Christmas passed swiftly and merrily, the good mood only brightened by Mr. Weasley's eventual recovery, though the elder redhead hadn't made it back for the holiday itself. Link had mixed feelings about the holiday, primarily because he hadn't even known to gather gifts for his friends. He'd woken to a modest pile of sweets and books from the trio and their families at the foot of his bed with nothing to give in return.
He'd covered his embarrassment by marching downstairs and putting the supplies in his pack to good use, pulling out meats and vegetables and spices that were as fresh as they day he'd stored them, and cooking up a veritable feast for everyone in residence that day. It was an effort much appreciated, as the kitchen was normally Mrs. Weasley's fiercely guarded domain, but she had been understandably distraught by her son Percy's behavior.
Afterwards, Link had opted out of visiting Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo's, preferring a less intrusive trip to the Black's library. He'd not ended up finding anything of use to his search for home, but some of the spellcraft was more than a little interesting. The hylian had ended up picking a thick tome about animagi from the shelves and read through several chapters in both fascinated enjoyment and an unsettling, inexplicable urgency. Sirius had offered to let him keep it, quietly admitting he hoped seeing the book with Link would encourage Harry to read it someday and follow in the Marauder's footsteps. Link thought this highly unlikely, given the younger wizard's lack of interest in transfiguration. Who knew, though? Link was only intermittently enthusiastic about the subject himself.
The only blemish in their otherwise peaceful holiday was Snape's meeting with Harry. The green-eyed wizard was absolutely infuriated at the thought of more lessons with his least-favorite professor (only such because Umbridge didn't qualify as a teacher in his book), and despite Hermione's reasoning, Harry didn't seem sure he wanted his dreams to stop. Not when they'd saved Mr. Weasley's life.
Link wasn't sure how he felt about the lessons either. Snape was dark and broody and so obviously unsuited for extensive work with or around children it was a wonder he was a teacher at all. If he taught occlumency as he did potions, Harry wasn't going to learn a thing.
Predictably, his first occlumency lesson did indeed go poorly.
"Apparently Dumbledore thinks I've got this connection to Voldemort that gets more intense when I'm relaxed," Harry had griped afterward. "They think he's become aware of it now and I need to make it stop. But Snape just kept shouting at me to 'clear my mind' and 'empty myself of emotions.' How exactly is that supposed to help? And even if I weren't feeling anything, wouldn't that mean I'm more relaxed?"
Link shook his head, wheat-colored locks brushing his eyes. He hadn't realized his hair had grown so long; he'd need to get it cut, soon. "No. It means you're more focused. Emotions are distracting during conflict, Harry. If you're clear-headed, you're more aware of what's happening around you and what you can do to influence it." He frowned, tilting his head in thought. "I agree that shouting at you doesn't help though. That sort of calm, especially when undergoing stress, takes a great deal of practice to summon, let alone instantly. That's why I taught you the three-count to help you focus. It's difficult."
Harry paused at that. "It is sort of the same thing, isn't it?" he asked slowly.
Occlumency did sound a great deal like meditation. "I guess," he said, not willing to commit to that idea when he knew so little about the magic involved.
"You don't suppose I could just practice with you then?" the younger wizard sounded so hopeful.
"I don't know ligilimency," Link returned regretfully. Though it did sound immensely useful. And intrusive. Was that what Dumbledore had used during their initial meeting? "I can still help you with your meditation though."
Harry only sighed moodily. "Yeah. Thanks."
The very next day they were assaulted by more bad news. Umbridge had finally posted a new Educational Decree, likely in retaliation to Harry's early disappearance from Hogwarts for the holidays. It gave her the power to review all students' extracurricular activities, which gave her an incredible amount of leeway in what she chose to look at and ban. Fortunately, it was so broad in scope there was no feasible way for Umbridge to do much inconveniencing, as she already had her hands full "teaching" and "reviewing" the professors.
Unfortunately, this meant Link had to be extra careful slipping in and out of the restricted section of the library. Though he had permission to be there, no doubt Umbridge would find some way to ban him from going if she knew about it. Worryingly, she might already, as he hadn't exactly made those trips a secret. Most of the students wouldn't have bothered to inform her, but this might push Malfoy to, the little wart.
Even worse was the news of nearly a dozen of Voldemort's followers escaping the wizarding prison, Azkaban, and the death of Broderick Bode, whom the trio had apparently seen during their visit to St. Mungo's. The man worked at the ministry, Ron had informed them with in startled remembrance, as an Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries.
