Chapter 80 – First steps to freedom
A brief hope and happiness filled almost every occupant of Hogwarts when witnessing their first true victory in a long time: the dispelling of Umbridge's terrifying servants. Even Harry let go of all scepticism regarding Dumbledore for the moment as he joined his housemates, peering through the windows of the common room in awe to see massive silver Phoenixes fly out into the night. It was a weight off their shoulder to know that the High Inquisitor had lost the allies she'd worked so hard to gain. What was sure to be months of careful scheming now unravelled by Dumbledore's care for his students. Only Filch was left as Umbridge's ally inside the castle and he wasn't exactly the greatest asset, to say the least. How furious she must be… If only he could see her face.
However, some people seemed to grossly overestimate Dumbledore's power. From out of nowhere, butterbeer was being passed around, students were cheering and spouting all kinds of nonsense. Dennis Creevy was one of the loudest, excitedly shouting: ''We've won! She's been defeated!'' while waving a Gryffindor banner in the air as if they'd been victorious in their latest Quidditch game (which Harry for a fact knew was not going to happen, judging by Ron's moods whenever the sport was mentioned even briefly)
Harry didn't have the heart to correct the kid, nor did he wish to stand out when only about a fourth of the Gryffindors here belonged to the D. A. and he had no clue whether the rest still thought he was trouble. The interview he'd given, partially to piss Umbridge off, had improved his status, but that didn't mean everyone accepted whatever he said. Or even acknowledged his presence.
A hand landed on Harry's shoulder, and he turned to meet the concerned gaze of Hermione. ''Umbridge will be Head of Hogwarts now,'' she whispered. ''This can't be anything but Professor Dumbledore's last gift to us. Parvati just told me that a bit earlier, the Minister of Magic arrived, together with a couple of what looked like Aurors. She saw from the North tower while visiting Trelawney.''
''I'm sure there'll be a new Decree in the morning,'' he mumbled in agreement. ''We can be glad that Dumbledore was apparently careful enough that she didn't manage to prevent it from happening.'' But it hadn't prevented her from using it to her advantage if the Ministry had arrived before Dumbledore had released his spell… It further confirmed their theories regarding time manipulation.
Hermione slipped to the front and put on her best Prefect performance yet, whipping everyone into silence before the party had any real chance to take off. Fred and George gave her the stink-eye, putting away the fireworks again that they were just about to light. ''We don't know what happened!'' she hissed at them while the rest scattered. ''Don't pull attention to us now that Professor Dumbledore possibly can't protect us anymore.''
''He just chased away the Dementors! If anyone can protect us, it's him!'' Fred protested.
Harry did step in now, approaching the pair. ''We're on our own now. Dumbledore has told me personally before that he wasn't sure how long it would take before he would be forced to leave Hogwarts. With this display, I'm sure he's gone by now.'' Their looks of absolute shock were hard to face.
''We need another meeting then!'' George insisted, already frantically looking around for their other members. ''If the Dementors are all gone, it shouldn't be difficult to sneak into the Room again. Umbridge surely has different problems on her mind, too! We need to make the most of the situation. You said yourself, time to strike before it's too late!''
Harry quickly shook his head. ''We had a meeting yesterday. There's no new, confirmed information that could help us right now. I don't want to cause panic by throwing around speculations, okay? Besides, Umbridge might actually be on the look-out for odd behaviour now to 'catch' any Dumbledore supporters. If we want to properly organise in a matter that is helpful to anyone, we'll have to wait till things have calmed down again''
''No!'' They both protested simultaneously. ''This is it, don't you see?'' Fred feverishly spoke, eyes shining in a foreboding way. ''The moment we've all been waiting for.''
''She's vulnerable,'' George nodded along. ''At last, she has no-one to back her up.''
''There are Aurors in the castle again right now!'' Hermione whispered fervently, wringing her hands.
''And is 'Mischief' a crime they can arrest us for?'' George guffawed, amused at the very thought. ''No, it's not. Not yet. But it very well can become so if she gets absolute, full control over the castle. If you guys are right and Dumbledore is gone, we all know who'll be replacing him tomorrow. Tonight is the moment we can let loose, teach her a lessons she won't ever forget!'' The more he spoke, the more his brother nodded along. Unfortunately, the talk had gotten heated and caught attention from the Gryffindors who hadn't left the common room yet.
''Crime or not, she already has the rights to decide over your punishment!'' Hermione exclaimed, not bothering to be silent anymore either. ''You can get expelled!''
The Twins traded looks. ''Oh no Freddie, the big bad pink frog might throw us out of the castle! Whatever shall we do with our lives if we don't take the Nasty Exhausting Wizarding Tests? I was looking so much forward to taking those!''
''You're right! Didn't you hear how Nasty and Exhausting they apparently are? Such fun! Sounds like we wouldn't want to miss that!'' Both stared down at their Prefect with comical expressions. Hermione looked around for support from Dean, but the other Prefect in their year was nodding along to their words. No help from that front. No other Prefects stepped in either.
''Mum will kill you,'' Ginny butted in. She was curled up on one of the sofas near them, looking at them upside-down, hair brushing the floor. ''She already blew up when you only got a handful of O.W.L.s. Together.'' Her statement caused a few snickers all around. The Twins didn't seem to care much.
The two approached their sister, one sitting down at her feet and the other leaning over her face, hands on his hips. ''I'll tell you why we only got a few O.W.L.s, youngest spawn,'' Fred chuckled. ''There's nothing ordinary about us. Sooooo, we had no use for such an award, capiche?''
Ginny smiled up at her brother and smacked him lightly on the head. ''She's still going to kill you.''
''If we'd turn up on her doorstep, maybe,'' the other shrugged. ''Which we won't. Right, dear brother?''
''Right. Shall we then?''
