students all like a toad watching a bunch of flies, "Misbehaving, naughty children who lack proper guidance."

Albus's eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't see that, Dolores. On the contrary, I see a room full of talented students who are eager to prove themselves and learn."

She shot him a disbelieving look before she asked, with an evil smile, "To each his own, Dumbledore." She giggled that same high-pitched, girlish giggle again, and some of his other staff members, shot her an annoyed glare.

"It really is a shame that Hagrid couldn't be here," she went on, as she readjust the little black bow on top of her head. "Where did you say he was again?"

Like he would come out and tell her. "I told you," he said softly. "Hagrid is taking an extended vacation. He should be back before long."

Thankfully, Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared, and took Hagrid's usual seat. Knowing that the first-years were here, he sat up straighter, and sure enough—Minerva came in, leading them. The usual line of nervous-looking first-years was staring around them in amazement and awe at everything. He smiled a little at that as he watched Minerva lead them up to the front of their table, and had them all facing the rest of the school, which had just quieted down.

She set the Sorting Hat on its usual stool and stood back with the long roll of names. The whole school waited for a short time, and then, the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

In times of old when I was new,

And Hogwarts barely started,

The founders of our noble school,

Thought never to be parted,

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school,

And pass along their learning.

"Together we will build and teach!"

The four good friends decided,

And never did they dream,

That they might some day be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere,

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell,

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those whose

Ancestry is purest."

Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest."

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name."

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same."

These differences caused little strife,

When first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted,

So, for instance, Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with dueling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you…

Let the Sorting now begin.

Everyone burst into applause, though he did so half-heartedly.

A very interesting song, however it wasn't all that different in terms of message to what it used to give during the first war. Because they had lived through that war, the message wasn't new to him or the rest of the teachers, but to the students…?

He sighed, they were all coming from an era of peace until now, and it will be a huge change. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors about the song, wondering what was happening. But Minerva had just started reading out the names, and the students all fell silent as she gave them all a dark look. She then went back to reading out: "Abercrombie, Euan."

And so it went on until Minerva finished and took the Hat and stool out of the hall. Smiling, he stood up, stretching his arms wide and called out to the hall, "To our newcomers, welcome! To our old hands - welcome back!" he beamed at each of the four tables, seeing the hungry looks on their faces. So, rather than torture them any longer, he said, "There is a time for speechmaking, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as he sat down and threw his beard over his shoulder so that he could eat properly. But as he started to cut his steak, Dolores leaned in and began to talk again.

"You know, Albus," she said in a sweet voice, "I must say that Hogwarts has been going downhill for some time now don't you think?"

"By whatever do you mean, Dolores?" he asked politely, though firmly, not quite enjoying his meal as much as he thought he would.

"Well," she said smiling in an innocent way that he didn't believe for one minute, "Just that the Ministry believes that you seem to have lost your touch in recent years. Especially after what happened last year."

Albus gave her a hard look and she let the matter of Cedric's death drop for a moment before she said, "Well, things will be changing here this year, that much I can promise you."

Albus's eyes narrowed at that. Oh, he had a feeling that would indeed be true. But all he felt right now was a powerful rush of dislike that he couldn't explain. She patted her pink cardigan down as she looked around. "Ah, Hogwarts… almost as I remember it, I must say. Which is why I believe it's time for a change."

"Appearances can be deceiving, Dolores," Albus said softly. 'As you would know all too well,' he added in an in his mind. He remembered her from when she was a student here, and it wasn't too fondly. Her personality has been described from his staff as "poisoned honey". Ever since she was young she had been prejudiced against part-humans, such as werewolves and half-giants, which she called "half-breeds." He remembered how she had gone around, trying to get signatures to remove the centaurs in the forest, and the merfolk in the lake. Even though merfolk weren't part-human at all, rather they are a completely different species.

She placed a blind faith in authority, believing that it could not possibly be wrong. She liked to attach herself to the popular, and intelligent students in the school when she was here… naturally siding with those who would give her more. And despite her high ranking position in the Ministry, he didn't find her a particular powerful witch. Her real magical power and knowledge were mainly focused in offensive and defensive magic, particularly of a darker variety. Ironically it was this that a Defense Against the Dark Arts was suppose to teach, that she will most likely prevent her students from learning.

But rather than say all that out loud, he finished by answering truthfully, "Much has changed since your last visit."

