Woo, another chapter finished! I greatly enjoyed writing this, especially since it gave me some insight on where we're going for the next few haha.
Thank you SO much for all the reviews, of course also those reviewing on anon.
Enjoy!
Chapter 48 – Torture and Plans
The office painted a disturbing picture. Kittens ran along the walls, looking innocent, fluffy, lively. Bouquets of dried roses and wildflowers that might have been elegant in another setting became ugly splotches of beige death against the sickly pink backdrop. Amidst it all stood a massive desk, the only familiar item here. It had survived all of the professors who had sat behind it over the years, yet never had it looked so hideous, the gleaming surface covered in doilies and pink, straw decorations. Harry almost felt sorry for it, as much as anyone could feel sorry for an inanimate object. Behind it sat perhaps the ugliest thing in the entire room: Professor Umbridge with her insincere smile. In that moment, Harry was glad to have quit the Quidditch team. He would not have been able to get any words of begging over his lips when seeing her self-indulgent, righteous smirk.
''Good evening, Mr Potter,'' she said, stressing the words in such a way that he knew she expected a similar reply.
Not about to test his luck, and with McGonagall's words of warning in the back of his mind, Harry forced his mouth into something that would resemble a polite smile passably enough, replying: ''Good evening, Professor Umbridge.'' She gazed at him unflinchingly, seemingly pushing him to accept a staring contest, which he gladly did. This woman could not intimidate him, not after staring death in its face so often, Dementors, even the Dark Lord himself.
It paid off: as he sat down without breaking eye contact once, she huffed and looked away, inspecting a black quill she'd plucked out of her bag. ''You will be writing lines today, Mr Potter,'' she spoke, her voice a tad shrill. So, he'd managed to unnerve her without open resistance, good. Professor McGonagall could be proud.
''And what will I be writing?'' he asked, giving the quill a suspicious look. That he wasn't allowed to use his own didn't sit well with him. The tip of it was incredibly sharp and the feather had an unnerving feel to it. With a shock, Harry realised that there was dark magic involved. He let that sink in for two reasons. First of all, it meant that Umbridge, undersecretary of the Minister of Magic, was using dark magic. In Hogwarts. On students. Secondly, it meant that Harry had now used enough of it himself to not only pick up on Voldemort's magic, but on other dark magic as well. He'd assumed he could only feel the man because of their soul- and bloodbonds. Though Voldemort had mentioned something about his other followers also feeling him to an extent. Apparently dark mages really could be sensitive to other dark magic around them.
''-I must not tell lies,'' Umbridge finished a sentence that Harry hadn't bothered to hear the start of.
''I'm sorry?'' he asked, still thrown off a bit. A third thought came up. If she was using dark magic on him… what effects would it have? With what sacrifice would it be achieved? Would Voldemort's shields protect him?
''I find it to be the most fitting sentence to… imprint on you. Oh, and you won't be needing any ink,'' Umbridge spoke, her smirk broadening.
He wanted to scream at her that he hadn't told any lies. Instead, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of even getting angry at her. No, it would be better to expose this woman without taking damage himself. When he gave the quill another look, he somehow doubted that he would get away completely undamaged.
Sure enough, as soon as he put it to parchment and wrote the first letter, pain flared up, a red streak appearing on the back of his hand before it disappeared again. So it was a self-inking quill that used the writer's own blood for ink as sacrifice. Great, what sadistic asshole ever came up with this torture device? Harry didn't know whether he should be happy or not that such indirect damage didn't fulfil the conditions to activate his shields. It would be great to see Umbridge's hand torn to shreds, but Harry doubted he would have been able to come up with a good explanation as for why. It made sense that it didn't though, the protection he'd been granted was limited to direct harm in the form of a deliberate attack. Being hurt through an object that wasn't even held by Umbridge didn't exactly meet those requirements.
''Is something wrong?'' she spoke in a sweet voice.
Harry clenched his jaw. ''Oh, not really,'' he answered. ''You know, you are using illegal blood magic on students as corporeal punishment, the former having been banned centuries ago and the latter when Dumbledore was made Headmaster, but other than that, everything is just fine.'' He glowered at her as he continued writing, trying not to wince.
Come on, this is nothing in comparison to when Voldemort carved runes into your skin. Or when he cast the Cruciatus curse on you. Merlin, when he thought about it, it was really unhealthy how he was still rather devoted to a man who'd caused him such harm.
''Illegal?'' Umbridge chuckled. ''Mr Potter, surely I know our laws much better than you do. And I have been given full disciplinary authority by the Minister, I made sure of that.''
He didn't deem that worthy of a reply. It sounded unlikely that she could overrule the general school rules when it came to punishment, but he indeed didn't have enough information to confirm or deny it. Harry wrote a few more lines, the letters gleaming scarlet. He sensed a presence next to him all of a sudden and wasn't surprised to see Riddle leaning against the office wall next to him, frowning as he looked at Harry's hand.
''Go straight to your Head of House after,'' Riddle spoke. ''She was right, when it comes to this... Undersecretary, it is best to choke the weed before it grows, before we have an uncontrollable devil's snare at our hands. She doesn't have the power she claims… yet. No matter what the Minister agreed on for punishment, this kind of magic is still illegal.''
Harry was taken aback. Riddle of all people told him to go to authorities instead of throwing a Killing Curse at Umbridge? There was a first… Maybe it was because this version of Voldemort had been a student not too long ago, a Headboy at that. From what he'd seen in memories and gathered from speaking to the Diary-Horcrux, Riddle had tried to gain favours and power first through other people, before he'd had enough power by himself.
Also, Harry noticed with something he could only identify as discontentment, that Riddle didn't look angry. Sure, they hadn't really spoken often or long, but Harry had thought that the Horcrux would somehow… care a bit more about how Umbridge was hurting him. Voldemort certainly would be up in arms if he saw that anyone else caused one of his followers pain, possessive as he was. Riddle didn't show more than vague displeasure, that was about it. Harry didn't know if he should be glad that Riddle didn't appear to have such an unhealthy obsession with him, or insulted.
He thought upon Riddle's words and lightly shook his head. Even if he'd run straight to McGonagall, then what? Telling her what Umbridge was doing wouldn't lead anywhere without proof. And for proof, he'd unfortunately need to sit this out a few days. Each time he wrote a line, the redness on his hand became a little more visible and lingered a tad longer. Three more evenings of this, and the words would surely stay. Only then could he actively try to report it. In the meantime, maybe his friends would have ideas about how to deal with Umbridge in other ways.
The young Dark Lord frowned in disapproval, continuing to glare at Harry's hand. It was strange, the longer he kept writing, the more he felt a pressure building up, and occasionally there were tiny black sparks dancing across the surface. It looked like Voldemort's protection was reacting, yet didn't know what to do or whom to direct its hostile magic at. It would be so satisfying to provoke Umbridge now, get her to cast a nasty spell on him and see it backfire… Harry sighed, able to push on by imagining rather gruesome fantasies. The evening passed slowly, far too slowly to his liking. Only an iron stubbornness allowed Harry to sit through it without glancing a single time at his watch. The sun had long set when Umbridge finally allowed him to leave, after a short inspection of the back of his hand and some ominous commentary.
''Don't be stupid Harry, report it,'' Riddle instantly said when they were outside. Harry sighed and swung his bag over his shoulder. His left shoulder for once. ''There's no need to play the hero.''
''Aren't you wasting energy like this?'' Harry whispered. ''Don't you have limited time that you can be in this form or so?''
Riddle wrinkled his nose, which was a very funny gesture that Harry hadn't expected. Voldemort never wrinkled his nose, maybe to do with the fact it was flat nowadays. He couldn't contain a light chuckle at it, which became louder when he was glared at for it. ''I don't know what is so funny about the state of my existence,'' Riddle stiffly answered. ''It depends on the day and how much energy I take from you. Now answer my question. You appear persistent about not going to a teacher about this.''
''Adults hardly ever take people seriously who are younger than them. In my first year… hold on, let's search some unused classroom or so to talk, I really don't want any Prefects to catch me talking to myself in the corridors about this, especially since curfew was a few minutes ago, who knows whom we'll run into.'' His stomach growled slightly, and Harry wondered what he was going to do about dinner in the coming days. Sure, he'd grabbed a bite before, but that had been around four thirty and he hadn't been really hungry yet. Having detention at five was horrible. It lasting till ten didn't help. He could barely believe that Umbridge had made him cut his hand open for five solid hours.
