The REBORN SOLDIER

by Traban16

"Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess…" the voice whispered on the winds of time and space… The book shut, closed for an age… Two feathers of black and white descend from the cloudy skies… Our story details that mysterious gift: the Gift of the Goddess...

6. Glowering Recollections

Chapter 6: Glowering Recollections

---

Harry glowered down at his breakfast the next morning, stabbing at it and scowling deeply. His dreams last night had not revealed anything useful to him, and waking early for a stroll had turned out to be a bad idea as he ran straight into Draco, who proceeded to only pester him about "getting back into shape" and "regaining lost glory and honor" before annoyingly quoting more "Loveless"…

Honestly, the bloody blond had sounded like Angeal!

And then there was Angeal himself… ugh… Harry didn't even want to think about Ron, who sat across from him actually agreeing with the crazy blonde about regaining their weapons and finding a proper place to "reclaim their former zen" which was Angeal's kind code for "we need to train NOW!"

Plus, now even Seamus and Dean were hyped on the idea that they would be practicing spells once they got settled into their classes. He should have simply let them all rot and went back to sleep when he woke up…

In the Great Hall, Harry noticed that, once again, Hagrid was absent. He was starting to get slightly worried for his half-giant friend. He also half-listened to when Angelina came to tell him (rather abrupt and rudely) about Quidditch tryouts to replace Oliver Wood, who had graduated, before Fred and George came to talk about their starting a joke shop, to which Harry kept them from mentioning his own involvement in such with only a slight glare.

Now though, Ron was back to pestering him about the idea of training… Ugh… He had tried to change the conversation to OWLs and even inter-house unity, but to no avail.

"So, have you decided?" Ron asked, seated across from him as Harry scowled at his half-eaten breakfast.

"Why must we fall into the routine of being so cliché that we would want that training again? If I recall correctly, it was pure and simple scientific hell we went through." Harry said smoothly as he leveled Ron with a flat look.

"Oh come on, Seph." Ron said, leaning back, "You don't fool any of us for a moment. We all can see the real reason for why you don't want to train with us."

"And what, prey tell, is that?" Harry asked, steeping his hands together as his gaze remained fixatedly disinterested.

"You're afraid of becoming what you once were." Ron said, crossing his arms, "You think you'll become this all-powerful, unstoppable, insane killing force that will usher in a thousand years of darkness."

Harry merely arched a single brow so far up that he wasn't sure if it was still attached to his forehead, "While some of that may be true, I'm not exactly sure about the thousand years of darkness. I'm rather fond of seeing rainbows, you see…"

"But you have nothing to worry about." Ron continued on as though Harry hadn't made a sarcastic quip, "This time around none of us are going to go off… at least, not without you…"

"That wasn't my concern, because my answer still remains no." Harry said, not even sure what he was truly speaking against anymore. Was it really to the training, or… was it to reliving the past?

The past where his mother had been a failed calamity which had tried to destroy the Planet through him and his form…

"Just please, Seph-… Harry, just think about it." Ron said as Harry nodded, glad that Ron had stopped using his former name for now.

---

When the bell rang, Harry rose from the table without a single backward glance at his friends, knowing they'd be at his heels, falling into stride on either side of him.

Harry sighed as even his attention-span was barely held in History of Magic, which was easily the most boring subject devised by wizarding-kind. Professor Binns, their ghost of a teacher, had this wheezy, drone-like voice that was almost like a Materia which guaranteed to enchant those that heard it into severe drowsiness within ten minutes. The specter Professor never deviated from Goblin Rebellions and Giant Wars. He never varied the form of their lessons either. No, the ghostly old man only lectured to them without pause while they took notes, or rather, gazed sleepily into space. Harry and Ron, in previous years, had so far managed to scrape passes in the subject only by copying Hermione's notes before exams; she alone seemed able to resist the soporific power that was Binns' voice.

Harry noticed that Ron was trying hard to fight sleep on their first day back. He, himself, simply kept to hearing whatever he thought was important while Hermione's hand seemed a blur as she wrote. Sometimes, her eyes left the parchment she was writing on to write while she gazed up at Binns with rapt attention as though he and his ghostly-wheezed words were some form experiment that needed intense observation.

Could Hermione Granger have been reborn as one of the Shin-Ra scientists…?

"Pup, you awake over there?" Ron asked through a yawn as Harry raised a brow and glanced back, seeing Neville completely asleep and drooling while they both grinned a bit at each other, shaking their heads in amusement.

"It isn't the poor boy's fault." Harry said, suppressing a yawn of his own, "Even I barely have the sheer willpower to stay awake in this façade they call a class."

"You don't like Professor Binns?" Ron asked, not caring as Binns was still droning on.

"Not particularly, no." Harry admitted, "His voice is like Song, that Materia we once found."

"Oh, the one that put those townspeople to sleep at exactly eight-thirty p.m." Ron said, nodding as he understood, "Yeah, but Binns could put most to sleep in ten minutes."

"I'd wager five minutes; given warm weather." Harry quipped as Ron grinned, the two chuckling quietly before Hermione shushed at them with a rather cross look, as though making her miss even a single moment of information was plenty for death.

---

After History of Magic came Potions, Harry's least favorite class to date. He strolled up to the class as he normally did, though apparently he hadn't as he turned quite a few heads with his non-awkward stance and stride.

Had he really been so shy and tense all these years around his so-called peers…? Apparently…

"Well now, isn't this a treat." Draco said, smirking as he came up to Harry, "Not able to stay away from my spectacular presence, are we? Come, you may bask in the glory that is now Draco Malfoy."

"Hooray! Malfoy is here!" Hermione sarcastically cheered with an unenthusiastic whirl of her index finger, "O happy Frabjous day!Callooh! Callay!"

"Hmm…" Harry piped up as though he hadn't been paying attention, suddenly looking to Draco in a passive interest, "Did thous slay the Jabberwock, my friend?"

Draco looked unimpressed, even though he held confusion in his eyes while Ron and several of the students around them chuckled with muffled laughter, "I'm slain greater things than whatever this Jibber-wick nonsense."

"Yes, and your mighty vorpal blade went snicker-snack. You left the beasts dead, and after that did you come galumphing back." Harry said dryly as Hermione and Ron chuckled into each other, though broke apart blushing when they saw what they had unintentionally done.

"Enough of this." a voice drawled behind the crowd of students, who parted quickly for whoever the voice belonged. Harry turned and didn't bother to hide his grimace as he saw Snape coming toward them, "Everyone inside."

The door to the potion's classroom unlocked and every student was ushered in, but before Draco went in, Snape stopped him with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as the only ones behind him, "A word of advise, Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, sir?" Draco asked as Snape gave him an impassive look.

"Beware the jabberwocky, Mr. Malfoy. You're no match for it." Snape said as Draco's jaw momentarily dropped.

"Excuse you, sir?" Draco growled as Snape suddenly smirked at the fury laced in Draco's tone.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son. The jaws that bite, the claws that catch. Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun the frumious Bandersnatch." Snape said, his voice a near monotone, though the smirk he held showed all the amusement that needed conveying while Draco seethed on the spot. Harry chuckled a bit, knowing that Genesis had always hated being told to beware anything like it was an affront to his pride as a warrior.

"I'll kill these creatures- whatever they are, and then you'll see." Draco sneered venomously at Snape, who Harry expected to reprimand the blond, but the normally dour man only smirked wider as Draco stormed into class, shooting anyone that dared look at him fiery glares, "You'll all see!"

"You must not be yourself today, Snape." Harry said, testing his own luck in the face of the Potions Professor's new mood. Harry glanced to Snape, noting that he was nearly the same height with the man as Snape turned to him. Harry had to raise an eyebrow at the unexpected look he received. Snape was smirking at him and his eyes were glowing slightly.

"I'm feeling much more complete than I have in years now that you're all finally awake, Commander Sephiroth." Snape said as Harry wanted to gape, but knew that it was rather unclothe to do so, and he was no useless dullard. He settled for a slight widening of his eyes and a raised brow as he kept his gaze on the potions master.

"Who are you? SOLDIER? Turk? Shinra scientist? Other?" Harry asked as he allowed Hermione and Ron to step inside before him, both shooting the bat-like teacher curious glances. Snape only smirked again, this one more cruel than it was amused.

"Now that would be telling, Commander." Snape said, turning from him as his robes whipped behind him and the door closed with a slam as Harry made his way to his seat.

Harry silently observed the strange sight of seeing Snape so… non-hostile toward everyone in class as he started off with a roll call. The other students were wary of this new development as well, as they all kept exchanging idiotic looks of confusion with each other as though the person next to them would suddenly have the answer.

"This year, and every year here after, I shall be teaching things differently." Snape said as he sat aside his roll for the day and stalked the classroom, "There will be no more foolishness in this class. No more throwing things into each other's cauldrons. No more obnoxiously loud remarks or shoving. We are a class. Grow up, and work together. Either that, or get out because I don't have the time nor the patience to teach nimrods how to breathe again."

A student raised their hand as Snape did his eyebrow, "Yes."

"Umm… why would you need to teach us how to breathe again?" the student asked as Snape gave the boy a flat look.

"Because I'm going to see to it that after today, if you disrupt my class with any nonsense, you won't breathe again in life." Snape said, and with that he turned away from them with a swish of his robes as chalk began writing their potion down, "This isn't rocket science and it certainly isn't mako research. Follow the instructions and none should fail… Correct?"

Everyone nodded, Neville more determinately than anyone else, "Good, now pair up and begin your potions: the Draught of Peace, which comes up a lot on OWLs." Snape said mildly as he watched the students set out to choose partners and get to work, throwing Harry a small smirk before moving through students to observe.

Harry once again found himself silently observing the classroom as Snape went around commenting and correcting students within his class in what they were doing that was wrong from the instructions and why.

---

When at long last the bell rang, Harry was the first out of the dungeon and hung by the door to catch his friends, though mostly Ron and Neville, who would have Divination with him next after lunch.

"Well, Professor Snape certainly seemed different." Ron said off-handedly as Harry and Neville nodded, Hermione in front of them.

"He was rather calm and likeable today." Hermione commented, glancing back at Harry, "He didn't even move against you. He seemed vaguely… uninterested…"

They entered the Great Hall, which didn't seem to reflect the nonchalant mood with it's dreariness until Ron and Neville both started with their questions on training and reclaiming.

"Listen!" Harry hissed in irritation, "Whenever Sirius finds us information on the Planet and the Lifestream, that is when I shall make my decision."

"But-" Neville started up, but wilted back at Harry's blazing emerald glare.

"End of discussion." Harry ground out and Neville shut his mouth as he and Ron nodded.

"I can't believe this schedule." Ron said, "History of Magic, Double Potions, lunch, and then Divination with Trelawney and Double Defense with Umbridge. This is the worst Monday I've ever seen."

"No kidding." Neville agreed, "It's a sad day when Trelawney and Binns are the highlights of your day."

Harry chuckled at that, steeping his hands as he leaned forward, "Thankfully, Snape is up to being civil. Perhaps his agitation has worn to those in their fifth year?"

"Or maybe he thinks that OWLs will be enough torture." Hermione said, looking as though the idea had merit.

"No, there's something different about Snape." Ron said sagely, looking at Harry, "A glowing in his eyes that I know and recognize from somewhere…"

"What? Are the voices reaching out?" Harry asked dryly, "Singing; la, la, la, la?"

"I'm serious." Ron said as Harry leaned back, crossing his arms.

"So am I." Harry shot back as Ron sighed before Harry did as well, "Look, I don't know why, but I've found my agitation rising within the last few weeks. Like a constant ringing in my ears. Luckily, it doesn't get to me as greatly as it would had I been… normal…"

Ron didn't say anything, but sighed again, crossing his own arms as he gazed up at the enchanted ceiling, which had turned an even murkier grey than during the morning. Rain was now lashing the high windows.

"So what now?" Neville asked as Ron glanced over to him.

"I'll speak with Genesis." Ron said, meeting Harry's eyes before glancing at Hermione, "The three of us will meet up at some point today or tomorrow. Maybe sit together for a class or something."

"Right…" Harry drawled as Ron gave him an annoyed look, both dancing around the fact that Genesis, their once auburn-haired poetic friend was now their blond-haired nemesis for the past four years.

"It'll be okay. Have faith; in both yourself and us." Ron said, touching Harry's shoulder across the table.

"That I have no problem doing." Harry said, getting up, "It's the reality of my past that haunts me. That is where the problems derive from."

Harry left the Great Hall, walking toward Divination where he sat in a thoughtful and reflective silence at the base of the silver ladder which led up into the tower room that was the Divination classroom.

---

Divination with Trelawney… ugh… it was so cliché that Harry didn't even want to recall it. Though he had to admit that Draco would have simply loved to see the woman in "Loveless: The Play". He wondered how the blond would take to Trelawney, though knew Genesis had always been a sucker for palm-readers and mystics that could convey his future. He had once spent his entire paycheck on hiring a personal psychic to ride into battle with him in the early stages of the Wutai War, though thankfully it had been only once, and on a mission with Angeal and not him.

Thankfully!