''Hold up!'' Harry cut in. As amusing as the conversation had been to watch, he wasn't planning on letting two members of the D.A. just run away while the rest of them were stuck. ''Two people can make a huge difference,'' he protested, trying to be vague enough not to cause too much curiosity in their onlookers. ''And what happened with you taking up the role of planners? If we wish to have any chance, we can't be divided!''
George shrugged. ''Sorry, oh glorious hero, you'll have to find someone else who'll give her the time of day. I heard ickle Ronnikins is decent at strategy. Since we miraculously share some genes, he must be worth something.'' While saying that, he shot finger wands at Ron, whose face had reddened in embarrassment.
''Hey, I'll have you know that-''
''Accio brooms!'' The twins shouted simultaneously. Their Cleansweep fives shot down the stairs a second later, people diving out of the way to not get knocked over. Before anyone could stop them, they were up in the air and letting it rain handfuls of candies which Harry knew better than to touch. ''Please inform yourselves on the workings of our conniving skiving Snackboxes with our testers!'' Fred hooted through a conjured paper microphone. ''Skip Defence class and flood the hospital wing to ensure our dear school nurse can't lose her job – then instantly make yourself healthy again to spare her the work!''
Due to the commotion, many students who'd already gone to the dorms before came back down, some already dressed in pyjamas. The attention only added to the Weasleys' boisterous mood. ''You can find us at our new palace at 33 Knockturn Alley!'' George announced.
''Knockturn?'' Hermione shouted in worry.
As George whooshed past, dropping some more obscure products on the carpet, he gave her a grin. ''We'd have taken Diagon but, y'know, bit out of the price range,'' he spoke, braking so he hovered in the air, just out of reach. ''I'm sure all the regulars there will come knocking to try our products,'' he laughed.
''Weasley Wizard Wheezes!'' Fred continued his pitch. ''Wildfire Whiz-bangs that'll set your jaws on fire from laughing, portable quicksand to trap friends and foes alike. Boxing telescopes, fanged frisbees, the all-time favourite trick wands that can turn into anything. Order flyers will be accepted in any shape and form that you can disguise them as! Be like us, get creative!'' At those words, another shower followed, this time of flyers that flashed in all colours of the rainbow.
With those last words, they forced the portrait hole open with an Alohomora and raced out under the vocal cursing of the Fat Lady. Naturally, the majority of the Gryffindor house followed them, excitedly shouting. Harry was among them, though he kept silent as he worried what this would mean for their rebellion. It didn't take long at all for Peeves to notice the commotion, who then made enough ruckus that both a bunch of Ravenclaws and a panting Filch ended up running up and down the halls of the seventh floor until at long last, Umbridge herself showed up – and promptly got stuck on a moving staircase that had been turned into quicksand. As she raged about expelling them all, Fred and George pulled off their most impressive show yet: With loud bangs that were certainly audible till the very dungeons, they set off two of their firework kits. Harry had to give it to them: their flashy exit was the best advertisement they could have imagined and would be the talk of the castle for years to come. Sirius would be proud of the two who'd followed in the Marauder's footsteps.
But as Harry focused on Umbridge, who'd fallen silent now and stared furiously at all the celebrating students around her, he knew there'd be hell to pay.
Utter blackness was what greeted Harry upon opening his eyes. For a second, it made him uncertain whether he truly had succeeded in the attempt to. Blinking furiously, the teen tried to make out something, anything. Had he gone blind? Trying to sit up was met with more success, for as he felt around, his hands met wet stone. As the sense of touch rushed in, he became aware also of the sloshing of water in the distance, muffled.
''Voldemort?'' he called out, in hopes that this wasn't a simple nightmare, that this wasn't his own dream.
''I am here,'' came the answer in a familiar voice that had Harry exhale a relieved breath. Not five feet away, a pinprick of light came into creation, growing until it was the size of a candle flame. It illuminated the pale face of Harry's partner. Unable to resist, his eyes lingered on the perfect cheekbones and slender neck even as the Gryffindor gravitated closer until landing in accepting arms. He sighed in content, then looked over a bony shoulder in an attempt to make out where they were.
''Did you bring us to a dungeon?'' he asked in confusion, taking in the black stone walls all around.
''I can torture people perfectly well in my living room, I have no need for dungeons,'' the other answered seriously. ''And having one to use by the both of us… well, it's a bit too early in our relationship,'' he continued, amusement creeping into his tone.
''I didn't mean it had to be your dungeon,'' Harry protested, cheeks flaming as he pulled back from the embrace-
''Not ours either?'' the man teased with a flash of a smirk. Harry merely glared, reminded of teasing nails that traced his stomach. ''Very well,'' the Dark Lord spoke, smile disappearing as he stood, the light floating up higher, giving a better view. ''We are in a memory of mine of a moment of triumph. Or so I thought for a long time.''
''A memory…'' Harry mused, looking around some more. The cave was more spacious than he'd initially gauged: they stood at the shore of a lake, in the middle of which he could see a tiny island with a couple of stone pillars. A rattling sounded, Voldemort having grasped a chain, pulling it slowly from the water to reveal a boat. Regally, his partner sat down at the helm of it, peering into the beyond.
''This is the enchanted cave where you hid the Locket,'' Harry concluded as he stepped in the boat too, wrapping arms around his knees as he curled up in the small space. Cold water sloshed unpleasantly at the bottom.
''Where Regulus stole it from, indeed.'' With the softest tremor, the boat started moving, barely disturbing the gleaming surface as they slid across the dark mirror.
There was something highly alarming about meeting in the same place that had been the death of his partner's ex. Regulus had never made it out alive, was his corpse here somewhere? Hiding in the corners? At first, Harry thought his vivid imagination was acting up when seeing eyes in the deep as he peeked over the edge into the lake, eyes that came ever closer. When a bleak, swollen hand emerged, he held his breath, staring.