"Well, that will make my job easier," she said, her smile hard. "Change is constructive, different is good. And I plan on making many changes here."

"Different, by its nature, isn't good or bad, Dolores; it just isn't the same as it once was," Albus said simply.

She smiled again. "And you would know more about different than I do. You certainly aren't—ah—like any other Headmaster or Headmistress that has ever been here."

'Personally, I never saw what was so important about being like everyone else?' he thought, turning away from her, and quickly striking up a conversation with Minerva.

The rest of the feast went on as it normally did, and when he was finished with his final bite of dessert, he was starting to feel warm and comfortable. When he noticed that the students were also starting to drift off, he stood up, and every eye turned to him.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast," he began smiling around at them all. "I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students - and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too."

His eyes glanced at the Gryffindor table, taking careful care not to notice Harry before he went on, "Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."

He could see them all looking at their friends, eyebrows raised. He knew that it was pointless to say this, but it at least made Argus feel better that he at least tried.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

After they applauded in a bored way at Dolores name, he went on, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the -"

"Hem, hem," said a voice next to him.

He stopped, and looked down at her. She had moved to stand up, though it wasn't easy to tell with her height.

It was the first time that anyone had interrupted him during the welcoming speech since he became Headmaster. But he came back to his senses to sit down and looked at her, no longer feeling tired or comfortable. He knew that this was only the first step of 'change' she had promised.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Dolores simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

She gave another little throat-clearing cough ("hem, hem") and continued.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"

Albus's eyes looked to his students and he felt the need to laugh. While they were all still young, no one liked being treated like they were little kids. Each and every face was looking at her with a mixture of distaste and annoyance.

Already he could foresee that she will not become the most popular teacher here.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

"Please forgive me while I go and vomit," he heard Minerva whisper in an undertone to Pomona, and he had to bite back a laugh.

Dolores cleared her throat again and went on, sounding like she had rehearsed this speech for a very dull business meeting.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Dolores paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…"

It was after this when he could hear his students all whispering and giggling together, obviously bored and uninterested with her speech. But he forced himself to listen to every bitter word, while Dolores didn't pay the slightest bit of attention that hardly anyone was listening to her.

"… because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned."

He raised his eyebrows as her eyes turned to him for a brief moment before she finished, "Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down, and Albus honestly felt sick on the inside. But he hid this by clapping, though hardly anyone else did. He then stood up.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her politely. Yes, that speech told him everything he needed to hear—the Ministry was going to interfere at Hogwarts this year. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…"

*After he dismissed everyone*

"It is going to be an interesting year," he whispered to Minerva as the two got up from their seats.

"I can't deny that," she said darkly. "Don't you think that it's strange that we haven't had a normal year here since Mr. Potter arrived?"

"An unusual coincidence," he sighed regretfully.

"She's going to be unbearable," Minerva hissed, looking over her shoulder at Dolores. "Even though Umbridge is the Minister's spy, there isn't really all that much she will be able to do, she is only the defense professor, she isn't even a head of house, so how much influence can she have?"

"However much Fudge chooses to give her," he answered grimly.

"Well, I can honestly say that I can't wait for the curse to strike," she said, glaring at Dolores's retreating back. Given that subject's track record she won't last the full year, then there will hopefully be someone with a better taste in clothing to teach next year."

At that moment, he heard a familiar voice call out, "Hey - hey, you lot! Midgets!"

He looked up to the Gryffindors to see Hermione telling Ron off before she called out, "First-years! This way, please!"

He watched as the new Gryffindors walked up to her, Harry, who was standing next to her, smiled at two of the boys—who froze and stared at him with frightened expressions.

Albus sighed… the first of many who will be fed lies.

*In his office*

"Most people think he's crazy," Everard sighed when he entered his picture. "Heard Potter and Finnigan got into a fight about it."

"I overheard that Lavender Brown thinks so to," Dilys called dully. "Along with a handful of other Gryffindors and most of the Ravenclaws… but from what I heard, at least half of the Hufflepuffs think he might be telling the truth."

"Most likely how Cedric's memory is being treated," Albus nodded. "Harry has been blamed for several crimes here over the last five years, and in the end, he was always telling the truth."

"Surprisingly, none of the Slytherins think he's crazy," Dexter said, giving Phineas a dark look.

"Why are you looking at me?" he demanded silkily.

