A/N: Chap 16 review responses are in my forums as normal. Also, a note-the forums are dedicated for review responses. I certainly don't mind discussion within established topics, but please do not introduce new topics. I will delete those as they fall outside the intended purpose of the forums and create unnecessary crowding. Thank you.
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Chapter Seventeen: Tea and Torture
Long after Susan and Justine returned to the Hufflepuff dorms, Harry and Luna sat on the couch in their mini common room. For the first hour or so, Harry tried reading up on his potions work, but after that hour passed and Hermione still had not returned, he gave up even pretending to read and started pacing.
Luna watched him with large, silver-blue eyes, but did not say anything. After all, what could she say?
When Hermione had not returned by the second hour, which marked curfew, Harry cursed under his breath and stomped into their room, emerging moments later with his invisibility cloak. However, Luna stood in his way with a quivering lip.
"Move, Luna," Harry said, fighting to keep his voice level and low so as not to wake their suite mates.
Luna resolutely shook her head. "They're hoping you'll go out after her," his young wife finally said. "That's why they have all those listening charms everywhere, Harry. If you go out there, even if they can't see you, they'll hear you. They'll know you're out after curfew. It wouldn't surprise me if Umbridge had every prefect in the school waiting outside the married wing for you to try and leave."
"I saw Umbridge torturing Hermione!" Harry growled.
Luna's liquid eyes trembled. "And I saw them killing you if you tried to rescue her," she said very softly. "If you die, Harry, I'll die too. Even if they don't kill me first, I don't think I could go back to being alone again."
"Luna, stop talking silly!"
She stepped forward and slapped him; not hard—the bond would not allow them to truly harm each other—but the gesture alone stunned Harry. Other than that short, terrifying fight in Dallas, he'd never seen her intentionally do violence to anyone.
"You listen to me, Harry James Potter!" she said. "When I was nine I watched a Hit Witch stick a knife in my Mum. She made me watch, Harry. Do you understand? She and her cronies dragged me out of the cupboard Mum and Daddy made me hide in, put me on the ground next to my Daddy, and made us watch as she murdered my mum. Another Hit Witch beat my Daddy. Then she made me drink the potion that burned away my fallopian tubes to ensure I'd never have a child. And after that my best friend, Ginny Weasley, treated me like a pariah, as if what happened to me was my fault. I will never go back to living like that, not after…after…"
She sobbed and hit his chest again. "Not after being with you. I can't go back to being alone, I won't! I'll take the drought of living death or throw myself off the Astronomy Tower, I don't care which, but I won't live. I know you're going to have to fight, Harry. I know that. But if you throw your life away by being a stupid Gryffindor, I swear to magic itself I will follow right after."
The door opened before Harry could respond, and a haggard, drawn Hermione stumbled in with her satchel hanging loose in one hand. Her hair was frizzy and unkempt, and her eyes and nose were red and glistening with tears and mucus. "Hermione!" Harry and Luna said, almost at the same time.
They barely reached her before she fell forward into their arms. They carried her back to the couch and settled her in just as the other suite door opened and Neville and Hannah walked out in their night robes.
"It's past ten, is she just now getting in?" Neville asked, incredulous.
"Hermione, what happened?" Harry asked, almost begging for her to speak.
In answer, she rolled up the sleeve of her school robes to reveal the angry, bloody scar on the inside of her forearm. The scars spelled out the words "Mudblood Whore" as if written there by a scalpel.
Harry sucked in an infuriated breath. "I'll kill her," he breathed. "I swear to Merlin I'll kill her."
"And then when they kill you, I'll follow a step behind," Luna said with uncharacteristic steel in her voice. "That is exactly what they hope to accomplish with this, Harry. They want you to rush out to defend her, just like you did last year."
Luna's words were like a cold, painful slap across his face. "But…how can she get away with this?"
"We build up proof and take an accounting," Neville said from behind them. "And then we present it to the Wizengamot. Officially they are the court system, and Scrimgeour is the one who supposedly is the high judge. And we plaster it across every newspaper in the world—that the Senior Undersecretary of Magic, and a Dame of the Sabbat, is torturing students at Hogwarts."
"But not yet," Hannah said. "We can't go public with something like that yet."
"She's right." Hermione's voice sounded as if she'd been screaming, it was so hoarse and reedy. "We have to gather our evidence so when we strike, we strike hard. Hannah, do you have a wizarding camera?"
