Here you have it, another chapter of Heir of Dracula! In this chapter, we finish fourth year, and start and skip through most of fifth year! I hope you'll like it. If you don't... well, that kinda sucks... It has come to my attention that I made Harry softer in the last chapter, so I tried to remedy that in this chapter.
–
"You see, I think, how foolish it was to suppose that this boy could ever have been stronger than me," Voldemort said as he looked around at the Death Eaters gathered in the graveyard, all of them people Harold made sure to remember. "But I want there to be no mistake in anybody's mind. Harry Potter, now known as Harold Dracula, escaped me by a lucky chance. And I am now going to prove my power by killing him, here and now, in front of you all, when there is no Dumbledore to help him, and no mother to die for him. I will give him his chance-"
"The moon is beautiful tonight," Harold interrupted suddenly, and Voldemort's head whipped around to look at him.
"What was that?"
"The moon," Harold said, gesturing upward with his head, where a lunar eclipse was taking place, displaying a blood red moon. "The moon's light is lovely tonight, isn't it? Red as blood. It's like a feast in the sky. So very close, yet just out of reach. Unable to be grasped, yet empowering all the same."
"What are you on about?" Voldemort asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Harold laughed.
"Holy water and crosses!" Harold barked as he strained. Then, the arms of the stone cross snapped. The ropes loosened, and Harold dropped to his feet on the ground, laughing loudly. "On the eve of the blood moon, none of these things will hold me! I thank you for talking long enough for the bloody moon to appear before me, when my powers are at their peak!"
"What is this? Confidence, Dracula?" Voldemort asked, his mouth curving into a smirk. "Do you truly believe that you can stand a chance against me?"
"Dog food will always remain dog food," Harold said simply, making sure to drive the point into Voldemort's skull that he considered him to be an inferior being.
Voldemort's eyes narrowed with rage, and before Harold knew what was happening, he had already raised his wand, and the green light of the Killing Curse came crashing into his chest, sending him tumbling across the ground.
"Do you see?" Voldemort asked, spinning around to face his Death Eaters. "Do you see what foolishness it was to think that he could ever best me?"
"That's twice now..." a whisper reached Voldemort's ears, making his eyes widen as he spun around again, to see Harold rising to his feet.
"That is impossible!" Voldemort yelled. "What are you?"
"I am he that liveth, and was dead... and, behold, I am alive forevermore..." Harold quoted Revelations, a grin slowly spreading on his face. "Come, Lord Voldemort! I haven't danced in ages!"
"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort bellowed, flinging another Killing Curse at Harold, but Harold exploded into a black mist, allowing the curse to pass right through him, before he rematerialized again. He swiped his cloak at Voldemort, firing a crescent moon of green energy at him. Voldemort ducked the horizontal arch, which flew straight into the Death Eater ranks, severing two of them at the waist.
Dodging another Killing Curse, Harold gave Voldemort a bored glance.
"Is that all you can do? Or are you afraid of attracting the attention of the Muggles?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. This was Lord Voldemort, one of the greatest wizards of all time, and all he could do was fling Killing Curses at great speeds?
"Shut up, Potter!" Voldemort hissed, waving his wand in an intricate pattern. A giant snake formed out of fire and charged at Harold, who laughed.
"That's more like it!" he yelled as the snake smashed into him, completely eradicating him, burning him to a crisp. The fire died down, and Voldemort, almost relieved, lowered his wand.
"Now he's dead."
A chuckle was heard echoing through the graveyard. The chuckle turned into a laugh, which, in turn, developed into an almost mad cackle. Voldemort's eyes widened greatly as the ash that was Harold slowly started reforming. The legs reappeared... then the body... then the head... and finally the arms... Harold grinned widely.
"You have never faced a vampire of the House of Dracul before, have you, Tom?" Harold asked with a taunting cackle. "I'll have my blood back now... and your knowledge!"