He went for the first empty room he could find, an old classroom that was used for storage. Most rooms in Hogwarts were unused, which was rather convenient for times like this. Had it ever been different? Surely the Founders had taken the amount of students they would have into account when designing the castle. Barely a fourth of it was in use now when counting all the classrooms, offices and common areas. Most of the unused places were filled with stuff like cabinets and tables. It made Harry wonder if their population had at one point been much larger than was the case now.
''Right,'' he said when he was confident on the silencing charms placed on the door. ''As I was saying, I've had bad experiences with adults listening to me. I know you haven't had much news so this might be hard to fully get without context, but Voldemort tried to steal the Philosopher's stone in my first year here. My friends and I found out. Well, we found out that someone wanted to steal the stone, I actually thought it was Snape, but in either case, McGonagall didn't believe us when we told her about it and did nothing more than sending Dumbledore a letter. In my second year, one of the other Horcruxes tried to release Slytherin's basilisk in the school. Hermione figured out it was a basilisk, we found the Chamber's entrance and everything, and yet again, no-one would believe us or do anything. They didn't try to stop us either when we went down to the Chamber ourselves, but Ron and I were twelve and thirteen respectively and really shouldn't have needed to do so. Then in my third year, my godfather - who'd falsely been accused of murder - escaped Azkaban. Long story short, Snape captured him and tried to get the Ministry to give Sirius the Dementor's kiss. We went to Dumbledore about it and while he believed us, he didn't lift a finger himself, leaving it up to us to handle the situation and free Sirius by using a time-turner. Seriously, I can count adults I trust on one hand. You're lucky Voldemort is one of them, otherwise I wouldn't even be telling you any of this.''
Well, there was also the fact that he wasn't entirely sure how adult-y Riddle was. He surely was older than the Diary had been. Harry hadn't received much information on the other Horcruxes, other than having seen them and felt their magic. His guess would be late teens, early twenties, but the opportunity hadn't really come up to ask about it. Maybe another time.
Harry took a deep breath after his rant. ''So yeah,'' he finished. ''If I tell McGonagall about this, which I probably will do still, I need absolute, undeniable evidence first.'' He held up his hand, balled into a fist, showing the reddened skin. ''A couple more days of this detention, and I'm pretty sure that line will be etched into my skin. I need to come up with a way to cause enough of a distraction to nick one of those quills - I doubt she only has one - and perhaps record some of the stuff she says to me if I ask her once more about this kind of illegal punishment. Only then can I be confident in that steps will be taken against her.''
''You went down the Chamber,'' the Horcrux stated in a very cold voice, ignoring Harry's plans for Umbridge entirely. Getting sudden goose bumps, Harry gave Riddle a guilty look. He shouldn't have ranted about that… That had been a stupid thing to do, considering Voldemort's reaction to discovering the destruction of the diary and the death of the basilisk at Harry's hands. ''And you mentioned the other Horcrux you encountered. What happened?''
''Nothing good from your perspective I'm sure. I've already been punished for that pretty severely,'' he grimaced. ''Could you please let it slide? As I said, I was twelve.''
''How did you manage to kill a Basilisk is what I am wondering. With twelve at that.'' Harry wasn't entirely sure how the man had so quickly jumped to the right conclusion, but admittedly, there weren't too many outcomes when it came to some children walking into a monster's lair. Either the monster survived, or the children did.
''With a sword, if you must know. A sword and a bird. The story isn't nearly as heroic as Ron made it out to be afterwards.''
''Then tell me another heroic story… I died, didn't I?'' the man spoke, a contemplative frown on his face. ''That is the only logical conclusion I come to from piecing together the current situation and your role in it. At the start, I was astonished to hear that the Order of the Phoenix was still active after so many decades. I had expected my older self to have taken over the Wizarding World by this point. Your classmates and teachers sounded in too much denial for that however. So, I must have I died.''
Carefully, Harry nodded. Riddle's number one fear was death, so Harry hoped he wouldn't take it badly. The contrary happened when the man got a glint in his eyes and his lips twisted into a mad grin. ''That means that splitting my soul successfully worked as a measure against mortality. We've put into practise what others only ever achieved in theory. I returned, possibly by researching further into necromancy.'' His expectantly raised eyebrow at Harry gave the distinct feeling that denying answers was not an option with pleasant consequences.
''I don't know the full details,'' the teen spoke. ''He used pieces of a wand, bone of your father, flesh of a servant, blood…''
''Whose blood?''
Harry pressed his lips together and looked away, pretending to be very interested in the dusty, smudged windows beyond which lay only pitch-black sky.
''You will tell me, or I will take over your body, march back to Umbridge's office and make you cut her head off instead of giving your plan a chance.''
Letting out a frustrated noise, Harry cried: ''Fine! Merlin, you're always so drastic instantly! It was my blood, okay? I was there to help with the ritual and Voldemort figured that it would give the best results if he used mine.''
''Because you are a Horcrux?'' the other pressed.
''Yeah, I suppose,'' he answered quickly. Too quickly, for Riddle's eyes narrowed and his stance grew rigid.
''Don't. Lie,'' he breathed. While he didn't move, grey tendrils of smoke started to appear in the air around him, ready to attack.
Harry eyed them and contemplated whether being choked again was worth it. ''You might get angry at me,'' he hesitantly said.
''Not as angry as I am about what happened to that other Horcrux. If that was in your second year and you went up against the Basilisk, you weren't affiliated with my older self yet. Your threat during our first talk about stabbing me with a Basilisk fang… speaks volumes. I am curious how you came to aid me in the resurrection ritual. That is the only reason why I will let this… slide for now.''
Not wanting to cause any further trouble and knowing that he would only get stuck in a web of half-truths and omissions if he tried to hide anything, Harry started talking. He didn't have much of a choice, really, not after making this strange not-a-deal-anymore with Riddle. The Gryffindor had no illusions as to who had the control in this agreement. Riddle could just take over his body at any moment he pleased.
The start was a bit rough, as Harry had no idea where to even start, but Riddle listened carefully and appeared perfectly content to puzzle everything together by himself. The teen spoke of Sirius and Wormtail, of going to Riddle Manor, then jumped back to the part of his mother's sacrifice to explain his previous hatred against Voldemort. The only thing he managed to avoid mentioning completely was the Prophecy. ''Discovering I was a Horcrux was… wild. I knew we had some sort of connection, my scar hurt each time he was near, but I could never have imagined… And neither had he known. At first, he wanted to use my blood because I'd been the one to kill him, but it turned out to work even better the way we did it in the end.''
Harry looked up in confusion as Riddle started clapped slowly, a slight smile on his lips which made Harry's stomach clench weirdly. Damn, he was really hungry apparently.
''I admit, I am impressed. You showed initiative and refused to blindly follow your own established beliefs that had been planted in your head by Dumbledore and his supporters. I hadn't thought you to have that in you.''
''Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?''
With a sharp smile, Riddle answered: ''If I wanted to insult you, I would have instead addressed the nauseating moral compass you have that refused to let you kill even the murderer of your own parents. I thought avoiding that to instead focus on positive conversation would be more productive. Alas, if you insist.''
Harry rolled his eyes. ''No, go on with the productive conversation. If your worst insult of me is that I am morally good, I think any further attempts to offend me will miss the point by a few miles. Maybe take some lessons from Malfoy first. Not that his insults are great either, but he's had years of practise.''
''Malfoy… He was at the Slytherin party you attended. He sounded a bit more spineless than his grandfather was. I was under the assumption that you were… acquaintances.''