"I'm just saying that most of their families are Death Eaters," Everard said angrily. "So of course they would know the truth."

"That is enough Everard," Albus sighed. "Just keep a close watch on Harry for me. I want you all to watch him especially close this year."

"When don't you have someone watching him all the time?" Phineas called. "I swear, the boy is thick for not noticing that he's being watched…"

"Now that I think of it," Armando said in his wheezy voice, "You seem to have been avoiding him lately. Why is that?"

Albus gave him a tired look. He knew that the fact that he had been avoiding Harry hasn't gone unnoticed. The Order and his staff members are all surprised by his apparent lack of concern for the boy… which couldn't have been further from the truth. The two of them were in this together, after all; he had believed Harry, announced his version of events to the whole school and then to the wizarding community… and he would continue to believe him.

"I just can't let myself get to close to him," he told them as he went to bed without another word. But he did hear Phineas give a loud snort, as if telling him that he didn't believe his words for a second.

*The next morning*

Feeling grim, Albus spent most of the morning looking out at the miserable rain-cloud grey sky. He just couldn't get to sleep, tossing and turning all night, only to get up to answer messages from the rest of the Order.

There was still no word from Sturgis Podmore. He remembered Alastor complaining about him not being there for their guard. It had been his turn to stand guard over the door to the Hall of Prophecy a few nights ago, but he never reported back in.

He gazed out at the fine misty drizzle, and the students that were all huddled underneath trees or parts of the castle. His eyes fell onto three familiar people shivering underneath a heavily dripping balcony. He watched the three of them talk for a moment before a fourth figure, Ravenclaw Cho Chang from the looks of things, approached them.

He then turned and went back to his desk, planning on sending a message to Alastor to see if he could find Sturgis.

"He's got a bit of a temper on him these days," Dilys said as he sat down. "He keeps snapping at his friends. If I didn't know better… I would think that he's a different person."

"But 'he' I'm guessing that you mean Harry?" he asked, looking through his drawers.

"He just seems so angry these days, Dumbledore," she sighed. "It's like he's someone else."

"With everything happening to him, can you blame him?" he asked softly.

"The whole world is calling him insane and a liar," Dexter frowned. "I see what you mean. Of course he would be upset."

"But it's more than that," Dilys said stubbornly. "He's not himself…"

But Albus had a feeling that most, if not all, of Harry's anger was directed with the frustration with himself. But he was starting to understand what Dilys meant. When he went down for lunch later on, he watched Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger coming out of the hall.

"Look," Hermione said to Ron firmly as they headed for the staircase. "You just have to tell him. Remind him whose side we're on."

"I'm not going to tell him," Ron said at once. "He's been in a bad mood since summer. I'm afraid he might bite my head off if I say something wrong."

"Just tell him that we've stopped arguing and that it would be nice if he didn't keep taking his anger out on us," she told him. "It can't be easy for him, but he needs to remember that we're not against him."

"Why don't you tell him?" Ron demanded as they climbed the stairs.

"Because I won't see him until Defense Against the Dark Arts," she told him. "And you sit next to him in Divination."

They looked up and spotted him coming down the stairs; they both stopped talking at once. He inclined his head politely to them both as he walked right by them.

*Later*

"I know that I'm going to regret asking this," Albus sighed, drinking a potion that Severus made for him to cure his headache. "But what happened in Umbridge's class?"

"Well, it could've been worse," Dexter said in a would-be-upbeat voice.

"Just say it!" Everard snapped in disgust. "It was a nightmare! She treats them like they're dim four-year-olds, who can't even read properly!"

"Now that wasn't… well, it was… I'm sure that it will…" Dexter stuttered, struggling to find something positive to say, but… "Ok, it was a horrible lesson, if you can call it that! You were right. They're just reading theory out of a book, and it made me sick just listening to that voice."

Albus didn't answer. This was terrible… it was only her first class and already it was ruining the student's chances of surviving in this next war.

"But, I feel I should mention that some students aren't going to be mindless sheep for her," Everard said, a rather wicked smirk crossing his face.

Albus looked at him wearily, "What happened?"

"First," Everard said, "Miss Granger called her out."

"Really?" Albus asked, interested at once at what Hermione had to say here.

"Yeah, she said that she doesn't agree with it, and it caused this huge uproar," he said with a laugh. "She says that there's nothing written in there about actually using defensive spells."

