Aaahh, thank you so much for all the overwhelmingly nice comments!
I am kind of screwing over my own plan and caving to popular demand, haha, for here are both part 82.2 AND 82.3. Since most of you guys who left comments seemed to be anxious about what would happen after the last cliffhanger, but that only gets solved in part 3, I figured I couldn't leave you hanging for another week XD
So yeah, here you go: the rest of chapter 82. Enjoy!
Chapter 82.2 - Tail to tail
Any time of day had been a sordid affair since that slippery coward, Albus Dumbledore, had fled righteous justice. The position of Headmistress should have been one of respect, of superiority, where student and staff alike would finally jump in the places Dolores wanted them to be in all along. As it turned out, there were precious few decent people who did just that. No wonder these children had never learned to behave, when following the example of the likes of Poppy Pomfrey and Minerva McGonagall, she wrathfully thought.
She regarded herself in the mirror for a moment, ensuring that her hairdo was pristine and her cape slung over her shoulder with just the right amount of grace. Appearances were everything for those in the higher circles of society. Not that many of those wretched little turds would ever dwell there, she'd make sure of that. A few words here, a perfumed letter there… None of them could see the larger picture, the influence someone of her status held over their futures.
A meowing sounded at the office door, and she opened it to let in Mrs Norris. Dolores scrunched up her nose when looking at it. The cat was useful, certainly, more so than her owner. And she loved cats, had ever since she'd been little, fascinated with the way they looked gracious during a hunt, how proud they were when ripping apart weaker prey, sometimes simply to toy with it. Nonetheless, Mrs Norris was, for a lack of a better word, filthy, and Dolores detested filth. Thus, she allowed the cat in her office, yet never on her chair.
''Did you catch something good for me?'' she spoke in her most affectionate tone, holding open her palm. The cat picked something up from the floor and deposited it in her hand. It was a peculiar candy, the wrapping saying 'nosebleed nougat'. Umbridge suppressed a sudden wave of fury, simply folding her lips into a pleased smile. No need for any of that to surface. Smile, she told her face in the mirror, practising a few more times to make it more genuine. Smile.
She hadn't caught the culprits who'd started this, those infernal Weasley Twins, but she would catch any and all of their little friends in time and demonstrate exactly why it was a bad idea to start bleeding in class on purpose. She'd certainly made her point yesterday evening, where she'd harshly suppressed what had seemed like a full-on sudden student uprising before dinner. There were more of those sand pits everywhere around her office now, and she'd even been chased back into the office with fireworks on her heels. The disgrace. However, one quick call for the Aurors had put it all at ease quickly. It had been quite exhausting though, so much so that she'd only had brief dinner in the safety of her office before handing them to Filch one by one.
It was a shame, really, she pondered when striding confidently through the hallways. It hadn't needed to come to this at all. She'd had lengthy talks with Williamson, the most proper of the three Aurors, about it all. He was an agreeable fellow who very much saw the need for her reforms. Making sense of chaos had been his motivation for becoming an Auror in the first place, he'd told her. Wizards and witches, like magic itself, were an unstable force when not properly contained and controlled. One going bad could spread like rot, ideas of insubordination quickly rising in rebel minds that thought they could unleash every force of nature imaginable upon the world.
Yesterday had not only brought her attention to the bad apples, thank Merlin for that. Finally, finally, Dolores had the Inquisitor squad she'd always wanted, with highly regarded Prefect Parkinson at its head. Another victory was that Potter hadn't shown up amidst the rebellion. She'd expected him to take a last stance against her, bursting with arrogance about his fame to rally others. She smiled, a bit more sincerely. He had not even been near any of the trouble, a shining example of how Dolores' educational reforms were working. The words she'd drilled into his body and mind time and time again had finally made him see the light, without question. It went to show that the only truly effective punishment was good old fashioned disciplinary action.