''In a way. Malfoy is a difficult person to deal with. He insults everyone he thinks is beneath him, without thinking that's a negative trait instead of his given birth-right as an oh so noble Malfoy. Because of it, I refused his hand of friendship in my first year and he made himself my enemy as Hogwarts. Tried to get me in trouble with teachers, hurt my friends, influenced the opinion of other students towards me negatively etcetera. But we are on the same side now, his father is a Death Eater, and Malfoy hates himself more than anyone else. So, I've tried to be civil to him and we made a truce of sorts. Not sure if I'll ever call him my friend, but I appreciate that he is trying to make an effort. It surely makes my life easier if the Slytherins aren't all out to get me on Malfoy's orders. He actually helped me with one of the tasks in the Triwizard Tournament by teaching me a thing or two about merfolk. Oh damn, that reminds me, I promised him he could fly on my broom during one of the Quidditch matches in return, I never gave it to him. Now I quit the Quidditch team, I don't think Angelina will let me live if I give Slytherin an additional advantage… Maybe I'll give it to him for a match with Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff.''
''Give it to the one where you have the least amount of friends. Or the most enemies.''
''That'll be hard, I like both Seekers from those teams. Cedric is amazing, and his girlfriend is the Seeker from Ravenclaw, she's pretty cool too. I don't know the rest of either team, really. You don't talk much when flying three-hundred feet in the air and are trying to avoid Bludgers. Hey, do you like Quidditch? I never asked Voldemort for his opinion on it.''
''I am Voldemort,'' Riddle spoke, sounding rather annoyed.
Harry huffed. ''I know that, but… I have to somehow differentiate between you and your older self, don't I? Calling you both Voldemort is a bit… odd. Even with my classmates, if there are two people with the same name, at least one of them will get a nickname instead to avoid confusion.''
''Get used to it, I don't appreciate nicknames. But you've mentioned it before, setting apart him and me. Am I really so different from my older self?''
Harry shrugged ''Everyone changes over time. He tried to get to the top of the Wizarding World, failed to keep it together, died and was reborn. From what I've heard, it changed his view on many topics. He doesn't really believe anymore in blood superiority for one, only uses it as a tool to keep the Pure-bloods from leaving his side. He still has very strong opinions on separating Muggles and mages, but not so much on Muggle-borns or Half-bloods as he did before. As you probably still do.''
Riddle frowned and sat down on one of the old tables. ''I didn't think anything could sway my opinion on that. What would lead me to accept Mudbloods?''
''You were given the task of saving magic. Muggle-borns have magic, and are a good source of new magic too. The Pure-blood population is dwindling a lot because they get so few children, and most of them are in Azkaban for supporting Voldemort during the War, so we'd die out soon in Britain if you try to exclude Muggleborns or forbid marriages with Muggles. Voldemort seems to draw a hard line now of if a life is worthy or not by if they have magic. I'd like to state here that I still don't agree with him. All life is worthwhile, and I wouldn't follow him if I thought he'd start a slaughter of Muggles again either.''
''Muggles will still have to be eradicated even if at the start we'd accept the Mudbloods who are left,'' the other said. ''There is no other way.''
''Full-scale separation is the current strategy. Voldemort has been experimenting with bubble dimensions and now plans to hide the entire magical population of Britain in one, with minimal entrances to the Muggle world. Those would only be there for emergencies, for food and to bring in Muggle-born children.''
''It doesn't sit well with me. It sounds as if my plans completely changed.''
''Of course. He tried to kill Muggles the first time around and was met with a massive rebellion he couldn't overcome without wiping out nearly all of the magical population. Surprisingly, many witches and wizards didn't like their friends and family being killed,'' he sarcastically retorted. ''It was a disaster, and he became known as You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Even during the time he was dead, hardly anyone dared speak his name. You can't protect your people if those people want nothing to do with you. So, he's taking a very different route now. Very few know that he's returned and he influences the news instead of going the obvious ways of rebellion or politics.''
''There are still enough rumours.''
''True, about a month ago, one of your earliest followers actually turned traitor. I don't know why, the Order has several theories, but none have been confirmed, and Rosier was killed by the Dark Mark so he won't be able to explain his motivations either.''
''Rosier?'' Riddle asked. ''Never! He would never betray me!''
''Maybe not you, but certainly Voldemort. From the theories I've heard, I think it is mostly likely that, like you, he didn't agree with how unradical Voldemort's current plans are.''
''I am getting less and less inclined to meet my older self,'' Riddle hissed, his eyes flashing red again.
''You'll have to at one point,'' Harry said, getting a bit nervous. ''Right? You're not planning on staying here forever.'' The man answered with a hum that was far too noncommittal. ''You can always try to talk to him as me,'' Harry suggested, a plan forming in his mind. ''You have the two-way mirror to one of his followers and can probably ask to speak to him. Get some answers yourself, he doesn't have to know it's you.'' Saying that, he really did hope that Voldemort would think something was very wrong if Riddle couldn't act exactly like Harry would.
''Perhaps…''
''How did that other talk go by the way?'' he asked casually, trying to hide his insane curiosity about what Riddle had told Barty.
''Fine. Short, I answered a few questions and pretended I was interrupted and had to go.'' Harry was a bit disappointed to hear that, it didn't sound like it was anything that could make Barty suspicious of his behaviour.
''Speaking of going, I really should head back to the Gryffindor dorms soon. Before I return, it would be appreciated if you'd just give me a bit of insight on what to expect the coming days before I return if you don't mind.''
''I do mind. You'll find out,'' was the reply.
''Riddle..'' Harry growled in frustration, realising only a second later that he'd fucked up. The young Dark Lord's eyes glowed with anger, and Harry felt an intense pain as he fell to the ground. It took his brain a second to catch up with what happened, his right leg twisting beneath him in a way that couldn't be healthy.
''Did you-'' he coughed, trying to keep from screaming. ''Did you just snap my leg?'' he yelled at the Horcrux.
''You shouldn't always leave your wand in your back pocket,'' the man - Harry tried very hard not to think of him as Riddle to avoid further slip-ups - spoke while twirling Harry's wand. ''That I do not have a corporeal body does not mean that I don't have access to magic. It is connected to our souls. And no, I didn't snap your leg, I crushed your kneecap.'' Voldemort dropped Harry's wand on the floor, just out of reach without crawling towards it. ''Good luck healing it. Oh, and I've cursed you. If anyone else tries to heal that, the fractures will be permanent. The joys of dark magic. Perhaps I grew lax with age when it comes to respect, or maybe you're just being a foolish Gryffindor and never learn, but I won't tolerate you calling me by a dead name. Don't speak out of line next time.''
Just like that, he vanished, leaving Harry alone with a messed-up knee and in intense pain. For someone who'd stared with at least a hint of concern as Harry had had to carve his hand open in Umbridge's office, Voldemort sure didn't mind hurting him. Grasping the wand while ignoring the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes from the blinding pain, Harry managed to make a splint, a charm they'd thankfully covered in class before.
Trying to heal it instantly would only result in worse injury, of that he was sure. He'd completely messed up the first time he'd tried to heal even a small wound, and hadn't had much practise after the tiny success of healing Voldemort's other fingers during the initial Healing lesson. Harry was pretty confident in his ability to mend cuts and scrapes now, maybe even a broken finger or so. This? No way. Healing relied on the caster's knowledge of the human body, he knew absolutely zero about bone structure other than what he'd learned in basic biology during elementary school. That hadn't gone into detail about knees beyond the fact that humans had knees.
If he wanted to have any hopes of not permanently damaging his leg further, he needed help. Not in the way of someone else casting the spell, but Voldemort had said nothing about receiving help in other forms. There was no-one as good in combing the library as Hermione was, and Ron would surely tirelessly try to find ways to relieve the pain, having much experience from being hurt by many of his brother's pranks that at times went out of hand.
While making his way back to the tower slowly, shuffling along the walls, he distracted himself with thinking about the Horcrux. He'd hoped that, over the course of the last few conversations, they'd established some sort of security. Harry's victory over the piece of soul yesterday had upped his hopes that the other had decided that causing Harry harm wasn't a good way to go. He'd been careless, he should have known that being able to have a rather casual conversation didn't mean anything. They weren't friends, nor did the Horcrux have as many benefits from trying to keep Harry happy as Voldemort did. It appeared that Riddle - no, Horcrux, Harry would just stick with that as a name, - was interested in teaching him and making him stronger, yet had no qualms about putting him in place. All in all, Harry felt much more like a follower here than with Voldemort. Funny, considering he'd only sworn fealty to one of them, and it wasn't the one who tried to enforce his will with brute force.