"This woman truly is a character…" Harry thought as he scowled at the woman while she spoke dramatically, mystically, "… in more ways than one…"

He turned from the woman as she seemed to float about the room. He now stared out the window as he was made to sit in the heat of Trelawney's classroom. He refused to call such a woman a Professor and refused to believe this palm-reading, dream-interpreting foolishness was an actual class other than a filler for him to get real work done while obtaining an easy grade.

Of course, no one looking at him would have ever guessed that he was almost on the verge of sleep. He sat suavely within his seat, legs crossed at the right knee under the table while his left hand rested lightly against the table and the other on his thigh. Harry had been finding himself doing things subconsciously with his left hand now, remembering that he had been left-handed to ambidextrous in his past life as Sephiroth. Never the les, he was a perfect picture of charm, and though he was a bit sleepy, he was still quite alert.

"Interpreting dreams… tsk hmph…" Ron said, scoffing, "What we've been dreaming doesn't need sharing nor understanding. They're memories, not dreams."

"Noted." Harry said, listening in on conversations, looking out for tidbits of information that would benefit him and the others, "But that doesn't mean we can't use this class for other purposes."

"Such as?" Ron asked, crossing his arms with a brow quirked.

"Figuring out what our next move will be." Harry said, "Such as in the event this planet is the Planet."

"Then we'd have to find documents on what happened to mako energy or at the least Shin-Ra." Ron responded as Harry nodded.

"But you know the way the Lifestream works," Harry said as they both looked amused, "We could be so far into the future that those sort of things are mere myths for those that truly appreciate history."

"Noted." Ron said as he leaned forward, "But until we can gleam some information on the three basic questions: where, when, and why, we wouldn't have a starting point for anything."

"Which is what I've been trying to tell you and Draco." Harry said, looking annoyed.

"We know," Ron said dismissively as they both knew the two did, in fact, know that, "but we've just been trying to be sure you'll be on board for the training. We need our leading Commander, Sephiroth… We need our General…"

"As I've told Draco before; I'll think about it." Harry said, and that was the end of the discussion as Ron sighed and leaned back in his chair. The two quickly came up with some fake dreams and Trelawney bought the interpreting of them, allowing the two to receive full marks for the day.

---

When the bell rang, Harry, Ron, and Neville met up with Hermione on the way to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.

"You know Umbridge will try something against you, Harry." Hermione said.

"Oh, I'm counting on it." Harry said, and the grin he gave only served to make shivers go up their spines as they now feared for Umbridge.

The first thing that the four noticed when they walked into the classroom was the sight of Umbridge, who Harry refused to call a Professor simply because she was a horrid woman and a spy sent by the government no less, sitting there in front the classroom looking like some squashed plump toad in pink.

Pink, dammit! Of all the colors, that one pissed Harry off the most for some reason when he saw the woman wearing it. Even the black velvet bow that that sat atop her head seemed to irritate him as Ron and Hermione flanked him to their seats in the back of the class. Draco came waltzing in as though he owned the place, but quickly took the seat in front of them before flashing them (what Harry figured was suppose to have been) a brilliant smile with Blaise at his side. Neville grabbed the seat parallel to theirs as he waved from next to Seamus and Dean.

"Well, good afternoon!" Umbridge said, when finally the whole class had sat down. Harry made a face when he was forced to hear the woman's sickly sweet tone of voice, but unlike him; most couldn't hide the grimace as a few of them mumbled a greeting in reply.

"Tut, tut." Umbridge said, clearly unimpressed with them, "That simply will never do. Now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge" when we begin our classes. Once more, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her, but Harry pressed his mouth into a thin line as he refused to give into the woman.

Glancing over his friends, he could see they were in full agreement. Hermione was staring at the toad-faced woman with hidden distaste. Ron and Neville were outright frowning at her. And though Draco's back was to him, Harry could practically see the blond bristling with anger at being commanded by what would have been labeled an inferior being back when they were a part of SOLDIER.

Harry, himself, detested people like Umbridge. Those that put such an emphasis on manners only because they lacked the favorability to get such respect like Angeal had back in SOLDIER.

"Good. Now then, please, let us all put away those wands." Umbridge said, still using that fakely sweet tone, "You won't be needing them. Please, instead, take your quills and parchment."

As they reluctantly did so, Umbridge took out her own unusually short wand and tapped it against the blackboard sharply, making chalked words appear before she moved down the aisles of the classroom.

Defense Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" Umbridge said more than asked as she made her way back up to the front of the class. She turned to face them with her hands clasped neatly in front of her, "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any of the Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see it your OWL year."

The class said nothing, but if the looks on Seamus and Dean's faces were any indication of the entire class' attitude toward the woman, then Umbridge would be meeting the same fate as the teachers before her.

Except this time by the hands of the students.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified." Umbridge went on, oblivious to the mood, "We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard with her wand once again; the first message vanished, being replaced by the "Course Aims":

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

Harry's neutral expression steadily became darker and fouler as the lesson went on. Just from having glanced over the course aims, Harry could tell that not one spell would pass their lips within the woman's classroom. While what was written sounded okay in theory; that was just it. The entire class would be based and taught about only theory! That might have been fine for First Years, but they as Fifth Years needed practical instruction. And while they had figured out the class might have been like this over the summer, it was still very upsetting to see that they were right.

Especially with Voldemort somewhere out on the loose and the Ministry being tight-lipped about the madman. Now they had a blatant Ministry spy in their midst, and no matter what they did, they would be bombarded with trouble from either side.

While the others were writing, Harry was only making vague notes as he continued to glance around and observe the class. Draco seemed to be muttering curses under his breath while Ron was taking everything in stride, though even he was frowning severely while Neville was following Draco's example of muttered foul language. Hermione was writing feverishly like before, as though she was both used to writing long detailed reports and paying attention to something else all at once.

But then suddenly, Hermione stopped in her writing and took a deep breath. Harry leaned over to her, and saw that she was finished with the writing they had been assigned. Hermione then had a conflicted look, but it faded as she drew up a deep breath and raised her hand in the air. While Harry found this behavior unusual, even in Hermione, he was not all too surprised.

Could Hermione have been a researcher before reincarnation? And if so; then which one?

Umbridge, however, was not paying Hermione any mind as she sat down behind her desk and began shuffling through some papers.

As it wore on, more and more of the class started to choose to watch Hermione trying to catch Umbridge's attention instead of reading through their books. Umbridge's face turned a slight puce color as she figured that she could no longer ignore Hermione, and finally turned toward the girl, her lips curving up into a falsely sweet smile.

"Did you have a question about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

"Not about the chapter, no." Hermione said calmly, as though waiting to be acknowledged was a rather common occurrence.

Harry, however, knew it was not.

"Well, we're only reading just now." Umbridge said, showing her small, slightly pointed, teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims, ma'am." Hermione said, her voice not wavering in it's unusually calm state. Umbridge raised her eyebrows while Harry quirked a brow of his own. Draco had turned around in his seat and even Ron looked up from his note-taking when he heard Hermione speak.

"And your name is?" Umbridge asked, still wearing her smile like a bad habit.

"Hermione Granger, ma'am." Hermione said clear as Umbridge nodded, moving from behind her desk toward them.

"Well, Miss Granger," Umbridge said, stopping halfway through the aisle, "I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

"Well, with all due respect, ma'am; I don't." Hermione said bluntly, calmly, "There's nothing written up there about our actually using defensive spells."

"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge repeated with a little disgusting laugh as though Hermione was an ignorant child, "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use any defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"So what you're implying is… that we're not going to be using magic in here at all?" Ron asked pointedly, crossing his arms causally over his chest and leaning back. Though that had been obvious to Harry, the surprised and annoyed looks that suddenly crossed over the faces of other students meant that Ron was trying to make the murky messages clear for all to see. Umbridge's smile twitched on her face before coming back full force.

"Students will raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr –?"

"Weasley, Ronald Weasley, ma'am." Ron said, thrusting his hand into the air.

Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on the seated trio. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too as Umbridge's squat eyes lingered on Harry for a moment, before she addressed Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?" Umbridge said, though her sweet tone made it clear that she didn't want anymore questions.

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione said, further insulting and demeaning Umbridge with her politeness as Harry knew he wouldn't care to be so polite himself like Ron or Hermione were being, "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells? Am I correct, ma'am?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" Umbridge asked in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, ma'am, but –" yet Hermione was interrupted by the toad of a woman.

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the "whole point" of any class is. Now are you?" Umbridge said quickly, her sweet tone laced with satisfaction, "Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way."

"I'm sure you're correct, Umbridge." Harry said suddenly, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk as he fixed the woman with a predatory look, "However, it is my belief that these same wizards are also dullards such as yourself, because I don't believe any situation outside this classroom will be secure nor risk-free in any way."

"As I said before, Mr. Potter, students shall raise their hand in my classroom and wait to be addressed." Umbridge said, her smile strained as was her sugary tone. Harry casually lifted his hand and his brow, but again, Umbridge promptly turned away from him.

However this time; several people had their hands up, too, though Draco seemed content on watching in smug silence than actually showing an allegiance to them or to defy Umbridge.

Then again, both Draco and Genesis were (or would have been) Slytherins after all…

"And your name is?" Umbridge said to Dean, who gave her a look as though to convey that he wasn't a five year-old and didn't need her in his face.

"Dean Thomas… ma'am." Dean said, sharing mirthful looks with Seamus and Neville as Umbridge's mouth twitched.

"Well, Mr. Thomas, what is your question?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" Dean said, gesturing over to Harry, "If we are going to be attacked, it won't be risk free."

"I repeat, Mr. Thomas," Umbridge said, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"Well, no, but still –"

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class. Very irresponsible indeed… not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds."

Harry felt himself being restrained to his seat by the slightly stronger Ron and Hermione's own efforts while Draco glanced back at them with the rest of the Slytherins. The entire class had glanced back at him, all of them knowing Harry's opinion on his half-bred teachers; Hagrid and Lupin.

"If you mean Professor Lupin," Dean piped up angrily, "Then I'll have you know that he was the best we ever –"

"Hand, Mr. Thomas!" Umbridge exclaimed, turning from him, before addressing the entire class, "As I was saying; you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day –"

"No we haven't, ma'am." Hermione began diplomatically, "We're simply concerned that–"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Umbridge screeched shrilly, making Harry, Ron, Neville, and Draco cover their superior ears.

Hermione, however when Harry glanced over at her, was rubbing her temples and frowning as though she had come to a block in her research. The situation truly must have been degrading worse than any of them had expected for the first day.

It was just getting more unbearable by the minute.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, but that he actually performed them on you as well."

"Well, he turned out to be a fake and a maniac, didn't he?" Dean shot back hotly, "Mind you, we still learned loads under that maniac."

"Your hand is not up either, Mr. Thomas!" Umbridge trilled, "Now then. It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which is, after all, what school is all about. Oh… and your name is, my dear?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

"Parvati Patil, ma'am, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and such?"

Now every eye turned to Umbridge, waiting to see how the squat woman would counter such an argument.

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Umbridge said dismissively as Draco and Ron nearly fell out of their chairs due to sheer disbelief.

"I can't believe someone could be so… so…" Ron seemed at a lost for words while he tried not to outright insult his teacher's intelligence.

"Stupid?" Draco supplied as Harry nodded in agreement.

"Obliviously the Ministry is lacking in intellect altogether if they've sent this dullard of a woman to keep us in line." Harry said causally, not caring to keep his tone down like his friends, "Because if this was the best they could do, I feel something akin to pity for all those that are still at Ministry Headquarters.

"Ma'am, are you suggesting that we'll be ready for our practical exams… without ever practicing beforehand?" even though her tone was polite, no one could deny hearing the incredulity in Parvati's tone, "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells… will be during our actual exam?"

"I repeat, Miss Patil, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough –"

"And what good is theory going to be in the real world?" Harry asked loudly, his hand lifted casually in the air.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world." Umbridge said softly, as though she were tire of dealing with him already.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for the dangers waiting for us outside these castle walls?" Harry asked, sitting up straight.

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter. Who do you imagine wants to attack children suck as yourselves?" Umbridge enquired Umbridge in a horribly honeyed tone of voice.

Harry nearly fell from his own seat, as did Ron, Neville, Draco, and Hermione. All of the class became silent as they each gave Umbridge their own looks of incredulity.

"I did not want to believe your stupidity could sink to even deeper depths, but it seems you've proved my faith wrong, Umbridge." Harry said, shaking his head lightly, "No. I will not even dignify that extreme example of mental malfunction and the horrors of inbreeding with a response as one so intelligently superior as myself could devise. No, I will not. It seems that in this battle of wits, you have come not only unarmed, Umbridge, but also completely in the nude."

"That's some horrible imagery right there, mate." Neville said, faking gagging noises.

"However," Harry went on as though Neville never spoke, leaning forward with his hands steeped in front of him, "Perhaps at least one example is needed to show you just how extreme this entire debacle is."

"And that would be?" Umbridge replied, her smile so strained that her eye was twitching and her face was flushed.

"Hmm, let me think…" Harry said as a mockingly thoughtful look crossed his face, "How about… maybe… Voldemort?"