Dolores could not understand why in recent years, there'd been such a surge of holier-than-thou attitudes about how one should coddle children instead of hurting them. The most effective method was always the best, and research she'd read from most respectable witches and wizards had shown that many animals were far quicker to correct behaviour after receiving pain or discomfort in response to unwarranted behaviours. Dolores prided herself in casting aside such weaknesses like empathy for children. They were nothing more than little people who were still fumbling about in the world, searching for their place. In order to grow up into responsible adults, she would show them that place, with force if need be. After all, adults were also expected to be obedient and compliant to their superiors. Delinquent behaviour would only be encouraged when one let it slide during the formative years.
Her parents had also used those methods, and she had turned out excellent, she was sure of that.
As Dolores turned a corner and saw two students heading her way, who froze in awe and looked at her wide-eyed in admiration upon passing, she remembered just in time to smile at them to show approval. The only reward children really ever needed.
The Hall was filled with silent muttering that died down when she entered and took her place on the central seat. ''You may begin,'' she finally announced, after revelling for a bit in their hungry faces. Her eyes slid to the Gryffindor table, thoughts of her successful taming of Harry Potter still on her mind. She met the boy's grim stare, an unnerving amount of defiance on his face. Left and right of him, his nosy friends also looked her way with conspiratorial expressions. ''Severus,'' she sharply spoke, who now sat on her right as the new Deputy Headmaster. McGonagall had been moved several seats away to account for her loss of prestige. ''The Gryffindors are far too rowdy today. We cannot have a repetition of yesterday. I look to you to sort this out.''
''Yes, Headmistress,'' the man dutifully spoke.
''Excellent,'' she curtly replied, eating her breakfast while attempting to ignore the feel of growing discomfort. Perhaps an early retreat wouldn't be amiss. She'd only still wait for the morning post… Let's see what slander the Daily Prophet had written this time. Upon hearing about the previous Chief Editor's replacement, she'd almost sprinted to Cornelius to demand that disgusting Veela get fired on the spot, but had held herself back for now. Let the little girl make a few mistakes first, it wouldn't do to be called a racist by close-minded people. Dolores had an image to uphold.
The Prophet – the only copy allowed within the castle's walls - dropped next to her plate, regrettably not entirely straight like she'd taught her owl to do. On top of that, its claws had crumpled the paper. With a sigh, she shot a burning hex at the beast's tail before it could fly away. Chuckling as it screeched, she took a sip of tea and unfolded the Prophet.
Her chuckle died upon reading the Headline: Break-in at the Ministry of Magic. Gripping it tightly, she scanned the article. Yesterday afternoon, two Aurors who'd dropped by the office had reported hearing loud, crashing noises coming from the Department of Mysteries. Upon investigation, they found the destruction of 'dozens of precious items', the culprits having fled without a trace. After checking all the entrances, it appeared that four people using false names had been so bold as to walk in… using the Visitor entrance, no less.
Anger bubbled its way up to Umbridge's throat. How dare that criminal scum! It must have been Dumbledore's men, no doubt about it. Restless now, she stalked back to her office, suddenly feeling the great urge to get control over her own situation, here. Perhaps she should have a chat with Cornelius too, expressing sympathy. Merlin knew he was too weak to deal with the PR backlash himself. Always wishing to get ahead of problems, she decided to do so right now, sticking her head in the fireplace to Floo-call the Minister.
It took far too long for that floozy he called a 'junior assistant' to approve of her visit, as if there was anything that needed approving. Fudge always had had a weakness for redheads. Disgusting.
''Dolores,'' Cornelius greeted, dabbing a line of sweat from his forehead. ''Exactly on time. I've had people hounding me since the moment I stepped into the office today. Of course, there was instantly an uproar about the fact that I was uninformed about the incident, but they surely cannot expect me to work Sundays? I have a right to free time as much as anyone.''
''What is the situation exactly?'' she cut in, not up for dealing with a long rant about how hard his job was.
Cornelius sighed and took of the lime-green bowler, twirling it in his hands. ''I still can't believe it. Four people simply walked in and out of the Department of Mysteries… they didn't even steal anything. If they had, all of this would have been far easier, as any item taken out of that Department by anyone who isn't in the top of the Ministry would alert a number of security measures. Alas, their goal was simple destruction, nothing else. Horrible.''