Hermione grimly suspected that was where Sturgis Podmore had attempted to break in earlier that year, and Mr. Weasley had been found bitten. Voldemort's likely murder of Bode made it all too apparent his interest in the place.
Ron had finally confirmed this, saying he recognized Harry's description of the corridor from a trip he'd made to the Ministry with his dad once.
They'd all stared at the two articles for a long moment after, the sneering, mad pictures of Azkaban's worst inmates lingering in their minds. Harry loudly wondered how anyone couldn't believe Voldemort was back given the rotten news that morning, and it was lucky the rest of the students were just as noisy; Umbridge was at the high table for once, and would have used any excuse to punish Harry again. Link could only hope she hadn't been stupid enough to make more of her blood-letting quills.
Hermione had then proceeded to look very shifty and run off to write a letter.
To add insult to injury, Hagrid informed them he was on probation right after breakfast, and that Umbridge would be monitoring all of his lessons. How she expected to do that, teach her own classes, and monitor extracurricular activities was anyone's guess, but hopefully it had her too distracted to pay much attention to what the four of them were up to, or the DA.
A much needed break from all the stress came in the form of their next Hogsmeade weekend. For Link, anyway. Ron was trapped in a day-long Quidditch practice that Hermione had sternly forbade Angelina from forcing on Harry, for reasons that were incredibly important... just not important enough to stop Harry from taking one Cho Chang on a date? Hermione was busy preparing whatever it was she wanted Harry for, and the Boy-Who-Lived was nervously smartening himself up for Cho.
Link honestly hadn't even noticed anything going on between the two other than the occasional blushing glance. When he informed Hermione of this, she'd simply stared at him, rolled her eyes, and muttered "boys" in a disgusted fashion before swanning right off.
The hylian ended up venturing to all the little shops he'd missed due to the formation of the DA at their last Hogsmeade weekend, munching on a variety of unusual sweets from Honeyduke's, some of which he stowed away for Zelda. He picked up a few new books from the local store, replaced his increasingly worn quill with a sleek new eagle-feather, and was just considering whiling away the rest of the time finishing up the book Sirius had given him when he passed by Fred, George, and their friend Lee in Zonko's Joke Shop. The twins had apparently escaped Angelina early, which left her with what, half a team? Shrugging, the hylian wandered inside, half expecting to see Ron hiding amongst the shelves as well.
Link had up until this point thought wizarding pranks were primarily about spells you could cast or tampering with food, as the twins had done. Zonko's was full of anything and everything though, from dungbombs to animated spiders to cauldrons that vanished potions to quills that changed whatever you wrote to nasty insults.
It was a masterful display of wasted ingenuity, Link thought blandly just as Fred caught sight of him.
"Why if it isn't Mr. Link Hyrule," he said, a little too cheerfully. "Just the man we wanted to see!"
The hylian eyed the grinning twins warily. "Shouldn't you be at Quidditch practice?"
"Our dear captain is so focused on Ron I wouldn't be surprised if it were just the two of them by now," Fred said mournfully, likely over their chances of winning the Quidditch Cup this year. "She's working him to the ground, she is."
Link sighed. "So why did you want to see me?"
"Well," George started, "you, my friend, seem to know more about pissing off that old toad than just about anyone." He thought about this a moment before adding, "Save Harry, anyway."
"We mean Umbridge, of course," Fred pointed out unnecessarily. "We were thinking of implementing a teensy little prank, to lift up the old school's spirit, you know, and what better victim - I mean target - than such a charming woman?"
"After all, she spends so much time trying to make all of us miserable, I don't see why we can't return the favor," George added baldly.
Link snorted, something wolfish and mischievous in him privately agreeing. "I'm not cross-dressing for it again," he said flatly. He didn't mind the clothes. In fact, if he were being honest, he would even say he liked the graceful designs women's clothing more often sported than men's. But he didn't like being made to feel foolish in them, which was what would happen if they yet again made a spectacle of him. Granted, one of those times had been his own fault, but still...
Fred and George pouted obscenely. "Do you really think so little of our creativity?" George asked, and turned to his brother. "I think I'm hurt."
"Well I can tell you she guards her office with some nasty hexes at night. I wouldn't bother hitting her there. It might actually be dangerous for you," Link offered, recalling his last foray into her domain with a grimace.