Without a word, Harold charged forward at an impossible speed, biting down on Voldemort's neck before the man had any time to react. Voldemort cried out in pain as his blood, foul-tasting yet deliciously powerful, flowed into Harold's mouth. Voldemort pressed his wand against Harold's neck, and a silent blasting curse blew Harold's head clean off his shoulders. The body dropped to the ground, and Voldemort stumbled back as Harold's head started regrowing.
"I can see that you have a long way to go..." Harold mumbled as his head fully formed, and he pushed himself to his feet. "Come see me again when you have gotten even more powerful!"
With that, Harold turned into a black mist which charged forward, scooping up the discarded eye and wooden leg, along with a now screaming in fear Crouch, dragging them toward the Triwizard Cup, where Harold rematerialized and grabbed it, disappearing to a scream of rage from Voldemort.
He landed on his feet back in the maze, where Crouch immediately tried crawling away using his new silver arm, but Harold just grabbed his collar and held him in place.
"Oh you, now..." he spoke as he grinned down at Crouch. "We are going to have a long talk, you and I..."
Crouch's fearful eyes stared into Harold's.
Applause and roars of delight reached his ears as the hedges were magically lowered, allowing people to storm the field. They stopped, however, when they saw Harold standing over Barty Crouch. They didn't know who he was, no doubt, but they knew that he had not been part of the Triwizard Tournament. Harold's eyes immediately locked with Dumbledore's.
"He's back," he spoke, throwing Crouch at Dumbledore's feet. "This man has been impersonating Professor Moody all year long. He's the one who put my name in the Goblet of Fire..."
–
Harold sat in a chair next to Fleur's bed in the Hospital Wing, stroking the sleeping girl's hand. Across from them, Viktor Krum sat in one of the beds, looking traumatized. Apparently, Barty Crouch had cast the Imperius Curse on the Quidditch player, and forced him to perform the Cruciatus Curse on Fleur. This didn't mean that Harold would simply forgive him, though.
"'Arold?" Fleur's voice reached his ears, and he saw that the sleeping girl had awoken.
"I am here," Harold spoke softly, kissing the back of her hand as he brought it up to his mouth. "Your mother was here an hour ago. She said she will be back tomorrow to see you."
Fleur nodded. Then, she said, "'Arold, I 'ave been zinking... and my answer is yes."
"Pardon?" Harold asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I will join wiz you," Fleur said, painfully sitting up and cupping Harold's cheek. "I want to be what you are, see what you see, love what you love."
"Fleur," Harold said, taking her hands in his, "to walk with me, you must die your breathing life and be reborn with me."
"You are my love and my life always."
"Then I give you life eternal, everlasting love, the power over the storm and the beasts of the earth," Harold said. "Walk with me, to be my loving wife forever."
"I will. Yes, yes!"
Harold leaned in and bit down on Fleur's neck, her delicious veela blood flowing into his mouth. Fleur gasped from the pain, but not in a bad way. Harold didn't drink too much, however, and instead pulled back, taking off his cravat and opening up a vein in his neck with his nail, which grew into a claw.
"Fleur, drink and join me in eternal life."
Fleur leaned in and greedily drank of Harold's blood. A smirk appeared on his face. There was no going back now. Now she was his for all eternity, his sireling, his lover, his wife...
Once Fleur had had enough, Harold gently pushed her away, and smirked at her.
"Now sleep, Fleur, and tomorrow, you shall be reborn, a new woman. A creature of the night..."
Fleur obeyed Harold, laying down again and closing her eyes without protest. His smirk widening, Harry pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Fleur's mouth of the blood that had spilled there. Then, he put on his cravat again, and went back to stroking the back of her hand...
–
"No."
"Pardon?"
Harold was sitting in Dumbledore's office. He was already packed and ready to go home. Dumbledore had asked him to come to Sirius's old house, Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place... to hide...
"I said no," Harold said, crossing one leg over the other as he interlaced his fingers, staring into Dumbledore's eyes. "I am a Dracul, and a Dracul doesn't hide. If Voldemort can find my castle, then I welcome his challenge."