"I'm glad that she noticed," Albus said approvingly.

"Umbridge didn't like that," Everard remarked. "Didn't seem too happy that a teenager is telling her what she's doing wrong. But it's what she said that got me angry."

"And that would be?" Albus asked politely, though dreading what this she said.

"She said that she couldn't imagine any situation arising in her classroom that would require them to actually use any defensive spell," he said as if there was a nasty taste in his mouth. "That they shouldn't expect to be attacked during class."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Dilys muttered to her neighbors, who nodded in agreement. "Remember what kind of teachers you've had teaching? Two of them were working for You-Know-Who."

"That is not the point of defense though," Albus sighed, "The point is being able to defend yourself outside of the classroom. It is better to have the skills to protect yourself and never have to use them than to find yourself in a situation with no idea what to do."

"It couldn't be any clearer that she wants them all to fail their O.W.L's," Everard grumbled. "And Harry lost his temper again."

Albus shook his head, a hand going up to his forehead as he felt another headache coming back. "What did he say?"

"You have to admit that he made a lot of good points," he said comfortingly. "And he's right when he said 'what good's theory going to be in the real world?' And—ah—he mentioned You-Know-Who."

Albus shut his eyes. "And?" he asked, wondering how Umbridge took this.

"Well, you know how he gets sometimes," he said nervously. "He… said that he saw and fought him. That he killed Diggory. And…" he stopped. "Umbridge said that Diggory's death was nothing but a tragic accident."

Albus felt anger boiling inside him. To pass off such a brave, young man's death as if it was something stupid he did… he felt the need to curse her wide mouth shut.

"And Harry now has detention. Tomorrow night at five in her office," Everard finished off grimly. "And she sent him off to McGonagall with a note."

"He has nerve," Albus said after a moment's silence, "I'll give him that," before adding as an afterthought, "Though he really shouldn't pick fights with his teachers."

"Even if they aren't real teachers?" Dilys asked with a smile.

He raised his eyebrows at her politely and went on, "While I'm glad he is standing up for what he believes in, right now, it's more important that he remains calm and in control of his temper. Though I am wondering why she is referring him to Minerva. As much as I hate to say it, it would be her jurisdiction to assign punishment, so Minerva's involvement is not necessary."

"I think it was just to get him out of the room," Dexter muttered. "I wondered what Umbridge said when he left… after all now there wasn't anyone to contradict her, at least not in the way Harry was doing it."

"Either way, I'm sure I'll hear about it from Minerva later on," Albus said.

*Later*

As he predicted, Minerva came in just before dinner and informed him of Potter's detention. She even brought with her the note that Umbridge wrote to her.

Dear Minerva,

I am sorry to say that Mr. Potter disrupted our lesson today with some ridiculous story. Not only did he shout at me and called me a liar, he kept insisting that disgusting lie that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back. So I am afraid I have no choice but to give him detention every evening this week starting tomorrow at five. I ask that you have a word with him about respecting his betters.

This school had once been a great, well-ordered bastion of learning… but now, it had fallen from that great height to something much lower. Now, the students insisted on being different, even though they know nothing! I believe that if they want to stand out, they need to work hard and get into the Ministry, where their talents can be appreciated… assuming they had any, of course. Their job is to keep quiet and pass tests, and that is all. And I strongly discourage any of our fellow staff members too dis-encourage things like independent thought… among children! It was bad enough when all adults are encouraged to think independently, but children? No, no, that would just make a mess of things. It had made a mess of things; just look at this place! Thankfully, I plan to change all that soon enough.

Albus shook his head in disgust. Discourage the students not to think independently? Well, that has to be one of most ridiculous things he's ever heard in his long life. What did she think? Turn them all into mindless servants? Knowing her, she probably was.

"Well," Albus said, throwing the note onto his desk and looking up at his Depty. "She sure makes her point doesn't she?"

"She's disgusting," Minerva snarled. "I didn't like her as a student, and I certainly don't like her now. She is a despicable and vile woman and a horrible teacher to boot, stifling their education. A teacher should never ever base learning in pure theory. Doing so will never give our students the practice they need to function in this magical world! And to further her ineptitude, she prohibits asking questions in class. It's people like her, and, of course, the Ministry of Magic, living in denial the way they do that make me angry.

He could see that Umbridge wasn't the only one who got to the point.