''They took nothing?'' she sharply asked.
''No, only left the time room in shambles,'' the Minister bitterly answered. ''Specifically- well, I suppose I have to tell you this, for I need to make the difficult decision to shorten your approval time of the time-turner you were granted. The rest is gone, Dolores. One hundred and thirty-two time-turners, irreparably damaged.''
It felt like something cold gripped her chest. ''Time-turners?'' she rasped. ''They were after the destruction of, specifically, time-turners?''
''Yes, which is why I will have to ask you to hand yours over again. Imagine, only eight left in the Ministry's hands that were not in the Department itself at the time of the break-in and most out of reach right now as they are used by staff who are abroad. To even start the insurmountable task of creating more – which an unhappy Unspeakable told me today might take months – they need an existing one as a model.''
Speechless, Dolores tried to fight disbelief and ire at once. ''I need mine, Cornelius!''
''Surely, you have Hogwarts under control by now,'' he smiled tightly. ''You are Headmistress, have Aurors at your disposal! Yes, the banning of Dementors was unfortunate-''
''I need it!'' she repeated, taking him aback. Before he could argue further, she'd pulled her head out of the fire and landed back in her office. That had not gone to plan, she thought sourly, ripping open her handbag to find her own time-turner. Cornelius could fly to the moon, yesterday had shown in how many places she needed to be at once to have a chance against that disobedient horde. Cornelius didn't understand how much she'd worked for this, how long she'd struggled to get to the point she was at now. Taking in account all the repetitions, she'd been at this battle for almost three harrowing years. She couldn't give up, not now. She couldn't let the remaining weeks of this school year rush past like a rope slipping from her hands and leaving burns. The finish line to victory was in sight.
Resolutely, she pointed her wand at the fireplace to cut off the Floo connection, so no-one would come to force her to give it up. Surely, he'd get so frustrated that he'd ask a less important employee to give up their time-turner instead. The audacity to ask her of all people had surely been a move of desperation on his part.
Speaking of time… she pulled out a pastel pink calendar like every morning, one that was modified with enchantments to have enough space for all timelines she planned for the day. The next ten minutes, she organised when and where to jump back to. And then, of course, came the most satisfying bit of choosing what she felt like doing first. Perhaps observing one of the other teachers till lunch… it was always fun to see that oaf bumble about, failing to answer any question. Not long anymore now before she could fire him too and replace Hagrid with a competent teacher. How was it that Dumbledore had gotten away for so long with appointing whomever he was friends with? Rubeus Hagrid had been expelled, a drop-out not allowed by law to cast magic, he'd spent time in Azkaban. Even protests from the School Board of Governors hadn't been able to convince Dumbledore not to appoint someone so clearly unfit to be around small children. Was Hagrid someone Dumbledore wished others to take an example of? Was this a school or a zoo?
Having decided, she went about her day, spending the next few periods of class making satisfyingly witty remarks that a great number of students seemed to enjoy, judging by their joyous laughter. Not yet hungry, Dolores stuck to her schedule to a T, walking to one of her favourite secluded spots to jump back to that morning. Fishing the precious time-turner out of her bag, she spun it. Once. Twice… Thrice…? …again? …once more?
Blinking dazedly, Dolores realised she had somehow ended up mid-way between the spot she'd travelled from and her office, where she had been supposed to be transported to. Odd, maybe she shouldn't have foregone lunch. No matter. Time to go unnerve Pomona.
Upon walking outside, Dolores at once noticed that it was surprisingly bright and warm. Preferring the shade, she hurried to the greenhouses, blinking when it was deserted. What was this? Mutiny? Had Pomona decided on her own that teaching was no longer necessary at Hogwarts? Already furious, Dolores stomped back to the castle, nearly having reached it when the large clock tower signalled the time. She stopped in her tracks when it only struck once. Confused, the witch cast a Tempus, staring dumbfounded when it showed to be one o' clock in the afternoon.