"Harold, I do not think you understand the danger..." Dumbledore said softly. "Even Sirius-"
"Sirius is nowhere near as powerful as I am. Four times now, Voldemort has killed me, once when I was but a baby, yet he has failed. What makes you think he can be victorious a fifth time?"
"Such arrogance in unbecoming of you," Dumbledore chided, shaking his head. "Harold, I do not think you realize the danger of this situation..."
"No, Professor, with all due respect, it is Voldemort who does not realize the danger of attacking me. The next time we meet, I will kill him. It is that simple," Harold said with a tone of finality.
"You refuse to come, then?"
"I assure you, Professor, that my castle is as protected, if not more so, than Hogwarts."
"Then would you object to your castle being the headquarters of my organization, the Order of the Phoenix?" Dumbledore asked, and Harold nodded.
"Yes, I would."
"Why?" Dumbledore asked in surprise.
"Because my castle is full of all manner of beasts that are not as merciful as I am," Harold said simply. "Even I do not know what they all are."
This was, of course, a lie. Harold had found and attained control of all the beasts and creatures in his castle. He just didn't want this... Order of the Phoenix intruding, looking around in places they shouldn't look.
"If that is all...?" Harold asked, rising from the chair he was sitting in and looking at Dumbledore imperiously. Dumbledore nodded.
"That is all, Harold..." he spoke, disappointment evident in his voice.
Harold gave a courteous bow, before leaving the office. He had a bride to go see, after all...
When he reached the Hospital Wing, he found Fleur sitting up in her bed, looking quite dazed.
"'Arold?" she said, ignoring her mother who was fussing over how pale she looked.
"I am here," Harold spoke, walking up to the bed, getting enveloped in a hug by Fleur, which he returned.
"Maman," Fleur spoke, and started speaking in rapid French with her mother, whose eyes widened in shock as she looked from Fleur to Harold, anger appearing in her eyes. Fleur said something else, getting between Harold and her mother, and he saw how her mother's eyes softened.
"So, you are now a vampire, zen?" her mother spoke in English, and Fleur nodded.
"Oui. I 'ave joined wiz 'Arold as tightly as I possibly could. 'E is mine, and I am 'is."
Madame Delacour closed her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. Then, she exhaled and gave Fleur a calm stare.
"Zis is your decision?"
"Oui, maman."
"Zen I 'ave no objections," Madame Delacour said with a nod.
"Zank you, maman."
"I wish you luck, Count Dracula," Madame Delacour told Harold with a stiff nod. "And so 'elp me, if you mistreat my daughter..."
"The thought would never even cross my mind," Harold said with a bow of his head. When Madame Delacour was gone, he turned to Fleur. "Come, it is time to take you to your new home. Being from Beauxbatons, it may take you a while to warm up to it, but I am sure you will find it enjoyable once you get used to it..."
–
It took a long time for Fleur to get used to all the skeletons, zombies, and other manner of mythical beasts in Harold's castle, and especially the walking giant skeleton, who was swinging a club wherever it went. Not to mention the trolls, the giants, the chimaeras, the manticores, and so on...
But eventually, she got used to their presence, unlike with the quadruplets. She always made mention of Harold's closeness to them, and he didn't try to hide the fact that he had slept with one of them, which put Fleur even more on her guard around them. But she eventually got used to that, too, after another two weeks.
What she couldn't seem to get over was the corpses in the dungeons. Hundreds of skeletons impaled on spikes throughout the dungeons, a memento from Vlad Tepes. She never went down there again after she saw them. Something about them made her look a bit strange, Harold couldn't quite place it. It looked like a difference between revulsion and joy, something he couldn't fathom properly.
Now, Harold was sitting in his throne, and in front of him stood Sirius, giving a report.
"Dumbledore has us in the Ministry. Well, the ones who work there, anyway," Sirius reported, his hands in his pockets. "The Ministry refuses to believe that Voldemort is back, so we have to use only a limited number of people."
"What are those people doing in the Ministry?" Harold asked, resting his chin against his fist.
"He has them guarding something down in the Department of Mysteries. I don't know what it is, he won't tell us, but it's something that involves you and Voldemort, so it must be pretty important."