The most excruciating part of his journey was the final bit, trying to climb through the portrait hole, for which he had to remove the splint again and bend his leg. He almost fell out at the other side, his friends instantly rushing to his aid.
''Harry! We were so worried, where have you been? What happened?''
He held up his hands to indicate the need for some space, and Ron helped him into a chair while Hermione shooed the few remaining people in the common room away.
''Did she do this to you?'' Ron asked, kneeling down in front of Harry's chair to have a look at his leg.
''Not… directly,'' he groaned, mind racing to find an acceptable explanation. ''It was my own fault really. Umbridge… she made me write lines.''
''That isn't too bad,'' Hermione sighed in relief, until she saw Harry's face.
''It was. She used quills with blood magic to have it use my own blood as ink, drawing it from the back of my hand.'' He balled his right hand to a fist and showed them. While the cuts had healed over, it was still red and a tad swollen. When looking closely enough, one could just see the outline of some letters. ''It lasted over five hours. Hours of cutting myself open while she just sat there and smiled. I remarked that it had to be illegal, but she just laughed it off, saying she has received full authority from the Minister himself. I couldn't wait to get away from there when I was finally allowed to go, but the pain in my hand was so bad that I… I wanted to distract myself somehow. I thought, if I give myself a small cut somewhere else, maybe I don't concentrate entirely on my hand. It went… very wrong. I couldn't control my magic at all.'' He felt incredibly bad at lying to them, but told himself that in this, he really had no choice. Any explanation would be a lie.
''Merlin…'' Hermione breathed. ''When Professor McGonagall hears about this-''
''She has warned me to be careful around Umbridge, to keep my head down,'' Harry interjected. ''Besides, what can I prove? The wounds healed, my hand is a tad sore and there is no evidence that Umbridge caused it. I plan on catching her red-handed,'' he grinned at the pun. ''Maybe steal one of those quills, or record conversations Muggle-style while going to the other detentions. I also suspect that by the end of this week, my hand will look a lot worse. Before any of that though, I need your help with fixing this. I really don't want to spread any rumours about my detention yet or draw attention to myself in general for now, thus going with injuries to Madame Pomfrey or any teachers would be… bad.''
''I don't know any students who are apt at Healing,'' Hermione nervously said. ''When someone wants to go into that branch, they usually start training at St. Mungo's after Hogwarts.''
''I actually learned the basics,'' Harry spoke. ''Healing a knee is very different from small wounds, so I need more information. Hermione, I need books about anatomy and the structure of bones specifically. There might be some in the Transfiguration section of the library?''
''Oh, I might have some here that could help! I ordered many books over summer to read into various other topics, just the theory of course. I think I even have one on healing too. Give me a minute.''
As she hurried towards the girl's dorms, Harry told Ron: ''I need your opinion on what to do about Umbridge. I need a solid, fool-proof plan to either gather evidence during my detentions or to break into her office. Other than that, do you know any numbing charms or so to reduce the pain? I don't think I can keep a steady hand like this.''
''Wait, I actually got something from Fed and George,'' Ron said. ''They invented some stupid products that hurt the one being pranked. This cream helps erase bruises and also takes away the pain. Sometimes mum is right, I think. They could really do a lot of good for the world if they didn't invest their entire brain in jokes.'' He pulled a tin from the pocket of his robes and handed it to Harry, who cut open his own jeans and applied the cream generously, sighing in relief as the mind-numbing pain subsided quickly.
''Sometimes I love magic so much. Right, now we just have to wait for Hermione. What have you guys been doing?''
''Homework mostly. Hey, did you have any time for that?
''No,'' Harry groaned. ''Not at all. And if all detentions will last as long as this one did, I won't have time for it the rest of the week either, not without cutting my sleep and breaks.'' Not that there was much sleep to cut…
''You can copy off me if you want, can't guarantee the quality though, Hermione won't share anymore. It turns out she really was serious about us having to do our own work this year!''
Harry had already expected that. ''Thanks a lot. That'll save me.''
''So, as for plans, I will still need to consider it for a bit. I'd like to storm her office with a horde of angry friends, but I don't think that'll work. Maybe get some Prefects and Headboys or -girls involved from different houses to show that it's not just you. The other houses appear to hate her just as much. I heard that she approached some Slytherins today about helping her, who then outright refused!''
''Refused? Why? They would probably get many benefits from becoming her lackeys.''
''Malfoy. Only a rumour of course, but one that holds a bit of truth I think. It's become clear that he really does want to suck up to you again, and as you are against Umbridge, so is he. Maybe he hit his head?''
Harry burst out in laughter. ''He actually did,'' he snickered. Malfoy had hit his head rather badly after trying to attack Harry the first time he'd been invited to the Slytherin dungeon last year. That seemed ages ago…
They looked up as Hermione came storming down the stairs, her hair sticking out everywhere. She'd clearly had to dig deep in her trunk. ''Sorry it took so long,'' she breathlessly spoke. ''I couldn't decide which books would be most useful, so I took all that I personally would use to tackle such a problem and categorised them. Here, this one is about anatomy, - you were right in that it's part of a Transfiguration series - here's one on healing charms, this one on the mental preparation for Healers, and another on bones.''
''You seriously had a book specifically on bones?'' Harry asked, gobsmacked.
''Kind of. My parents are dentists, as you know, and they found it important that I knew something about their work. So, they gave me lots of books about teeth, oral health, and also one that describes different types of tissue and bones in the human body, because that's very important for oral surgery. They are kind of hoping that I can combine my knowledge of magic and their experience, to revolutionise oral health.''
''Sounds kind of gross,'' Ron grimaced. ''Prodding around in people's mouths. And why would you revolutionise it with magic? You wouldn't be allowed to use magic on muggles, and wizards don't need it!''
''They don't really understand that, Ron,'' she sighed. ''My parents can be lovely, but they are very stubborn when it comes to wanting to understand that we are governed differently and thus have different laws that apply.''
''I thought they didn'twant you to mess around with magic near your teeth?'' Harry asked. ''They didn't let you shrink your teeth before, right? What changed?''
''Nothing, my parents were only against it because I haven't gotten proper training in the field yet. Honestly, I also never will. As Ron said, it's not very practical. Besides, I want to do something that really makes an impact for both worlds.''
''I'm sure you'll find something,'' Harry spoke, honestly meaning it. The separation that Voldemort strived for would probably take many years still to be complete, and even then, they would need contacts within the Muggle world. Who better than the most intelligent witch they had? That she was a Muggleborn would only help. He took the books and all three of them tried to search the index pages to quickly find what they were looking for. ''It might take over an hour or so until I can be sure of that I know enough to even attempt healing this,'' he warned. ''You shouldn't stay up late for me.''
''Shut up,'' Ron said, giving Hermione a comical grimace, his eyes widening. ''Can you believe this guy, Mione? Comes in dragging a bloody leg with him, tells us he's been tortured for five hours and then expects us to leave?''
''You expected anything else?'' she asked. ''Just ignore him, Ron. Harry always has had far too low of a danger sense.''
''I'm right here!'' Harry protested.
''I know, being able to see you is literally the only reason why I am not worrying about you right now. I feel like, if I let you out of sight for too long, you'll run straight into V…V... Voldemort himself without asking anyone for help!'' Hermione spoke. Harry was tong-tied at that. What was he supposed to do, deny it when he very well knew that he'd done exactly that? Maybe he didn't give his friends enough credit about how well they knew him sometimes. Instead, he concentrated on reading.
He found that he actually enjoyed reading a Muggle book for a change. Other than the dusty, hand-written tomes common in the Wizarding world when it came to more advanced topics, the one from Hermione was printed on glossy paper and was accompanied with many coloured illustrations. Chapter six, 'the Cellular, Molecular and Development Biology of Bone' turned out to be a wealth of knowledge. Like skin, bone also healed from a cellular level, just using different materials, and with five different stages of healing. Harry studied exact pictures of the bones of the legs and knees to properly visualise what the end-effect should look like, and drilled the five stages into his head. First, a blood clot and callus should form. Within that, threads of bone tissue should grow and solidify, after which the new cells should absorb the callus. The process was easy enough to remember, but Harry was still worried about messing it up with a lack of concentration. It had been incredibly hard to focus on anything when he was both dead tired and in constant pain.