Hermione sighed; Ron shrugged; Draco grinned; Neville faked a dead-faint; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream. Umbridge, however, did not flinch, though Harry suspected that she wouldn't. It was here, with her next move, that would prove if the Ministry would truly go to any lengths to silence him or Dumbledore about Voldemort's return. It was here that Umbridge would prove if she was truly a spy for the Ministry, or just some piss-poor attempt to startle them into hasty actions and ill-thought out decisions.

Umbridge was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face, and he stared right back at her.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was still and silent as Ron, Harry, and Draco exchanged looks with either Hermione or Neville.

That had been… unexpected and severly anticlimatic…

Everyone else was staring at either Umbridge or Harry.

"Now then, let me make a few things quite plain." Umbridge stood up from where she had been sitting behind her desk. She then leaned towards them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

"You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead –"

"Because he has… sort of." Harry said, then quirked a brow, "It's difficult to explain, mostly because he wasn't very dead to begin with, but yeah, he's returned."

"Mr. Potter, 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, you useless dullard." Harry said, "I, for one, can attest to that. I saw him and fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge cried triumphantly, "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office."

"Fine." Harry said, inwardly annoyed yet pleased that his assumptions were being proven right.

He just needed to push a little further until she snapped.

"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 and see me outside of 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." Umbridge said as she smiled with sickening sweetness to the skeptical faces of her class, "And now please, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, "Basics for Beginners" … please."

Umbridge sat down behind her desk.

"She seems pretty intent on keeping you quiet." Ron observed as Harry nodded.

"Yes, but let's see if we can't break her calm." Harry suggested, "If we can, then perhaps she'll slip up and reveal something we can use against her and the Ministry at large."

"Harry, don't." Hermione whispered sternly, "If you push her too hard, she could make your schooling here perfectly unbearable."

"Noted." Harry said, "But I didn't expect this year to be much of an improvement from any other." and with that, Harry stood up.

Harry made his way up the middle aisle of desks, marching up to Umbridge's desk, but stopping halfway so that he was standing in full-view of everyone with an air of calm indifference, as though he had done this a hundred times already. Everyone was staring at him; some looked half-scared, some half-fascinated, all interested in whatever Harry was about to do.

"So, Umbridge," Harry began, lifting a brow as Umbridge too stood up, "According to you, Cedric Diggory must dropped dead of his own accord, right?"

"Harry." Parvati whispered, tucking at Harry's robes as he stood next to her desk, "You should sit down. You already have detention."

"You should listen to her, Mr. Potter." Umbridge said, standing a few desks before him, "If you seat yourself now, I'll overlook this little teenage defiance."

"While my housemate's concern for my well-being is touching, I think I'll stand my ground." Harry drawled, giving Parvati a quirk of his lips, which she took as a smile, "Now please, answer my question, woman."

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge said coldly, her eyes filled with fury.

"That was the wrong answer." Harry snapped back, his voice far more cold and furious than Umbridge as the woman took an unconscious step back, "You will not besmirch Cedric's memory with such pitiful lies as says that his death was an accident. He was murdered." and while Harry didn't feel anything for Cedric's death, he wasn't going to let this dullard of a woman disgrace the boy's death by saying what the Ministry wanted people to here, "He may not have been killed directly by Voldemort himself, but he might as well have been when Voldemort's henchmen did the deed without a second thought. Voldemort's will killed Cedric and you know it!"

"Come here, Mr. Potter," a sudden, girlish voice said as Harry quirked a brow at Umbridge, who was beckoning to him to come over to her. Harry marched up to her, nearly two complete heads taller than her as he gazed down his nose at her. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. He felt rage bubbling within him after his little speech. He would not have Cedric, who had been a fair and good person, be swept under the rug just because the Ministry refused to see the truth.

Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry or Dove could see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that no one could tear it open.

"Take this to Professor McGonagall, my dear." Umbridge said sweetly, holding out the note to Harry, who took it from her without saying a word, turned on his heel and sweeping from the classroom with the grace of a dancer. He gave a glance to the others, who nodded when they saw the look on his face.

---

When he arrived at McGonagall's office, Harry rapped sharply on the door. It flew open to reveal the Transfiguration teacher, looking grim and harassed.

"Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, "Why aren't you in class?"

"I've been sent out to see you." Harry said casually with a small smile.

"Sent? What do you mean sent?" McGonagall asked as Harry held out the note from Professor Umbridge. Professor McGonagall took it from him with a frown before slitting it open with a tap of her wand. She stretched it out and began to read, her eyes zoomed from side to side behind their square spectacles as she read what Umbridge had written, and with each line her eyes became narrower.

"Come in here, Mr. Potter." Harry followed her inside her study, the door closing automatically behind them.

"Well," Professor McGonagall asked, "Is this true?"

"Is what true, Professor?" Harry asked politely, showing McGonagall respect very few others could say they garnered from him.

"Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?"

"Not exactly, only one sentence from my mouth was raised above normal speaking levels." Harry answered.

"And that you called her a liar?" McGonagall went on as though he said nothing.

"Yes."

And that you told her that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was back?"

"No. I told her that Voldemort had returned, but yes." Harry answered as Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, watching him closely.

"Have a biscuit, Mr. Potter." she said, indicating the small tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk.

"Thank you, Professor." Harry said as he took one and sat down in front of McGonagall's desk. Professor McGonagall set down Umbridge's note and looked very seriously at Harry, who looked just as so.

"Mr. Potter, you must be careful." McGonagall said as she watched Harry swallow his mouthful of Ginger Newt and stare back at her. Her tone of voice was not at all what he was used to; it was not brisk, crisp and stern; it was low and anxious and somehow much more human than usual.

"I understand." Harry said, "My actions were merely to confirm a suspicion that I had."

"And that was?"

"That she was a spy for the Ministry and that she would go to any lengths to keep me and Professor Dumbledore quiet about Voldemort's return." Harry said, leaning forward as he crossed his legs at the knee, "However, she kept her calm more so than I thought someone of her disposition would. I've also gathered that she has a dislike for half-breeds, and is bent on turning at least her own class into a primary school for manners. She also seems pressed to deny and denounce again she and the Ministry doesn't agree with."

"I see…" Professor McGonagall said, blinking owlishly for a moment before she regained her composure. It seemed that Harry had stunned her for a moment with not only intellect, but also with the information he had gathered. She gave him a piercing look before she settled back into her chair, giving him a look that he had only seen her give to another adult or one of her colleagues, "While all of that is impressive, and I will be giving that information to Professor Dumbledore, I still must warn you against taking these extreme actions, Mr. Potter… Harry."

"Noted."

"Yes, please do note it." Professor McGonagall went on, "Because I can assure you that you are right on every point. And that also, misbehavior in Dolores Jane Umbridge's class could, and most likely will, cost you much more than a few house points and some petty detentions."

"I understand." Harry said, "But I don't care much about her political views toward the murder of one of our best students."

"Yes, that is rather upsetting, but you must keep yourself in check, even when trying to gather such crucial information." McGonagall said, glancing over a paper before placing it in one of the stacks on her desk, "You know where she comes from, you to whom she is reporting. Politics can be rather useful if played right, but damning if they're used against you. Next time, Harry, please try to be more surreptitious when confront with these types of situations; especially around… that woman." McGonagall said, her lips thinned as she stopped herself from insulting Umbridge aloud.

The bell rang for the end of the lesson. Overhead and all around came the elephantine sounds of hundreds of students on the move.

"Now then, it says here she's given you detention every evening this week, starting tomorrow." Professor McGonagall said, looking down at Umbridge's note again.

"Couldn't you…?" Harry left the question hanging as McGonagall sighed and shook her head, leveling him with a deadpan look.

"No, I couldn't." Professor McGonagall said flatly, "As much as I would like to, she is a teacher here and unfortunately has the right to give you detention, especially with your actions in her class."

"I guess it can't be helped then." Harry said, shrugging.

"No, it can't. Now, you will go to her room at five o'clock tomorrow for the first one. Just remember; tread carefully around Dolores Umbridge."

"Noted." Harry nodded.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, "You told the truth, we both know that."

"I wasn't arguing that point." Harry said as McGonagall nodded.

"Yes, and I thing this little chat has reminded of how much you've been forced to grow up over these last few years." McGonagall said softly, "The point is, you're not a child anymore. Not an adult either, but with the way you're handling things, you might be more mature than most of the adults in the wizarding world, especially those that are simply following whatever the Ministry tells them."

"Okay…" Harry said, not seeing where exactly this was going.

"However," McGonagall said, holding up a hand, "You must keep your head down, aware of your actions, and your temper in check."

"Alright then." Harry said, rising from his seat as he sensed the end of their conversation.

"I want you to go up to Professor Dumbledore's office, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said, "He wants to have a few words with you about your trial from over the summer."

"I'll go there at once." Harry assured as Professor McGonagall nodded.

"Have a good day, Mr. Potter." she said as Harry nodded back.

"And you as well, Professor." Harry replied before sweeping from her office and heading for the Headmaster's.

---

Seeing the gargoyle come into sight, Harry was annoyed as he didn't know the password and would have to turn back. However, the gargoyle leapt back to reveal the spiral staircase upon seeing him coming. Though it was strange, he did recall that Dumbledore wanted to speak with him about the hearing, and so it must have been urgent if he didn't need a password for entrance.

Making his way up the spiral staircase, Harry could only imagine what it was the professor wanted to talk about from the hearing. Was it his speaking out? His palpable anger? His sharp tongue, or maybe his newly shown wit?

"Harry, come in." Dumbledore's voice said as Harry just reached the top of the staircase, and was about to knock at the Headmaster's office door, when the door swung openly slowly of it's own accord.

"You wished to see me, Professor?" Harry asked as he stepped swiftly inside the office, which door shut closed behind him. Dumbledore looked up from Fawkes the Phoenix to Harry, studying him from behind those half-mooned spectacles before moving to greet him. Though Harry did note how Dumbledore was gazing at his shoulder instead of into his eyes.

"Yes, Harry. I'm sorry to take you away from your evening, but I felt that the sooner we dealt with this, the better." Dumbledore said as he moved behind his desk and gestured for Harry to take a seat in the chair in front of the large oak wood desk.

"Is there a problem?" Harry asked with a raised brow.

"Honestly? Yes," Dumbledore confessed, "You must have noticed how I was not looking you in the eye just then."

"Yes, I did." Harry answered as he smoothly took a seat in front the wizened wizard, "And now I find myself wondering why."

Dumbledore sighed, looking conflicted as to if he should say something or not.

"You see, Harry…" Dumbledore began, but paused with another look, "It… It is because of Voldemort."

"Okay." Harry said, "I might have figured that out."

"The others have told me about your situation. About your visions earlier this summer, in addition to your scar's reactions to Voldemort's presence and state of mind."

"And?" Harry asked impatiently.

"They indicate that you and Voldemort share a… special connection between the two of you."

Harry leveled the elderly man with a flat look, "I figured as much. That is, unless I've suddenly developed an extraordinary talent for Divination."

"What I was, and am, concerned about is this unnatural connection and how it was formed." Dumbledore said as though Harry had not spoken.

"Well, unless my scar has suddenly developed psychic powers, then I would think it formed after Voldemort's revival to flesh and bone." Harry quipped dryly.

"Harry, what I'm trying to say cannot simply be laid to bare so… openly. This connection between you and Lord Voldemort deals with the mind. I believe you are familiar with some mind magic, thanks to a certain former professor who made his living from it before it did him in."

"Yes, I remember." Harry shot back, growing annoyed with Dumbledore's skirting around the situation. If he had something of importance to say, then he should just say it! "Are you attempting to imply that Voldemort could, at some point, try to erase my own memory?"

Dumbledore looked a little taken back by the idea, "No, Harry, though that maybe not be to far from what I'm trying to convey."

"Then what are you trying to convey, sir?" Harry asked sharply, folding his arms as he leaned forward in his chair. This whole little meeting was becoming tedious…

"I'm saying that Lord Voldemort may or may not become aware of this connection in the future, and from then only bad things may become of it." Dumbledore said, "He has powers. Powers which would allow him to enter another's mind and view memories and occasionally thoughts."

"Alright, so what?" Harry asked calmly, though his annoyance was growing as Dumbledore continued to skirt around the subject.

"Harry, you are not an angry person." Dumbledore said as though that explained everything, "You have been, at times, frustrated and occasional irritated, but before has it been a predominant emotion within you. But now… now you have changed. Your anger is not what it once was. Now it is sharp and channeled like a fine wire ready to snap at however dares trip over it and release the blade which is that trap. I, myself, have seen it first-hand in your earlier dealings with the Ministry during your hearing."

"And?"

"And it is something I daresay I would not like to be on the receiving end of." Dumbledore chuckled, but Harry found nothing amusing if they were to be talking about his connection with Voldemort.

"Speaking of my hearing," Harry brokered to get at least something out of this little chat, "What was that thing about the Ministry supposedly having to send someone to the sight of a Patronus casting?"