Something was wrong, it must be. Fumbling with her handbag, she took out the time-turner, shaking the thing to see if perhaps the sand was stuck, or if there were cracks on the glass. Nothing. It looked the same as always. Not that she'd spent much time staring at its appearance. Attempting to calm her shaking hands, while also ignoring the warning signs about this morning's news, she turned it over again. Once. Twice… a number of times more…? Feeling dizzy, she looked up and found herself standing just outside the Quidditch pitch. The sun had traversed even further than before.
''No… no, no,'' she muttered, foregoing grace as she sprinted into the castle, recalling that Dawlish had to be stationed near the Hospital wing at this hour. The hands of the giant clockface ominously showed it was two 'o clock already.
''Dawlish!'' she cried out after having ran all the way up to the fourth floor. The Auror looked up with a thankfully appropriate amount of worry. ''Something is wrong,'' she hissed when coming close, pressing the device in his hands. ''Check this for enchantments, now.''
''Now? Here?'' he asked, glancing around with uncertainty. Umbridge now too became painfully aware of the many prying stares from students, who were on their way to the next class. Causing a scene would be unwise, so Dolores dragged the perplexed Auror into an unused classroom nearby instead.
''Here then,'' she bit. ''It's not working properly!''
''In what way?'' he asked hesitantly, carefully inspecting the device.
''It doesn't matter!'' Why was he hounding for details? ''Just fix it!'' You've been trained in de-enchanting and the like, haven't you?
Finally, Dawlish did more than dumbly staring, starting to cast several diagnostic charms that Dolores had never bothered with herself – labour for the more common folk. She paced back and forth, inquiring about his progress every few minutes to ensure he was still focused on the task at hand. After a gruelling amount of wasted time, he placed the time-turner on his desk.
''Does it work again?'' she demanded to know, fingers itching to snatch it away.
Dawlish made a displeased noise and licked his lips nervously. ''Ma'am… This is not a real time-turner.''
She blinked. ''Of course it is!'' she laughed in disbelief, which turned to confusion when he tapped on the metal, which twisted and warped until turning into a regular hourglass, one of the standard ones used by some students to time their potions. She stared at it.
''It also had a Confundus charm embedded in it,'' the Auror added. ''Looks like another prank.''
''This is not a prank anymore,'' she hissed icily, trembling all over at the impudence. ''This is war.'' Snatching up the imposter object, she looked it all over. ''Ah… and what do we have here?'' she breathed with grim triumph. In a fine scrawl at the bottom, a name was penned. ''Hermione Granger…'' she read aloud. The girl's need for perfectionism would be her downfall. Dolores snapped her fingers. ''Drag Granger out of class. Bring her to my office.''
The look on the girl's face when pushed inside a while later and confronted with the hourglass was priceless. Dolores merely cast a silencing barrier on the door and poured the girl a cup of her own favourite lemon tea - doused with Veritaserum. ''Drink,'' she demanded, staring disdainfully at the frizzy hair and ruffled appearance. Granger sipped from her tea, but one of the cats behind her hissed in warning. ''Drink it all,'' Dolores spoke with a bit more force, grabbing her wand when all Granger did was pretend harder. With a flick of her wand, the Headmistress made the tea jump out of the cup and forced it down the girl's throat, who violently started coughing in an attempt to get it out, at least until the potion took effect.
Once Granger's eyes had turned sufficiently glassy, she said: ''Now, tell me everything about what you did to my time-turner and why.''
Before the girl could even finish her story, Umbridge's anger managed to get the better of her. Potter. Potter and an army. Potter and Granger and Weasley and dozens of other students actively plotting, forming Dumbledore's army. Red swam in her vision and she only noticed the howls of pain long after Granger had fallen to the floor, red pimples spreading all over the girls' face. Dolores didn't care. Criminals deserved punishment. She breathed heavily as the consequences of Potter's actions became clear. Not only had they snatched Umbridge's own time-turner, they were also the culprits who'd wrecked the Department of Mysteries yesterday. ''You'll hang for this,'' she shrieked at the tear-stricken form of the low scum that called herself a student. ''You'll all hang!''
