Chapter 19 – Detention

The rest of October passed in a quiet manner. And though perhaps life at Hogwarts was never dull, nothing major happened until the month had almost turned to October. Hermione continued to watch Harry, noting the changes in her friend and the new sense of determination and application to not only his studies, but also simply the way he gave his all to everything with which he was involved. The old Harry had a tendency to slack off at times—the new Harry was much, much different. Hermione was pleased with the changes, knowing that much of what happened focused on him, and that much would also depend upon him. In this she was joined by Fleur, as it seemed the French witch had become almost as protective of Harry as was Hermione herself.

Harry continued his progress in all of his classes, improving in almost all facets of his education. His level of dedication to his studies had improved significantly, and he was showing an intelligence that Hermione had often glimpsed before, but had never truly been able to see clearly. His explanation, once he had been induced to share, had caught Hermione somewhat off guard.

"The Dursleys never cared," he said with a shrug when asked.

The confusion must have been evident on Hermione's face, because Harry sighed and elaborated on his statement. "The first time I received my grades in primary school, I took them home to my aunt, thinking that I might finally get some acceptance from them—I was proud because I had received very good marks. Other than Aunt Petunia sniffing and saying that I must have cheated to get them, they were completely ignored. Uncle Vernon only grunted and signed them so I could take them back to school. They never scheduled any interviews with the teachers, nor even responded when a meeting was requested."

"So you didn't try?" asked Hermione sympathetically. Though a part of her was horrified at the thought that anyone would not try in school—especially someone as obviously intelligent as Harry—another part of her understood that it was another byproduct of his unhappy upbringing.

"Didn't seem like there was any point," said Harry with a shrug. "I always understood the material, but I didn't make any effort to do any more—much the same as I have been since I came to Hogwarts. There was no motivation to be anything other than mediocre, so I didn't bother."

"Oh Harry," said Hermione, flinging her arms around him. "So the Delacours helped change that?"

Harry returned her embrace for a moment, before he drew back, appearing pensive. "Well, partially maybe. I also realized that my attitude was silly and that I was only hurting myself by coasting through school. Especially with Voldemort after me."

The conversation helped Hermione understand Harry better than she ever had in the past, and though she regretted his previous lack of effort, she was encouraged by how well he was doing now. His new studious manner was even helping some of his friends, particularly Neville and Ron, who had never been exactly scholarly themselves. There were even times when Ron—Mr. Slacker himself—was found to already be engrossed in an assignment when Hermione sat down to her nightly studying sessions. She supposed it was only fair—Ron had influenced Harry early in their time at Hogwarts, now Harry was returning the favor.

Potions particularly saw a change in not only Harry's attitude, but also his performance, though to be fair, that was also due in part to the improvement of Professor Snape's attitude toward him. It was still evident that the Professor did not like him—Hermione suspected Snape would hold a grudge toward Harry until his dying day—but at least he was for the most part controlled and professional in class. Anything at all was an improvement, and Hermione could only hope that it would last.

The first true training session of the Defense Club went well, with Harry largely going over most of the curriculum from their previous year, as well as mixing in some of the spells that they had learned in previous years. The reason for this was twofold—first to allow everyone to once again get into the mindset and practice of actually casting defense spells, and also to rate the power and knowledge of the members of the club.

The biggest problem that they experienced, however, was the problem of the disparate levels of competence and age existing in the club. Harry was a fifth year, as were many others in the club, while Fleur and her friends represented the higher levels of training as seventh years. However, there were also several students from younger years, including Ginny, Luna and Colin Creevey as fourth years, while Dennis Creevey was, of course, only a second year. It was tricky trying to design a course which would not only benefit everyone, but also refrain from overwhelming those who were at a disadvantage due to their younger age.

As a result, while they had planned to cover many spells which were taught in the higher years of Defense class, they also had planned to cover many spells which were not taught at all in Hogwarts. Some of these were spells which Moody had taught them, while others were gleaned from books recommended either by Moody or Sirius. And of course they planned to teach some dueling theory, in addition to the more underhanded fighting styles which Moody had run them through that summer.

Malfoy continued to be a bother, as was his wont, but whereas he had largely focused on Harry in the past—Harry's friends had always been caught in his taunting largely by association—ever since the howler incident he seemed to focus more of his vitriol on Hermione, whether Harry was present or not. Of course Hermione just ignored him, knowing the petty boy's opinions were absolutely worthless. In fact, she even smugly alluded to the number of times she or Harry had chased him away in shame, including—with no small amount of glee—the time she had punched him in third year. He was not to be deterred, however, and though Harry continued to hold in his temper, Hermione could tell that Malfoy's taunts, or more specifically those directed at either Fleur or Hermione were wearing on him.