"I'm glad you asked, Harry." Dumbledore said, leaning forward, "You see, back in the first fight against Voldemort, he had gained the allegiance of all manner of dark creatures; including the Dementors. It was decreed that, because of Dementor attacks on all people; magical and muggle, whenever the Patronus charm was used, at least one Auror or Ministry official would go immediately to the scene of the casting and transport the effected to St. Mungo's hospital for treatment. The dementors were Voldemort's favorite dark creatures because they caused so much pains without a single physical scar. It gave him great joy to watch the suffering of those under the Dementors wraith, and even greater elation when they administered the Kiss."

"Voldemort truly is a sick and twisted individual, isn't he?" Harry said, more than asked, as Dumbledore nodded his head sadly.

"Indeed…"

"Well then, I'll be going." Harry said as he rose from his seat.

"Oh? Why so, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, his speech and tone strange; even for him.

"I can clearly see that you won't be sharing any crucial information with me. At least nothing I don't already know." Harry said, turning his back to the Headmaster as he began to make his way to the door.

"Harry, I must implore that you sit back down." Dumbledore said gently, "These things must be discussed. Surely you can see just how many ways your focused tantrum at the Ministry could have gone against you? It was only due to the troubling accusations you presented, and past history between Fudge and the Wizengamot, that you were allowed to continue speaking out against them instead of being fined for contempt, at extreme worse; placed in Azkaban."

"And that is noted." Harry said, turning back around to stare his headmaster down, "However, my anger had nothing to do with my words at large. I most likely would have still said what I did against that panel of useless dullards and that concoction of bumbling idiocy I am sometimes forced to address as the entitled Minister of Magic."

"Harry, it is my fear that this connection with Voldemort is influencing you more so than you believe." Dumbledore said, "Never before this year have you ever shown such a cold indifference or a sharp tongue. And your comment about allowing the world to fall to Voldemort until you are personally challenged by him troubles me greatly."

"And why should it?" Harry asked as Dumbledore seemed to close himself off. Harry scoffed, "If you are not going to answer such questions, and leave me with more so than answers, then you should not have called me up here, Headmaster."

"Harry, please-"

"No, I think you've made things murky enough with your indecision." Harry said, cutting Dumbledore off with raised hand, "After all the ways that our magical government has done me wrong, I would think that anyone would find themselves greatly frustrated, but I digress. I will not stand here and be fed scraps of information until you see fit to tell me the whole of the situation. Now then, if you'll excuse me, I have a fine dinner to eat, other things to take care of, and you, sir, are wasting my time.

"Harry, you must understand, I…" but Dumbledore fell silent as his gaze met Harry's hardened one. He sighed, waving a hand to the door as it opened, "Perhaps we shall try to speak again another day, Harry."

"Perhaps." was all Harry said as he turned on heel and swept from the office as Dumbledore sighed at his retreating form, Fawkes trilling in the corner.

---

Dinner in the Great Hall that night was not a particularly pleasant experience for Harry, or for his friends. The news about his and the others disapproval of Umbridge had traveled exceptionally fast; even by Hogwarts' standards. He heard whispers all around him as he sat eating between Ginny and Hermione with Ron and Neville sat across from them with Fred and George. The funny thing was that none of the whisperers seemed to mind him overhearing what they were saying about him.

On the contrary, it was as though they were hoping he would get angry and start shouting again, so that they could hear his story first-hand.

"He says he saw Cedric Diggory murdered…"

"He reckons he dueled with You-Know-Who…"

"Come off it…"

"Who does he think he's kidding?"

"Pur-Lease…"

"What I don't seem to understand," Harry said as he laid down his knife and fork, "Is why they all believed the story two months ago when Dumbledore told them."

"The thing is, Harry, I'm not sure they did." Hermione said grimly, "Oh, let's just get out of here!" she slammed down her own knife and fork.

"No, we stay." Harry said firmly, "I will not allow these dullards to run us out with some simple-minded attempts to make me put on a show and dance for their feeble-minded entertainment. If they want entertainment, I suggest they buy a television set."

"Ha! Only you, dude!" Neville laughed as Ginny grinned while Ron shook with silent laughter.

"Now then, Hermione, what did you mean when you said you weren't sure they believed Dumbledore?" Harry asked as Hermione sighed, picking up her utensils as she continued forcefully through the meal.

"Its just that I don't think they had time to really believe the story before we had to return home; where they were told that Dumbledore and you were spouting off a bunch of lies." Hermione said as Harry sighed, "Look, you don't understand what it was like after it happened…" Hermione said quietly, "You just popped up, clutching Cedric's dead body… None of us saw what happened in the maze… we just had Dumbledore's word for it; that Vol-Voldemort had come back and killed Cedric… and that he fought you."

"Which is the truth." Harry pointed out calmly, "I don't see why people would believe I would make something like that up. I could understand something like fighting a troll or even a creature like Fluffy, or hell, even a Chocobo, but why would I fabricate the thought of fighting a thought-to-be long deceased evil Dark Lord?"

"You forgot that they think you're bat-shit crazy, yo." Fred piped up as Harry fixed him with a humorless look.

"Thank you for reminding me." Harry said dryly.

"But it's true!" Ginny said, giving Harry a look of her own, "They all really do think you're a nutcase and that Dumbledore has gone senile. They've been building the story for the better part of two months now."

"I see…" Harry said darkly, steeping his fingers as he gazed down at his meal.

It was only half-eaten, and he didn't feel like eating anymore now that Ginny and Hermione's words were sinking in.

They needed a plan.

---

Rain pounded on the windowpanes as Neville, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all strode along the empty corridors back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry felt as though his first day had lasted a week, but he still had a much homework to do before he would be able to get to bed. A dull pounding pain was developing over his right eye, but he ignored it as he glanced out of a rain-washed window at the dark grounds while their little group turned into the Fat Lady's corridor. There was still no light in Hagrid's cabin.

"A moment, Sephiroth." a voice said behind them as Harry stopped dead while the others turned around.

"I'd like it if you got accustomed to addressing me as Harry, Draco. Those are our names, after all." Harry quipped dryly as Draco smirked.

"But those are so plain, so boring… well, at least your new name is. Mine are always so divine." Draco said, walking up to them as Harry finally turned around, "It must be because the Goddess loves me so."

"Ge-Genesis!" Neville said, pointing a finger at him.

"Yes, young Zackary, it is I; the Chosen One." Draco said, striking a glorious pose.

"Are you Anakin Skywalker now? Because that's the only Chosen One I've ever known." Harry quipped as Draco scowled lightly.

"Funny, I actually know that mundane tale of heroics from some of the muggle-born Slytherins." Draco said, "But enough about that, and more about what happened in Umbridge's class today."

"Why? I thought it was all very clear." Harry said, folding his arms, "We annoyed her to see the extent to which she would go. Perfectly cut and dry, to me."

"That's because you like cut and dry." Ron jabbed as Harry glanced at him, "What Genesis means is what happened afterward."

"McGonagall warned me about antagonizing Umbridge." Harry said, refusing to tell them about his conversation with Dumbledore. It annoyed him that the old man didn't trust him with information pertaining to the very situations he was going through, and he didn't need the others worrying over it like they did everything less.

"Nothing else?" Draco asked, raising a brow as Harry quirked one in challenge.

"She gave me a biscuit." Harry added as Neville groaned.

"Aww, lucky!" Neville pouted as Ron chuckled, ruffling the younger boy's hair.

"Fine then." Draco said, shrugging his shoulders, "So what are we going to do about our abilities. Obviously we're still able to use the same magics we did before."

"As I've said before; we are doing nothing." Harry said, turning on heel, "If they are useful to you, then use them, but until we have more information about our situation, you will stand down and standby."

"By your leave, General." Draco chirped smugly as Harry threw an annoyed glare over his shoulder at the blonde's now retreating form.

"He does that just to annoy me." Harry said with a sigh, "The sad part is; it works every single time…"

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," Hermione said, before the Fat Lady could ask. The portrait swung open to reveal the hole behind it and the four of them entered through it.

The common room was almost empty; nearly everyone was still down at dinner. Crookshanks uncoiled himself from an armchair and trotted to meet them, purring loudly, and when Harry, Ron and Hermione took their three favorite chairs at the fireside he leapt lightly onto Hermione's lap and curled up there like a furry ginger cushion. Harry gazed into the flames, feeling agitation and weariness.

"I just don't understand it. How could Dumbledore have allowed that terrible woman to teach us? And in our OWL year, no less." Hermione cried in a calm tone all of a sudden, making Harry and Ron glance back at her; Crookshanks leapt off her, looking affronted.

Harry recognized that the normal Hermione would have been far more furious about the affront to her magical education, but this new Hermione was taking things in much better stride and with far greater maturity. It was almost like she was used to set-backs and failures which as the normal Hermione was not. The only thing that stopped Harry from asking her who she was, was the fact that if Hermione truly knew who she was, she would have told them.

And also the fact that trying to figure out who the others were kept his mind off of his annoyances…

"I'm guessing that, like we said before school; the Ministry has somehow forced her into the school." Ron replied with a shrug as Harry scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

"Though, we've never quite had great Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, have we? The werewolf and the maniac who was plotting to kill me were the highlights compared to the other three; Umbridge included." Harry said as Ron chuckled.

"You know what it's like what Hagrid told us; nobody wants the job because they say it's jinxed." Ron said as Hermione sighed, leaning back in her own chair.

"Yes, but to employ someone who's actually refusing to let us do magic… What's Dumbledore playing at simply allowing it to happen?" Hermione said, more to herself than them.

"And she's trying to get people to spy for her, don't forget that." Ron said darkly, "Remember how she said that she wanted us to come and tell her if we hear anyone saying that Voldemort was back?"

"Well, of course she's recruiting spies. That much was obvious from the start. Why else would Fudge have wanted her to come?" Hermione snapped, though Harry wasn't quite sure if that was the right word because of just how gently and calmly Hermione had uttered the others.

"No, you're right." Ron said, placing his elbows to his knees as he leaned forward and steeped his hands, "I just didn't think she would play at it so soon, but I guess we gave her the perfect setup."

"Perhaps she's not as much a dullard as I would have thought." Harry mused, his own flame illuminated by the flames from the fireplace, "I blame my bias disposition against her. I've allowed it to give her this very slight upper hand. Well, no more. She's a cunning one, I'll give her that, but she obviously is oblivious to just who exactly she has been pitted against."

"Lets just do our homework for now," Hermione suggested, "If only to clear our heads and get it out of the way."

"Yes, that would be best." Ron agreed as Harry nodded his own agreement.

They collected their schoolbags from a corner and returned to the chairs by the fire. People were coming back from dinner now. Harry kept his face averted from the portrait hole, but could still sense the stares he was attracting.

"Shall we do Snape's stuff first?" said Ron, dipping his quill into his ink, "The properties of moonstone, and its uses in potion-making…" Ron muttered, writing the words across the top of his parchment as he spoke them. "There." He underlined the title, then looked up expectantly at Hermione.

"So, what are the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making?" Ron asked, a smirk on his face as Hermione and Harry laughed with him, but then something caught Hermione's eye and she stopped laughing rather abruptly.

Looking up, Harry saw that Hermione was squinting over into the far corner of the room, where Fred, George and Lee Jordan were now sitting at the center of a knot of innocent-looking first years, all of whom were chewing something that seemed to have come out of a large paper bag that Fred was holding with a rather large grin on his face.

"No, I'm sorry, they've gone too far." Hermione said tranquilly, standing up and looking the part of positively furious, "Come on, Ron."

"I - what?" Ron asked, looking up to where his twin brothers were, "I don't think we can tell them off for handing out sweets."

"It's Fred and George giving the sweets out." Harry said with a raised brow as Ron seemed to understand as he hopped to his feet.

"Point taken." Ron said as he looked worried for the first-years, "Who knows what they're giving those kids."

"Exactly." Hermione said with a sharp nod, "They could be bits of Nosebleed Nougat or - or Puking Pastilles or -"

"Fainting Fancies?" Harry suggested quietly as he too smoothly clamored to his feet.

One by one, as though hit over the head with an invisible mallet, the first-years were slumping unconscious in their seats; some slid right on to the floor, others merely hung over the arms of their chairs, their tongues lolling out. Most of the people watching were laughing.

Hermione and Ron, however, were not. Hermione squared her shoulders and marched directly over to where Fred and George now stood with clipboards, closely observing the unconscious first-years. Ron frowned as he too marched over, though he merely looked disapproving of their methods. Harry shrugged as he decided to join them as he waltzed over and got a front row seat for the show.

"That is enough!" Hermione said forcefully to Fred and George, both of whom looked up in mild surprise.

"You're right," George said quietly as he nod, jotting down some notes, "this dosage was too strong."

"Yeah, knocked the little brats right on their tailbones, yo." Fred said, cackling as he grinned at Hermione, who placed her hands on her hips.

"I told you this morning that you weren't allowed to use the younger students as test subjects." Hermione said as Fred scoffed at her.

"Come on, woman! We're even paying the little fucks!" Fred said indignantly.

"I don't care, it could be dangerous! I said, quite clearly this morning, that you were only allowed to use Fourth Year or higher!"