"Well, well, well, someone's been up to no good," Fred exclaimed, delighted.
The hylian smirked. "Of a sort."
"So you wouldn't be opposed to collaborating for a little well-deserved petty revenge?"
Link thought about it for a moment. There were so many things he should do instead, but it had not only been a stressful few weeks, Harry had been an absolute bear since he'd started occlumency lessons with Snape. He flexed his hand, which bore faint scars from Umbridge's door. Such pettiness was beneath him, but... a little creative outlet might be just the catharsis he needed.
"No, I don't think I'd be opposed at all."
"So what does our critic have in mind?" George drawled, eyes alight with glee.
The hylian pondered for a moment, thinking through all the various objects he'd collected throughout his travels, in particular a few rare fish he'd caught near Zora's domain during his and Zelda's first diplomatic visit, and an idea began to bloom. A few pieces would be difficult with his lack of magical expertise, but that's where Fred and George would come in.
Link grinned wolfishly. The twins traded a glance before smirking right back.
"I have just the thing."
Link and the twins spent the entirety of Sunday deep in planning. The redheads were surprisingly committed to their research when the goal was their own entertainment. Or perhaps not so surprising - the sheer quantity of joke sweets they'd produced and tested over the course of the last half year was astounding. Either way, they scoured books for spells they needed, spent hours practicing them, gathered their chosen materials, and enchanted each and every one of them.
And then they got to work.
The morning of the second day dawned with the three conspirators groggy but pleased, a mood that rapidly dissolved to anticipation. It was fortunate Link's first class was a free period, as no one would miss his presence, though he regretted the trio were stuck in History. They would have enjoyed this, he was sure.
Fred, George, and Link concealed themselves in a nook behind a suit of armor. Though cramped, a few quick disillusionment spells made them nearly impossible to see, while their own vantage point allowed them to peek at the entire corridor. Most importantly, they had clear line of sight to the Defense classroom.
Rather, where the classroom used to be.
Link had to resort to his Sheikah training to force down the giggles that wanted to emerge when Umbridge walked briskly down the corridor, froze, looked either way as though she thought she'd gone too far, then snarled.
The classroom had been completely walled off. More than that, the wall and door both were entirely invisible, appearing just as the stone on either side.
Umbridge jabbed her stubby little wand at the space the door should have been, only to be knocked back by an explosive BANG as a wall of stacked wood revealed itself, spitting a thick cloud of smoke that painted the witch a violent orange. Frantically waving her wand over herself did nothing to solve the color change, her neon skin clashing horribly with her pink cardigan.
Layer one. Oh, but the twins were brilliant. Hermione could disparage their grades all she wanted, but the redheaded menaces were far smarter than she gave them credit for. Link may have suggested blocking off the room, but the magical side effects were all them.
Umbridge eventually gave up on turning her skin its usual shade, though even if she had, she'd have been a blotchy red. She snapped out a spell that sent the wood tumbling aside, only to reveal... another wall of wood.
She glowered at it warily, circling around the barrier as though another angle might reveal some sort of trick. Eventually, patience giving out, she jabbed her wand it it again, the same motion that had cleared the other wall. Only, the wall didn't clear. It giggled.
By this time her first class of the day had started trickling into the hall, confused whispers and muffled laughter picking up as they caught sight of their least favorite teacher. Umbridge spared them an angry glance before jabbing her wand again. The wall sputtered out a round of high pitched laughter. Again, and the wall shrieked hysterically. It howled. It guffawed. All the while Umbridge was turning that horrible blotchy red under the bright orange layered over her skin, perfectly convinced it was mocking her.
It was.
Ten minutes after class should have started, Umbridge had accumulated quite the crowd. Other students had somehow caught on to what was happening and had outright skipped their first classes to watch the spectacle.
Finally, with an angry stab at the wall, the wood gave one last wheezing laugh, stuck out a massive tongue, blowing a raspberry that spattered the ministry witch with foul-smelling spittle and left ugly, painful boils dotting her face and arms, and fell to pieces. Actual pieces, that is, not more laughter.
Layer two. Link snapped a rapid series of pictures with his Slate, wishing wistfully that there was a way to record the whole event from start to finish.
Then the last wall revealed itself, and Umbridge let loose an angry shriek that had the twins discreetly high-fiving from their hiding spot behind the armor. Link snickered. The suit's faceplate clicked ominously and they shut up.