"Why has he not, if it is so important, told me about it?" Harold asked, to which Sirius shrugged.
"No idea. He claims that you are not ready for it, but from what I've seen, you're more than ready for whatever he can throw at you."
"Indeed..."
"By the way, Dumbledore brought Hermione to Grimmauld Place," Sirius said, a hint of a grin appearing on his face. "I think he wants to bait you into coming to stay there by bringing Hermione as well. He told me to hint at coming to stay before I left."
Harold laughed softly.
"I love Hermione, but she is not that important to me that I will move out of my castle for the summer just to see her," he said, shaking his head. "The headmaster is foolish, truly."
"He believes in love." Sirius gave Harold a calculating look. "I've been meaning to ask... what do you believe in?"
"Simple," Harold said, clenching his fist and smirking at Sirius. "I believe in nothing but power! I believe that there is no true good or evil. There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. I believe Voldemort and I both share that trait, and judging by what I have seen in the Ministry, I am right."
"Are you?" Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow.
"There are people in the Ministry who would condemn me before they even meet me, based solely on what I am, people who consider those of 'unpure' blood to be inferior, who think nothing about who they harm, provided that they get more money. That would be considered evil, no? And yet there are people in the supposedly good government doing just that. Voldemort knows this. That is why he was capable of becoming so powerful last time."
"And how do you know that?"
"Because I possess most of Voldemort's memories," Harold said simply. "When I bite someone, I not only ingest their blood, but also their knowledge and memories. I bit Voldemort during our encounter, and had just enough time to ingest most of his memories up until June nineteen seventy-nine."
"Why don't Fleur or the quadruplets have that power?" Sirius asked curiously.
"Because they are not the reincarnation and heir of Vlad III Dracula."
"Oh... Right..."
"'Arold!" came Fleur's agitated voice as she came into the throne room. She looked as beautiful as ever, even more so with her now pale skin. "I just finished breakfast. 'Ow am I supposed to be able to enjoy a good breakfast when ze waiter keep losing 'is 'ead? Literally!"
"Just ignore him, my love," Harold said simply. "You'll learn to do it eventually."
As a child, Harold had loved smacking the waiter skeleton's head off, and he seemed to have done it so many times now that the head refused to remain on its shoulders. Oh well, there was nothing Harold could do about it. He just hoped that Fleur wouldn't be complaining about everything in the castle.
"And 'ow am I supposed to be able to read quietly in ze library when ze books keep flying around? And so does zose Medusa 'eads!"
Harold palmed his face. Having a wife was going to take some getting used to... Luckily, she was getting that job at Gringotts, which would be keeping her a bit occupied...
Sirius left the castle to go back to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Harold left the throne room to go to the library with Fleur, shooing the Medusa heads away and coaxing the books back into their shelves. Then, when Fleur had picked out a book and sat down to read, Harold picked out his own book, this one smaller than the rest.
"Horcruxes..." he whispered, reading the title.
–
Sitting at breakfast with Fleur and the quadruplets, all six of them sipping glasses of blood, Harold raised an eyebrow when an owl came swooping into the large dining room, dropping a letter on the table in front of Harold, before flying off once more, no doubt wanting to get away as soon as possible.
"The new book list," Harold said, opening the envelope and taking out two pieces of parchment, one the usual reminder that term started on the first of September, the other telling him which books he would need for the coming year. There were only two new ones, The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, by Miranda Goshawk, and Defensive Magical Theory, by Wilbert Slinkhard. Then, Harold blinked and looked at the first parchment again, re-reading it. He had been made a prefect!
He shook the envelope, and a green and silver badge fell out into his open hand. A large P was superimposed on the Slytherin snake.
"They made you a prefect?" Verona asked, ignoring the glare Fleur was sending her way. "That is excellent news, my Lord. Now you have even more power in the school."
"So it would seem," Harold said, glancing at Fleur. Then, he looked to the quadruplets. "Ladies, leave us."
The quadruplets left without a word.