Another situation which appeared to be grating on his nerves was the continual baiting to which he was subjected in Defense class. Umbridge was almost never overt—she appeared to have acquired a modicum of subtlety, or perhaps deviousness—but her snide comments and veiled innuendos were obvious to anyone who cared to hear, though she was careful to keep her comments to the times when she could not be observed by any of the other professors. Generally this meant that she confined her taunts to the classroom, or the corridors when she was certain they were alone.

Regardless of Umbridge's behavior, however, they had avoided approaching Dumbledore about the matter. Not only did they know that he was aware of the situation, but they had already exchanged thoughts and plans for how to deal with her. Dumbledore was actively seeking a way to remove her from her position, but they were well aware that he felt they needed something concrete and unassailable, or they invited Fudge's further interference in the school.

Through it all, Hermione was proud of Harry—he suffered all of her barbs in silence, ignoring her as much as possible and answering with bland comments when he could do nothing else. The woman started out by attacking his character, his insistence that Voldemort had returned, and when that failed to provoke a response, she moved on to comments about his betrothed and his closest friend.

However, in the last week of October she began to move toward more insidious comments about his parents and his godfather particularly, all delivered in her sickeningly sweet and falsely angelic voice. Harry continued to remain stoic in the face of her words, though Hermione, as one who possessed five years of intimate knowledge of his character and personality, could tell that the edge of his temper was fraying. The walk to Defense class two times a week had almost become a ritual of Harry psyching himself up for the inevitable barrage of the toad woman's snide commentary.

When Harry's temper finally snapped, Hermione understood that it had only been a matter of time, unfortunately. Harry had improved his command of his temper significantly, but even the most even-tempered person could take only so much abuse. The final snapping of his patience had been spectacular, and would have been immensely satisfying, if it had not been so serious.

It happened as Defense class was nearing an end. Umbridge was expounding—somewhat ineffectually, as was her wont—on the merits and limitations of various shielding spells. (Privately, having heard Auror Moody speak on the same subject, Hermione knew that Umbridge was mistaken in a few of the things she explained, but she decided it was not worth mentioning. She would, however, talk with Harry and make certain to address the subject in the next meeting of the Defense Club.)

"Very well class, I believe you are now very well educated in the subject of shield charms," Umbridge concluded, speaking in the self-congratulatory manner which indicated that she at least felt she was an effective teacher. "What about the Unforgivable Curses?"

Blank looks met her seeming non-sequitur. She huffed slightly, before explaining herself. "Can a shield charm block an Unforgivable?"

Silence met her question, as was common—no one really wanted to speak up in her class, not only not wishing to draw attention to themselves, but also because her class was so boring, minds tended to wander frequently. At length, Dean Thomas raised his hand.

"It is well known that no shield is capable of stopping an Unforgivable," he said, once she had indicated her permission to speak.

"Very good, Mr. Thomas," she praised. "That is correct—no one has ever been able to develop a shield which will stop an Unforgivable Curse. So what do you do if someone casts one of those curses at you?"

Remembering how much more effective Mad-Eye had been, Hermione put her hand into the air, speaking when Umbridge called on her. "The best defense against an Unforgivable is to not be there when it arrives," she said, mimicking Harry's answer from the summer.

"Are you suggesting that you dodge?"

"Yes," Hermione affirmed. "It is possible to levitate something in the path of the curse, and battle Transfiguration is always a possibility, but that takes a lot of skill and the timing can be very tricky."

To her side, Harry put up his hand, though the slightly mischievous expression on his face caused alarm bells to go off in Hermione's head.

When Umbridge motioned for Harry to speak, he did so in such a guileless and innocent tone, that Hermione, who knew him very well after all, almost broke out into a fit of giggles.

"But Professor Umbridge, didn't you tell us in our first class that we are safe? How can we be safe if people are casting Unforgivables at us?"

Though Umbridge was obviously vexed by his question, she could not find a way to attack him or refute his words which, though perhaps contained a slight air of insolence, were nothing but the absolute truth.

"I believe we are speaking hypothetically, Mr. Potter," was her prim reply.

"Well, in that case, speaking hypothetically," Harry emphasized the word, "given your other comments during our first class, I suspect that if someone casts an Unforgivable at us, then we should wait for the Aurors to show up and take care of the matter. Is that not correct?"

Umbridge's eyes were afire, such that they would be burning holes in Harry had she the power to do so. A quick glance at Harry told Hermione that he had not lost the poker face he had almost perfected for the class. Again, Hermione, who knew him better than anyone, could instantly tell that he was enjoying baiting the professor for once as payback for the many times where she had baited him.