The final layer was not, like the first two, made of wood, but of leaves. Each leaf was roughly the size of a person, broad and flat and not native to anywhere on earth. Umbridge's wand sparked threateningly as she jabbed it again, and one of the leaves snapped forward, a gale-force wind throwing her ass over teakettle.
Korok leaves, Link mused, had so many uses.
Umbridge clambered heavily to her feet, rings scraping the stone floor as she pushed herself up. "Finite Incantatum!" she roared, wand stabbing forward violently. The leaves laughed a korok's laugh and swept forward again, blowing accumulated dust, spittle, and splinters from the other walls straight at the witch. They then fell to the side, revealing the door to her classroom. The toad-woman stalked forward, suspicous at the ease of the final wall, but too angry to give it much thought. A leaf slapped her in one final parting shot as she stomped past. Umbridge snarled and ripped open the door.
Only to be hit by a veritable lake pouring from the classroom, drenching the toad-woman and flooding the corridor.
McGonagall and Flitwick had finally arrived, alerted by the commotion and strange lack of students in their morning class, just in time to see Umbridge emerge, bright orange, covered from head to toe in boils and debris, and now sopping wet.
And smelling something awful, for trailing after her, swimming in a thin sheathe of floating water, was Link's rare prize.
A Reekfish.
Its putrid stink was worse than any dungbomb, and it hovered directly over the ministry witch like her own personal raincloud, trailing a thick odor that seeped down with drips of water to permeate her hair and clothing. Umbridge just stood there, trembling with rage, looking the worst anyone had ever seen her, and sputtered with choked rage in front of her peers. Her wand sparked ineffectually at her side.
Link sank to the floor, sides heaving with suppressed laughter. As close as they were, he nearly took Fred and George with him. They merely followed after, cackling madly underneath powerful silencing charms they'd cast on each other the moment they realized how much noise they were about to make.
The aptly named Reekfish gurgled, a little bubble of air leaking from its gaping mouth with a muted pop. Link wasn't entirely sure why, but it was this last that nearly broke his silence. Fred and George leapt at him, slamming their hands over his mouth as he sputtered helplessly. He nearly dropped the Slate trying to shove it back in his pack and thought vaguely that McGonagall had glanced in their direction with a raised brow.
The fish gurgled again, dripping a new wave of stink right into Umbridge's eyes.
Oh he was going to remember this forever.
The following weekend passed with a tired Gryffindor Quidditch team and a sullen Ronald Weasley. Though they'd won their match, it was only by the thinnest of margins, and Ron had let slip so many goals it barely felt a victory at all. The wizard must truly have felt awful about it; he maintained a moody silence all throughout Sunday, and only finally opened up the following morning at breakfast.
"I dunno how you guys do it," he said miserably. "I see the crowd and I just freeze right up." Ron had been teetering on the edge of quitting since their first game against the Slytherins, and Angelina's tough-love practices didn't seem to be helping much. If anything, the redhead was playing even worse.
Harry shrugged. "I get so focused on the match I barely remember they're there half the time."
"Well that doesn't explain him," Ron pointed at Link. "He traipsed around half-naked in front of half the school. Twice."
"People are always going to think what they want, Ron. You need to be the one controlling your actions, not them," Link advised, echoing the advice he'd given Harry months ago.
The redhead stared at him in disbelief. "You make that sound so easy," he muttered, shoulders slumping.
Link said nothing. It had taken him years before he'd started acting on his own instead of reacting to the thoughts and words of people that ultimately did not affect his duty. He still had trouble with it sometimes, which was usually when Zelda stepped in to remind him he was the peoples' diarch, not the other way around. (He would always return that she was their monarch, and they would argue the point just for fun.)
"You're not that bad," Harry tried, straight-faced, but Ron only sank further into his seat, stabbing half-heartedly at his eggs.
They were saved from further sports talk but a veritable tide of owls descending upon Harry. Link pulled back in surprise, nearly dropping his fork, but Hermione just beamed. Luna even joined them from the Ravenclaw table to congratulate Harry, serenely pulling letters from some of the owls fluttering about their heads. Fred, George, and Ron all joined in when they saw what was happening. The Boy-Who-Lived opened the sole package amongst the envelopes, withdrawing a flimsy book bearing his own picture on the front.