"Rubbish!" Fred shot back, "All those and up wouldn't dare take so much as a crumble from us! We need fresh guinea pigs!"

"Calm down, Hermione, they're fine!" Lee said reassuringly as he walked from first-year to first year, inserting purple sweets into their open mouths.

"Yes. They're coming round now." George said as a few of the first-years were indeed stirring.

Several looked so shocked to find themselves lying on the floor, or dangling off their chairs, that Harry was sure Fred and George had not warned them what the sweets were going to do.

"We were even gracious enough to give them the antidote." Fred said, "See? All's good in this neighborhood."

"Oh really?" Hermione said, "Because I think the fact that they need an antidote to re-awaken only makes it worse."

"Are you feeling alright?" George kindly asked a small dark-haired girl lying at his feet.

"I - I think so," she said shakily.

"Excellent!" Fred said happily, but the next second Hermione had tried to snatch both his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies from his hands. His eyes sharpened in that second, moving both items from her path, but was outmatched by Ron, who swiped them instead, much to the surprise of all.

"No, this is not excellent! Knock it off!" Ron reprimanded.

"Of course it is, yo! They're alive, ain't they?" Fred said angrily.

"You can't do this, what if you made one of them really ill?" Ron asked as Fred scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.

"We're not going to make them ill, we've already tested them all on ourselves, this is just to see if everyone reacts the same -"

"If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to -"

"Put us in detention?" George asked in an I'd-like-to-see-you-try-it voice to Hermione.

"Make us write lines, aye Ronniekins?" Fred asked mockingly to Ron while smirking before throwing his head back with laughter.

Onlookers all over the room were laughing. Hermione drew herself up to her full height; her eyes were narrowed and her bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity. Ron's eye were glowing dimly in the fire-lit room as he stood eye-to-eye with his brothers, his arms crossed as his stance solid like a boulder as he displayed the fact that he was indeed more muscularly-toned than either of the two twins.

"No, but I will write to our mother." Ron said quietly, as though he had no other choice, while George and Fred gave him horrified looks.

"Low blow, yo." Fred said, clutching at his heart, but fear in his eyes.

"You wouldn't," George said quietly, taking a step back from Hermione.

"Oh, yes, we would," Hermione said grimly, "We can't stop you from eating the stupid things yourselves, or if the fourth-years and up agree to be test subjects, but you're not to give them to the first-years."

Fred and George looked thunderstruck. It was clear that as far as they were concerned, Hermione's threat was way below the belt. With a last threatening look at them, Ron thrust Fred's clipboard and the bag of Fancies back into his arms as Hermione stalked back to her chair by the fire.

Harry gave the two stunned twins a shrug as he went back to his, where they worked on their homework for a little under an hour before Hermione sighed and flopped back into her seat, running her hands through her hair and over her face.

"Oh, it's just no good. I can't concentrate. I'm going to bed." Hermione said edgily as she wrenched her bag open; Harry thought she was about to put her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill and stood back to admire the effect.

"Okay… what's this about?" Harry asked, for the first time, completely confused.

"Even I have to ask what in the name of Merlin are you doing?" Ron said, watching her as though he were fearful for her sanity.

"They're hats for the House-elves," she said briskly, now stuffing her books back into her bag, "I did them over the summer. I'm a really slow knitter without magic but now I'm back at school I should be able to make lots more."

"You're leaving out hats… for the house-elves?" Ron said slowly, "And you're covering them up with rubbish first?"

"Yes," Hermione said defiantly, swinging her bag on to her back.

"That's not right." Ron said with a frown, "You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're setting them free when they might not even want to be free. And actually, you can't set them free."

That's right," Harry said with a shrug, completely indifferent to the situation, "You're not really their master."

"Of course they want to be free!" Hermione said at once with her face turning pink as though Harry had said nothing. He was getting a bit annoyed with being ignored today.

"Don't you dare touch those hats, Ronald!"

Hermione was now glaring at Ron, who paused with a hand hovering over one of the hats. From the glance they shared, Harry and Ron both were slightly afraid of what Hermione might do to the red-head if he had actually touched.

Hermione turned on her heel and left. Ron waited until she had disappeared through the door to the girls' dormitories, then cleared the rubbish off the woolly hats.

"They should at least see what they're picking up," Ron said firmly, "It's a rather dishonorable trick to deceive them into a freedom they may not want. Besides, the House-elves like to work, and it's by their choice."

"Then tell Hermione that." Harry said as he started putting away his supplies and parchments.

"I would, but she'd never listen. Plus, she scares me a bit when she gets all activist on us." Ron said as he rolled up the parchment on which he had written (rather fancily) the title of Snape's essay and a fair few of inches of said essay, "You could try though. I think she'd listen to you more so than me." Ron then glanced down at the rolled up parchment with a sigh, "There's no point trying to finish this now. I need two more inches, and I can't do it without Hermione's proof-reading to be sure I've got my facts straight. Besides, I haven't got a clue what you're supposed to do with moonstones, do you?"

"Barely…" Harry muttered as shook his head, noticing as he did so that the ache in his right temple was getting worse. He thought of the long essay he had written on giant wars, and then the few inches he had on the properties of moonstones before the pain stabbed at him sharply. Knowing perfectly well that when the morning came, he would regret not completing his first day's homework, Harry decided he didn't truly care as he piled his books back into his bag.

"I'm going to bed."

He passed Seamus on the way to the door leading to the dormitories, exchanging a nod with the young Irish rogue but did not stop to chat as the throbbing pain in his temple spurred him onward. He had the fleeting impression that Seamus had opened his mouth to speak, but figured that anything the boy had to say could wait until morning as he reached the soothing peace of the stone spiral staircase without having to endure any more provocation or annoyance.

---

The following day dawned just as leaden and rainy as the previous one. Plus, Hagrid was still absent from the staff table at breakfast.

"But on the bright side, no Umbridge or Snape today!" Neville exclaimed happily as Hermione yawned widely and poured herself some coffee.

"Well now, don't you look pleased with yourself." Ron observed with a smirk, "What's got you so cheery this morning?"

Indeed, Harry noticed that Hermione did look mildly pleased about something.

"The hats have gone. Seems some of the House-elves do want freedom after all."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Ron told her casually as he sipped at his own coffee, "I'm not sure if hats even count as clothing to them."

"What? You mean those things that were on the table last night?" Neville asked, looking between Ron and Hermione, "I thought some one had Biology and had knitted some woolly bladders."

"Does Hogwarts even teach Biology?" Harry asked as the others shrugged.

"Must you all attempt to ruin my good mood?" Hermione asked pleasantly as Ron shrugged.

"What can I say, I'm hoping for an early morning row." Ron said with a smirk as Hermione smirked back. Neville, who was sitting across from Harry, leaned over the table to whisper something to the green-eyed former-Commander.

"Is that their way of flirting or something?"

"I think so." Harry replied simply with a shrug, "Either than, or they truly despise each other. I, however, highly doubt that it's the latter."

"If you say so." Neville said, sitting back down, "Go Angeal! Getting himself a girl!"

"Quiet, Pup!" Ron barked back as Neville chuckled nervously.

---

Double Charms was succeeded by double Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall both spent the first fifteen minutes of their lessons lecturing the class on the importance of OWLs.

"What you must remember, students," the little Professor Flitwick squeaked from perched atop his ever high pile of books so that he could see over the top of his desk, "is that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid, we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice!"

They then spent over an hour reviewing Summoning Charms, which according to Professor Flitwick were bound to come up in their OWL, and he rounded off the lesson by setting them their largest ever amount of Charms homework.

It was the same, if not worse, in Transfiguration.

"You cannot pass an OWL," Professor McGonagall said grimly, "without serious application, practice and study. I see no reason why everybody in this class should not achieve an OWL in Transfiguration as long as they put in the work." Neville made a sad little disbelieving noise, to which Professor McGonagall turned to sharply.

"Yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom!" Professor McGonagall said, "There's nothing wrong with your work except a lack of confidence. One, I might add, has been improving ever since you've come back this year. So… today we are starting Vanishing Spells. These are easier than Conjuring Spells, which you would not usually attempt until NEWT level, but they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on in your OWL."

She was quite right; Harry saw that the others were finding the Vanishing Spells horribly difficult while he, Ron, and Hermione were breezing through them. By the end of a double period neither Neville nor Lavender had managed to vanish the snails on which they were practicing, though Ron said hopefully that he thought Neville's snail was looking a bit paler. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, on the other hand, had all successfully vanished their snails on at least the third attempt, earning a thirty-point bonus for Gryffindor from Professor McGonagall. The trio were the only ones not assigned however; everybody else was told to practice the spell overnight, ready for a fresh attempt on their snails the following afternoon.

Now panicking slightly about the amount of homework they had to do, Neville had quickly dragged a protesting Ron away to the library on their lunch hour to look up moonstones in potion-making and tips on Vanishing Spells. Though she hadn't shown it, Hermione was a bit peeved about Neville's slur at the knit work on her wool hats. Harry had decided to spent the lunch hour with Draco, hanging out in the dungeons like they had in the Virtual Room back in Shin-Ra.

---

When the lunch hour was over, Harry went to meet up with Ron and the others while Draco went to find his Slytherin cohorts, or as he liked to call them; his loyal subjects. Harry had only shook his head in amusement before turning on heel and rushing up to the library, only to be greeted to the sight of Ron dragging a blabbing Neville down a flight of stairs while the latter was muttering about moonstones and vanishing spells.

By the time they reached Care of Magical Creatures in the afternoon, Harry's head was aching again.

The day had become cool and breezy, and as they walked down the sloping lawn towards Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they felt the occasional drop of rain on their faces. Professor Grubbly-Plank stood waiting for the class some ten yards from Hagrid's front door, a long trestle table in front of her laden with twigs.

As Harry, Ron, Neville, and Hermione reached their disgruntle Professor, a loud shout of laughter sounded behind them; turning, they saw Draco striding towards them, surrounded by his usual gang of Slytherin cronies. He had clearly just said something highly amusing, because Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and the rest continued to snigger heartily as they gathered around the trestle table and, judging by the way they all kept looking over at Harry, he was able to guess the subject of the joke without too much difficulty.

"Everyone here?" Professor Grubbly-Plank barked, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived, "Let's crack on then. Who can tell me what these things are called?"

She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her.

"Bowtruckles… if I'm not mistaken…" Harry heard Hermione mutter to herself before she raised her to answer the question.

Behind her back, Malfoy did a buck-toothed imitation of her jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question. That was, until Ron smacked him in the back of the head. Neville gave a loud chuckle as Pansy Parkinson rounded on them, but then jumped back with a scream. The twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed themselves to be what looked like tiny pixieish creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twig-like fingers at the end of each hand and a funny flat, bark-like face in which a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.

"Oooooh!" said Parvati and Lavender, thoroughly irritating Harry. Anyone would have thought Hagrid had never shown them impressive creatures; admittedly, the Flobberworms had been a bit dull, but the Salamanders and Hippogriffs had been interesting enough, and the Blast-Ended Skrewts perhaps too much so.

"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" Professor Grubbly-Plank said sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food, "So - anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?"

"Bowtruckles," Hermione answered, "They're tree-guardians, who usually live in wand-trees."

"Five points for Gryffindor," Professor Grubbly-Plank said, "Yes, these are Bowtruckles, and as Miss Granger rightly says; they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"

"Woodlice," Hermione said promptly.

"Well now, that explains why what I thought had been brown rice is moving…" Harry said quietly as Draco and Ron nodded, both having moved to either side of him with Neville at Ron's other side and Pansy at Draco's own.

"But they also eat fairy eggs if they can get them." Hermione continued as Grubbly-Plank nodded.

"Good girl, take another five points for your house. So, whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of woodlice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will try to gouge at human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few woodlice and a Bowtruckle - I have enough here for one between three - you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body-parts labeled by the end of the lesson."

The class surged forwards around the trestle table. Harry deliberately circled around the back so that he ended up right next to Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry asked, not bothering with faked pleasantries while everyone else was choosing Bowtruckles.

"Never you mind," said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up for a class, too. Smirking all over his pointed face, Draco Malfoy leaned across Harry and seized the largest Bowtruckle.

"My friend do you-"

"If you spout a quote of Loveless at me, I will have these little beasts attack you and stab out your eyes." Harry threatened as Draco looked horrified.

"But I love my stormy-grey eyes! They make me look smart, sexy, and mysterious!" Draco said, knowing full well that if Harry wanted, the creatures would gladly do the green-eyed boy's bidding with a few whispered words.

"Then get lost." Harry said out of the side of his mouth as Draco huffed indignantly, but did not move.

"I'll leave a note behind the serpent." Draco said as Harry quirked a brow, "My father brags a lot in his letters, mostly because he bribes the Ministry into not checking his and other Death Eater mail. The half-giant is fine… for now, at least… Though he should try only standing up to things his own size, because those bigger than him… well, I'd rather not say…"

Harry felt himself bristle with annoyance as Draco walked away, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. It was just like the annoying poetic fool to end on such a note that had Harry anxious and frustrated until he could read whether message Draco was going to leave. The damn flamboyant mage was always leaving him on vague ends or handing him cryptic messages.