Then, Dolores caught her own face on the mirror and noticed how worked up she was, how splotched her face. Embarrassment washed over her and allowed for calm to settle. ''But not you,'' she breathed in a fit of clarity. Memories were funny things. She'd been at Hogwarts for so long, fought tooth and nail each and every day for so long that anything from before was vague, but it was still there. Three years ago, when newly appointed Head Inquisitor, she'd already decided not to leave anything to chance, hadn't she? Dolores had been so focused on this utter treachery that she'd almost forgotten that… ''None of this mattered. None of this is real, for the future is in my hands. You are images of a tomorrow that won't come,'' she muttered frantically, procuring a small golden key from the far back of her bottom desk drawer. She looked down at it in amazement, through the foggy haze in her mind almost unable to believe that this hadn't been a dream. ''You didn't win, silly,'' she chuckled now. ''Did you think that I wouldn't have accounted for everything?''
Granger groaned, trembling as she pushed herself up from the floor. Revelling in the look of horror thrown her way, Dolores opened a hidden safe in the wall, withdrawing another time-turner. ''Cornelius doesn't even know I have this,'' she confessed with a giggle. ''I'd almost forgotten about it myself. As the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, I have permission to access any department at any time, did you know that? I found it such a waste that most of these are just sitting unused. They don't even count them, apparently. They thought one hundred and thirty two had been destroyed, when there were only one hundred and thirty one left in there to begin with.''
The rest of her speech was cut off when the door to her office burst open, a rowdy hoard of teenagers stumbling in. Behind them, she could see the body of a petrified Dawlish lying on the floor. ''Mione!'' the youngest Weasley boy yelled, dropping to his knees to check on the girl. An animalistic growl filled the office, freckled skin sprouting fur, teeth growing longer… The multiple wands that had been pointed at Dolores before were lowered minimally as Weasley's transformation caught the other students off guard.
Dolores was also stunned, but only for a second. ''Too late,'' she sneered, deciding that she could wait no longer. Weasley lunged, but Dolores was already turning the gleaming hourglass over in her hands… Once… twice… twenty-four times.
Chapter 82.3 - Ouroboros
He couldn't be bothered to quell his magic upon arrival. It ripped up the tiles beneath his feet, tore apart the banners on the walls… Let Harry feel it all – the displeasure, the betrayal he felt. Lord Voldemort smelled blood, only undecided yet whose blood. Neither did he know by this point whether they were on a rescue mission or on their way to a massacre.
The Department of Mysteries. He should have seen it coming after Harry had pulled him into memories of the place twice. All warnings had been futile for either of them, he bitterly thought, while descending further into the Ministry, barely noticing how his right hand followed silently in his footsteps. It was laughably easy to get in. Out of convenience for the Aurors who might need to use the office at any hour, there were no anti-apparition wards activated in the Atrium even on days where the Ministry was officially closed. He wondered if Dumbledore knew, considering the old man had only sent two Order members each time as guards, minions that Voldemort could have easily struck down if he'd been inclined to take a walk into the Ministry himself. It wasn't as if there was any reason to fear being discovered when all who would see him could be obliviated. Or killed.
Through his anger, he became aware of Harry's emotions that trickled through their link. He still found it difficult to name them, but fear was certainly prevalent. Harry knew then, that Voldemort was highly… displeased, to say the least.
He came to an abrupt halt near the end of the stairwell leading to the eight floor. Below them, a heated discussion was going on, loud enough for him to hear clearly from this distance.
''We can't afford to sit around and wait!'' a woman irately screeched. ''What if they've already left devastation, huh? Did you think about that?''
''Ma'am, I'm sure Head-Auror Scrimgeour has everything under control. I have been ordered to hold this position and I shall. I suggest you leave the building for your own safety, for if they do attempt to flee, there could be stray spellfire everywhere.''