''Okay,'' he finally spoke after over an hour of studying this new material. ''Time to put this to the test.''
''If you manage to pull this off properly,'' Hermione said seriously. ''You should consider becoming a Healer. I don't know anyone of our age that could possibly do this.''
Not everyone of their age had been shown by a Dark Lord how to properly learn it either, but he didn't mention that to Hermione, taking a deep breath as he put the tip of his trusted holly wand to his knee. Everything he'd soaked up in the past hour was now on his mind, from progenitor cells to matrix proteins. In his mind, the bone and the flesh around it slowly healed up, forming the same unity it had been before the Horcrux had shattered it. He practised the movement a bit until he had a perfect circle and spoke slowly and clearly: ''Episkey!''
Harry bit his teeth together as an intense, searing pain shot up his leg as the spell took effect, shards of bone moving together and more of them forming under the skin, all while sinews and muscles were being put in their proper places. It didn't take long, but Harry felt as if he might faint when it was over. He imagined having a knife plunged directly into one's spine would be of comparable intensity.
It had been worse, he concentrated on that thought. It had been worse, and it could always be worse again. He opened his eyes when he heard an impressed whistle from Ron and a small gasp from Hermione.
''You really did it!'' Ron exclaimed. ''Perfectly patched up, wow! Even dad wouldn't have been able to mend that, and he always tried heal me if I'd gotten hurt and didn't want mum to know about it. I agree with Mione, mate. I think St Mungo's would be begging for your application if they'd seen this.''
Despite himself, Harry managed a weak smile and experimented with bending his knee again. ''Thanks guys. Who knows, I might think about it… I can ask McGonagall when we have those job advice talks. Now, I really got to head to bed.''
''Right, I'll leave my homework and notes and such on your nightstand so you can copy it when you have time tomorrow morning. What?'' Ron asked Hermione, who was frowning. ''Come on, Harry had to endure all that, surely he can copy some stupid essays or Snape!''
Grudgingly, Hermione agreed to that and bid them both goodnight. When Harry went upstairs, he was met with another surprise: on his pillow sat three flasks of Sleeping Draught. As soon as he picked one up, the locket heated up. ''What? When…'' Harry muttered in confusion, trying to trace back his steps today. Had there been any strange memory or time gaps? He didn't think so… then again, he'd kind of drifted from class to class today. Perhaps the Horcrux had taken over without him noticing at all. That didn't explain where exactly these had come from, but Harry was both relieved and tired enough to not second-guess this gift right now. He changed into pyjamas with much more enthusiasm as in the past few weeks and chugged down three gulps of the stuff. He barely managed to put the cork on again and store it in the nightstand drawer with the other two, when he sank into a blissful nothingness for the first time in too long.
All colour had returned to the days. It was a miracle what a little sleep could do to a person. Harry felt as if he'd drank four cups of coffee each morning. He woke up well-rested now, having become used to functioning on barely an hour of fitful half-dreams spanning the entire night. Surely, the feeling of exuberance would fade again after a while, but Harry fully used this state of hyper-awareness to do all of his homework during breaks, perform well in classes and keep his wits together during Umbridge's detentions. As he'd predicted, the wound hadn't healed yesterday night at all. With how important it was to have proof, he didn't heal it magically either. Now, it was Friday and he only had a single detention left.
No opportunity to talk to the Horcrux had arisen anymore. It appeared during classes Harry struggled with the most, like potions, and was actually very helpful, but it hadn't come out after class even when Harry had been alone and asked. The teen thus hadn't been able to speak about either the potions he'd been given, nor about the Horcrux essentially breaking Harry's leg. It was very frustrating, but he invested the time in other things, like Umbridge. Ron had come up with a plan that would be put into motion today, helped by many of their friends and 'frenemies', as Ron had now dubbed Malfoy and some other Slytherins. They all wanted Umbridge and her agenda in Defence of the Dark Arts out as soon as possible, even if that was for different reasons. Most students were appalled in general about her personality, while others felt they would be completely unprepared for their exams. And then there were many Slytherins, who were furious about the single course that taught anything about Dark magic at all being stripped down to elementary theory.
Harry hadn't been the only one to receive detention either in those few days. A first-year Ravenclaw had been very vocal about not having come to Hogwarts to learn material she could have also studied at home, while two seventh-year Gryffindors had defended Harry when Umbridge had made a snide comment in class about 'the Potter mentality', which was apparently synonymous for either rebelliousness or lunacy, sources had been unclear on that. Harry was honestly very impressed that Fred and George hadn't managed to piss the woman off, although that might change today. The only one excluded from most plans was Ron himself. That evening were Quidditch try-outs, and despite Ron's protests, Harry had insisted on his friend going there after catching him with a broom in hand and dripping with mud from training.
''One more day, then we'll hopefully have our peace,'' Harry sighed, eating breakfast with one hand and copying some of Hermione's notes with the other. She had become a lot more lenient after seeing how much effort he gave in class.
Ron hummed in agreement. ''And if not, we'll all be expelled,'' he cheerfully said. ''More time for Quidditch!''
''You're the only one who doesn't risk that, brother dear,'' Fred darkly said. ''The only one with an alibi.''
''She doesn't know anything about your products,'' Harry interjected. ''So you hopefully won't get in trouble either. Besides, Aren't you supposed to be on the Quidditch field as well? Angelina will have your head otherwise.''
''We'll see. You have Umbridge's class today, yes?''
''Unfortunately yes,'' Harry confirmed. ''Only one hour, but that's one hour too much. I'll set things in motion there already as it's the last hour of the day.'' He kept his voice low so only the ones who directly surrounded them - and who were all in on the plan – could hear him. The hardest thing about all of this had been putting his trust in people, especially as students from all Houses were involved. ''I need to go through it once more to ensure it all goes well. Ron, you want to help me while we walk to class?''
Ron agreed and as they were on their way to Charms, Harry softly muttered all the steps. ''So I take a nosebleed nougat during the Defence class and ask to be excused. Being the horrid toad that she is, I'm pretty sure she will deny me that, in front of the entire class as witness. After class, I ask to go to the Hospital Wing instead of detention, which she will deny me too-''
''What if she actually lets you go?'' Ron interrupted.
''Then I have some less material to make her look bad, but appear at detention anyways after I claim that Madame Pomfrey patched me back up. It wouldn't do for her to turn this thing against me and accuse me of trying to skip detentions. So, while there, Mione will start spreading rumours about the bloodquills, 'catching the attention' of Pucey, Malfoy and Cedric. Having two Headboys and two Prefects at her doorstep won't be something McGonagall can ignore. The guys express concern about the punishment, while Hermione mentions that I have to serve detention while being ill.''
''And then when McGonagall goes to Umbridge's office…''
''Cedric will warn Cho, who'll knock a specific pattern on Umbridge's door to let me know they're coming. I'll start a discussion with Umbridge again about the legal use of the quills in that moment. It's too bad that I couldn't find a way to record the conversation, so she'll just have to hear parts of it through the door instead. Which she will do because Malfoy will point out to McGonagall to first listen in before knocking and entering. I also won't have to steal a Quill, since I'll be writing with one in that moment.''
''The plan is pretty solid,'' Ron spoke, ''But a lot could go wrong still. Bad timing, Umbridge not reacting as you want her too… Is it worth the risks?''
''Even if things go awry,'' Harry assured his friend. ''If Umbridge lets me go to the school nurse, or doesn't start discussing with me, we can still show McGonagall both the quill and my hand. That in itself is a solid start. Enough to have this taken up with Dumbledore, I think. He doesn't condone physical punishment.'' The Headmaster might have quite a few negative traits , but banning corporeal punishment was one of the best changes Hogwarts had ever seen in Harry's opinion. That was one thing he was worried about once Voldemort took over. The Dark Lord firmly believed that pain was a suitable punishment, even when there were so many better methods.
After the morning classes, during lunch break, he met up briefly with Cedric and Cho, glad to have their support. Cedric was still just as kind and helpful as before, and fully intent on maintaining a tight friendship, instantly inviting Harry, Ron and Hermione over to Brock Abode for tea that weekend. Harry had been hesitant to approach Cedric. The Hufflepuff had already unwittingly been dragged into Voldemort's plans to rouse up the Ministry and had the added responsibilities of Head Boy this year too. In the end, Ron had convinced him by pointing out that Cedric would probably be more disappointed in not getting involved than anything else.