Of course, that was where it all fell apart.

"If I recall correctly, Mr. Potter, you have a considerable amount of experience with the Unforgivable Curses."

"If you count getting hit by them experience, then I suppose that I am an expert," said Harry in a dry tone of voice.

"Yes, the Boy-Who-Lived and all of that."

"Indeed," Harry agreed. "I do have a complete set of them, but I really don't like to talk about it very much."

"Really, Mr. Potter." Now the woman was feigning ignorance. "I know about your Defense Professor from last year and his demonstration of the Imperius curse, but I was unaware that you have ever been the recipient of the Cruciatus."

Harry stared nonchalantly back at the woman. "As I have stated, my experiences with the Unforgivables are well documented, Professor. I would prefer not to discuss them any further."

"Of course," she soothed in her breathy voice. "But tell me, Mr. Potter—do you have as much experience casting the Unforgivable Curses, as you have being hit by them?"

At once Harry's face became stony. "I am not certain what you are suggesting, Professor."

"You are the only one who survived your little adventure last year, are you not? You claim you were whisked away along with that… that… other boy…"

"Cedric Diggory," Harry said in a tone which was very tight, and his voice was now less than friendly.
"Yes of course!" Umbridge exclaimed, as though his words had jogged her memory. "The Diggory boy. Such a shame—my colleague Amos was devastated when his son was returned to him at the end of the tournament as a corpse. So sad."

"Cedric Diggory was a loyal and true companion, Professor," said Harry between clenched teeth. "I suggest you speak of him with a little more respect."

"Oh, I have all the respect in the world for the Diggorys, Mr. Potter, I assure you. It is strange though, don't you think? The two of you supposedly leave Hogwarts grounds, but only one of you return alive."

By now, Harry was only holding on to his temper by the barest of margins, and even Hermione's hand on his shoulder was only calming him so much. Hermione tried desperately to think of some way to change the conversation, to interrupted the confrontation which was speeding forward inexorably like a freight train, but the words were being spoken at a furious pace, and the rest of the room appeared almost spellbound by the exchange. Helplessly, Hermione watched as Harry once again gritted his teeth and responded to the Professor.

"Yes, it is unfortunate that Cedric was murdered by a betrayer long thought to be dead—that much is not in question. Just what are you trying to insinuate, Professor?"

"Oh nothing, I assure you," said Umbridge. She appeared to be discussing no more than the latest fashions or the weather, given her continued simpering voice and angelic smile. "I merely feel that it is quite convenient that the only witness to young Cedric's death is a known liar. Tell me—was the Prior Incantato ever cast upon your wand that night?"

"Are you suggesting—"

"Of course not, Mr. Potter," Umbridge interrupted. "I was merely curious as to what you did to… defend yourself during your tribulations. It must be difficult indeed to know that you are cursed in such a manner."

"What do you mean?" was Harry's flat response. He was not mollified in the slightest that Umbridge had backpedalled on accusing him for Cedric's death.

"Why, that people around you seem to die frequently." She began ticking off her fingers. "There were your parents, of course, and then Professor Quirrel seemed to die quite mysteriously in your first year. And then of course last year it was Cedric Diggory. It appears that you have quite a body count to your name."

"You stupid cow!" Harry bit out, his voice as cold as ice. "My parents were murdered by a foul madman, and you are not fit to even speak their names, let alone refer to them in any manner! He possessed Professor Quirrel in my first year, and died when he could not stand my mother's protection when he came in contact with me.

"And as for Cedric, he was murdered by the same traitor who betrayed my parents fourteen years ago, during a ceremony which restored his disembodied master to life. If you had even the barest measure of common sense—you and that idiot Minister of yours—you would have immediately put me under Veritaserum to verify my story, and then investigated the matter for yourselves, rather than hiding your heads in the sand like ostriches!"

Far from being offended by Harry's tirade, Umbridge merely smiled at him, never once indicating anything other than gleeful triumph.

"That will be a month's detention with me starting tomorrow after the Halloween feast, Mr. Potter. I knew that you could suppress your troublemaking ways for only so long, and I look forward to showing you the error of your ways."

"Good luck," Harry snarled in response, but Umbridge had already turned away, completely unconcerned.

She finally had him in detention.

It was a slightly chagrinned and subdued Harry who trudged through the hallways of Hogwarts with Hermione and Fleur at his side, on his way to the Headmaster's office. The fact that he had had a blowup with Umbridge that afternoon and that she had subsequently assigned him a month of detentions had already made its way through the school like wildfire. Malfoy was even more insufferable than ever, but Harry, for once, found that he could cheerfully ignore the ponce—the git did not have anything to say which was worth hearing.