Hannah nodded and walked back into their room, emerging moments later with a camera. They took several photographs of her arm, and then Hermione carefully recounted the two hours of torture that started, strangely enough, with what looked like a genteel tea service. When she continued to evade Umbridge's questions, the witch grew furious and ordered her to start writing the offensive term as lines, and the moment she did she saw the quill did not use ink, but instead her own blood.
When she finished, Luna went to their room and emerged later with a bottle of dittany. "Wouldn't essence to Murtlap work better?" Hermione said, ever the know-it-all.
"Nothing works better than dittany," Luna said.
"Madame Pomfrey said it was the next best thing to phoenix tears," Harry said. "I watched her use it on Professor Lupin Third Year when Black cursed him. Trust me, Luna has it right."
Hermione closed her eyes and nodded, while Luna carefully took a dropper, dipped it into the phial of dittany, and dripped it onto the raised cuts. Almost immediately, the potion began to use Hermione's own magic to heal the scar tissue, until by the time she was done there was a barely visible line of white scar tissue. He could only make out the words if he was looking at it in the proper light.
"Amazing," Hermione said breathlessly.
Harry then handed her a pain potion, which she took without hesitation. Harry stood and looked at the other two. "We're sorry to wake you."
"We were awake," Neville admitted sheepishly. "We were waiting for her to get back too."
Harry nodded, and then he and Luna helped Hermione to her feet. "Do we need to take the love potions tonight?" Luna asked.
To Harry's shock, Hermione kissed the shorter girl's head. "Not tonight, Luna. Thank you for the dittany. You were right; it worked much better than I thought."
Neville was still watching when Luna kissed her sister wife back on the cheek, and said, "I'm glad. Because we're going to need more of it, I'm sure."
~~Firebird~~
~~Firebird~~
Luna's words were prophetic—she received detention the very next day for breathing too loudly in class. Harry sat through Defence seething with a rage he could not show while Umbridge stood smiling happily at the front of the class.
Harry and Hermione waited up that night, and ten minutes after curfew the portrait in the main commons of the hospital wing opened to reveal not Luna, but Gregoria Goyle holding the limp form of Luna Lovegood in her arms.
Harry tensed, while from behind him Hermione rushed forward with a hiss. Surprisingly, Gregoria didn't try to stop Hermione from taking the unconscious girl back into the room—instead she stood staring intently at Harry. "You know this is wrong," Harry said.
"Doesn't matter," Gregoria said. "She's going to get everyone you know first, and when there isn't anyone else, she's going to come for you."
"I'm sure you're looking forward to that," Harry said tightly.
Gregoria snorted. "You have no idea."
The door closed and Harry walked back to their adjoined suite. Luna was awake and whimpering in pain as Hermione applied the dittany. The words she had been forced to carve into her arm were "Barren Whore".
Hannah held up her camera. "I already have the pictures."
~~Firebird~~
~~Firebird~~
Four days later Hannah had detention, and then two days after that, Neville. Harry raged, shouted, kicked the walls and hit the floor with his fist until his knuckles bled, but everyone agreed that his confronting Umbridge was exactly what she was looking for. If he walked in and cursed her, it would give the Sabbat the proof they needed that he was uncontrollable and dangerous. Moreover, there was a chance they would realize that the bond with Hermione had not weakened his magic at all.
By bonding through Luna and him together, Luna actually blunted Hermione's pull on Harry's magic to an equal amount of his pull on her, eliminating the magic-dulling aspect of the bond. If the Sabbat ever realized that, Luna herself would be targeted.
Fred and Angelina were next, followed by Susan Bones and Justine Finch. The list continued down the line, until every close friend or acquaintance of his had undergone the torture. During the weeks it happened, Dumbledore was virtually out of sight, while the other professors acted as if everything were normal. They had to know what was happening, but the atmosphere of fear that ran through the castle was palpable. Umbridge was in charge, and anyone who questioned her would be arrested by the Hit Witches stationed there, and returned days later in even worse shape than those Umbridge had in her "detentions".
When everyone he knew had been tortured and interrogated, Harry waited for his turn, knowing it had to come sooner or later. It happened on Halloween.
Harry forced himself to stare at the text of the Defence book in seething silence when Umbridge said, "Mr Potter! That will be detention tonight for failing to pay attention in class."
Harry looked up and stared at the vile witch in the eyes. "Yes, Professor," he said calmly.