''YOU WILL DO AS I COMMAND YOU TO!'' came the even louder answer. ''I AM THE UNDER-SECRETARY TO THE MINISTER AND IF I SAY-''
She kept screaming at whomever was with her, most likely one of the Aurors who'd been called. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, slowly advancing without making a sound. Dolores Umbridge… why was she here? He recalled that Harry had wished to speak to him about Umbridge last time, but while she was a nuisance, she didn't concern his larger plans much. As Harry had spoken out against killing her and Voldemort was interested in seeing how his curse on the Defence position would work out this year, he hadn't been incredibly inclined to listen. The article he'd written about her treatment of the students hadn't had much effect in the end, but she'd served her purpose in driving out Dumbledore. As long as she would no longer harm Harry, he didn't particularly care whether she cleansed Hogwarts of its incompetent teachers in the little time she had left. From what he'd heard, her main targets were Trelawney and Hagrid, both people who should never have been allowed in a classroom.
Her voice was incredibly grating though, and upon reaching the ninth floor, Voldemort wasn't feeling very generous about keeping his word about not throwing an Avanda Kedavra at Hogwarts' newest Headmistress. Perhaps he should, just to drive a point home to his partner.
''Silencio,'' he spoke, lazily pointing his wand at the woman. It would have been rather impossible to make a proper entrance when she couldn't even hear what he had to say. It was as if he'd cast it on the both of them, the young Auror freezing on the spot as well, forgetting all training when coming face to face with the most wanted man on the continent. He revelled in the confusion and fear ''My apologies,'' Voldemort started, making a curt, mocking bow. ''It seems that I mislocated some of my property in the Department of Mysteries.'' He came closer and pulled off his hood so they would be absolutely certain as to whom they were dealing with. Close behind him, Barty kept his wand trained at the Auror, whom Voldemort now addressed: ''It appears you have a bit of a situation here yourself. I'd appreciate a short clarification.'' After digging a bit in his memory, he placed a name to the face: Eliot Lassiter, the newest recruit who'd completed his training time. They must have desperately assembled a team on last notice to pull a newbie into dealing with a Ministry break-in.
''You- you're him,'' Lassiter stuttered, seeming to find his voice again. ''That- How-''
He picked up a spike of distress from Harry's side that pressed him to hurry.
''I'm not here to listen to blabbering,'' the Dark Lord bit. ''Get to the point. You know who I am, you know how fast you will be dead if you refuse to comply. What leads an Auror and the Headmistress of Hogwarts to guard the entrance to the Department of Mysteries in the middle of the afternoon?''
Silently, the Auror shook his head, lips pressed together. True, Lassiter had been in Gryffindor, how bothersome. Figuring he didn't need two hostages and that those highest up on the command chain had more information than a rookie, he quickly stunned the inexperienced Auror and turned to Umbridge. He didn't bother removing the charm that prevented any sound from leaving her lips. Harry's call had sounded urgent, so he simply gripped her face with a twinge of disgust, forcing her to stare into his eyes. Regardless of how she'd be dealt with in the end, she wouldn't be allowed to become a part of the future he'd create, so it wouldn't matter how damaged her mind became in the process.
''Legilimens.''
She could do nothing to keep him from tearing through her memories, barely putting up any resistance. She was one of the weak ones he detested, who'd never seen magic as more than a tool. Astonished and reviled, he noticed that her mind appeared to reject her own magic, as if she wished it didn't exist. Thrown mildly off balance by this revelation, Voldemort hunted down the memories of the past few hours, watching them from all sides and listening intently to her inner turmoil.
Frantic floo calls, pulling irritated Aurors from the missions they'd been on. There was no time time time. Had Potter already made it to the Ministry? The article had only mentioned 'afternoon'. It was afternoon now, the furthest she had been able to travel had been to three o' clock. As getting through Cornelius' thick skull had taken half an hour of arguing, they may be too late to prevent what would happen…
Voldemort searched further back, unable to make sense of her thoughts.