"Here," Hermione said, snatching it from the boy after he had a moment to flip through the pages. She handed it to Link. "This is a magazine," she added in low tones, correctly guessing that Hyrule had nothing of the sort. "A lot like a newspaper, but printed monthly and more specialized. I organized an interview for Harry last weekend."
He glanced through it, making a note to read Harry's interview more in-depth later that evening. Link only knew sparse details of what had occurred the last school year, so the article was sure to be enlightening. "And those letters...?"
"Those are from people who've read it."
Link frowned. "And they want to... send their support?" he asked. It was such a foreign concept that Link would admit to some confusion. It wasn't that Hyruleans were averse to sharing their thoughts, but by post...? Sending what amounted to frivolity was a waste of paper and rupees. Reading and writing were luxuries, and while the average Hyrulean household possessed a few books, not all were literate, and there were those that could read only what was necessary for day to day life. Zoras fared better with their longer lifespans, greater wealth, and higher focus on artistry, but even they treated such things as a valued privilege over... whatever this was. Link glanced at the letters the others were reading, some of which contained only a handful of words. What a waste.
"Their opinion, good or bad," Hermione corrected. "People just want to feel like they've been heard."
Harry at least seemed bolstered by the vast amount of support he was garnering from the article. There were naysayers, of course, but they were by far outnumbered by those that wrote because they believed in him.
Predictably, that was when Umbridge came along, trying very hard to look imposing and severe. Unfortunately for her, the fish still swimming obliviously about her head made such a feat impossible. Link smirked and visibly pinched his nose shut to ward of the smell of the Reekfish. Fred and George took it one step further, scrunching up their noses and waving wildly in front of their faces.
(Link caught her trying to remove the fish at least twice a day. He was going to have to rescue the poor thing soon, lest she actually figure out how to dispel its floating film of water. Until then, he could just bask in their well-planned revenge.)
Harry looked right into her eyes and told her about the article.
"Well then," Umbridge bristled, angry blotches coloring her face under the orange pigment that was only just starting to fade, "as a little reminder that lies are a terrible thing to tell, Mr. Potter, you shall be banned from further visits to Hogsmeade."
"He hasn't broken any rules," Link said flatly. It was the first time he had openly challenged her authority since the crossdressing incident, and Umbridge froze, turning threateningly slowly to face him. A fat drop of smelly water fell from the Reekfish to her childish bow. "There is nothing in Hogwarts' rules that forbids students from speaking to reporters, otherwise there are a significant number of students you'd have to punish for participating in articles written for the Daily Prophet," he pointed out, tone quietly reasonable.
"Mr. Potter is disrupting breakfast," Umbridge said primly. Link raised a brow and pointedly eyed the fish, which still caused snickers from passers-by. The ministry witch very nearly went purple.
"He can hardly control when people send letters."
"Mr. Hyrule, it is not up to you to decide how your betters administer discipline," Umbridge said, sickly sweet. "Now if you don't wish to receive detention yourself I suggest you return to your breakfast."
"Is there a problem here, Dolores?" McGonagall asked evenly, staring down the shorter teacher. She had naturally honed in on the commotion
"Well-"
"We were just debating how many rules Harry broke to deserve a ban on his trips to Hogsmeade, Professor," Link replied.
"I have not seen any rules being broken," McGonagall said, brows disappearing under the brim of her hat. "And unfortunately, as Mr. Potter's head of house, administering discipline, as you put it, falls to me. Mr. Potter, a word?"
Harry startled, a brief look of outrage flitting across his face. Nonetheless he followed the transfiguration professor as she swept out of the Great Hall. Umbridge's beady eyes narrowed as she stalked to the high table, temporarily defeated.
"He's actually going to get in trouble for this?!" Ron squawked, all Quidditch related mishaps forgotten in favor of righteous anger on behalf of his friend. Hermione was also frowning, and even Fred and George looked angry. Luna hummed as she freed more owls of their burdens.
Link drained his goblet of pumpkin juice with a satisfied sigh, idly wondering if he could recreate the recipe with fortified pumpkins. 'Sugar cane, or maybe courser bee honey to add sweetness. Pureed chickaloo nuts for a richer flavor. Apple juice to thin it down, and just a tiny pinch of goron spice.' A moment later a dozen or so rubies fell into Gryffindor's hourglass. Link smirked, scribbling down his hasty recipe to put into the Slate later. "I wouldn't worry about it."