Nearby, Draco Malfoy laughed, but Umbridge did not seem to notice. Harry broke eye contact and looked back down at his text book.
After dinner, he took another dose of Dumbledore's Veritaserum-counter and then took a pain potion in anticipation of what would happen. Luna and Hermione both gave him a hug, as did Hannah, while Neville just shook his hand and said, "Don't give her an excuse, Harry. Just come back, okay?"
The halls were not bustling, but students were moving around on their way to or from the library or between houses where they visited friends. Word had spread that Harry had detention—he could tell from the way their eyes followed him through the hall, tracking his progress like people watching the accused walk to his death.
Harry kept his eyes straight ahead and walked with his chin up until he reached the classroom where Remus Lupin used to teach. He knocked on the door, following the forms despite knowing he was about to be tortured.
"Come in," came the sickly sweet voice of Dolores Umbridge.
Harry entered, and Umbridge smiled brightly at him. "Ah, Mr Potter. Right on time, very good. Please do come have a seat and take some tea."
Harry stepped into the class and looked around—the walls sparkled with listening charms and other, white bits of magic that made him think of visual charms. He walked to the chair and sat down. "So, are you going to interrogate me first, or torture me first like you did my friends?" Harry said.
"Torture, Mr Potter?" Umbridge said, eyebrows raised in poorly feigned innocence. "I do not torture students!"
"You forced my friends to write lines with a blood quill, Professor," Harry said darkly. "That is torture."
"Nonsense, it is merely discipline," she said dismissively. "Something this castle is sorely lacking. I assure you, the Sabbat is fully aware of what is happening."
"So if I were to inform my Dame that my wives were brutally tortured by you, she would already be aware of it?"
"The Dames that make policy are aware of it," Umbridge amended with a tight smile. "You can tell whom you please."
"Thank you, I shall," Harry said.
"But not tonight," Umbridge said. "First, we shall have tea, and then we shall discuss the discipline problem in this school."
"Thank you, Professor, but I am not thirsty."
"I'm not asking, Mr Potter. Take your tea."
"With respect, no."
Umbridge pursed her lips and glared. "I see that you are going to be trouble, Mr Potter. While that is unfortunate, at the same time I am pleased. I need to make an example for the whole school, and I think you will do nicely. Children, do come in."
Harry turned in his seat and watched as the door to the class opened to admit a line of older students, mostly Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and all girls. He recognized two fifth years as well—Gregoria and Daphne Greengrass. Since the train ride to Hogwarts where Draco and Daphne tried to trick Harry, he had not said three words to the smirking blonde.
"Girls," Umbridge said as she stood, "Mr Potter has decided he has no respect for this school, the Ministry of Magic, or the covens in general. This is clearly evidenced by his marriage and bonding with a proscribed, infertile witch, and then a magic-stealing Mudblood after. However, we shall ensure he does his duty to England despite this."
She reached behind her and lifted the tea kettle. "This tea contains a potion that will remove the birth-control potion he is on in minutes. It also contains a powerful stamina potion. From our conversations, each of you should be on a fertility potion to make the most of the evening's activities. I trust you know what to do."
Harry took a step back, his heart thudding. "You can't be serious," Harry muttered. "This is illegal!"
"You'll find, Mr Potter, that the Sabbat is above the law," Umbridge said with a leering smile. "It is the duty and expectation of every wizard to father children for magical England. Whether you are willing or not is, frankly, irrelevant."
"What's wrong, Potter, afraid of what a real woman might do?" Daphne smirked.
"Petrify him," Umbridge ordered.
Of the eight girls there, six raised their wands and cast the Petrificus totalus jinx. Harry did not stand still—if he learned anything over the summer, it was to constantly move. He ducked to the side of the storm of jinxes and fired off an Expelliarmus. A stunning spell was too easily counter-acted, but without a wand a witch was virtually defenceless.
Only, the witches were all older and more experienced. Two separate Protego shields appeared and blocked his disarming jinx, while four others fired curses of their own. Harry shielded himself, spun away and fired another disarming jinx, followed by three more in quick succession.
Two wands flew through the air—he cast fire charms at both, destroying them to the shouted rage of the disarmed witches. But it was still six to one, not even counting Umbridge.
This was a mistake.
"Crucio!"
The sudden, horrifying pain overwhelmed any control he had and put him on the ground, writhing in agony. The curse lasted only a moment, but it was enough to leave him weakened and gasping for breath. It was Gregoria who picked up his wand. "I told you," she said with a spiteful smile.