''Don't mind the Inferi, my dear,'' the other said, watching Harry's reaction like a hawk. ''They would not dare disturb their master, not in waking life and certainly not in my own mind.'' The words pulled the teen back to reality: that no matter how realistic all of this looked, they were dreaming. Whatever happened here, he'd wake up safe and sound in the Gryffindor dorms.
Voldemort leaned back and reached down the edge of the boat with one hand, fingertips disturbing the surface. More bodies emerged, and Harry grimaced when sharp nails touched one of the slimy creatures, caressing it like one would a beloved pet. Perhaps that wasn't so strange – these were his victims. In a twisted way, proof of the power he bore, which Voldemort cherished above all. While Harry had slowly learned to embrace and appreciate the Art, their view on and use of it was staggeringly dissimilar. These people had died solely to become tools of their resurrector, whereas Harry attempted to use Necromancy in order to bring back those who'd already died through other means. Would he ever kill, simply to have a corpse bound to his will? He didn't believe he'd ever wish to do so.
''Is there a specific reason for this memory out of all the cheerful places you have visited in life?'' he asked to distract himself from those grisly thoughts.
''Multiple,'' he answered after a while, right before the boat reached its destination – after a much longer time than it should have taken to cross the water. Relieved to get away from the dead, Harry clambered onto land – the same type of slippery rock as the previous shoreline. The Dark Lord followed closely, wrapping the same arm that had just stroked his corpses around Harry's waist from behind. Slightly unwilling, Harry stilled.
''Did you wish to prove me wrong when I said I'd fear you no longer?'' he asked.
Voldemort chuckled and leaned down to brush Harry's temple with his mouth. It felt odd, with the man's preferred appearance. In dreams, he looked even less human, the thin lips he usually had were non-existent here. ''That depends on whether it's working.''
Turning his head to the right, Harry pushed his own lips against Voldemort's mouth. ''It's not,'' he whispered. ''Though you're definitely making me question your sense of comfort. This is like… the fourth unsettling place you've brought me to in dreams. I much prefer your house. Or Hogwarts.''
''The Chamber of Secrets is in Hogwarts. As I recall, you liked that one least.''
Now Voldemort was just being petty. To show how very much not afraid he was, Harry placed his hand on the cold chest and pushed away, a flash of anger crossing the serpentine face.
''Why are we here, then?''
The man moved towards one of the pillars, bringing the light closer. Seeing something gleam, Harry followed, noticing that the top of the stone had been hollowed out into a basin, which was filled to the brim with an unfamiliar liquid. In the bottom, a metallic shimmer. ''Two hours ago, Albus Dumbledore left Hogwarts. Fudge instantly went to the press, raving like a lunatic with conspiracy theories he wished to have published. My employees contacted me immediately to handle it.''
''I am here to give you a story?'' Harry asked incredulously. ''To give an unbiased account?''
''Of course not merely that, the staff is sure to be in enough distress that I could have called Severus to me for a moment to hear what happened. While I am interested in your version of the events, I far more wish to discuss the consequences for us both. He didn't leave to take a long holiday to sunbathe on Malaysian beach, surely. Dumbledore always needs to meddle in something, and as he has no more credibility in British politics since he was dismissed from the Wizengamot, I suspect he's going on the offensive.''
''Did you not claim to not see the Order as anything more than an annoyance?''
Voldemort grunted, brow furrowing. ''His band of misfits are no threat, no. Dumbledore himself is another story when not bound to playing the saviour in daylight. When able to put all energy into hunting me down, I must consider the option that he finds out my connection to the Hand of Magic, as well as becoming aware that I keep the Horcruxes close to me now. If he hasn't already. Dumbledore certainly spent a disturbing length of time this year trying to uncover the hiding spots. I know for a fact that he found where I had hidden the ring previously. Before I continue that line of thought, what is your view on the events of this evening?''
The uncertainty in his partner's words did not sit well with Harry at all. There were too many speculations. What if, what if… To get back on that topic fast, he quickly summarised: ''I was in the common room when all of a sudden, we heard commotion: the phoenix song combined with the horrid sound of screaming Dementors. Dumbledore cast the Patronus on such a massive scale that it drove every one of those creatures from the castle. Many students used it to celebrate a victory over Umbridge, with two members of my Defence group taking their leave from Hogwarts under a lot of fanfare. The celebration was short-lived. Minutes before the Headmaster drove out the Dementors, Fudge and a couple of Aurors had arrived, catching him red-handed, so to speak.''
''How convenient,'' Voldemort muttered, narrowing his eyes. ''It's already unusual for them to react in a swift manner, let alone be there beforehand.''
''We suspect it was Umbridge's doing. That's something else I wished to discuss with you.''
''After,'' Voldemort decided briskly, nails tapping on the edge of the basin. ''My priority is Dumbledore. So, the old man had to act quickly and likely left in a hurry then. Granted, Dolores Umbridge wasn't exactly subtle about her goals in taking possession of the school, so he must have been prepared. Is there a chance of getting into his office to determine what he's taken with him?''
''That would require me to first know which items he possesses,'' Harry frowned. ''Which I don't. Besides, after we'd all been forced to return to the common room, McGonagall was happy to inform us that it's sealed shut. Not even Umbridge can enter the office, which she's very pissed about. In conclusion, I doubt I can be of any help in that regard.''
Unhappy with the answer, Voldemort hissed and started to pace, hands folded behind his back as he stalked across the island. ''I need more information, a way to track him, to trap him-''
''Trap?'' Harry asked, uncertain.
Instantly, Voldemort stilled, inhuman eyes blazing as they snapped to Harry's face. ''Of course,'' he spoke with a velvety undertone. ''Dumbledore is the only person who is both aware of my method of immortality and actively tries to destroy it. By now, he's become too much of a nuisance to simply brush aside with the rest of his pawns. Do you not share my view, Evan?'' He stalked closer, the back of his cold fingers softly caressing Harry's cheek. ''This man wishes for your death, only to see me destroyed. Do you not wish to repay him in kind? Look around and see… the perfect opportunity.''