"But as for Potter…" she sighed, looking at him. "He really needs to use his common sense. Potter knows that she works for the Ministry, and she is going to be going to Fudge with any news. Now he's got detention every night all week."

"I heard differently," Albus said causally. "I heard it was just one night."

"You knew?" she asked, mildly surprised.

"I overheard it," he said truthfully. "Hard not to—I'm sure that it's only going to be a matter of time before the rest of the school hears as well. And believe me, Minerva. If I could fire her and bring someone else in to teach in her place I would. But I have no choice in the matter."

"I know," she said unhappily. "We all do. But that doesn't make it any easier. But now I hear that she's trying to get the students to spy for her. She wanted them to tell her if they heard anyone talking about You-Know-Who."

"That doesn't surprise me," Albus said sourly. "Of course she's here to spy on us all, that's obvious, why else would Fudge have wanted her to come in the first place?"

He got up and they both headed down to the Great Hall for dinner together. "At least he listens to Miss Granger," she sighed. "Potter I mean. I pray she will keep him in line."

"We both do," he answered sadly, his stomach was now growling. He hadn't eaten all day, and now he felt as if his stomach was eating itself. But, as he thought, the news that Harry had argued with Umbridge was now traveling around the school. Even as he sat down in his seat, he could hear the whispers all around the hall.

"He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered…" said a fourth-year girl in Gryffindor.

"He reckons he dueled with You-Know-Who…" a sixth-year Slytherin boy snorted.

"Come off it…" his friend laughed.

"Who does he think he's kidding?" a seventh-year Ravenclaw called loudly.

"Pur-Lease…" A Hufflepuff said shaking her head.

Now Albus couldn't blame them. He could understand what it must've looked like to them. Harry had arrived back to Hogwarts with Cedric's body… no one could've seen what had happened in the maze… and before they could except the truth, they were forced to go home where their parents and the papers have been saying that Harry was a liar and how he, himself, was losing his mind.

"Oy, Potter!" he heard someone shout. Barely glancing up, half-expecting to see Umbridge there, instead he saw Angelina Johnson, looking furious, marching towards him.

He was briefly confused until he remembered that the Gryffindors had booked the field for Friday. He shook his head. He's going to miss try-outs, and as the new captain, of course Miss Johnson would be upset.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything that he could do. He could only hope that this would help Harry to keep his temper around that toad. He blinked in surprise. That old toad…? When did he start thinking like that about her? Now, he had always been taught by his mother to never speak ill of a woman… but then he glanced to Umbridge, who was slurping her drink with her pinky out.

He shook his head, and hoped that his mother could make one exception.

As for that evening, he tried to ask his portraits to watch Harry for his detention, but that wasn't possible at the moment.

"We can't keep an eye on them," Dexter told him regretfully. "She took all the portraits out of there."

"The only other things in there are those tacky kitten plates," Dilys shuddered. "And we can't use those, Dumbledore."

"Then keep an eye on the outside and let me know what happens," he said wearily. "Let me know when he leaves."

Dexter nodded. "I'll take over first," he said and walked out of his frame to a portrait that would be outside Umbridge's office.

Feeling light-headed from those Soothing Potions he took, he went back to addressing letters to the Ministry, and messages to the Order—trying to find out any news they had to report. He was so busy here that he didn't get a chance to go to bed until at 1 in the morning.

Finally, with his bones aching, exhausted, and thinking only of his warm bed—he was about to leave. At least until…

"He was there from five, almost to midnight!" said a disgruntled voice.

Feeling dizzy, he looked to see Dexter there in his frame again. "Oh, Dexter," he said tiredly. "Is this something that can wait until morning or…?"

"Just thought that you would want to know," he said angrily. "That Umbridge woman kept Potter in detention for almost seven hours!"

"And did he say what she make him do?" he asked, frowning.

"That he just did lines apparently," he shrugged. "He was rubbing his hand. Hours and hours of writing apparently."

Albus looked at him in surprise. "Well, that's not so bad," he said. "Knowing Umbridge, I had been expecting worse."

And with that thought, he went straight off to bed.

*Evening a few days later*

Several days had passed since that night, and Albus was still as busy as always. He spent most of his time in his office, in constant contact with the Order members, listening in to everything he could. What he heard disturbed him greatly.

Lucius was still buying his way into the Ministry and Fudge was hardly more than his puppet. And according to a message he got from Hagrid, any hope of the giants joining them were gone. Severus had also mentioned that Death Eaters was now starting to go to other nearby countries, trying to get others to join their cause… things weren't looking good.