His friends had been highly supportive, knowing what he had had to put up with in Defense class this year. Hermione and Fleur especially had been nothing but loyal and caring, but to a certain extent Harry could not help but feel that he had let them down.

The gargoyle appeared to have been expecting them, as it moved aside as soon as they approached. Soon they were sitting in the office with the Headmaster as his stern, yet amused eyes regarded them.

"Am I to understand you have had a confrontation with the Defense Professor, Harry?" Dumbledore asked without preamble.

Harry ducked his head, feeling sheepish once again at losing his temper. Another part of him, however, was still incensed at the vile words the woman had spewed at him. He had determined that no one was to be allowed to treat him or his friends in such a manner again, and the thought filled him with a new sense of determination.

Raising his gaze, he forced himself to meet the Headmaster's gaze without flinching. "Yes, I have, Professor. But I don't apologize for it. She had it coming."

Pursing his lips, Dumbledore's gaze appeared to lose focus slightly as though he was considering something. "I daresay she did, Harry," Dumbledore replied after a moment. "In fact, I do not doubt that she has deserved it since long before she arrived at this school. But regardless of whether or not she deserved it, we will now need to handle the situation as it is. I believe that Jean-Sebastian should be involved in this conversation."

He abruptly rose and approached the fireplace. Grabbing a handful of Floo powder, he called the Ambassador's Manor and spoke into the fire for a few moments. He then backed away from the fire, and a few moments later Fleur's father stepped through.

Fleur rose to embrace her father, which he returned affectionately, before Jean-Sebastian turned and greeted the rest of the occupants, shaking Harry's hand and slapping him on the back affectionately. Moments later they were all sitting and discussion of what had happened that afternoon in Defense class began in earnest.

Harry, mindful of his determination that Umbridge would not be allowed to get away with her machinations, held his head high as he recounted the events which had led to their impromptu conference. He desperately wished to lambaste the woman who was single-handedly ruining the school year for him, but he stuck to the facts, realizing that they, by themselves, were enough to completely damn the woman in the eyes of everyone in the room.

When his narrative had come to a close, Harry watched as Jean-Sebastian leaned back in his chair to consider the matter, while Dumbledore's unfocused gaze indicated his own introspection. Once again Harry felt a hint of guilt for succumbing to her taunting and thereby creating this situation. And yet another part of him again quashed it—he had kept his temper for almost two months, in the face of the vile woman's vitriol! She was absolutely reprehensible, and could not be allowed to get away with whatever she wanted.

"Well, Headmaster," said Jean-Sebastian after a moment of silence, "the ball appears to be in your court, as the Muggles would say. Given what has happened with this woman, I believe it is time to remove her from the school. I am only surprised that she has not been as cruel to Fleur as she has been to Harry."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, apparently deep in thought. "I agree with you, Jean-Sebastian. However, rather than confronting her, I believe a little subtlety may be warranted in this situation."

"What do you mean?" asked Jean-Sebastian.

"It is not in question whether I could physically remove Madam Umbridge from the school—as Headmaster and having control over it and the wards I could banish her easily if I so chose. But we all know what the result of that action would be."

"And how much control over the school does Fudge possess?"

"Not as much as he would like to believe," said Dumbledore with a smile. "He, of course, is the head of the Ministry, and as such over all its departments, including Education. The Department of Magical Education maintains responsibility for the school and that department head would hold the ultimate responsibility. I believe the reason that Cornelius has not yet attempted to have me removed from Hogwarts is due to the fact that I still employ a considerable amount of political power, but also because he and the department head share a mutual animosity. Jonus Berrens has been head of the Department of Magical Education for many years—long before Fudge came to power. He enjoys a high level of popularity and is good at his job, so Fudge has been unable to dismiss him."

"And you believe that the Minister may finally be able to move against this department head, and also you?"

"I am uncertain," said Dumbledore. "He may feel strong enough in his position to do so, or he may simply replace Umbridge with someone else. As I am certain the children already know, Madam Umbridge is not the most… competent individual."

Harry snorted at that statement. "I'm a fifth year, and I'm pretty positive that I could beat her easily in a duel."

"I do not doubt you could, Mr. Potter," replied Dumbledore. "In fact, her performance in the subject when she attended this school was so abysmal, that it is a wonder she left this institution with an OWL at all.

"However, I was more speaking of her general abilities, and not only those of her position. Simply put, I don't believe that she is the type to think things through, and though she might have a plan going forward, I believe much of what she does is based on spur-of-the-moment impulses and actions which are at best ill thought out. I would not wish to have the Minister remove her and insert someone far more competent or sinister.