Slightly unwilling, he followed the request, gaze wandering to the edge of the water, beyond which the undead lurked. Watching, waiting, ready to devour any who dared cross their territory uninvited. ''He'll come searching for your Horcrux,'' Harry slowly said, the meaning behind Voldemort's words dawning on him. The reason why this place. ''As long as he still clings to the hope of finding your soul pieces hidden away, he'll exhaust the last leads he has. You will lure him here before he gives up on the idea that he'll find them scattered across Britain.''
''Almost. You will lure him here.''
Disbelieving, Harry took in Voldemort's triumphant expression. He didn't share it, feeling hollow instead. ''What?''
''Think about it, my dear!'' the man spoke feverously, grasping both, now immobile hands. ''Those lessons he gave you, the tales he told of my past. He specifically showed memories that hinted towards one of my Horcruxes being locked away in this very cave. Why would he, if Dumbledore hadn't planned on bringing you along? For you need to be the last one left, the symbolic sacrifice walking to its death. This is just one more of his tests, don't you see? You expressed too much sympathy, darling, for him to simply trust that you'll do your job. First, he needs to ensure that you'll have the strength to kill even when it's not purely in self-defence. It's all in motion already, now you only need to ensure that his pitiful attempts will bring about his own downfall instead of ours. Play along, let him walk in here… and don't let him walk back out.''
Something in the teen's chest tightened. ''You're asking me to kill him.''
''All I ask is that you do not actively help him survive.''
Feeling out of his depth, Harry countered: ''Leaving someone to die while having the capability to aid them is the same as murder.''
''And what if it is?'' Voldemort snarled, finally snapping out of his patience. ''You already killed people, Evan,'' he whispered furiously. ''At eleven years old, Quirinius died by your hand. At twelve years old, a piece of my own soul was decimated as you purposefully stabbed it to death.''
Harry took a deep breath, trying very hard not to think of that moment, ink spilling out from underneath his fingers, welling up to colour Harry's soul the same shade. He wished to rip his hands out of Voldemort's, yet resisted the urge, deliberately holding on tighter instead. Clinging almost in desperation to feel. If only he could feel his partner's true emotions now... ''They – you - very nearly succeeded in murdering me in both those instances,'' he reminded the Dark Lord, looking up into unfeeling eyes. ''I killed them both under duress and in defence, not as part of a cleverly calculated plan. I understand your desire to protect us from Dumbledore, I do, and I will play my part in whatever is necessary for your survival. This? A scheme that relies on using his trust in me to make him walk to his death?''
''You're not entirely disagreeing…'' Voldemort spoke softly, surprised.
Shifting his weight from one to the other foot nervously, Harry attempted to sort out his feelings about this before giving a definitive answer. Dumbledore was… complicated. He'd looked up to the Headmaster when entering the Wizarding world, saw him as a guiding figure, before being filled with rage when finding out all the old man had hidden. Much of that anger had been talked into him by Voldemort and Barty though, who in the end hadn't held all the answers either and were full of bias. The simmering stings of betrayal Harry had felt – still felt – had dimmed somewhat over time, after having had more personal conversations with the headmaster that had made Harry realise that in his own way, Dumbledore was trying to protect as many people as he thought he could. His reasoning was all wrong, and he'd likely never listen to Voldemort's side of the story, but was Dumbledore's death crucial enough to be worth shredding his own soul over?
''Why ask if you thought I would attempt to stop you?'' he replied quietly in the end. ''Neither you nor Dumbledore would ever work with each other and as long as he continues to pursue this holy quest to put you six feet under, it's inevitable that the conclusion of this tale will be a 'him or us' situation. The Headmaster is the most likely person who'll get a great many people hurt by charging into a war at the slightest whiff of you. I don't find your wish to see him dead surprising in the least. That being said, I'd personally like to find a different solution than wiping him off the face of the earth and thus would prefer not to actively pursue that option myself.''
''Would you not kill to protect my life?'' the other pushed, quietly intense, icy fingers caged Harry's own almost too tightly.
Harry refused to be talked into a corner, stilling as he let his reply roll in his mouth for a bit before saying: ''That is a false dilemma. You present this as if the only options are killing him off or dying ourselves, whereas there are many other viable alternatives.''
Voldemort sneered ever so slightly as his attempt to manipulate Harry's line of thoughts had been caught. Then, he looked away and untangled their hands, leaning over the basin instead, contemplatively staring at the emerald liquid it held. The colour reflected on pallid skin, making it glow a strange shade. Harry was just about to ask what it was when the other spoke: ''Perhaps I was hasty in my… enthusiasm over having found a way to remove part of my problems swiftly. I have taken people out of the game before in different ways. Ruining their reputation. Imprisonment. Duels to the death…'' he sighed and rubbed his forehead. ''Apart from which, I did make a promise to you as well, not to ask that of you which I know you aren't ready for. I'll rethink this… under one condition: tell me what you will do instead when he takes you here. For either scenario would involve you having to lie, wouldn't it? Acting surprised to find a fake locket here, pretending you have never seen this place… Not to mention that I doubt the Inferi would be hostile towards you.''
Not knowing whether to focus on being impressed by Voldemort's sudden turnaround or the fact that apparently, now Inferi wouldn't harm him either – was this like the Dementors or because he carried a piece of their creator's soul? – Harry instead opted for promoting the train of thought they were going on now by answering the question, even though he believed it to be a moot point. After all, Dumbledore had just left Hogwarts and couldn't return as long as he was on the Ministry's hit list. Which would likely last even after Umbridge had been dealt with as Fudge would prefer to keep his stubborn head buried in sand. Thus, there wasn't really any opportunity to drag Harry away to the countryside in search of deadly artefacts. If Dumbledore truly sought the Locket before abandoning his belief in being able to find any of the Horcruxes, he'd have to come alone. It wasn't as if the old man was going to turn up at the doorstep of Malfoy Manor at the start of summer expecting to be welcomed in either, right?