After lunch break, Harry only had three more hours of class: double Divination, which he used to get some other homework done, and then Defence. It was as horrible as the other hours with Umbridge had been. Class consisted only of reading some chapters and answering tedious questions about it, without learning anything of value. It was no surprise that the whole class instantly gave Harry their full attention when he sneakily stuffed a nosebleed nougat into his mouth and blood started dribbling down. He'd been warned about the strong effect, so he'd only taken a tiny bite, but that was enough to create a pool on his desk in minutes. Minutes during which Umbridge only gave him a dark look and refused to answer any concerned questions of his classmates about taking Harry to the hospital wing. When Ron made an attempt to carry a still-bleeding Harry to the door without her consent, she blew up:
''Mr Weasley, students are not to leave my class without permission!''
''He's bleeding out!'' Ron protested, getting red in the face. Harry was impressed by his friend's acting. ''As all of us are saying, Harry's in no state to attend class! Look, the blood loss is making his limbs weak!''
''There are only two minutes of class left, Mr Weasley. Surely, he can go after.''
''He has detention with you almost right after, professor. Does that mean he is excused from that?''
Umbridge's expression turned stony. ''Thirty minutes should be enough for him to get patched up enough to attend. It wouldn't be a very good punishment if minor inconveniences such as this- Silence! Silence or you will all get detention!'' The students calmed down somewhat, and Harry tried his best to look absolutely out of it and miserable as Ron carefully dropped him back on his seat.
''I almost can't believe she actually did that,'' Ron whispered a few minutes later, after class had ended and Harry had stopped the bleeding with the other half of the candy.
''I told you, she's a sadist and a control freak, of course she wouldn't let me leave. All the better. Come on, I am starving and really need to grab some food before my five-to-seven-hour punishment. She kept me till midnight yesterday!''
His friend whistled and spoke: ''I hope she'll never get me into her claws.''
''If everything goes well, this was her first and last week at Hogwarts. Then we can actually get started with things we want to do, such as Animagus training. I was so excited to start that, but with all these detentions eating away time…''
''It's not your fault,'' Ron muttered. ''Right, I gotta go to the Quidditch pitch. Good luck and… wish me luck too?''
''Of course, I'll be cheering you on silently,'' Harry reassured him.
Doing so was easier than imagined: from where he sat during detention, Harry could see the Quidditch pitch through the window. As Umbridge had left it open slightly, he could even hear the cheers and boos. She'd probably just done it to rub it in that he couldn't be there, but it was definitely helping to distract from the pain. It was getting harder to hold the quill, which was slick with blood as the wound was now raw and open, large droplets sliding from the back of his hand down his fingers. It made the written lines almost illegible. Minutes turned to an hour, and Harry's stomach became knotted. Was McGonagall not coming? Had the others not been able to convince her to come here?
Just as that thought crossed his mind, a series of rapid knocks sounded, and he relaxed again.
''Yes?'' Umbridge called out, frowning as no-one entered. She leaned back and her frown deepened. ''I see,'' she spoke in a clipped voice. ''I had hoped it wasn't true… You didn't learn your lesson at all, did you, Mr Potter?''
''I… what?'' he asked in confusion.
''Show me your hand,'' she commanded. Not having expected her reaction, he did so, just about to start talking about the legal aspects like he'd practised, when she vanished all the blood, healed his hand -rather painfully – and quickly exchanged the blood quill with a regular one. Harry was forcibly shoved back in his chair and the blood-soaked paper disappeared, replaced with a piece of parchment that had 'I must not tell lies' written on it in black ink several hundred times.
''No!'' he growled, standing up again, heart hammering in his chest. She knew. Someone must have told her, ratted him out. Malfoy? Pucey? ''You can't just cover up everything you did to me this week!''
''Did to you?'' she laughed. ''I do not know what you are talking about, Mr Potter. I made you write lines. Yes, perhaps the number of hours was a bit.. excessive, but I think we can both agree when I say that even so, it doesn't look like the punishment sank in. You are still stubborn, try to make me and other teachers look bad, question the authority of those who want the best for you…''
''You tortured me!'' he shouted loudly, seeing red now, a fury unlike any other rising within at this unfairness. ''You made me carve my hand open again and again and-''
''I did no such thing,'' she gasped. ''You are delusional, Mr Potter.''
He stared at her, at the evil twinkle in her eyes, the twitch of her lips. This wasn't happening.
A rapid knock sounded, and he turned as McGonagall walked in, her eyebrows raised in a way that didn't promise any good. ''Dolores. So sorry to interrupt your evening. I think I might have forgotten two of my students' files here. I thought I'd picked all of them up yesterday, but I miss two… oh, am I interrupting?''
''Not at all Minerva. Not at all… Mr Potter is just writing lines.''
''Is that so? I've heard he's spent rather long in here. One of my Prefects didn't see him returning before curfew in the past days. I feel like I must point out that detentions aren't supposed to interfere too much in a student's schoolwork, only their free time. Actually, I still need a word with you, Potter. Come to my office after your detention. You should be done in one more hour, methinks.''
''The guidelines around the time-span of a detention session are open to interpretation, Minerva,'' Umbridge sweetly spoke. ''Students have so much free time these days. I doubt he will be out of here before… oh… nine?''
The Transfiguration Professor narrowed her eyes. ''I am still the Head of his House, Dolores, and have thus at least a say in certain things, especially those open for interpretation. He will be in my office at seven thirty, not a minute later. Ah, here are my files. Perfect.'' Two folders appeared out of nowhere in her hands as she turned on her heel and marched out again, the door slamming close. Harry gulped and turned around to Umbridge, who was twirling the Blood Quill between her fingers.
''You heard her, Mr Potter,'' the woman whispered. ''One and a half hour I still have.''
Smoke started leaking out of the Locket, smoke only Harry could see, for Umbridge didn't react at all.
''Well, your plan failed,'' the Horcrux spoke as Harry sat down and tightly grabbed the offered black quill again. ''That leaves you with several options. The most obvious would be to kill her now, a simple and effective solution, but one which might have many unforeseen consequences. The Ministry could send another employee, or even start an investigation that leads to you. Should she perish in the near future, you will be the prime suspect after today. Naturally, that isn't the end of the world, I could most likely spin the story in different directions, or you could go back to my older self, but there are too many different possibilities for this to be the most preferable choice at the moment.''
Harry didn't visibly react to the Horcrux, scratching away at the parchment, his freshly healed wound splitting open again. It appeared that she'd merely healed the surface area, not the entire wound. The Horcrux didn't appear to mind his lack of response, continuing to monologue:
''The second option is to do as she says. Exactly as she says. Keep your head down, do as you're told and go under her radar for the rest of the school year until this curse you spoke about on the position of Defence teacher takes effect. You wouldn't need to dirty your own hands like that. Negative point is of course that she will be here for an entire year and already considers you to be one of her most troublesome students. Your life at Hogwarts will be made so difficult that even with my additional tutoring, you might not succeed in your exams. So, option number three remains: a silent rebellion with the goal of removing her from office as soon as possible, either by making her stay here as unpleasant as possible or by acting out through legal methods. You have some support already, even among the more notable students and several teachers. That will be very useful. She has hardly anyone to back her, while you have much potential to put together an army if you so desire it. Isolate her, make her afraid, comply to her demands with only the minimal effort necessary, or in such ways that it backfires on her. Naturally, without being caught. She still represents the Ministry, and could get you expelled if she catches you breaking her rules or ordering others to do so. Never leave any evidence.''
The words of the Horcrux made sense, Harry was only a bit sour over that they hadn't spoken at all since that disastrous conversation in which it had destroyed his knee, and now it acted as if everything was fine?
Five minutes to half, Umbridge allowed him to pack up, quickly grabbing his hand to heal it again. Harry didn't attempt to stop her. With how spectacularly the plan had failed, even showing the wounds to McGonagall now wouldn't have been enough. Harry winced and pulled his hand back when another sharp pain stung it, and he gave Umbridge a quick glance before looking down.