"And as for the possibility of removing me—I could potentially fight it in the Wizengamot, and I believe that I would likely succeed. However, the condition of the Wizengamot is currently such that victory is by no means assured. Thus, I would prefer to have some airtight means to remove Umbridge from the school, which would then allow me to bring in someone of my own choice to fill the position."

Jean-Sebastian regarded the Headmaster with some speculation. "What is it that you propose, Headmaster?"

"Simply that we allow Harry to attend this detention with the Defense Professor."

Jean-Sebastian was silent for several moments as he shrewdly eyed the Headmaster. And though Harry himself was somewhat surprised at Dumbledore's words, he knew that the Headmaster would not make such a suggestion without having some other motive as well, especially not after he had already done away with a detention handed out by the woman previously. This was a serious shift in strategy, and for him to suggest such a thing meant that he had a plan in mind.

"Please continue—I must admit I am intrigued."

"We all know that Umbridge wants Harry in detention. But what we don't know is why."

Harry had to agree—they had attempted to foil her plans to have him in detention, but they never really knew why it was so important to her to have him misstep.

"This is an opportunity for us to find out why."

"And what of Umbridge? How far do you think she may go to prove her point, whatever it is?"

"That's just it, Ambassador," said Dumbledore, with a twinkle in his eye, "I do not believe Harry would be in any overt danger. However, I suspect that given her methods thus far—such as detention for speaking in class—she is likely to go further than she ought, which could potentially give us more ammunition to see her removed from the school."

Jean-Sebastian reflected on the matter for several moments before he spoke. "I believe I see your point, Headmaster. Still, I am uneasy about exposing Harry—we are talking about essentially using him as bait."

"With all due respect," Harry spoke up, "I've been in the firing line ever since I arrived at Hogwarts. I hardly think that a pudgy, pink toad is more dangerous than any of the other situations I've faced."

An amused smirk came over Jean-Sebastian's face. "I suppose you have at that, Harry." He turned his attention back to Dumbledore. "What is your plan?"

"We allow Harry to go to the detention with a monitoring charm on him," replied Dumbledore. "You and I will listen in while Harry is in his detention and step in if Umbridge goes too far. Then based on whatever she tries, we can plan our next steps accordingly."

Harry noticed that Jean-Sebastian's eyes never once left Dumbledore's face. He seemed to suspect something of which Dumbledore was not speaking, and Harry wondered what his guardian could possibly be thinking. His conjecture was confirmed by the next words out of the Ambassador's mouth.

"Let us not beat around the bush, Headmaster. What do you suspect?"

Dumbledore sighed before he responded. "I will not lie to you—any of you," he said, casting his glance around to each person in the room in turn. "I firmly believe, given her behavior and the Minister's… displeasure with how the trial proceeded, that Madam Umbridge will make every attempt to cow you, Harry. Whether she believes that you are also the key to ruining my reputation I am not certain. However, I do not believe that she will merely have you write lines tonight, or anything so benign; I am certain she has something more in mind.

"She may also feel that provoking you to a reaction—which you have finally given her today—is a necessary step in whatever plans she has for this school. Now that she has managed to place you in detention, I believe that we shall see her next move very quickly.

"Finally, I suspect that she anticipates my interference in your detention, and likely has some plan in mind to counter me if I intervene. If I do nothing, she will likely assume that you either did not approach me to appeal, or more likely, she will believe that we feel there is nothing which can be done about this detention. In either case, she will be overconfident, leading her to be less careful than she should. We can use this against her."

"And if she doesn't do anything to incriminate herself?"

Dumbledore shrugged. "Then at that point we consider the situation again and continue our attempts to remove her through other means. At the very least, if enough students come forward and complain about her class, that, together with her lack of the appropriate credentials which should be necessary to teach the class, may be enough to remove her."

"I believe this is your decision, Harry," said Jean-Sebastian at length. "You are the one who will be with the woman, so your opinion is the most important."

Harry felt a rush of gratitude—very rarely in his life had anyone ever asked his opinion. It made the changes of the previous summer seem all the more… real, to be treated more like an adult than an ignorant child.

In truth, however, there was little decision to be made. Harry did not fear the woman, after all—to him she was much more of an irritant and a drag on his ability to learn what he needed than someone to be feared. And if this was their opportunity to rid the school of her, then he was all for it.

"I think we should do it," he said out loud, noting the shared looks of slight trepidation, mixed with pride at his courage, from the two young ladies.

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well. I believe that we should place the monitoring charm on you ahead of time so we avoid her suspicion."

"Perhaps we shouldn't meet in your office then, Headmaster," said Hermione.