He paced the floor, he heard from Bill Weasley last night, saying that the Prophecy was still safe, though he noticed that Lucius, Macnair, and several other Death Eaters in the Ministry were seen down there several times.

He could tell that Tom was starting to get impatient. Unfortunately, he also knew that Tom couldn't send any of his servants in to retrieve it. He would wait… until he was sure his plan would work.

He was so lost in thought that, at first, he didn't notice Armando coming into his portrait, looking extremely edgy about something.

"Armando?" one of the Headmistresses asked in surprise, "Is something wrong?" and he suddenly made shhing noises, waving his hand down, trying to get her to shut up.

"Armando?" Albus asked, turning to look at him who looked as though he would've rather he did anything but ask his name. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said a little too quickly, in a way that Albus didn't believe.

"Armando, my old friend, what is it?" he asked concerned. "Is there something wrong?" He didn't like how the former Headmaster kept looking to the sides of his picture, as if wondering if he could just walk out and not come back. "Please tell me, what is it?"

Armando was rubbing his old wrists, as if uncomfortable in his own skin. Finally, he said nervously, as if afraid how he would take the news, "I was keeping an eye on Potter, like what you said…" He shifted in his chair and said, "The boy just left his detention and was heading up to the common room…"

"Yes," Albus said slowly. "But what is wrong?"

"Well, he ran into his friend, the Weasley boy he's always with, on the way up," he said a little quickly. "And it turns out that he's trying out for Keeper."

Albus blinked. What was the problem with that? "That's good to hear," Albus said, "I'm glad to know that. But really, what is wrong with that?"

"Another Weasley on the Gryffindor team," Phineas softly muttered in disgust.

"But ah… you see," Armando went on, as if he hadn't heard Phineas.

"What is it?" Albus asked patiently, wondering what on earth could be so bad.

"The truth is…"

"Oh, out with it you sniffling idiot!" Phineas snapped at him.

Armando shot him a nasty look before he said, "Well… you see… Umbridge had been making Potter do lines for his detentions, but there's a piece of important information that we didn't know about."

Albus looked at him.

"He's forced to write, 'I must not tell lies' for six or seven hours everyday and…" Armando said, and trailed off for a moment, unable to finish.

Albus continued to look at him, his face not showing any emotion. "Well, that's bound to be hard for him, but I still don't…"

"You didn't let me finish," he whispered, holding up a shaking hand, as if afraid of what Albus was going to do if he waited any longer.

And then Albus found out the truth. A Blood Quill. She was forcing Harry to use a Blood Quill.

Albus stared at him.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked softly, staring at him, horror and rage welling up inside. "Are you positive?"

"I didn't want to believe it," Armando said as they all stared at him. "But I saw them. I overheard Harry tell Ron… and showed him his hand. There words cared there and it was bleeding. He said that she was forcing him to write with a black quill and in his own blood."

Silence… and then…

"That is disgusting!" Dilys shouted in fury. "He needs to go to McGonagall or one of the other teachers and…"

"But he won't!" Armando called loudly over her tirade.

"Why ever not?" she demanded. "That's not an appropriate punishment! That's torture."

"And has this been happening every detention?" Albus asked softly. A Blood Quill was an object only to be used for powerful, magical binding contracts. Not to be used over and over again… "Even the first night?"

"It takes a long time for the Blood-Quill's effects to become permanent," Armando reminded them. "And it must've been… I think that they should still heal over… but if he writes anymore… I don't think those scars will ever heal."

He trailed off and Albus sat down, a hand over his eyes. This was a school… the students were supposed to be safe here… but now he finds out about this. Dolores Umbridge… there was now no doubt in his mind that she was clearly an evil woman - nothing short of a sociopath - who characterised the worst aspects of political power. To actually torture the students you were supposed to protect? And to a student who was only telling the truth?

"Harry, why didn't you me tell me or one of the other teachers?" he asked softly, speaking more to himself than to the others.

"That's what Weasley said," Armando said hurriedly. "But Potter refuses to do so. He said that the other teachers had their own troubles with Umbridge and he wasn't about to make it worse. Said that he wasn't given her the satisfaction of knowing she got to him."

"Men and their pride," Dilys and the other Headmistress cried out furiously. "Got to him? He should just swallow his pride and tell someone! She can't get away with this."