Damn the poetic! Damn them all!

Those were Harry's furious thoughts as he hurried back around the table to Ron and Hermione, who were squatting on the grass some distance away and attempting to persuade a Bowtruckle to remain still long enough for them to draw it. Harry pulled out parchment and quill, crouched down beside the others and related in a whisper what Draco had just .

"Dumbledore would know if some thing had happened to Hagrid," Ron said at once as Hermione nodded just as quickly, "You know Genesis, always playing mind games. It'd play right into his smug little hands to looked worried; it shows that he's got more info than us, and then he'll be dancing around here mocking us."

"Just ignore him, Harry." Hermione said, "Here, hold the Bowtruckle for a moment, just so I can draw its face…"

"Yes," came Malfoy's clear drawl from the group nearest them, "Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on sub-standard teaching in this place. So even if that Hagrid does show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straightaway."

"What is he talking about?" Ron narrowed his eyes as Harry got the idea.

"He's trying to warn us about the Ministry's movement through his normal banter." Harry said, not turning around, "So, Umbridge has been reporting back to the Ministry already, huh? That means we have to move fast to intercept her."

"But how?" Hermione asked as Harry blinked.

"I haven't figured that out yet." Harry admitted quietly, "We don't have near the amount of resources we had in the company…"

When the bell echoed distantly over the grounds, Harry rolled up his Bowtruckle picture and marched off to Herbology with Hermione and Ron in tow, Neville and Ron having a conversation about swords while Draco's vague message still rang in his ears.

"The washy little git…" Harry said through gritted teeth, annoyed that everyone between Dumbledore and Draco wanted to be vague with him.

"Harry, don't go picking a fight with Draco." Ron said, "You two could destroy the school with half the things you know.

"Yeah!" Neville said, looking as though he recalled bruises they had each given him from fights.

"And don't forget, Harry, that Malfoy's a prefect now; he could make life difficult for you-"

"And truly I do sometimes find myself awakening in the night, from the deepest of slumbers, wishing and wondering to know exactly what a difficult life would be like?" Harry snapped sarcastically as Ron chuckled with a shake of his head, Neville outright laughed, but Hermione frowned. Together, the four traipsed across the vegetable patch. The sky still appearing unable to make up its mind whether it wanted to rain or not.

"I just wish Hagrid would hurry up and get back, that's all." Harry said in a low voice, as they reached the greenhouses, "And don't say that Grubbly-Plank woman's a better teacher!" he added threateningly as Neville raised his hands in defense.

"Chill, dude! I wasn't going to! But you gotta admit, she's alright." Neville said as Harry snarled at him, his annoyance rising.

"Perhaps, but she'll never be as good as Hagrid." Harry said firmly,

"You are fully aware that what we just experienced was an exemplary lesson, right?" Ron asked, amusement clear in his tone.

"Yes." Harry snapped, "And you do realize that I am thoroughly annoyed about it, right?"

"Really? I couldn't tell." Ron quipped as he smirked at Harry, who couldn't find it in him to be annoyed with Ron's mirthful persona.

The door of the nearest greenhouse opened and some fourth-years spilled out of it, including Ginny.

"Hi! Have fun!" Ginny said brightly as she passed them, patting a dirt-encrusted hand on Ron's shoulder. While Ron was groaning and cleaning himself with Neville laughing at him, Luna Lovegood emerged from the greenhouse, trailing behind the rest of the class, a smudge of earth on her nose, and her hair tied in a knot on the top of her head. When she saw Harry, her prominent eyes seemed to bulge excitedly and she made a beeline straight for him.

Many of his classmates turned curiously to watch. Luna took a great breath and then said, without so much as a preliminary hello, "I support you one hundred percent, sir, and will be addressing these claims to the rest of those within the Turks department under the command of Leader Tseng."

"Right, see that you do." Harry fluently as he patted her shoulder, seeing that she was wearing what looked like a pair of orange radishes for earrings, a fact that Parvati and Lavender seemed to have noticed, as they were both giggling and pointing at her earlobes.

"You can laugh," Luna said, her voice rising, apparently under the impression that Parvati and Lavender were laughing at what she had said rather than what she was wearing, "but people used to believe there were no such things as the Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack! They also mistook that walking calamity Jenova as one of the Ancient Cetra! Well, they were wrong!"

"I've never heard of such creatures before…" Neville muttered as Ron shrugged.

"You also never heard of soap and deodorant back in Midgar," Ron quipped with his arms crossed, "so you might want to keep your mouth closed. Ya know, just in case you forgot about toothpaste and mouthwash since then."

Neville only chuckled nervously, though Harry smirked as he saw the dark-haired youth sneakily check his breath behind Ron's back.

"Perhaps, as we can't prove these creatures don't exist. Science isn't able to prove something doesn't exist, after all." Hermione said impatiently to Luna, "However, I for one am of the opinion that those creatures you mentioned don't exist. And until presented with factual proof, I will continue not to believe in such things."

Luna gave Hermione's scientific babble a withering look before she gracefully flounced away, radishes swinging madly as Parvati and Lavender were not the only ones hooting with laughter now.

"Do you mind not offending the only people who believe me?" Harry asked Hermione with a small smirk as they made their way into class.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, she's not the only one, and you can do better than her!" Hermione snapped, "Ginny's told me all about her; apparently, Miss Luna Lovegood only believes in things as long as there's no proof at all. Well, I wouldn't expect anything else from someone whose father runs The Quibbler."

"You know, she's also a former Turk, and was one of the Elite." Harry informed as Hermione went stiff, "Offending her may not be healthy."

"I'll take my chances." Hermione said, her voice once again tranquil and calm after a deep breath.

Ron was about to say something, probably about how it isn't nice or "honorable" to offend allies, but before he could give out a lecture, Ernie Macmillan had stepped up to them.

"I want you to know, Potter," Ernie said in a loud, carrying voice, "that it's not only weirdos who support you. I personally believe you one hundred percent. My family have always stood firm behind Dumbledore, and so do I."

"Thank you very much, Macmillan." Harry said smoothly, taken aback but pleased. The Hufflepuff boy might have been more than a little pompous on occasions like this, but Harry was still glad to know that he did, in fact, have more allies than he knew.

Ernie's words had certainly wiped the smile from Lavender Brown's face and as Harry turned to talk to Ron and Hermione, Harry caught Seamus' expression, which looked both pleased and determined.

To nobody's surprise, Professor Sprout started their lesson by lecturing them about the importance of OWLs. Harry wished all the teachers would stop doing this; Neville whispered over to them that he was starting to get an anxious, twisted feeling in his stomach every time he remembered how much homework he had to do, a feeling that Harry and Ron had gotten themselves when Professor Sprout gave them yet another essay at the end of class. Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung (Professor Sprout's preferred type of fertilizer) the Gryffindors trooped back up to the castle an hour and a half later, none of them talking very much; it had been another long day.

---

"Well, I'm starving.": Harry said suddenly in a conversational tone as Ron nodded.

"So am I." he then threw a nasty look at Neville, "For some reason, I missed lunch today."

"Yeah, come on, buddy! We got a lot of work done, yeah?" Neville said in his own defense, "Lighten up, man!"

"Well, I have my first detention with Umbridge at five o'clock," Harry said, "So I'm heading straight to the Great Hall."

"You're not going to drop your bag off at the tower?" Hermione asked as Harry shook his head.

"No, straight to dinner." Harry said, as he walked through the large heavy-set wooden doors of the Great Hall.

However, he had barely stepped through the entrance when a loud and angry voice yelled, "Oi, Potter!"

"What now?" Harry muttered wearily, turning to face Angelina Johnson, who looked as though she was in a towering temper.

"I'll tell you what now," she said, marching straight up to him and poking him hard in the chest with her finger, "How come you've landed yourself in detention for five o'clock on Friday?"

"And exactly what does that-?" Harry snarled, but then it hit him and his face took on an aloof look, "Are you seriously bothering me and my empty stomach right now about Keeper tryouts?"

"Oh, now he remembers!" Angelina snarled, ignoring Harry's comments, "Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the whole team, and find someone who fitted in with everyone! Didn't I tell you I'd booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!"

"I didn't decide not to be there, and I'm not required to be there either." Harry snapped right back, somewhat stung by the injustice of her words, "I have detention with that walking toadstool Umbridge. Now then, if you'll excuse me, the House-elves have prepared a fine meal for my empty stomach to devour."

"Harry Potter, don't you dare walk away from me!" Angelina yelled fiercely, but still Harry turned on heel and stalked away, making her running up and block his path, "You…! You…! YOU!"

"What?" Harry whispered with a deadly intense stare, realizing that he was a bit taller than the dark-skinned witch, who looked ever part of the typical female fury.

"You go straight to that woman and demand her to let you off on Friday," Angelina said fiercely, nose to nose with Harry as she stared up at him with furious brown eyes, "and I don't care how you do it! Tell her You-Know-Who's a figment of your imagination for all I care! Just make sure you're there!"

And with that, she brushed past him and stormed out of the Great Hall as though she had won a pissing contest while Ron smoothly crossed his arms while rubbing his chin.

"Ya know, it looks to me as if she might be just as obsessed with Quidditch as Oliver Wood was." Ron said, a smirk playing on his lips as Harry shot him a death glare, annoyed with the woman demanding things of him.

"Shut up." Harry growled as Neville hooted with laughter.

"You know what?" Neville said to them, "I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session, because Angelina seems to be channeling his spirit!"

"What do you think the odds are of Umbridge letting you off for Friday?" Ron asked skeptically, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"I think I have a higher chance of Snape suddenly wishing to adopt me because he was in love with my father and hated my mother for marrying him." Harry quipped dryly as the others stared at him in disbelieving silence.

"So that's less than zero, yeah?" Neville asked as Harry nodded without glancing up, tipping lamb chops onto his plate and starting to eat, "Are you even going to try?"

"It depends on what she has me doing." Harry said, "If it's the standard detention stuff, then I guess I had better appease the women in my life. I'll probably offer to do two more detentions or something…" he swallowed a mouthful of potato and added, "I hope she doesn't keep me too long this evening, though."

"You realize we've got to write three essays, practice Vanishing Spells for McGonagall, work out a counter-charm for Flitwick, finish the Bowtruckle drawing and start that stupid dream diary for Trelawney?" Neville said, taking a savage bite from some meat on his plate.

Ron quirked a brow and looked as though he wanted to groan aloud while he was gazing up at the ceiling for some reason, "And it looks like it's going to rain."

"What's that got to do with our homework?" Hermione asked, her own eyebrows raised.

"Nothing," Ron said as he turned his gaze down to his plate, his ears reddening.

"It's not good weather to practice Quidditch in." Harry said with a small smile as Ron shot him an annoyed glance.

---

At five to five Harry bade the other three farewell and set off for Umbridge's office on the third floor. When he knocked on the door she called, "Come in," in a sugary voice. He entered cautiously, looking around.

He had known the office under three of its previous occupants.

In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived here it had been plastered in beaming portraits of himself. When Lupin had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank if you came to call. In Barty Crouch's impostoring Moody days it had been packed with various instruments and artifacts for the detection of wrong doing and concealment.

Now, however, it looked totally and completely unrecognizable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each one residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large Technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed by the horror, until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Harry had been so traumatized by the office that he actually jumped a bit and looked around wildly. He had not noticed the squat toad-faced woman at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

"Evening, Umbridge," Harry said stiffly, deciding that the sooner these things were over, the much better for him and his poor vision.

"Well, sit down, dear." she said, pointing towards a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him.

"Before we get started," Harry said calmly, without moving an inch, "I would like to ask something of you."

The woman's bulging eyes narrowed like a frog that had caught sight of a fly.

"Oh, yes? What is it dear?"

"Well, I'm a part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and would like to skip the detention for Friday and serve another night instead." Harry asked, not a trace of positive nor negative emotion in his tone. His tone was simply neutral, as though he didn't care one way or the other but was asking just for the sake of asking.

The fact was, from the type of person Umbridge was and for her role at Hogwarts, he knew long before he reached the end of his sentence that it was no good.

"Oh, no, Mr. Potter." Umbridge said, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly, "Oh, no, no, no! This is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at five o'clock tomorrow, and the next day, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you."

Harry's only outward display was a lifting of his right brow, but on the inside he felt his blood boil while surging to his head, a thumping noise in his ears. So, he told "evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories", did he?

She was watching him with her head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking and was waiting to see whether he would start shouting again. With almost no effort at all, because it was in fact just to easy, Harry smiled lightly at her, making her own smile drop as he walked toward the door of her office and dropped his schoolbag beside it before taking a seat in the straight-backed chair Umbridge had directed him to.

"Well, I just had to ask." Harry said, almost pleased with himself as he saw Umbridge's lips twitch, "Never cared much either way. Now then, lets get this over with. We've both got lives to live; me more so than you."

Umbridge's eye twitched subtly before her smile came back in all it's sickly sweetness and she clasped her hands together neatly in front of her.

"There," she said with forced sweetness, "I can see that we're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Potter."