"An excellent suggestion, Miss Granger. We shall arrange to meet a few hours in advance of the evening meal, which should help throw any spies she has watching you off the trail. I shall set up the charm, and tie it to a dicta quill to obtain a record of every word you exchange with her."

The plan now determined, the group broke up soon after. Jean-Sebastian said his farewells in Dumbledore's office, not wishing to be seen at Hogwarts—the less information Umbridge possessed about their plans, the better. If she thought he had been contacted about the situation, she may be a trifle more circumspect the following day. And though Harry knew that he was the one she was targeting, he wanted the woman gone, and was willing to endure much to see it happen.

The three friends soon left the office and made their way down toward the Great Hall, speaking quietly amongst themselves. Hermione and Fleur had both expressed their intention of being near the Defense office the following evening to be available should they be needed, but also to show their support for him. Harry suspected their protectiveness was for nothing—he doubted the toad woman would try anything overt—but their care and concern was warmly accepted and appreciated by the young man.

They were soon to find out that Dumbledore had been completely correct about his assumption that Umbridge would soon make her next move. Upon reaching the entrance to the great hall, they found a number of students milling around the doors, looking at the Educational Decrees, which had grown in number since they had first been enacted. Among the students stood both Ron and Neville, both of whom motioned the trio to join them as soon as they noticed their approach.

"What's going on, Ron?" Harry asked as he walked up with Hermione and Fleur by his side.

Ron said nothing, instead pointing at a new case hanging prominently to the right of the entrance. Inside the case was a new educational decree which read as follows:

Educational Decree No. 23
Delores Jane Umbridge has been appointed to the post of Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

The friends exchanged glances after reading the decree, but Harry shook his head at the group, motioning them to the Great Hall's entrance and the relative security the noise would provide.

In silence the group sat next to those their friends who were already there, including Luna—she had been eating most of her meals at the Gryffindor table. They served themselves from the heaping platters, as the conversation began in earnest.

"Harry, we heard you got detention today," said one of the twins.

"It was pretty spectacular," said Neville with a grin. "He didn't say anything I haven't wanted to say for the past two months."

"So did you talk to Dumbledore?" asked the second twin.

Harry glanced up at the head table, noting the smug grin on the insufferable Umbridge's face as she beamed down at him. Just managing to avoid rolling his eyes at the woman, Harry covered his response by raising his fork to his mouth.

"It's handled. That's all I'm going to say."

Most of the group nodded and accepted the answer with no comment. Harry was relieved that they had allowed the matter to drop—it was likely better that he kept the plan to himself, but regardless, the Great Hall, under the watchful eye of the toad woman, was no place to divulge it to his friends.

"What is a 'High Inquisitor'?" Fleur asked.

Hermione glanced at her worriedly. "I'm not sure, but if Umbridge was appointed to it, it can't be good for us."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and most of the conversation ceased as they all attended to their meals.

As it turned out, they were to find out exactly what a High Inquisitor was the following day. As it was a Tuesday, the fifth years started off with Charms in the morning, followed by Transfiguration. The students had largely settled into their seats in the Transfiguration classroom when Umbridge entered the room, her perpetual silly smile affixed to her face.

Professor McGonagall frowned at this unexpected intrusion into her classroom. "Professor Umbridge, as you can see I am teaching a class now. Whatever you are here concerning, it can wait until class is over."

"You mistake my presence, Deputy Headmistress," Umbridge responded in her girlish voice. "I am here merely to observe, so you may continue your class as you normally would."

McGonagall's expression became even more severe. "Observe? Whatever for?"

The toad woman's simpering smile became even wider. "Perhaps you have not read the most recent Educational decree, but I have been made the High Inquisitor over this school."

"I did read it." McGonagall's impatience was truly beginning to show. "What of it? I think most of the school does not even know what the position is, let alone what it means."

"Why Professor," the girly woman laughed, "do you not remember my words at the opening feast? The standards of this school have sadly dropped, and it is my job to once again make it the glorious institution it once was.

"I had intended to simply observe and implement any suggestions slowly, but my observations, not to mention recent events," she smirked at Harry, "have dictated a more active approach. Everything must be inspected and either improved or rejected, and that includes anything from the curriculum to the professors."

If looks could kill, Harry was certain that by this time, Umbridge would be a pink puddle oozing over the floor. However, the Transfiguration Professor merely sniffed with some disdain before responding. "Very well, but if you must be in my class, you will sit quietly and not interrupt."

"I have no intention of interrupting, my dear Minerva," said Umbridge affably. "However, I would suggest you modify your tone and choice of words before your superior."