''I'd probably refuse to go in the first place to avoid all of that if he were to ask,'' the teen replied. ''And if that is somehow not an option, I can play on nerves and clamp up, not saying a word while there and seeing how everything goes. I do best on improvisation.''
''Improvisation?'' his partner asked, throwing him a disbelieving look. ''You'd leave the fate of our enemy to the whims of luck and fate?''
Defensively, Harry answered: ''Both got me through pretty much every deadly threat, I'll have you know. You should be glad for it, improvisation is what landed me in your house.''
''You are impossible.'' The words held no venom anymore, the Dark Lord looked worried instead, much older than Harry usually thought him to be. He reached out, intent on smoothing the crow's feet out when-
''Harry!'' He attempted to shoot upwards, disorientated and panicking as a hand clamped down over his mouth. The smell of sweat stung in his nose. ''Ouch! Merlin!'' the one who'd tried to hold him down muttered under their breath, as Harry's teeth had quickly bitten into the hand that had covered his mouth. It was only then, that he recognised the voice as Ron's.
''What are you doing?'' he hissed softly, now fully awake.
''Shh, you'll wake- damn it,'' his friend groaned as Neville sleepily asked what was wrong and Dean growled for them to go back to sleep. Harry grabbed his glasses and wand from the nightstand, giving Ron a questioning, slightly irritated look. His dream being interrupted meant he had had no opportunity to speak about Umbridge nor to ask for advice on time magic yet. Who knew when Voldemort had time again to share a dream. Sometimes weeks would go by without one if his partner was awake at night, busy with his million plans.
''Can you grab the cloak?'' Ron whispered nervously once their dormmates were silent again. Wondering what was going on, Harry fished it out of the trunk and covered them both so they could sneak out, Ron in front to lead the way. Not too surprisingly, they stopped in front of the Room of Requirement.
''What is going on?'' he finally asked when they were inside, seeing the room they had used so far for Animagus training. They both sat down comfortably, an Harry waited for Ron to start.
''My brothers aren't right too often, but they were right about one thing yesterday. Umbridge has been thrown off her game, at least for a little bit. If we can sneak out anytime, tonight is perfect. I wanted to… I don't know how to explain it,'' Ron grimaced. ''During the holidays, I've been itching to change again, does that make sense?'' Blue eyes gave Harry a pleading look. ''To let loose a bit in a form where I can cast all human worries off for a bit. When I transform, I just feel so… so powerful,'' he sighed longingly. ''But I didn't dare do it alone in case I'd get stuck or something. I was lying awake before and couldn't stop thinking-''
''It's okay,'' Harry cut him off. ''I understand, really.'' It wouldn't be the first time he had experienced how overwhelming magic could be, how addicting it was to simply be. Ron's words about the Animagus form brought forth a whole slew of euphoric memories of his own recent flight. ''I also managed it at last, during the holidays,'' he explained. ''Didn't have the opportunity to tell you about it yet since there were always others around.''
Ron's eyes widened. ''You did? Mate, that's… that's awesome! How'd you do it? What did you turn into? Did anyone see?''
Grinning tiredly, Harry cast all previous frustration aside and gave a slightly censored version of the happenings: ''I was flying and wondered how it would be to fly without aid, when I recalled that I should be able to since we already figured out that my Animagus form was an animal with wings. It was storming in the distance and there was an adult wizard nearby so I figured… What's the harm in trying? I couldn't be traced at that moment, not with a nonverbal spell. It worked, I fell down and then I was just… so free,'' he reminisced, a smile creeping on his face. Okay, so maybe it would have ended horribly without Voldemort there to free Harry from the robes that had suffocated him during the initial fall, but apart from that detail, it had been amazing.
''Please don't tell me that one of your new guardians saw, that would be a bummer for using it to sneak out! Not to mention that I can imagine the Malfoys to be so chummy with the Ministry that they'd want you to register…''
Harry laughed. ''I somehow doubt that,'' he reassured, thinking of all the aneurysms he'd already given Lucius regarding magic that he shouldn't even legally be allowed to perform. Fat chance that the Malfoys would pressure him to dutifully register this. ''No, it was.. erhm…'' he swallowed nervously, heart suddenly beating fast. He had wanted to share the news with his friends, badly even, but now the opportunity was there, it was terrifying to admit. ''Itwasmypartner,'' he stammered, heart now also beating in his head, somehow.
''Sorry?'' Ron asked, sounding confused. Harry was already preparing to jump on the defensive, when his friend elaborated: ''You really mumbled there, man. Harry? You alright?''
''My partner,'' he thus clarified after taking a few breaths, attempting to speak more clearly over his butterflies. It was painfully awkward. ''Boyfriend, I guess. We uhh, I errr… We're in a relationship. Me and the – the guy I had a crush on. Have! Still have a crush on. Only it's officially reciprocated now.'' Merlin, why was this so difficult? And why did it feel like the House-elves had turned this room into a sauna?
''Oh,'' Ron just commented, blinking a few times. It appeared that awkwardness was contagious, for the heat in Harry's face was now visible in the red flecks on Ron's neck. ''Right then. Congrats.'' They stared at each other for a few seconds, during which it dawned on perhaps both of them that Hermione was absolutely right about Ron's emotional range, at least when it came to understanding relationships. ''Soooo, how was flying with wings?''
Feeling relieved now the hurdle was over with – and wasn't it actually great that Ron wanted zero further information? Harry could only imagine his other best friend chewing his head off for details – he launched into a vivid description of the experience. The force of the wind, the strain of his muscles when gaining height and the ease that gliding gave. ''- It was all too new to truly explore all the possibilities,'' Harry rattled energetically. ''Now that I think of it, there's so many moves I could try that aren't an option when restricted to a broom. Screwdrivers, bomb dives in the air!''