"My love," Harold said, reaching over and taking Fleur's hand in his own. "What is wrong?"
"Nozzing is wrong," Fleur said, but Harold could tell that she was lying. After Harold stared at her for a few seconds, she sighed. "I don't like ze quadruplets..."
"I could tell."
Harold rose from his chair and moved around the table until he stood behind Fleur, his hands on her smooth, cold shoulders. Becoming a vampire had only served to enhance her beauty in Harold's eyes. The pale skin, coupled with the dazzling blue eyes and silver-blond hair...
"What bothers you about them?"
Fleur sighed again. "Zey all covet you, my love," she said as she rose from the chair and turned to face him, leaning into Harold with a hug, which Harold returned. "You are all mine, are you not?"
"As you are mine," Harold said, leaning down and kissing Fleur, who passionately returned the kiss.
The two of them got involved in a passionate tongue war as Harold hurried to unzip her dress, and she quickly undid the buttons on his shirt.
–
"And?"
"And what?" Harold asked Fleur as he stood on the platform, ready to board the Hogwarts Express. Fleur looked mad about something, her arms crossed.
"What am I supposed to do while you're off at school? I am to spend my time alone wiz zose quadruplets?"
"They're not too bad," Harold said, bringing Fleur in for a kiss. "And besides, it is child's play for me to travel from Hogwarts to the castle. I won't be gone for too long."
"You promise?"
"I promise. We have an eternity together, my love," Harold said, kissing her again. "I think you will find that, to us, a week or two is like the blink of an eye."
"I suppose I will 'ave to deal wiz it..." Fleur said, pouting. "But it doesn't mean I like it..."
"Neither do I, my love."
With that, Harold said good-bye to Sirius, and then boarded the train. He had promptly refused Dumbledore's suggestion for a guard, as Voldemort was trying to lay low now that the Ministry refused to acknowledge his return. It would have been counter-productive for him to attack Harold in the middle of the day.
"Hello, Ginny," Harold said, spotting the youngest Weasley child, who almost ran into him in her rush to find an empty compartment.
"Harold! Hi!" Ginny said happily. "Wanna go find a compartment together?"
"I would love to, but I cannot," Harold said, giving a courteous bow. "I have to go to the prefects' compartment and get my so-called orders."
"Oh..." Ginny said. "Well, I can hold a compartment for you with Draco for when you return."
"Thank you, Ginny," Harold said, then moved up the train, finding the prefects' carriage at the very front of the train. Not at all surprising, he found Hermione sitting in one of the compartments with Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff, Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil from Ravenclaw, Pansy Parkinson, and... Weasley?
"What's this?" Harold said, sliding the door open to announce his presence, being awarded with smiles from Hermione and Pansy. "Weasley, you made prefect?"
"Yeah, so?" Weasley demanded, glaring at Harold, who smirked.
"Well, if you're the best Gryffindor's got, I worry for the rest of the House."
The tall Weasley rose and took a threatening step toward Harold, who stood his ground. He noticed that Weasley's fists were clenched.
"Don't push me this year, Dracula," Weasley hissed, and Harold gave a soft chuckle.
"Is that meant to intimidate me? You will have to work harder than that to be frightening, Weasley. Hermione," he said, looking to his Gryffindor friend. "How was your summer?"
"It was good, Harold," Hermione said as Harold stepped around Weasley and sat down in his spot next to Hermione.
"That was my seat, Dracula!" Weasley said, looking outraged, but Harold just looked up at him, smirking.
"Well, it's my seat now, wouldn't you say?"
Weasley gritted his teeth, clenching his fists tighter. He looked ready to take a swing at Harold, but seemed to think better of it, as he sat down in the only other empty seat, next to Goldstein.
–
"A prophecy, you say?"
"That's right."
Harold was sitting in his throne in Castle Dracula, and in front of him stood Draco Malfoy, his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face as he gave his report.
"My father was very specific. He's been given a very important mission: attain a prophecy guarded by the Order of the Phoenix in the Department of Mysteries," Draco said, giving a bow of his head. "A prophecy regarding you and the Dark Lord, the very reason why he came to kill you all those years ago."