''Oops,'' she smiled. ''I can't say that I'm a professional Healer,'' she giggled lightly as he inspected the back of his hand, a large scar running over it now where the words had been, a slightly raised, knotted mass of silvery tissue that drew a strip over the skin. ''One more for your collection, try not to let this one get to your head, Mr Potter. I will let you go for now, but step out of line in my class again, and you'll be sitting here for a full month, understood?''
''Yes, professor Umbridge,'' he replied dully. She gave him a calculating look, then waved to the door.
''Give Minerva my greetings… and a warning. If she questions my position, I will merely have to get my power solidified in writing. I don't appreciate being spoken to as if I am nothing more than a colleague.''
Fuming, Harry stalked towards McGonagall's office, the Horcrux striding at his side. Harry didn't attempt to talk to it, there were far too many people around still, but it was somehow comforting. He knocked on McGonagall's office door, fully intended to get a tongue lashing, taken aback when the door opened and he got a bunch of curly, bushy hair in his face as Hermione hugged him tightly. ''Oh Harry, are you alright?'' she shrilly asked, hazel eyes tear-stricken. ''What happened?''
''Miss Granger, let the boy come in first,'' their strict professor spoke behind Hermione.
Looking over the girl's shoulder, he saw a bunch of other people: Malfoy, Pucey, Cedric, Cho, and Luna. Luna? She hadn't been in on the plan… he moved in quickly and closed the door. ''Professor…'' he started, but McGonagall raised her hand, breathing heavily.
''I warned you, Potter,'' she slowly said. ''You were not to oppose Professor Umbridge. And what do you do?''
''So I should have just let her carve me open like some pig for slaughter then?'' he harshly replied. ''She is using dark magic on students as punishment, Professor. I really was planning on following your advice to the letter, see if I can avoid more trouble, and then she gave me a blood quill to write lines with.'' While he didn't have the words 'I must not tell lies' carved in his hand anymore, he did show the new scar he had in its stead now.
''You should have come to me straight away!'' McGonagall scolded, worry in her eyes as she took his hand and inspected the line.
''Would you have believed me without evidence?''
''I am believing you now without much,'' she countered. ''Your… friends,'' she spoke, slightly hesitant when looking at the two Slytherins, ''informed me of your plan. It clearly didn't work.''
''We were betrayed by someone,'' Harry darkly spoke. ''Right after Cho knocked to warn me you were on the way, Umbridge said something about having hoped it wasn't true, healed my hand and started removing any incriminating proof. She knew.'' He instantly glared suspiciously at Malfoy, but the boy looked incredibly pale and raised his hands up.
''It wasn't either one of us, Potter.''
''He's right, you know,'' a dreamy voice spoke. Harry turned to Luna, who smiled at him serenely. ''It wasn't any of them. Not knowingly. The one who told on you was Marietta Edgecombe.''
''Who?'' Harry asked at the same time Cho gasped ''No!''
''You're lying!'' Cho continued, standing up. Harry put two and two together and figured that this Marietta was one of Cho's friends. Had Cho really told other people about this?
''Marietta would never…''
Luna cocked her head and stared at Cho. ''I heard her talk to Umbridge about it earlier today. I followed her because she'd stolen my shoes again and hid them somewhere. I tried to find someone to talk to about it, but I had to search my shoes first. I think Edgecombe was afraid of also being punished if the plan failed since she was an accomplice from the moment you told her. Her mother works at the Ministry, so she didn't want to be on Umbridge's bad side. She only told on Harry though, claiming she didn't know who else was all involved.''
Cho sighed in relief, but Cedric threw her a disapproving look. ''We're still all in this together,'' he said. ''Professor, it is clear that Professor Umbridge uses dangerous punishment. As a Headboy, I really must insist that the interests of my fellow students will be taken seriously by the teacher body.''
''I will take this up with my colleagues and Professor Dumbledore,'' McGonagall promised. ''Although, now she knows that you have attempted to uncover her deeds, she will surely be much more careful.''
''Actually…'' Harry spoke, and told his Head of House the message he'd been given. Their teacher pinched her nose and sat down.
''Wonderful,'' she sighed. ''Go back to your dorms, all of you. I have to… figure out how to handle this. But for Merlin's sake, try not to pull a similar stunt again. Naturally, I am horrified by hearing what she made you do, Potter, but she can and will do more if you stand up to her again. In the meantime, I'll try everything in my power to ensure this doesn't happen again.''
They all left the office in silence, standing around in the corridor for a while still. ''Thanks to all of you,'' Harry muttered. ''Even if it failed, I appreciate your support.''
''What is the next step?'' Cedric instantly asked, looking ready to fight, very unlike most Hufflepuffs Harry knew.
''I'll come up with something,'' he promised. ''I won't leave it at this. No matter what McGonagall will do, this is a battle between Umbridge and us students. A battle we will have to win.'' They each went separate ways, all sunken in thoughts and happy to not have been expelled over their attempt of dethroning Umbridge.
Later, when lying in bed, just as Harry was about to take his potion, the Horcrux appeared again. ''Such fiery spirit,'' it praised. ''I suppose that the refusal to give up is one of the few Gryffindor traits I admire.''
Harry gave the Horcrux a stony look. ''Hello to you too again. Planning on breaking anything else in my body?''
''Not if you don't plan to disrespect me again, Harry. It all depends on you. Come now, I even gave you Sleeping Draughts as a peace offering. You should really order ingredients to brew your own soon, I can steal them from the hospital wing only sporadically before it becomes noticeable. You have perhaps enough left for another week, and brewing them takes several days.''
''I'll owl-order some tomorrow,'' Harry yawned. ''Hey, do you know why Umbridge could hurt me? Not with the quills, I mean when she messed up my hand and left this scar?''
''Even an intentionally incorrectly performed Healing spell is still meant for healing at its core. Such a thing could never count as an attack on you.''
''Shame, I would have liked to have hurt her in some way as repayment.'' The Horcrux took Harry's fingers and pulled his hand over to inspect the line on it, ghostly fingers tracing the scar, making Harry squirm a bit. ''Can this be undone?'' he hesitantly asked after a few seconds, feeling his face grow a bit hot when the Horcrux continued stroking his hand. It looked up, eyes having a distinct red sheen. That it was wearing long, hooded robes didn't help in separating the Horcrux from the real Voldemort at this moment, and Harry couldn't help but lean into the touch a bit.
''There are several stages of difficulty in healing. The easiest are injuries caused by physical force. Then, those caused by light magic, followed by those caused by dark magic. And only after that come additional injuries or scars that appeared after improper healing. That you healed your own leg was impressive, but you are nowhere near the level of being able to mend this. Admittedly, even I cannot with the amount of power I currently have at my disposal. There is a specialised team at St Mungo's for correcting mistakes made in the hospital, because even most trained staff aren't apt enough to directly fix a scar like this. I highly doubt that the school nurse can.''
''I don't know, once a teacher wanted to heal my broken arm and instead vanished all the bones in my body. Madame Pomfrey was able to heal that too.''
''I assume she did so with a potion, prepared by someone else. Scarring tissue and a lack of bones are entirely different branches of healing, Harry.''
He retracted his hand and let his head fall down on the pillow. ''Great, so you're saying that I might have another permanent scar now?''
''Let's hope it stays at that.''
''What do you mean?'' Harry asked, but the Horcrux had already retreated back into the locket.
XxX
Voldemort removed his blood-stained cloak, draping it over the nearest chair, watching as drops of blood dripped on the shiny wooden floor of Lucius' study. Surely, a House-elf would clean it up soon, the last piece of evidence of Voldemort's kill disappearing in an elf's cleaning rag. Today had been rather exciting, the sixth ring of slave traders having been found and eliminated. It hadn't been necessary to leave any witnesses other than the people they'd saved this time, people who were being assigned quarters at this very moment by those who came before them.
''How many more…?'' Séraphine Delacour muttered, sipping from a glass of wine and staring into the fireplace. She had insisted on aiding in every single raid, which he didn't mind as she was a brilliant fighter.
''According to my sources, two planned auctions will still take place, organised by the same group. Most are dead already, so we will see if they actually have the guts to pull through. If not, we'll have to free their captives one by one and slander their names publicly instead.''