McGonagall's eyebrow rose at this statement, but she did not deign to respond to the woman's assertion. It appeared that Umbridge thought she had won the point, based on the smugness which returned to her features after the Professor turned away. For those who knew the Transfiguration Professor, however, it was obvious that she had simply dismissed Umbridge as not being worth her time and energy.

"I guess we know now what a High Inquisitor is," Hermione whispered to Harry.

Harry merely nodded, but the brief exchange did not escape Umbridge's notice.

"I see you have the same set of whisperers in your class as I have in mine," she said brightly.

Professor McGonagall turned and regarded Umbridge with an unreadable expression on her face, which was returned by the pink-clad woman. "I believe they should be punished—discipline is paramount, as you know."

Though McGonagall appeared as though she would prefer just about anything else, she turned to Harry and Hermione. "That will be two points each from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger. In the future, please be certain to raise your hand if you have something to say."

The renewed smug expression on Umbridge's face disappeared over the course of the class, as on several separate occasions, McGonagall found reasons to award both Harry and Hermione for correctly answered questions, and for being the first to correctly manage their transfigurations for the day. In all, by the time the class period had ended, their two point losses had been more than wiped away by the ten points each of them had earned, leaving Harry feeling somewhat self-satisfied at the failure of the woman's machinations. He could not resist a smile at her as she gathered her paraphernalia and breezed out of the classroom with her nose held high.

Late that afternoon, Harry met the Headmaster in an unused classroom after his last class to allow the placement of the monitoring charm. The Halloween feast was much as it was in previous years, with Harry feeling a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the wizarding celebration. This was, after all, the anniversary of his parents' deaths, and it was not a day of celebration in his opinion. His friends were solicitous and kind, giving him their sympathies and support, but largely allowing him to eat his meal in silence. Unfortunately, it seemed to be a yearly tradition since returning to the Wizarding world—something always happened on Halloween.

Umbridge's bright, cheery voice bid him enter as soon as he had arrived after the feast, and he stepped into the classroom, noting the gleeful expression of self-righteous smugness which adorned the Defense Professor's face. He longed to knock it from her in a rather permanent manner. Schooling himself to patience, he did nothing more than approach her desk and wait for her to speak.

She did not speak for several moments, seemingly content to watch him, perhaps hoping he would squirm at the scrutiny. Harry, however, was not in the mood to indulge her; he merely stood patiently and waited for her to break the silence.

"Do you know why you are here, Mr. Potter?" she asked at length.

"Because you are an ignorant cow," he though viciously.

"Presumably because I spoke out in class?" he said out loud.

"That is only a small measure of your transgressions, Mr. Potter. Yes you spoke out in class when you should have held your tongue, but though you have controlled yourself to a certain extent since I have arrived in this school, I have witnessed several times where you almost burst out in a most improper manner."

"Due to your constant baiting." Regardless of his thoughts, Harry kept his countenance, knowing that losing his temper here would not help his case at all. The important thing was that the woman was a known quantity and her behavior had been atrocious—he would do everything in his power to ensure her timely and irrevocable departure from the castle.

She continued after a moment, her expression clearly showing the fact that she had expected Harry to respond and was disappointed when he did not. "Beyond your more obvious faults, there is the matter of your insistence in stating that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. The Ministry cannot countenance your continued attempts to sow discord and fear in stating such an impossibility. You-Know-Who has been gone these past fourteen years, and shall not return. What do you say to that?"

"I've already said everything I am going to say," responded Harry. "You can refuse to believe me, and you can deny me the use of the magical tools available to verify the truth. But that doesn't change anything."

"Your arrogance apparently knows no bounds, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled thinly at her. "A certain potions master of my acquaintance is constantly making that claim—I don't care about your opinion any more than I care about his."

"Perhaps Professor Snape sees more clearly than most."

"Or perhaps he's just a greasy git who holds a grudge against my father," retorted Harry.

Umbridge peered at him through narrowed eyes. "You seem to think that the world owes you something, Mr. Potter, and that you are somehow above the rules set down for us all. My aim is to show you that you are not as great and untouchable as you like to think. For the good of our people, your constant lies must be stopped."

"You cannot punish me for stating my beliefs," said Harry.

"I can punish you for anything I want," snapped Umbridge. "I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic himself! I am also the High Inquisitor for this school! Your precious Headmaster cannot stop me, nor can anyone else, as I have the full backing of the Ministry in this matter."

Harry did not deign to point out that not everyone at the Ministry was as blind and stupid as she and Fudge had proven themselves to be. He felt that by this time he had antagonized her enough that if she was not already planning something which was beyond what she could get away with, perhaps he had provoked her into it. As such, he merely sneered in her direction.

"Well then, what punishment would have for me?"