"And he told you this?"
"Bragged is more a correct word," Draco said, chuckling. "I believe he thought I would be proud of him for getting such an important task, but he failed miserably at it. He attempted to get Sturgis Podmore, a Phoenix member, to grab the prophecy using the Imperius Curse, but the man went insane."
"Indeed?" Harold asked, leaning back in his throne. "You've done well, Draco. You have come one step closer to eternal life."
"I live to serve the true Dark Lord," Draco said, giving a bow at his waist.
Harold grinned rather viciously. With a sweep of his cloak, he sent Draco back to Hogwarts with a pop, allowing Verona to come out of the shadows behind him.
"You have become, I've noticed, rather crueler as of late, Master," she spoke, and Harold looked back at her, grinning still.
"I can't help it. My vampire blood is boiling. I haven't killed, truly killed, anyone for ages, ever since I enrolled at that dreadful school."
"Dreadful, Master? I thought you enjoyed it there?"
"I admit, I did at first. It was enjoyable, toying with the hearts and minds of the people around me, but lately, I have lost interest," Harold said as he slumped in his throne. "I wish to go back to the days when I made a name for myself in Romania."
Verona chuckled. "The Devil Child," she whispered the name Harold had earned himself growing up, preying on villagers near his castle.
"Voldemort is gaining more power," Harold spoke, leaning back in his throne and closing his eyes. "I can feel it. I think it is about time for me... to start sleeping in my coffin..."
A little known fact about Dracula: Although he could go long periods without doing both, sleeping in a coffin filled with soil from his native land greatly enhanced his powers, along with drinking human blood. Not doing either greatly weakened him, and doing only one of the two put him at around half power. Harold had refrained from sleeping in his coffin, as he preferred his king-sized bed, but he supposed he could sleep in the coffin at least once every third night.
–
MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM
DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST-EVER "HIGH INQUISITOR"
In a surprise move last night the Ministry of Magic passed new legislation
giving itself an unprecedented level of control at Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry.
'The Minister has been growing uneasy about goings-on at Hogwarts
for some time,' said Junior Assistant to the Minister, Percy Weasley. 'He is
now responding to concerns voiced by anxious parents, who feel the school
may be moving in a direction they do not approve.'
This is not the first time in recent weeks Fudge has used new laws to
effect improvements at the Wizarding school. As recently as August 30th
Educational Decree Twenty-two was passed, to ensure that, in the event of
the current headmaster being unable to provide a candidate for a teaching
post, the Ministry should select an appropriate person.
'That's how Dolores Umbridge came to be appointed to the teaching
staff at Hogwarts,' said Weasley last night. 'Dumbledore couldn't find anyone,
so the Minister put in Umbridge and of course, she's been an immediate
success, totally revolutionizing the teaching of
Defense Against the Dark Arts and providing the Minister with on-the-ground
feedback about what's really happening at Hogwarts.'
It is this last function that the Ministry has now formalized with the
passing of Educational Decree Twenty-three, which creates the new position
of 'Hogwarts High Inquisitor.'
'This is an exciting new phase in the Minister's plan to get to grips
with what some are calling the "falling standards" at Hogwarts,' said
Weasley. 'The Inquisitor will have powers to inspect her fellow educators
and make sure that they are coming up to scratch. Professor Umbridge has
been offered this position in addition to her own teaching post, and we are
delighted to say that she has accepted.'
The Ministry's new moves have received enthusiastic support from
parents of students at Hogwarts.
'I feel much easier in my mind now that I know that Dumbledore is
being subjected to fair and objective evaluation,' said Mr. Lucius Malfoy,
41, speaking from his Wiltshire mansion last night. 'Many of us with our
children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of
Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and will be glad to
know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation.'
Among those 'eccentric decisions' are undoubtedly the controversial
staff appointments previously described in this newspaper, which have included
the hiring of werewolf Remus Lupin, half giant Rubeus Hagrid,
and delusional ex-Auror 'Mad-Eye' Moody.