Umbridge took a deep breath. "Well, that was unpleasant. Mr Potter, will you take the potion now, or must I convince you further."
"Go to hell you psychotic bitch!" Harry screamed.
"I see. Crucio."
Her beatific smile never changed as she held him under the pain curse. It was still there, making her look like some warped, hellish saint, when the stunning spell struck her head.
The female students turned and cursed without hesitation, only to have all of their curses bounce harmlessly off a brilliant white magical shield. The shield dropped and a second later a rush of red magic swept all eight girls off their feet, sending them tumbling across the room.
Harry gasped for breath and fought to get back to his feet as Albus Dumbledore walked into the room. With a sweep of his wand he gathered all the other students' wands, and Umbridge's as well, and incinerated them with a flare of wandless fire magic. When that was done, he moved unsteadily to Harry's side, kneeling down with a pop of old joints.
Wordlessly, he handed Harry a potion which the young wizard tried to take, but was unable to because of the shaking in his hands. Instead, Dumbledore gently held his head and poured it into Harry's mouth. Instantly, the worst of the tremors stopped, though the ghastly pain lingered.
"Unfortunately, the pain of a Cruciatus curse cannot be treated," the ancient wizard said, easily reading his pained expression. "However, if treated soon enough the nerve-damaging effects can be negated."
"You knew what she was planning," Harry accused.
"I had an idea," Dumbledore admitted sadly. "Do not think this is over, Harry. There will be a terrible price to pay for tonight's activities."
He looked up over the headmaster's shoulders as a pair of familiar Aurors—Emmeline Vance and Nymphadora Tonks—entered followed a moment later by the scarred visage of Alastor Moody. Vance took the tea kettle and placed it inside a charmed wooden box, while Tonks took eight small phials and cotton swabs, and started swabbing the mouths of the unconscious girls.
"What she attempted to do, while most certainly classified as rape, can only be tried as line theft," Dumbledore continued. "Sadly, the law of the Wizengamot clearly defines rape as the violation of a witch by a wizard. There is no provision giving wizards protection against witches. However, the fact she use an Unforgiveable is most certainly a crime."
"Your government sucks," Harry croaked.
"Yes, in many ways I must agree," Dumbledore said. "Aurors, do you need anything from Mr Potter?"
"No, Albus," Moody said. "Best keep the boy out of it as much as possible."
"Indeed, I agree. Please let me know when you are ready to leave. You may use my Floo."
While Dumbledore tried to help Harry up, the old wizard lacked much in the way of physical strength, so it was mainly by Harry's strength alone that he stood and stumbled back to the married wing.
Neither wizard was surprised when the door opened and a group of students stood waiting. Luna squealed in alarm before rushing to Harry's side, while Hermione looked to the headmaster. "Sir, what happened?"
"Harry has been tortured with the Cruciatus curse. I have given him the counter, but he is excused from classes tomorrow regardless. Know that I have brought Aurors into the castle to arrest Dame Dolores and those students she recruited to assist her in attempted line theft as well. I have already destroyed their wands; I wish I could expel them, but in truth I think such an attempt would be unsuccessful, and so they will merely be held in detention."
"So it's over?" Hannah asked.
Dumbledore surveyed the students closely before shaking his head. "My dear, I wish it were so. Rather, things are just now beginning. This is, at best, a temporary victory that may buy us a few precious weeks. It is my hope that it will at the least get us past the term. I know you have all suffered—the staff is aware of exactly what Dame Dolores was doing, but because of the political landscape we could not afford to act prematurely."
"Doesn't make it feel any better," Georgina said, rubbing her forearm, where Umbridge forced her to write "Perverted Whore".
"No, it does not," Dumbledore said. "Know that the Ministry intends for those of you in Fifth Year to fail your DADA OWLs. Like Transfiguration and Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts is a required Core Class, and without a passing OWL you will not be able to continue at Hogwarts, and would be denied full standing in society. It is felt that Mr Potter's presence has affected the entire year, which was already the smallest on record to begin with. This is their way of removing the problem."
"What can we do?" Hermione asked.
"Many things, of which I can know nothing," Dumbledore said with a sad smile. "I wish… I wish I could do so much for you. I will do what I can regardless, but it seems so little in the face of such evil. Be strong for each other—each of you are the other's best defence and hope. Now, I bid you all good night."
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Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.