"But McGonagall doesn't have much power over her," one of them shouted.

"Then he needs to come to you, Albus…"

But Albus just sat there. "He won't," he said softly.

"But he's can't just…"

"He won't," he said firmly, standing back up. "I know him enough by now to know what he's like. And he won't do it… he will continue to suffer through it like now. And… I can't say I blame him."

"What are you…?" but he was no longer listening to any of them.

He could see where the boy was coming from. It was on his command after all that Harry had been isolated at the Dursleys for most of his life, where he is completely neglected both physically and psychologically… and especially after the traumatic event of what happened last year? He was cut off from everyone and everything he cared about and needed for over a month—as if he was just shut into a cage and forgotten about.

And even once he gets to headquarters he doesn't allow him to be filled in properly on things that directly concern him. He didn't even bother to check to see how he was coping or if there is anything that he could've done to make it easier. Even at his trial, out of the blue, he came and defended him… only to leave without a word.

The anger and frustration was most likely caused by himself, he knew it. In a way, he did abandon him… but it was for the right answers.

At least that was what he thought… but after hearing this… was it still right?

*The next night*

"He still won't go to you," Dexter called angrily. "He's with his friends in the common room and he just won't say a word about it to anyone else."

Albus looked down at the letters in front of him, on his desk, but not really seeing them.

"Albus you can't honestly let this continue!" Dilys said outraged.

"I am afraid that I can't do anything right now," he said sadly. "Harry won't come to me and complain. And if he won't tell me what's happening, there's nothing I can do."

"Besides," Phineas yawned. "All that Umbridge has to do is say that the brat put those words there himself for sympathy. Who do you think that the idiotic Ministry will listen to?"

Albus got up and began to pace the room, feeling that he would lose his mind if he sat still any longer.

"But surly there must be something you can do," Dilys asked, and all the other women called in agreement.

"I told you," he said, his tone bitter and sharp. "If Harry won't come to me, then there's nothing that I can do about it."

"Yeah but…"

"You can't just…"

"How about…?"

"Please," he called wearily. "If there was something I could do, believe me, I'd do it. But without anyone coming to me with a problem, there's not much I can do to stop her. And though it pains me to admit it, Phineas was right."

"What do you mean by that…?" Phineas called in an outraged voice, but he continued, "My hands are tied."

But that didn't stop him feeling sick with himself for not being able to do more. Just thinking about the Blood Quill being used on any of his students… his hands curled into fists—fury coursing through him.

"Then you might not be interested in that his scar was hurting him again," Dexter asked.

"I… what?" he asked, taken off-guard. "You say that it was hurting him again?"

"Said that it happened when he was in Umbridge's office," he answered. "He was telling Granger about it. Said that when Umbridge touched his hand, hurt…"

"And I'm correct in guessing that he won't come to me about that either?" Albus asked.

"Said that he already told you about it last year and that you didn't need to hear it again," he said, but he wasn't looking at him as he said that; a sign that he wasn't being completely honest.

"Dexter?" he asked.

"We—he—ah—he also, kinda said, that his scar is the only part of him you seem to care about anymore," he added in a mumble.

"What an ungrateful brat," Phineas yawned, though there was a smirk.

Albus shook his head. "Did he say anything else?"

"Just that he wanted to write and tell Sirius about it," he answered.

Albus wasn't so sure that would be wise. He'd bet a year's supply of Lemon Drops that she was watching the mail. He could only hope that he learned something from Alastor about putting something in writing…

But he could see Harry's worry. If his scar hurt when Umbridge touched him, it was unusually like what happened with Quirrell touched him in his first year when Voldemort possessed him. But he doubted that Umbridge was being controlled that way. Well, she was possessed by something alright, but it wasn't Voldemort.

He doesn't need her like he needed with Quirrell. He has a body now, and his powers back.

He walked over to Fawkes's perch and stroked his feathers, trying to calm down. Fawkes looked at his face and gave a sad cry.

"I know," Albus said to him, as if he could understand what he said. "There are many different kinds of monsters. Voldemort is one kind… Umbridge is another…" he paused for a moment before whispering quietly to his old friend—so that not even his portraits could hear—"And I'm another…"

(Done! Why is it with every chapter it gets so hard? But hey, the first chapter for the New Year! I hope you enjoyed it!)