Rumors abound, of course, that Albus Dumbledore, once Supreme
Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief
Warlock of the Wizengamot, is no longer up to the task of managing the
prestigious school of Hogwarts.
'I think the appointment of the Inquisitor is a first step toward ensuring
that Hogwarts has a headmaster in whom we can all repose confidence,'
said a Ministry insider last night.
Wizengamot elders Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden have
resigned in protest at the introduction of the post of Inquisitor to Hogwarts.
'Hogwarts is a school, not an outpost of Cornelius Fudge's office,' said
Madam Marchbanks. 'This is a further disgusting attempt to discredit Albus
Dumbledore.' (For a full account of Madam Marchbanks' alleged
links to subversive goblin groups, turn to page 17).
Harold folded his paper with a shake of his head.
"High Inquisitor..." he muttered, a grin appearing on his face. "How very interesting..."
"So, I guess you were right about the Ministry interfering with Hogwarts," Draco said, helping himself to some breakfast. "But this isn't right, is it? I mean, Hogwarts has never been Ministry-controlled, and shouldn't ever be..."
"Well, now we know how we ended up with Umbridge," Hermione hissed, breathing fast as she sat with Harold and Draco at the Slytherin table for once, despite the disapproving looks she got from the Gryffindors. The Slytherins would probably have glared at her as well, but they were too afraid of Harold to do so. "Fudge passed this 'Educational Decree' and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect other teachers! I can't believe this. It's outrageous..."
"So, what are you going to do about it?" Harold asked, raising an eyebrow, only to get a strange look from Hermione.
"What?"
"Just sitting here complaining won't do anything," Harold said as he looked up at the staff table, to see that Umbridge wasn't there. They had been having staring contests these last few days, and Harold believed that they were competing in who had the scariest smile. He was sorry to say that he was probably losing...
Hermione didn't answer, and instead jumped up and said, "Well, come on, we'd better get going, if she's inspecting Binns's class we don't want to be late..."
But Umbridge was not inspecting their History of Magic lesson, which was just as dull as the previous Monday, nor was she in Snape's dungeon when they arrived for double Potions, where Harold's moonstone essay was handed back to him with a large, black O scrawled in an upper corner.
Umbridge, however, was there at the Divination class that day. Harold was pulling out his dream diary in a seat at the very back of the shadowy Divination room when Draco nudged him and, looking round, he saw Umbridge emerging through the trapdoor in the floor. The class, which had been talking cheerfully, fell silent at once. The abrupt fall in the noise level made Trelawney, who had been wafting about handing out Dream Oracles, look round.
"Good afternoon, Professor Trelawney," Umbridge said with her wide smile. "You received my note, I trust? Giving the time and date of your inspection?"
Trelawney nodded curtly and, looking very disgruntled, turned her back on Umbridge and continued to give out books. Still smiling, Umbridge grasped the back of the nearest armchair and pulled it to the front of the class so that it was a few inches behind Trelawney's seat. She then sat down, took her clipboard from her flowery bag, and looked up expectantly, waiting for class to begin.
After class, Harold hummed to himself, descending the ladder through the trapdoor.
"That inspection could have gone better," he spoke to himself in amusement.
"Are you kidding me? It was like watching a lamb walk to the slaughter," Draco said, shaking his head. "I didn't rightly know who to root for, Trelawney or Umbridge. Mind you, I'd be happy to be rid of both..."
When they reached their shared Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with the Gryffindors ten minutes later, Umbridge was already waiting for them in the classroom.
She was humming and smiling to herself when they entered. Harold and Draco told Hermione, who had been in Arithmancy, exactly what had happened in Divination while they all took out their copies of Defensive Magical Theory, but before Hermione could ask any questions, Umbridge had called them all to order, and silence fell.
"Wands away," she instructed them all smilingly, and those people who had been hopeful enough to take them out sadly returned them to their bags. "As we finished chapter one last lesson, I would like you all to turn to page nineteen today and commence chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."