''I don't know what a screwdriver is, but it sounds awesome! Come on, now you just have to show me!'' his friend begged.
Harry needed no further encouragement, glad he was sitting down just in case as he wasn't yet sure how to move or start flying. It wouldn't be a very pleasant experience if he ended up just hitting his head on the ground. Knowing he'd lose all clothing anyways until having a better grip on the spell, he took off as much as he was comfortable with for now. Next came focusing on that memory, that feeling. The heavy beats of leathery Thestral wings, whistling of the wind all around… Harry whispered the spell like a prayer. It wasn't far off, he could get used to seeing invocations that way: prayers to Magic to be granted. The idea was an epiphany that instantly wormed its way into his brain even as that brain was changing form alongside the rest. He was no longer just Harry, nor Evan, nor human. The only part that remained was a compressed magical core that was tangible even in a form in which he could no longer access it at will.
The light around became stronger, sharper as wide eyes blinked into it. It was not as unpleasant as expected, though he'd certainly preferred the cooling night. Awkwardly, he crawled across the dusty floor, trembling wings flapping uselessly as he failed to lift off. There was an itching desire to climb, an instinct to get to safety. He squeaked when something lifted him up in the air, a freckled face coming into view. Ron, he remembered with only slight difficulty, grateful that he'd been picked up, now hanging upside down in a far more comfortable position than the vulnerable way he'd lain stretched across the floor. Spreading both wings, he took off, making a dangerous dive to the ground again before gaining height, delighting in the domed ceiling in which he could fly endless circles. Ron shouted something in encouragement about screwdrivers.
Why not? Gauging the distance with newfound senses, he pulled the wings tightly and spun downwards freely in the air for a second before catching himself, drifting the rest of the way back to Ron's outstretched arm. Once again, the feeling that he'd like to remain this way was strong, yet it would be incredibly unfair, so Harry wiggled a bit in order to be put down again in order to change back.
''I'll have to do something about the take-offs and landings,'' Harry commented when being able to massage his own soft, light brown fingers again instead of the black claws they'd been before. ''Thanks for picking me up by the way. That helped a lot.''
''Any kid knows how to handle bats, right?'' Ron questioned, while Harry walked over to where his briefs lay and put them back on, attempting to be as casual about it as possible. ''You're a bit larger than the ones I've played with before in the Magical Menagerie as a child, but it wasn't much more difficult since I'm a lot taller now too.'' Harry filed that information away as 'cool stuff magical kids are supposed to get to do' in the unlikely case he would ever have any.
''I can't seem to jump or fly up straight from the ground though. And transforming back into a human while hanging upside down isn't ideal either,'' he mused.
''You might have to check what the minimum height is that you need,'' Ron shrugged. ''Most bat species can't fly up like that. Only vampire bats and burrowing bats can, I think. Don't take my word on that. Maybe climb a tree or jump from windows at first. Hey, wouldn't it be epic if you could just-'' he made a forward motion as if diving ''Jump and transform midway?''
''I think I'll leave that experiment for now,'' Harry laughed. ''At the very least until I can transfigure clothing alongside the rest. Don't particularly feel like landing in the hospital wing more often than when I played Quidditch. Madam Pomfrey also surely wouldn't be pleased. Hey, so you know a bit about bats then, right?''
Ron grinned in response. ''Always wanted to own one to annoy Fred and George with at night when mum wasn't watching. That's why I went to look at the bats whenever we were at Diagon, and I asked everything I could think of. Before my dream was devastatingly crushed of course, and I got saddled with a mangy rat that -surprise – turned out to be a dangerous criminal. Honestly, anything that passes Percy's hands becomes criminal anyways so it's not surprising Pettigrew was attached to my brother. Mum and dad should have just let Scabbers leave with Percy and given me a bat instead, would have been less of a mess. Maybe I could have trained it to combat Ginny's wicked Bat bogey hex.''
Not entirely sure how to reply to either of Ron's wishes - to have Wormtail live permanently with Percy and to use a pet as a way to get back at his siblings - Harry went for his initial question: ''Okayyy… so do you happen to know what type I could be?'' Voldemort's hint in giving Harry the Latin name hadn't exactly been helpful. He'd looked for Latin dictionaries in the library yesterday for a while, but unsurprisingly, dictionaries did not list the terms for every type of animal in existence and he hadn't had time to figure out where to look for more specific books. Asking Ron sounded like a lot less work.
''Well, there are two major types of bats: megabats, which are the plant-eating kind and microbats, which are usually insectivorous. You're definitely the former, a fruit bat. From the looks of it one of the genera that are usually referred to as flying foxes. Urgh, why do I sound so much like Hermione…'' Ron muttered, appearing to surprise himself with all the information he rattled off. ''I guess that something you're interested in as a kid never really leaves you. Anyways, typical for megabats is that they're vegetarian, don't use the echolocation that microbats are famous for, usually prefer warm climates and actually have super good eyesight that they can even use during the day!''
''True, I did wonder about that. I've heard of fruit bats before somewhere… I think there were some at the zoo I went to once, but they were hiding between the leaves, so I didn't get to see any.''
''A zoo… like a petting zoo?'' Ron asked, sounding puzzled. ''I went to one of those before when I attended elementary school, but there were only uninteresting animals like goats and rabbits.''
''No, a large zoo, with lots of animals that aren't native to Britain, but where you can't touch them. They're behind glass or bars, just to look at.''
''Sounds boring.''
''I didn't think so. At least there I could observe lions without them being up in my face,'' Harry joked. He did silently agree a bit with Ron, as most fun he'd had that day was when releasing one of said animals. Or it had been fun for a few moments until spotting his families' murderous expression and knowing that the rest of summer would be spent in his closet. Shaking the unpleasant thoughts about the Dursleys off and trying to suppress the shivers they caused, he exclaimed - a tad louder than strictly necessary: ''Speaking of which… your turn!''