"Fine with me." Harry said, about to get his own quill and ink before Umbridge raised a hand for him to pause.

"No… not with your quill," she added, "You're going to be using a rather… special one of mine. Here you are."

She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point. Harry narrowed his eyes at it, because it didn't look like an other quill he had ever seen.

"I want you to write; I must not tell lies." she told him softly as Harry raised a brow.

"How many times?" Harry asked, ignoring the obvious to see where this little tiff would go.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," Umbridge said sweetly with a small girlish giggle that made Harry's stomach sick, "Off you go, dear."

She moved over to her desk, sat down and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Harry raised the sharp black quill, his emerald-green eyes bore into Umbridge's soul when she looked up at him.

"You haven't given me an ink." Harry grounded out as Umbridge smiled more widely.

"Oh, you won't need ink, dear." she said, with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.

Harry stared sharply at her for a while before he slowly placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not tell lies.

He let out a gasp at the sudden sharp pain in the back of his hand.

The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be glowing red ink with an eerie green tint to it. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel. Yet, even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin was healing over it, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

Harry looked up at Umbridge, his eyes murderous as she watched him, her wide, toad-like mouth stretched into a smile.

"Yes?" she asked in her sugary tone.

"Oh, it's nothing," Harry said, smiling back as he refused to show any form of weakness now that he knew her game, "Nothing at all…"

He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill on it once more, wrote "I must not tell lies", and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again, the words had been cut into his skin; once again, they healed over in the fraction of a second.

And on it went. Again and again Harry wrote the words on the parchment in what he soon came to realize was not ink, but his own glowing blood. And, again and again, the words were cut into the back of his hand, healed, and reappeared the next time he set quill to parchment.

Darkness fell outside Umbridge's window. Harry did not ask when he would be allowed to stop. He did not even check his watch.

He knew she was watching him for signs of weakness and he narrowed his eyes at the paper as he blatantly refused to show any, not even if he had to sit there all night, cutting open his own the back of his hand with the very quill he wrote with…

"Come here," she said, after what seemed hours.

He stood up smoothly, his hand stinging with a dull ache. When he looked down at it, he saw that the cut had healed over once again, looking still as if he had never wrote past the first line.

"Your hand, dear." she said as Harry smiled down at her in a condensing manner, extending the appendage to her. She took it in her own as Harry repressed a shudder when she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.

"Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet." she said, frowning at the hand before smiling up at him with sadistic glee, "No, not much at all. Well then, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we?"

"Yes, we will." Harry said smoothly, a slight purr in his tone as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"You may go." she said, her tone not as sweet as it had once been while Harry strolled out, casually whistling a tune.

As soon as he was out of her office and down the corridor, Harry's eye twitched as he flexed his scarred hand. He would not curse. He would not vocalize the pain that had ripped through him for the past five hours. As Sephiroth, the pain would have been nothing but a sadistic pleasure compared to what the enemy Wutai or the Turks could have done to him, but in this new body… he was not accustom to such pain just yet as he continued to flex his hand. But he would soon be.

Glancing about as he made his way back to Gryffindor tower, Harry realized that the school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. That meant, since his detention had started at five, that he had actually endured her torture for over seven hours instead of five.

"Interesting…" he muttered to himself, still flexing his right hand.

He walked slowly up the corridor, thinking about the work he had due. He luckily he was good at magic, so he didn't have to practice Vanishing Spells. He and Ron had made up dreams for their dream journals. However, he had not finished the diagram of the Bowtruckle, nor had he finished any his essays but the one for History of Magic.

---

The next morning, Harry skipped breakfast to hurry through his essays, and was surprised to find a disheveled Ron keeping him company in the library.

"Why didn't you, Hermione, and Neville finish your's last night?" Harry asked without glancing up, as Ron raced through books on counter-charms and magical plants. Ron, who had been fast asleep when Harry got back to the dormitory, muttered something about "doing other stuff", bent low over his parchment and scrawled a few inches in hurried messy penmanship.

"Why can't you just say you're trying out?" Harry asked, still not looking up from his work as Ron groaned.

"I still have my pride, ya know." Ron said gruffly, "Besides, I don't need you laughing at me. You know how much I use to hate flying."

"I wouldn't laugh…" Harry said quietly, slamming his textbook shut, "Done!"

"I've made-up a new dream." Ron said, taking out his dream journal as they hurried off to the North Tower together for Divination, "Said I dreamed I was buying a new pair of shoes, she can't make anything weird out of that, can she?"

"Isn't it a bit dishonorable to lie about your dreams?" Harry asked as Ron quickly changed the subject.

"So, how was detention with Umbridge, anyway? What did she make you do?"

Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, "Swear to me that you wouldn't speak of what I'm about to utter."

"Wh-What?" Ron said, stopping in his tracks as Harry grabbed him by his collar and stared him harshly in the eyes.

"Swear it." he snarled as Ron jerked back, breaking the hold.

"Fine, I swear it. It'll be completely confidential until you decide to speak on it with me." Ron said, "Now what's up?"

"She had me write lines-"

"Well, that's not so bad, huh?" Ron said as Harry gave him a deadpan look for being interrupted.

"In my own blood." Harry said, holding up his hand to show the scar "I Must Not Tell Lies" written in his own handwriting.

"That…! That…! That… woman!" Ron said, fighting hard not to insult his teacher any further than he was probably doing mentally, "This can't go on!"

"It can and it will." Harry said, glaring into thin air, "I refuse to show that woman an ounce of weakness. We underestimated her once, I will not make the same mistake twice. She is now a category Beta-level threat."

"Wow…" Ron breathed as he caught up with Harry's swift stride, "Not even the Third-class SOLDIERS back in Shin-Ra got that high on your list."

"Because they never challenged me directly." Harry growled, his eyes glowing dimly in the morning light.

"Did she at least let you off for Friday?" Ron asked, "It would be the least she could do if she's going to make you torture yourself for her sick amusement."

"No, she did not." Harry said dryly as Ron groaned sympathetically, but Harry could tell he was doing a lot to suppress his rage and not take it out on others.

---

It was another bad and annoying day for Harry; he was made to help his fellow students in practicing Vanishing Spells. He had to give up his lunch hour to complete the picture of the Bowtruckle and, meanwhile, Professors McGonagall, Grubbly-Plank and Sinistra gave them yet more homework, which he had no prospect of finishing that evening because of his second detention with Umbridge. To cap it all, Angelina Johnson tracked him down at dinner again and, on learning that he would not be able to attend Friday's Keeper tryouts, told him she was not at all impressed by his attitude and that she expected players who wished to remain on the team to put training before their other commitments.

"Woman, I'm in detention!" Harry snapped at her as she glared at him, not backing down from his new attitude, "Have you truly deluded yourself into believing that I'd rather be stuck in a room with that toad-faced dullard instead of playing Quidditch?"

"Then find a way out, dummy!" she yelled back.

"I can't, you useless dullard!" Harry shot back as Angelina huffed and stormed away.

"Well… at least it's only lines." Hermione said consolingly, as Harry and Ron exchanged a look before Harry sank back onto his bench and looked down at his steak-n-kidney pie, which he no longer fancied very much but forced himself to eat, "It's not as if it's a dreadful punishment, really…"

Harry opened his mouth, but closed it again and nodded. He was not really sure why he was not telling Hermione exactly what was happening in Umbridge's room: he only knew that he did not want to see her look of horror; that would make the whole thing seem worse and therefore more difficult to face. At least he knew Ron wouldn't be on about it with what they went through in the past life.

He also couldn't help feeling that this was between himself and Umbridge, a private battle of wills, and he swore he was not going to give her the satisfaction of hearing that he had complained about it.

"I can't believe how much homework we've got!" Ron said, changing the subject when he caught Hermione's curious look over Harry's profile.

"Well, why didn't you do any last night?" Hermione asked him, turning she critical gaze onto him, "Where were you, anyway?"

"I fancied a walk." Ron said with a causal shrug, though Harry could here his shifty tone.

Harry was glad that, at the moment, he was not the only one concealing things from Hermione.

---

The second detention was just as bad as the previous one. The skin on the back of Harry's hand became irritated more quickly now and was soon very red. Harry thought it unlikely that it would keep healing as effectively for long. Soon the cut would remain etched into his hand and Umbridge would, perhaps, be satisfied. He let no gasp of pain escape him, however, and from the moment of entering the room to the moment of his dismissal, again past midnight, he attempted to further irritate her smugness with casual conversation and pleasantries.

His homework situation, however, was now desperate, and when he returned to the Gryffindor common room he did not, though exhausted, go to bed, but opened his books and took up his half-finished moonstone essay for Snape. It was half past two by the time he had finished it. He knew he had done a barely adequate job, but there was no help for it; unless he had something to give in he would be in detention with Snape next. He then dashed off answers to the questions Professor McGonagall had set them, cobbled together something on the proper handling of Bowtruckles for Professor Grubbly- Plank, and staggered up to bed, where he fell fully clothed on top of the covers and fell asleep immediately.

Thursday passed in a haze of tiredness. Ron seemed very sleepy too, though Harry could not see why he should be. Harry's third detention passed in the same way as the previous two, except that after two hours the words "I must not tell lies" were only just barely fading from the back of his hand. It was after another hour that the scar began oozing droplets of blood, and the pause in the pointed quill's scratching made Professor Umbridge look up.

"Ah," she said softly, moving around her desk to examine his hand herself, "Good. That ought to serve as a reminder to you, oughtn't it? You may leave for tonight."

"Would you like me to come back tomorrow to keep you company?" Harry asked tersely, picking up his schoolbag with a twitch of his eye as he still used his right hand, refusing to use the left no matter how badly his right was smarting.

"Oh yes," Umbridge breathed, smiling as widely as before, "Yes! Yes, I think we can etch the message a little deeper with another evening's work. Don't you?"

"Yes, of course." Harry said as he stalked out of her office.

Harry had never before considered the possibility that there might be another teacher in the world he hated more than the Snape he had once known, but as he walked back towards Gryffindor Tower he had to admit he had found a strong contender. She was sadistic, he thought as he climbed a staircase to the seventh floor, she was an evil, twisted, old bint if she thought for even a moment that she could contend with him in a battle of wills. The fat, squat, chunky complexion of-

"Ron?"

He had reached the top of the stairs, turned right and almost walked into Ron, who was lurking behind a statue of Lachlan the Lanky, clutching his broomstick. He gave a great leap of surprise when he saw Harry and attempted to hide his new Cleansweep Eleven behind his back.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked dryly, subtly moving his right hand behind his back.

"Er… n-nothing." Ron said, then pointed a finger accusingly at him, "What are you doing?!"

Harry only frowned at him.

"Practicing Quidditch, old friend?"

"Dammit, I'm not old!" Ron said, but then blinked before he let out a chuckle, "Yeah, the Quidditch. Also, I'm hiding to catch Fred and George, too, if you must know. I just saw them transporting a trunk of wires and it was beeping. I think they've brought electronics into the school and have been tested to see if they work on something."

"So?" Harry said.

"They've been going from the dungeons to the seventh floor and back again. I don't know what they're up to, but yesterday I saw them with a bunch of first-years. I bet they're testing stuff on them again, but I want to give them the benefit of the doubt because I saw a few first-years helping them carry those electronics."

"Why are you trying out for the team, anyway?" Harry asked, not really caring what Fred and George were up to.

"So you and I have more time together, man!" Ron said joyously as he slugged Harry in the arm playfully, "We'll be able to plot and such at practice; especially against Umbridge."

"Brilliant, my muscle-bound friend." Harry said as Ron blinked, not noticing the wince Harry did after the playful punch to his right arm, "You've been practicing every evening since Tuesday, haven't you?"

"Yeah… just on my own, though. I've been trying to bewitch Quaffles to fly at me, but it hasn't been easy and I don't know how much use it'll be." Ron said with a sigh, looking nervous and anxious for the first time in a while, "Fred and George are going to laugh themselves stupid when I turn up for the tryouts. They haven't stopped taking the mickey out of me since I got made a prefect."

"I wish I was going to be there," Harry said bitterly, as they set off together towards the common room.

"Yeah, so do- Harry, what the hell is that on the back of your hand?"

Harry, who had just rubbed at the dull ache in his scar while switching hands for his backpack, tried to hide his right hand, but had as much success as Ron with his Cleansweep.

"The…! That old hag!" Ron said in a revolted whisper as they came to a halt in front of the Fat Lady, who was dozing peacefully with her head against her frame, "I thought that maybe it wouldn't actually go on, because you could always rat her out, but… She's sick! Go to McGonagall, say something!"

"No." Harry said at once, "I'm not giving her the satisfaction of knowing I went running to the skirt of those around me."

"Wh-What?" Ron said, showing Harry his healing hand, "This is something to run to a skirt about! We're not in SOLDIER anymore, this isn't supposed to be legal! You can't let her get away with this!"

"There's also the fact that we have no clue how much power McGonagall's got over her on this… over how much she has over McGonagall…" Harry said, remaining calm while his friend panic about the situation.

"Then Dumbledore! Tell Dumbledore!"