Still smiling her wide, self-satisfied smile, she sat down at her desk. The class gave an audible sigh as it turned, as one, to page nineteen. Slowly, Harold raised his hand.
Umbridge seemed to have worked out a strategy for this eventuality, and instead of trying to pretend she had not noticed Harold, she got to her feet and walked around the front row of desks until they were face-to-face, then she bent down and whispered, so the rest of the class could not hear, "What is it, Mr. Dracula?"
"I have already read chapter two," Harold said, grinning.
"Well then, proceed to chapter three."
"I've read that, too. I've read the whole book."
Umbridge blinked, but recovered her poise almost instantly.
"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."
"I said I'd read the book, not that I bothered to remember that drivel," Harold said simply.
Umbridge's eyes narrowed, and her smile took on a dangerous look.
"What was that, dear?"
"I said that I haven't bothered to remember the drivel," Harold said, louder this time, so that the whole class could hear. "That's what it is, drivel. It teaches you nothing about actually defending yourself against anyone."
Umbridge laughed sweetly, a laugh that was like a dagger piercing Harold's ear.
"My dear, who could possibly want to attack you? You're merely Hogwarts students," she said, and Harold knew she was baiting him. Alright, he'd bite.
"Voldemort, for instance."
A collective gasp went through the class at the name, and everyone were now staring at Umbridge and Harold, who were both staring into the other's eyes, one smiling sweetly, the other grinning rather viciously.
"We must learn to defend against him, no?" Harold asked, his eyebrow slowly rising.
"Ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Dracula," Umbridge said, staring at Harold with a grimly satisfied expression on her face. The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harold.
"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."
Umbridge had rose to her full and unimpressive height, and looked over the class.
"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead-"
"He was far from dead," Harold said, "but yes, he's returned."
"Mr.-Dracula-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself!" Umbridge said in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."
"It is not a lie!" Harold growled, rising to his feet, towering over Umbridge. Calling him a liar again... "I saw him! I fought him!"
"Detention, Mr. Dracula!" Umbridge said triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading..."
Harold's blood was boiling. He wanted to lunge at Umbridge, to tear out her fat throat with his teeth, to feast on her corpse, to kill, to maim, to utterly destroy...
But this wasn't the time... He would be hunted... damned... This wouldn't sit well with him.
So he sat down, and waited... Umbridge's time would come... Oh yes...
–
"Ladies and gentlemen," Harold said, sitting in the seedy pub known as the Hog's Head. At his table sat a large group of fellow students, from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor. "The topic of this meeting is a form of rebellion, an act of protest against the abysmal form of teaching we receive in Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"What do you mean?" Susan Bones of Hufflepuff asked, and Harold grinned.
"What I mean is that we are not getting the education we need, both to defend ourselves, and to pass our OWLs."
In actuality, Harold could care less about his OWLs, let alone the OWLs of his fellow students. He didn't even care that they were getting poor education. All he cared about was the fact that they would be doing this right under Umbridge's very nose, and she would be none the wiser.
"Where's the proof that You-Know-Who's back?" a blond Hufflepuff boy said in a rather aggressive voice.
"Well, Dumbledore believes it-" Hermione began, but was interrupted.
"You mean, Dumbledore believes him," the blond boy said, nodding toward Harold, who raised an eyebrow.
"And you are?"
"Zacharias Smith," the boy said, "and I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes you say You-Know-Who's back."
"I saw him," Harold said simply. "He used my blood in a ritual to bring him back to physical form, stronger now than ever before. I fought him, managed to wound him, and got away."
There was no point in revealing to everyone that he had bitten Voldemort and absorbed most of his memories through his blood. That would just be counter-productive, after all.
"I am not going to give you any details regarding the fight, as it is something I would like to forget," Harold spoke in a fake mournful tone, which seemed to garner some sympathy from the women there. "Now, if you want to learn Defense, then we are going to need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we are going to meet, and where we are going to meet," he continued, drawing his cloak closer around himself in an attempt to appear to be remembering the fight against Voldemort. It had been rather fun, but the others didn't need to know that.
–
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