A feral smile lit up her face. "You shall write lines, Mr. Potter."

"Lines?" asked Harry with a raised brow. "Is that all?"

"Oh, I don't think you will act so glibly when I am finished with you. You shall write 'I must not tell lies' for the rest of the evening while you are with me. Perhaps repeating it several hundred times will imprint it into your memory, as well as… other place…."

Throwing her a look reserved for the petty—or the stupid—Harry sat down at a nearby desk and began rummaging through his pack for the required tools.

"Close your bag, Mr. Potter—you will not need anything there."

"Do you intend me to write lines with my finger?" snarked Harry.

"That will be another two weeks detention added to your punishment, Mr. Potter. Any further outbursts will result in even more punishment being levied out. At this rate, you may be in detention with me every night until Easter."

"As if," Harry grumbled under his breath.

Umbridge, however, took no notice. "You will use one of my special quills for this detention.

"Should I retrieve some ink from my pack, Professor?"

A gleam entered her eye and her smile became even more unpleasant. "Oh, I think you will find that you do not need any ink. Just begin to write with that quill—There will be no more delays."

Her gleeful expression told Harry that there was something he did not understand—or perhaps did not know—which was at play here. The woman had just announced that he was to use a quill without ink, after all, and had he not known of her sadistic streak, he would have thought that she was barmy at the very least. There was something else going on here, but whatever it was he had no time to ponder it.

"Remember, 'I must not tell lies' will be your phrase for this evening."

"How about 'I must not tell the truth?'" asked Harry. "That's what this situation is, you know."

"Two more weeks detention!" Umbridge squealed. "I will break you of this pathological need to lie, Potter, if it's the last thing I do!"

Again, Harry forced himself not to point out that attempting to "break" a child was hardly proper behavior for any adult, especially one in a position of authority at a school. He doubted Umbridge knew anything of modern child protection laws or practices, nor would she care if she did know.

Shaking his head, Harry grasped the quill in his hand and began to write, noting with some surprise the words which appeared on the page in bright red ink. It was so unexpected that the sharp pain in his hand took him completely by surprise, and by the time he registered it, the pain had receded. He glanced at the back of his hand and rubbed it, wondering where it had come from. Seeing no mark there, he glanced up at Umbridge, noting the wide smirk of triumph etched upon her features.

Scowling, Harry turned his attention back to the paper, knowing that something was up. He took greater care in writing this time, watching the back of his hand for the source of the pain. Upon finishing the sentence, a perfect replica of his spidery script appeared on the back of his hand, accompanied by the sharp pain from earlier. It glowed red for a brief moment before once again fading, leaving his hand unblemished.

"What the hell is this?" Harry demanded, rising to his feet with the belligerence born of hate for this stupid woman and the unknown manner in which she was causing him pain.

"I told you, it is one of my special quills," Umbridge cooed. "Now, you may sit down and continue to write your lines."

"I will not!" Harry exclaimed. "I don't know what this is or what you are trying to pull here, but this isn't detention—it's torture. I won't allow you to get away with it!"

"You have no choice little boy!" cried Umbridge. "Another month's detention and a fifty point deduction from Gryffindor! Now sit back down and continue to write before I have you in detention for the rest of your time in Hogwarts!"

Scowling, Harry took his seat and picked up the offensive quill. He wrote the line a few more times, ignoring the pain in his hand as he did so. Each time he wrote, the lines appeared once again on the back of his hand, and by the time he had written the line a dozen more times, a faint pink outline had begun to form on the back of his hand. Gritting his teeth he continued to write, but he did not do so in silence.

"Why are you doing this? Surely the return of a Dark Lord is not a petty matter which can be swept under the rug."

"You are truly amazing Mr. Potter. You have written those lines at least twenty times now, and still you continue to spout these foolish untruths. You-Know-Who is dead and shall not be returning! You must learn this if you are to make anything of your life. Your moment of fame as passed, Mr. Potter—be happy with what you have had."

Harry shook his head. "Your blindness astounds me."

"As your pathetic obtuseness astounds me, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge with a sneer. Harry looked up at her, and he could see the light of fanaticism which lit up her eyes. "You are nothing but a jumped-up Half-blood with delusions of importance."

"There is the bigotry I expect to see from an ignorant cow like you," Harry snapped. "And while you consider me to be a self-important attention seeker, I know that you are a mediocre bitch with delusions of adequacy!"

Umbridge's nostrils flared and she appeared on the edge of a retort, when the door to the classroom opened and a voice rang out.

"Harry, you will stop writing immediately!"

Jean-Sebastian and Dumbledore had arrived.

Updated 06/12/2013