Trying to convince Cornelius to give her control of a task force to catch the culprits was more difficult than imagined. The man was so incredibly, frustratingly incompetent! When Umbridge would finally take his job, she'd ensure the Ministry would finally run like the well-oiled machine she envisioned. It took a while to find Cornelius first, as he never told anyone where he went on his days off. When she'd at last tracked him down to a Muggle gentlemen's club of all places and won the argument over the necessity of a task force - by spelling out to him that she knew more than he did by using the time magic he'd granted her access to -, there wasn't even a moment to celebrate.
He dug even deeper, digging claws into memories that felt oddly cloudy, dragging them to the surface: Torturing Hermione Granger, staring dumbfoundedly at an hourglass, snapping at Dawlish, stalking around the grounds of Hogwarts… they came faster and less clear, as if there was a barrier between her mind and the memories in it. Once, twice, thrice… Reading that blasted article at breakfast (not yet aware of the implications), watching Potter and feeling victorious over finally breaking him, suppressing the unexpected rebellion the evening before...
Voldemort screeched to a halt and pulled the one back about Harry, which was accompanied by flashbacks to the many times in which she'd taught the boy a lesson, memories tainted with vile opinions: Liar, schemer, Dumbledore' boy, underserved hero, friend of the lowly. Trouble that needed to be squashed. Needed to be stopped. Did it really matter if he'd already managed to break the time-turners again, if Dolores would at last have the evidence she needed to lock the little liar in the deepest cells of Azkaban? She'd be doing their entire society a favour, really.
Voldemort extracted himself from the whirlwind of hatred, knowing it was reflected in his eyes when he gave her a murderous glare. ''Crucio!''
Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she twisted and turned on the floor in agony. He watched in satisfaction as her spine arched, stubby fingers clawed at the air and tears streamed from her eyes. Another pang of discomfort from his partner made him realise that, although the intrusion into Umbridge's mind had barely lasted a few seconds, he couldn't waste more than that. Yet at the same time, he also hadn't fully processed the information he'd just seen, which clashed entirely with his own explanation as for why Harry must have come here. The reason why he'd stormed out, infuriated at his partner. Had he been too quick to judge…?
Deciding to stall his final judgement until having a complete picture, he tied Umbridge up and ordered Barty to drag her along. He paused, glancing at the unconscious young Auror. The need to kill someone, anyone, was itching deep inside. Lassiter had defied him just now… but he was also a wizard, and Magic showed her dismay through the pain Voldemort was forced to feel when murdering other mages. The Auror was pliable still, useable in the future, perhaps. With a growl, he cast a different Unforgiveable than he truly wished to, the Imperius grasping hold of the unconscious body. He hadn't beent rained long to resist it instantly yet, as expected. Through the spell, he ordered the Auror to continue on with life as usual for now, the easiest way to ensure the Imperius would remain unbroken, dormant. Whenever Lassiter would awaken, he'd belong to Lord Voldemort.
He strode further down the corridor, wand at the ready. When the black door swung open and he was met with the first enemy, Voldemort wasted no further words on introductions, striking Scrimgeour with a conjunctivitis curse to blind him, which was deflected by a quick shield. A short battle ensued, the Dark Lord aiming with forceful and quick precision, the Head Auror forced into the defensive immediately. The only shield Voldemort personally used was to protect Barty, who in the meantime was already working on identifying the various doors. ''In here, my Lord,'' he spoke clearly when having found the room of time, harshly pushing Umbridge inside. By the shouting from the other side, it wasn't empty either. Resolutely, Voldemort ended the entertaining spar with Scrimgeour by briefly disembodying, turning his entire form non-solid and ending up behind the man's shield to shoot him down. Considering Scrimgeour's years of training, he didn't bother with an Imperius curse that was highly unlikely to work. Voldemort levitated the still form to keep an eye on it, inflicting his victim with an asphyxiation curse so the man would have barely enough oxygen to struggle to keep alive, not enough for anything else.