''Finally!'' Ron exclaimed. ''I thought you'd never stop pestering me for answers, mate. Wait, you did it wandless, right?'' he asked after drawing the willow wand, a hint of envy seeping in. ''D'you think I…?''
Not one to discourage anyone, Harry attempted to explain as best he could the way he'd ditched the wand work. ''I knew it was possible, since Sirius said he transformed in Azkaban. It's an inherent part of the self as you're literally changing your own shape, thus I figured I only needed to concentrate on the same thing as when meditating: the flow of magic in me. Rather than channelling it away from me through a wand, I directed it inwards.''
''Genius! That way you skip a step!'' the other exclaimed. ''Possibly the only spell that's easier wandless then. Give me some space, Harry, I want to try it!''
Incredibly pleased, he watched as Ron applied the theory with ease and the mighty roar of a blue-eyed lion echoed off the walls not a minute later. To be fair, there'd never been a short-cut that Ron hadn't taken well to. If there was a more effective method to perform a spell, his friend would find a way to use it. As Ron jumped around on heavy paws, Harry got an itch to fly again. There was nothing in sight that he could hang down from, so he asked the room for a perch suited for large bats and instantly spotted a rough pillar-like shape with a perch on top of it just a few yards away. This really had become one of his favourite rooms in the entirety of Hogwarts, only tying with the Gryffindor Common room because of a heavy dose of nostalgia.
All sleep was forgotten as he tumbled and flew, playfully escaping Ron's mighty jaws. Slowly but surely, he settled better into the new skin, getting used to all the overwhelming senses to recall very human feelings, awareness of who he was – even if it felt like an abstract concept, or a distant relative. Finally, they simply lay exhausted on the floor, Ron once more with the few clothes in tatters that hadn't been removed beforehand. ''I did actually make good on my promise,'' Harry remembered. ''Bought you a couple of spare robes and whatnot. I didn't think you'd mind me making the Malfoys less rich than they are in favour of you,'' he added before Ron could protest, leaving out the fact that the only reason why he'd used Lucius' and Narcissa's money was because they absolutely refused to let him pay for any necessities like clothing with his own gold. Maybe they would have let him when knowing it had really been for a Weasley, their personal archenemies, but Ron surely didn't want the Malfoys to know that Harry was buying spare underwear for an illegal transformation -technically illegal until registered- because he couldn't afford it himself.
''You're right, I don't at all feel bad from indirectly stealing from Malfoy,'' Ron snorted. ''Feels like it's the least they can do to make up for inflicting Draco's presence on this world. I mean, I know he's sort of your brother now, but you have to admit that he is still a right prick. You should hear the stuff he spouts when you're not around…''
''What did he do now?'' Harry groaned.
''The usual that he did before you got along with him, just behind your back. Flaunting his status as Prefect to dock points from unsuspecting students who are just minding their own business, loudly bragging about all the money he can use to influence what sounds like half of the Ministry's employees and just being a generally unpleasant person to be around.''
''I swear he can actually be mature,'' he sighed. ''There was this whole speech about responsibility during Easter break. Maybe he'll actually listen to his own words and apply it to Hogwarts too now?''
Hope dies last, after all.
''Yeah, right,'' came the unenthusiastic reply. Then, a groan. ''We should check what time it is, shouldn't we?''
Harry mumbled in agreement, though made no move to draw his wand, all muscles protesting. Sirius could have given a warning about the strain of unfamiliar muscles transferring over to the human body afterwards with a killer muscle ache. There'd been something about soothing tendon- and muscle pains in one of Pomfrey's books… if only he could recall the incantation.
When Ron at last did sit up and cast a tempus, both were very displeased and a little bit desperate when noticing it was almost 5am. ''I have Quidditch training in an hour… before breakfast! Oh no… I'm not going to survive this.''
''Look on the bright side, we have neither Potions, nor Defence, nor History of Magic today. Whole block of Charms before the first break. Flitwick won't mind if we're not all there.''
''McGonagall sure will, and we still have her before lunch too,'' Ron countered. ''Think it'll make any sense to go to bed again for that hour or…?''
''From experience with sleep issues, no. I'd rather pull through and go to bed earlier tomorrow evening.''
Ron hummed in agreement, then fell silent. Both of them were too tired to do much besides staring at the ceiling, dreading having to get up in an hour's time and get through a full day.
''Hey, Harry?''
''What?''
''What'd you think about 'Mione's spell work during the D. A. meeting?'' The hint couldn't have been more obvious, and Ron's anxious tone reinforced how much his friend must have been thinking about it.
Thinking back on the meeting, Harry got a warm, pleasant feel. ''It was… awesome. Not just the spell, more the fact that you guys were so considerate. I know that we talked before about dark magic and such, but I didn't think you'd actively search for any spells. It's appreciated, I merely didn't know how to properly express that before.''
Ron nodded at that, positively glowing at the answer. ''We weren't sure if it would be too much, or if we hit the mark with it,'' he admitted, scratching his head. ''I mean, we had some talks about this type of magic and all, even with 'Mione, but it's still a bit of a touchy subject that you're.. well.''
''That I'm what?''
Ron was suddenly very interested in a loose thread on his sleeve. Frowning, Harry sat up too. ''That I'm what?'' he repeated.
''A dark wizard,'' his friend murmured, smile gone now. ''It's strange,'' he continued before Harry had a chance to reply. ''I grew up with stories meant to scare me away from dark magic and evil dark mages. I doubt mum and dad would ever believe that you of all people turned out to be the one to get me into the stuff.''
''You make it sound like I'm some kind of drug dealer,'' he snorted.
''I… don't know what that means, what is drug?''