"No." Harry said as flatly as roadkill.

"Wh-What? Why not, dammit?!" Ron nearly bellowed, but whispered harshly at Harry when he remembered the Fat Lady.

"I'm not sure Dumbledore is as… dependable as he once was." Harry said, but both could tell that was not the true reason. If Dumbledore did not trust him with crucial information, then the old man could wallow in guilt when he found out about the detentions and why Harry would not come to him.

"Well, then we'll have to start train-" Ron began fiercely, but he was interrupted by the Fat Lady, who had been watching them sleepily since Ron's startled outbursts.

"Are you going to give me the password or will I have to stay awake all night waiting for you to finish your conversation?" she bellowed as they both jumped, giving the password and rushing inside.

---

Friday dawned sullen and sodden as the rest of the week. Though Harry automatically glanced towards the staff table when he entered the Great Hall, it was without any real hope of seeing Hagrid, and he turned his mind immediately to his more pressing problems, such as the mountainous pile of homework he had to do and the prospect of yet another detention with Umbridge.

Two things sustained Harry that day. One was the thought that it was almost the weekend; the other was that, dreadful though his final detention with Umbridge was sure to be, he had a distant view of the Quidditch pitch from her window and might, with luck, be able to see something of Ron's tryout. These were rather feeble rays of light, it was true, but Harry was grateful for anything that might lighten his present darkness; he had never had a worse first week of term at Hogwarts.

At five o'clock that evening he knocked on Professor Umbridge's office door for what he sincerely hoped would be the final time, and was told to enter. The blank parchment lay ready for him on the lace-covered table, the pointed black quill beside it.

"Dolores, how are you this fine day?" Harry asked smugly as the woman's sweet smile twitched for a moment.

"You know what to do, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said, smiling sweetly at him, though he had seen it more than enough to know that it was very forced.

Harry picked up the quill and glanced through the window. If he just shifted his chair an inch or so to the right… on the pretext of shifting himself closer to the table, he managed it. He now had a distant view of the Gryffindor Quidditch team soaring up and down the pitch, while half a dozen black figures stood at the foot of the three high goalposts, apparently awaiting their turn to Keep. It was impossible to tell which one was Ron at this distance, even with his superior sight.

"I Must Not Tell Lies", Harry wrote in the same fanciful script that he always did just to spite the woman making him do so. The cut in the back of his right hand opened and began to bleed afresh.

I must not tell lies. The cut dug deeper, stinging and smarting as Harry kept his head down, his eye twitching as he refused to give voice to his pain.

I must not tell lies. Blood trickled down his wrist, but went ignored as he was sure Umbridge wanted him to worry about it.

He chanced another glance out of the window. Whoever was defending the goalposts now was doing a very poor job indeed. Katie Bell scored twice in the few seconds Harry dared to watch.

Hoping very much that the Keeper wasn't Ron, he dropped his eyes back to the parchment glowing with a green tint in his red blood. He was now sure that it was Mako energy, but he had yet to discern how it had gotten into the veins of his new body.

I must not tell lies.

I must not tell lies.

He looked up whenever he thought he could risk it; when he could hear the scratching of Umbridge's quill or the opening of a desk drawer. The third person to try out was pretty good, the fourth was terrible, the fifth dodged a Bludger exceptionally well but then fumbled an easy save. That one might have been Ron, as he knew Angeal could dodge or take a hit, but his recovery was almost abysmal.

The sky was darkening, and Harry doubted he would be able to see the sixth and seventh people at all.

I must not tell lies.

I must not tell lies.

The parchment was now dotted with drops of blood from the back of his hand, which was searing with pain. When he next looked up, night had fallen and the Quidditch pitch was no longer visible.

"Let's see if you've gotten the message yet, shall we?" Umbridge said in her soft voice, half an hour later. She moved towards him, stretching out her short ringed fingers for his arm. And then, as she took hold of him to examine the words now cut into his skin, pain seared, not across the back of his hand, but across the scar on his forehead. At the same time, he had a most peculiar sensation somewhere around his midriff.

He nearly wrenched his arm out of her grip, but instead, calmed himself as he got to his feet, staring hard at her. She looked back at him, a smile stretching her wide, slack mouth.

"Yes, it hurts, doesn't it?" she said softly as he did not answer.

He wouldn't admit it, not to anyone, but his heart was thumping very hard and fast. Was she talking about his hand or… did she know what he had just felt in his scar?

"Well, I think I've made my point, Mr. Potter. You may go."

He caught up his schoolbag and left the room as casual as possible, but still moved quicker than he would have liked.

Stay calm, he told himself, as he sprinted up the stairs. Stay calm, it doesn't necessarily mean what you think it means…

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia!" he gasped at the Fat Lady, who swung forwards once more.

A roar of sound greeted him. Ron came running towards him, beaming all over his face and slopping Butterbeer down his front from the goblet he was clutching.

"I did it! I'm in! I'm Keeper!"

"Huh? Oh… brilliant!" Harry said, trying to smile naturally, while his heart continued to race, and his hand throbbed and bled.

"Have a Butterbeer, my good friend." Ron said, pressing a bottle to him, "I can't believe I did- where's Hermione gone?"

"She over there, yo." Fred, who was also swigging Butterbeer, said as he pointed to an armchair by the fire. Hermione was dozing in it, her drink tipping precariously in her hand.

"She fell asleep this early?" Harry asked as Fred shrugged.

"She must have been exhausted," George said quietly from his place near them.

"Well, she said she was pleased when I told her." Ron said, shrugging casually while trying to hide his slightly put out look.

"Let her sleep." George said a bit to casually as Harry narrowed his eyes. Ron must have noticed it too with Fred's grin. It was a few moments before Harry noticed that several of the first-years gathered around them bore unmistakable signs of recent nosebleeds.

"You don't think they slipped her something, do you?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowed at the twins. He was completely uncaring what they did to the naïve first-years that hadn't yet learned the dangers of the Weasley twins, but messing with Hermione was crossing a line into dangerous predatory territory.

His territory.

"They better not have!" Ron said harshly as he marched over to the twins and began a shouting match Harry had never seen before; not in Ron Weasley, and not in Angeal Hewley.

"Ron, stop your row and come over here!" Katie Bell called out as all the three youngest Weasley males turned to her, "We need to see if Oliver's old robes fit you. We can even take off his name and put yours on instead."

As Ron moved away, throwing a withering look over his shoulder as Fred mocked fall dead, Angelina came striding up to Harry. Harry crossed his arms lightly at her, frowning as he didn't feel like dealing with her pathetic frustrations at the moment.

"Sorry I was a bit short with you earlier, Harry," she said abruptly while Harry frowned even deeper, "It's stressful; this managing lark, you know. I'm starting to think I was a bit hard on Oliver sometimes…" she was watching Ron over the rim of her goblet with a slight frown on her face.

"Look, I know he's your best mate, but he's not fabulous," she said bluntly, "I think with a bit of training he'll be all right, though. He comes from a family of good Quidditch players."

"And?" Harry asked tersely, not caring for her words as she went on.

"I'm banking on him turning out to have a bit more talent than he showed today, to be honest. Vicky Frobisher and Geoffrey Hooper both flew better this evening, but Hoopers a real whiner, he's always moaning about something or other, and Vicky's involved in all sorts of societies. She admitted herself that if training clashed with her Charms Club she'd put Charms first. Anyway, we're having a practice session at two o'clock tomorrow, so just make sure you're there this time."

"I'll see if I can fit it into my schedule." Harry said savagely, while Angelina glared at him, "I've been contemplating Charms Club-"

"Oh you-!" but she stopped herself, because both knew that if the team lost Harry they would not have an easy season at all, "Look, just do me a favor."

"And what would that be?" Harry asked, staring down at her as she matched his glowing gaze.

"Help Ron as much as you can, okay?" she said as Harry glanced at his friend, who was looking moodier with Katie Bell the longer Angelina had been talking. It was clear that Ron, with their augmented hearing, had heard every word.

"I'm sure that Ron will do fine on his own." Harry said, and with that gave Angelina a dismissive wave. She stood there for a moment, looking caught between hurt and outraged, but finally she sighed and strolled back to Alicia Spinnet with a frown marring her beautiful face.

Harry himself moved over to sit next to Hermione, who awoke with a jerk as he put down his bag.

"Oh, Harry, it's you… good about Ron, isn't it?" she said blearily, looking as though a nap was just what the doctor ordered, "I'm just so-so… so tired," she yawned. "I was up until one o'clock making more hats. They're disappearing like mad!"

And sure enough, now that he looked, Harry saw that there were woolly hats concealed all around the room where unwary elves might accidentally pick them up.

"Great…" Harry said distractedly; if he did not tell somebody soon, he would burst, "Listen, Hermione, I was just up in Umbridge's office and she touched my arm."

Hermione listened closely. When Harry had finished, she said slowly "You're worried You- Know-Who's controlling her like he controlled Quirrell?"

"Not really, no." Harry said, not caring to drop his voice, "However, it's a possibility now that I think about it, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Hermione said, though she sounded unconvinced, "But I don't think he can be possessing her the way he possessed Quirrell, I mean, he's properly alive again now, isn't he, he's got his own body, he wouldn't need to share someone else's. He could have her under the Imperius Curse, I suppose…"

Harry watched Fred, George and Lee Jordan juggling empty Butterbeer bottles for a moment.

Then Hermione said, "But last year your scar hurt when nobody was touching you, and didn't Dumbledore say it had to do with what You-Know-Who was feeling at the time?"

"Yes." Harry answered shortly.

"I mean, maybe this hasn't got anything to do with Umbridge at all, maybe it's just coincidence it happened while you were with her?" Hermione said as Harry leveled her with a flat look.

"Perhaps, but she's got her own brand of evil." Harry said flatly, before he leaned back in his chair with a sigh, "Unfortunately, that doesn't mean she's a Death Eater. If only the world was so easily divided…"

"Right, she's horrible, yes, but…" Hermione said, then looked as though she was about to say something she knew she shouldn't. Harry, so graciously in his opinion, cut her off before she could.

"If you tell me to go to Dumbledore, I might just hurt you." Harry said as Hermione sighed.

"Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt."

WHACK!

"Ouch!" Hermione said, rubbing her leg, looking murderous at the amused Harry, "Harry! That hurt!"

"I warned you." Harry shrugged.

"I didn't think you were serious!" Hermione said, still rubbing her leg, "You're not supposed to hit girls! It's unclothe!"

"So is their using that excuse to defeat males." Harry said, "Gender, ethnicity, heritage. None of these are issues on the field of violence. A blade speaks the same language to all; one of blood."

"Well that may be, but still-"

"As I told Ron, I'm not going to run to the skirts of those around me." Harry said, holding up a hand, "Besides, you said it yourself; it's not a big deal. My scar has been hurting on and off all summer. It was just a bit worse tonight, that's all-"

"Harry," Hermione said gently, patting his knee, "I'm sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this-"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he get's the privilege of knowing." Harry snarled before he could stop himself, "Because that's the only real part of me that Dumbledore seems to care about, right? My scar and it's activities?"

"Don't say that, it's not true." Hermione said softly as Harry stood.

"I think I'll write and tell Sirius about it, see what he thinks-"

"You can't write that! The owl might get intercepted!" Hermione said, but Harry seemed to ignore her, so she stood as well, "Harry, you can not put something like that in a letter!" she said again, now looking deeply alarmed. "Don't you remember what Moody told us before the train; to be careful of what we put in writing! We just can't guarantee owls aren't being intercepted anymore!"

Harry gave her one of the fiercest looks he had ever thrown in the past few days, ones that he had reserved only for after his sessions with Umbridge or while rushing through his homework.

"Do not insult my intelligence nor my memory by suggesting I have forgotten a warning, or that I would be so stupid as to plainly write out my woes and worries when there are spies about." Harry said in such a deadly calm that Hermione sank back into her seat with a pale look of fright on her face, illuminated by his glowing eyes that shone like to emerald green flashlights, "Now then, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. Tell Ron for me, will you?"

"Listen, don't go just yet. You can help me if you like. Making the hats for the House-elves I mean. It's quite fun, and I'm getting better. I can do patterns and bobbles and all sorts of things now."

Harry looked into her face, which was shining with glee, and didn't even bother with attempting to appear to consider her offer.

"No, thank you." he said shortly, "Good night."

And with that, he traipsed off to the boys' stairs, leaving her looking slightly disappointed and hurt without caring one bit.

---

REVIEW, AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK!

NEXT CHAPTER: HARRY'S LETTER TO SIRIUS, NEVILLE DEFENDING ANGEAL'S FLYING HONOR, PERCY THE DOUBLE-AGENT, INFOR FROM SIRIUS AND THE D.O.A, UMBRIDGE: HIGH INQUISTOR, HARRY THE HIPOCRITE RESTRAINED BY DRACO, RON, AND NEVILLE, HARRY'S FUNK, THE "STUDY GROUP", AND MORE INFO ON WHO BEEN "AWAKENED"!

THIS TUNED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER: THY NAME WAS SEPHIROTH!

UNTIL NEXT TIME, SEE YA!

-T.K