She gave him a sad smile. ''I meant how many more victims I will have to see walk through these doors, battered and bruised. There are… so many more than I had imagined even. No matter which magical species you look at, our numbers have dwindled over the years, so to see how many of those remaining were captured…'' she made a rather broken noise, and he imagined she thought of the time that she herself had been held in a cage. The Dark Lord hadn't asked for her full story, it hadn't been important for his articles. He didn't plan on asking either, feigned compassion would bring them nowhere, and he had nothing real to give. ''We achieved much in a single month. I'd thought it'd take much longer.'' She mustered him. ''I thank you.''
He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment of her gratitude. ''When the time comes…'' he hinted, raising an eyebrow.
''You will have our full support, Lord Voldemort.''
''Good. I will return home now. When Lucius arrives, hand him this letter.'' He gave her a scroll of parchment. As it wasn't bound or sealed, she unrolled it and took a peek at its contents as he marched out.
What a month… In between creating plans, meeting with his followers, raiding, and his job at the Daily Prophet and Nouvelles du Monde Magique, time had slipped by far faster than he could have imagined. Tomorrow, October would start, and the amount of work wouldn't diminish. He didn't mind, preferring to be busy with important affairs rather than sitting around. It was only a shame that it meant he could invest less time into research or honing his own skills. Thankfully, he got enough practise on the battlefield to not lose his touch.
''Any news, Bartemius?'' he asked as he arrived at Riddle house. Voldemort had considered renaming it, but hardly anyone visited here or knew the name of the place, so he hadn't bothered. It was what it was, a reminder of a past he'd triumphed. At one point, when he had enough resources and time on his hands, they could relocate ad leave this all behind. Right before summer, he'd thought about doing exactly that, but something had stopped him from going through with it.
His follower sat at the dining table and stared at moving maps. As important a move as the current raids were, he had to think ahead, and assigned Barty several tasks that would make for a smooth transition from one scandal to the next. Barty answered: ''The third hospital has been infiltrated, my Lord. I received word an hour ago that Hopps was hired in the medical research facility in Bonn. All is going according to plan. Was the raid eventful?''
''Quite, but we are getting troubles with space at Malfoy manor. Many of those we saved at the start of the month were able to move out already, but not at a high enough speed. We need more Healers there. Two Merpeople injured each other heavily the other day as the pond is getting cramped. Water isn't nearly as easy to expand magically as air is. I am having Yaxley look into alternative locations, we can only hide such a large group of creatures for a limited time. By Samhain, they'll have to all be gone, we can't arouse suspicion by prohibiting the Malfoys from throwing any of their celebratory balls. Lucius told me that he solidifies his hold over Fudge there each time, that man can't get enough of fancy parties.''
''I think we'll all be glad when this part is over,'' Barty groaned. ''Good publicity is one thing, actually having to take care of people…?''
Voldemort hummed in agreement. ''My thoughts exactly. Although we might have this problem again once we make the knowledge about mistreated Muggleborns public.''
''Maybe by that time, the Ministry will try to save its own reputation by taking care of that?'' Barty hopefully asked.
''I cannot let them do so. Now, I have to be at the office in an hour. Do you have anything else to discuss still?''
Barty leaned back, a worried frown on his face that the Dark Lord knew all too well. ''I haven't heard anything from Evan anymore, not since that first short conversation when he arrived at Hogwarts. From Snape's brief reports, Evan got himself in trouble with the new Defence teacher instantly. This.. Umbridge.''
''Yes, we had to publish the decree that gave her the position in the first place, and the one about the creation of the High Inquisitor position,'' Voldemort spoke. ''The Ministry is certainly very adamant about controlling the teachers. According to Lucius, Fudge thinks Dumbledore is using the current chaos to build his own army. And if I'm correct, this woman is using Fudge's fear to make Hogwarts her own personal playground.'' He took a chair and sat down opposite Barty, staring at the moving lines on the table's surface. He hadn't paid Hogwarts too much attention. The castle was far from his grasp right now, and he didn't have any specific interest there now. Dumbledore was still a threat, of course, but he had Snape there, and Harry. If anything would happen to compromise his goals, either of them would surely reach out. What had started to worry him, was the fact that there hadn't been any shared dreams, even on the rare occasions he did sleep at night. The more time passed, the less he could chalk it up to coincidence.
''Contact him with your mirror. It's right after dinner, he should be able to find a way to answer.''
''My Lord, I thought you said-''
''And I say differently now,'' he hissed. ''I wish to speak to him.'' Voldemort drummed his fingers on the table impatiently as Barty hurried to get the mirror from upstairs.
It had been a long time indeed since he'd spoken to Harry… their last real conversation had been hurried, and after, there had only been a single dream. Admittedly, even through all of these busy days, he'd felt as if something had been missing. Having Barty around was acceptable, but the rash and snarky comments from the young Gryffindor had been something he'd welcomed in the end. Finally, someone had been able to talk to him freely while clearly not giving a damn about being of the same opinion or not. Even Barty was guilty of trying hard to agree to Voldemort's ideas to suck up at times… And it hadn't only been that. Harry had worn his heart on his sleeve, a mess of interesting feelings for Voldemort to untangle and study. At times, Harry had been able to help him overcome negative emotions. At others, he'd been the one to calm the teen down. The link that connected them enabled an almost symbiotic existence that just wasn't complete in this moment.
''Here it is, my Lord,'' said man spoke, a bit breathless, when returning to the dining room with the mirror in hand. ''I just activated it, so if Evan is available, he should answer soon. Just in case, should I…?''
''Yes, ensure there are no other people around on his end before I speak to him.''
The surface rippled and Voldemort sat up straighter, eyes trained on the mirror. From this angle, he could only see that a shape appeared.
''Evan? Can you hear me?''
''Yes, clearly,'' came the reply, a tad metallic as was usual when speaking through this method of communication. ''Is something wrong? Why did you contact me?'' Voldemort narrowed his eyes slightly as he listened to the tone. It sounded strange, and not due to the mirror. Hurried, a hint of impatience even.
''Is anyone else there, or are you alone?''
''Alone for now. So?''
''We're just calling to check in. You didn't reach out at all, kiddo. I've heard what happened at Hogwarts, with Umbridge. I-'' Barty broke off as Voldemort held out a hand. Reluctantly, his follower handed the object over. Harry's eyes were just as bright as he recalled them, and widened slightly as he recognised whom he was speaking to now.
''My Lord.''
It was a greeting like any Death Eater would have given him. A standard, respectful tone that he expected from all of his followers. Like he also, in theory, expected from Harry. The problem was that the boy had never freely called him that unless he was in a pinch or needed to get on the Dark Lord's good side. Voldemort couldn't think of any reason why that would be the case now.
''You have been rather hard to reach through our… regular method of communication,'' he spoke carefully.
''I haven't been able to sleep well.''
''In two months? I find that rather hard to believe. Have you been avoiding me?'' His tone was steely now. Something wasn't right here…
''I apologise… that was not my intention. There wasn't anything of note to report. Still isn't, I'm trying to focus on class.''
Absolutely not right, Voldemort deduced. Where was the enthusiasm? The frankness? Harry was tense, answering in clipped tones without giving any real information. An impostor? Unlikely, he had known about the dreams they used to speak. Was someone listening in after all? Also improbable, he would have heard shocked gasps the moment he'd appeared.
''Do you remember Noctua? I introduced you a while ago. Last year, wasn't it?'' he spoke with a straight face. Opposite him, Barty looked up with a puzzled expression.
Harry was silent for a few seconds. Then: ''Not sure when exactly that was, but I do, what about him?''
Voldemort let out a low hiss under his breath. He considered actually speaking Parseltongue to see what would happen, but found it to be unnecessary. Also, that would alert this person that he was onto them. ''He'll contact you soon to get our plans going. Be prepared for it on your end.'' Without another word, he broke off the connection.
''That wasn't Evan?'' Barty asked, standing up abruptly.
''Most definitely not. Give me your arm, I need to call Severus.''
Hehehe, aaand he found out. Was only a matter of time of course.
Sorry that there still isn't any Animagus training! I wanted to put it in so badly, but all the conversations went on for so long!
Please Read and Review!
xx GeMerope