''Err, some bad Muggle stuff,'' Harry 'explained', not wanting to admit that he also only had a vague idea from pieces of news he'd picked up from the telly before coming to Hogwarts and Vernon's loud complaining about the 'good for nothing drug junkies lining the streets', whatever that meant. ''Doesn't matter. Do you really think I am a dark wizard?'' he asked, wondrous. ''I mean, I don't really know what boxes need to be ticked to qualify as such. I sure use a lot of light magic too, probably way more since I know more light spells.'' But hadn't Voldemort said that dark wizards usually used a combination of both? Even the Dark Lord himself wasn't above using simple cleaning or levitation charms. Many useful pieces of magic were light, even more complicated charms like apparition.
''Yeah, but you have no qualms about using dark magic,'' Ron answered, sounding uncertain now too. ''And you hang around a lot of people nowadays who are loud and proud about coming from dark families. I thought… I don't know. I kind of thought you'd identify as a dark wizard now. You always look a lot happier when talking about or teaching dark magic.''
''I suppose there's truth in that,'' the teen pondered, feeling a bit strange at that realisation. He'd started using dark magic both because it felt good and to make Voldemort happy, but the line had quickly blurred between when he cast it for others and when he cast it simply for himself. ''But as I told you before, and as you read in the book I lent you, dark magic is simply heavy, sacrificial magic. Nothing else.''
''I know,'' his friend was quick to say. ''I didn't mean that I see it as a bad thing, otherwise I'd never have suggested looking up more! It's just… strange that it feels like this massive secret that I wouldn't be able to tell my parents about, even if it's just… weather magic and helpful defensive spells. There's so much prejudice, which I admittedly also held before learning that you, your dad and Sirius used it. That showed me a different perspective. Hermione feels the same after learning that Krum uses dark magic casually too as a lot of it is considered just regular magic at Durmstrang. I still don't think he's a great influence on her, but there's surely something more to the whole topic than we learned for years when someone who hates extremists and pure-blood policies so much has no problem at all with blood magic and the like.''
Harry agreed, relieved to hear Ron's thoughts and, by second-hand account, Hermione's too. ''It does show that some views aren't necessarily connected. I noticed that here, a positive outlook on dark magic often comes with a whole slew of negative opinions on Muggles and light magic users, but it doesn't have to be that way. Magic is… simply magic, and while light and dark needs to be balanced, I think Krum is onto something better than what most can see. It's a shame that I didn't get to speak to him again. After the Tournament, we all wanted to keep in touch, you know. Cedric, Fleur, Krum and I… While I've had a lot to do with Cedric of course, and even met Fleur again after, there hasn't been word from Krum other than through letters he sends 'Mione.''
''I'm not mad about it,'' Ron huffed, lying back down again. ''Bad enough that he takes up so much of her time, I'm glad that he doesn't send you long letters too.''
A laugh bubbled up as Harry imagined Voldemort's reaction to finding out Harry received detailed letters from another man. ''I'm glad too, my partner would flip if he wouldn't be the only one to send me lengthy essays about his day.''
''He does that?''
''At least during the holidays he did,'' Harry replied, pleased to share this detail. ''Since he knows post to Hogwarts gets read before and possibly won't even make it to me, I doubt he'll send any here as long as we have to deal with Umbridge.''
When they eventually succeeded in scraping together enough energy to head back to the dorms in time for Ron's Quidditch training, Harry noticed that he might not have to wait so long before letters would reach them once more as expected. Despite the early hour, there was a remarkable amount of noise in the castle already. The common room was full when they entered, buzzing with the same energy as last night. The source became clear quickly: the expected new Decree about Hogwarts' change in management had been plastered on the wall. It might have been there already when they'd snuck out, Harry hadn't noticed in the dark. Now, it was the centre of attention and clearly a reason for war. Suspicious candies were being handed around, Peeves had flown in and for once wasn't being chased away in order to conspire, and what looked like bags of counterfeit goods were being stowed in school bags and pockets. After a quick check, Harry realised that it was mainly non-D. A. members doing so. It looked like his people had taken the warnings seriously. Not in a position of authority over his house mates other than the handful of peers who'd signed up for Dumbledore's army, and frankly too tired to deal with this anyways, Harry decided to wait and see how far the fight would be taken.
The answer turned out to be 'very far'. Rumours about the Weasley's exit had spread to the deepest pores of the castle, so much so that even the presence of Aurors – the same three that had left a report on Umbridge's good behaviour merely two weeks ago - did not discourage the new mob that had formed, strong in numbers and sneaky. The day was filled with the newfound disease Umbridge-itis that had a hundred different symptoms, more pits of quicksand appearing in multiple corridors (somehow all in the vicinity of Umbridge's office) and even an incident with a released Niffler that thought Umbridge's many rings would make for the perfect snack. Portraits gave their new Headmistress wrong directions about the fastest way to the location of vandals. Ghosts pretended to be more dead than they already were when faced with a ranting and raving toad. The teachers who weren't on probation yet took liberties of warning students about the Aurors' position at any given moment if they happened to know. Best of all, the rebellion was present in all houses, Slytherin included, even if slightly less noticeable.
Fred and George had truly left a legacy.
Maybe the Twins had been right after all, and this was the beginning of Umbridge's end. Not carefully laid out ploys, not a genius master plan that covered all bases. Instead, the true enemy of Umbridge's bureaucratic mind reared its head. Absolute and utter chaos.
And like he'd told Voldemort last night, Harry was mighty good at improvisation.
AN: Just like I apparently have to be good at improvisation. So much happened in this chapter that I hadn't wanted to X'D First and foremost, the Twins leaving Hogwarts after all. Wanted to have them in the D.A. a lot longer, but it felt way too much out of character for them to sit still and not use the opportunity to get out.
The reason why they're in Knockturn instead of Diagon is ofc because they only got a fourth of the Tournament winnings this time.
The final showdown is drawing closer ^^ (at least regarding this arc). Please let me know your thoughts! I also massively enjoy reading all of the theories you guys come up with about what all might happen, haha.
xx GeMerope