Meeting his strict standards, Barty had both stunned their prisoner and added two more before Voldemort had even crossed the room, having neutralized the other Aurors. The fight had been even briefer than expected, likely to do with the fact that they'd been battling already. To the left, where Harry had described to be hiding, was an office of which the door had been absolutely wrecked, splintered remains hanging off its hinges. From it, the teen stumbled towards Barty. Voldemort noticed with dismay that blood dripped down his arm and right leg.
''You're here-'' the teen spoke up in relief.
''Evan! You're wounded!''
''Just a scratch. It's nothing. Barty, can you-'' the teen paused, eyes drawn automatically to Voldemort, who was standing a few yards away, out of sight of whomever was still in the office behind Harry. Waves of relief crashed against his mind.
Putting practicality first, Voldemort gestured to his right hand man. ''There are two more Aurors on the loose. Find them and bring them here.'' With a bow and a whirl of his cloak, Barty stalked back to the entrance. When his follower had passed him by, Voldemort wished to concentrate on Harry, to attempt to clear up the confusion. However, in the same moment that he focused on his partner, his gaze fell on what lay behind. At the end of the Time Room, behind a sparkling glass jar, the door to the Hall of Prophecies was wide open.
The jumbled images from Umbridge's mind that he still hadn't fully sorted out were pushed in the background as he saw red, snarling as he drew his wand and strode closer. ''Hand it over!'' he exclaimed. ''NOW!''
''What are you talking-'' the teen started, the normally so sparkling emerald growing duller. From the office came a sudden scream. Without taking either eyes or wand off Harry, he silenced everyone in that direction with his free hand. He wasn't here for anyone else but his treacherous partner, who would now have to face judgement.
''Don't play me for a fool, ~my dear~ he dangerously hissed, trembling at the sharp stings of betrayal. ''You came here to undermine me. I revealed my opinion on hearing the wording of the entire Prophecy, you knew very well that we had a silent agreement about this.'' He'd laid bare his fears in a display of trust, properly communicated about why he hadn't actively gone after the blasted thing even though he easily could have. They hadn't even been in a relationship then… He'd believed, no, he'd expected Harry not to go behind his back in search for it. Not after everything they'd shared.
Harry glanced to the side, into the office, another spike of terror stabbing. It all but admitted his guilt.
''I don't have the damned Prophecy!''
''You smell like fear…'' he sneered in answer.
Frustration wafted off the teen. ~Were not alone,~ Harry hissed, ~And we can't discuss this at length right now. I. don't. have. the. Prophecy. What I came here for is a long story and you're not in the mindset to believe a word I say. Just trust-~
''You will make time for me then!'' Voldemort demanded, raising his wand an inch so it almost prodded against Harry's Adam's apple.
This appeared to have been the wrong thing to say, for in typical fashion that he should maybe have seen coming, Harry exploded.
''MY BEST FRIEND IS DYING HERE, I DON'T HAVE TIME TO STROKE YOUR FUCKING DELUSIONS!'' he screamed, gesturing wildly. ''DID YOU THINK I CALLED FOR HELP FOR MYSELF?''
At last, Voldemort tore his eyes away from Harry and looked over to the other people present. A nervous Draco stood stock-still in the back of the office, absolutely clueless like always. Granger was, if possible, even more frozen in place, unblinkingly staring at him, terrified. Her arms were slung protectively around a figure sitting on a chair, someone who could with difficulty be recognised as Ronald Weasley. Fleshy tendrils were wrapped around the boy's entire body, mainly the arms, and blood dripped from his slack mouth. Misty eyes stared into nothingness.
He became aware of that this was company that Harry would likely be insistent on not obliviating. Had Harry told his friends about the Prophecy before? How much did they know? What was going on in Granger's calculating mind as she watched them interact? Voldemort turned his attention back to Harry. What Draco and Granger heard or saw here would be nothing compared to what they would later. After all of this, none of them would be able to keep playing pretend, least of all Harry.
In a much smaller voice that dripped with disappointment, Harry softly asked: ''We're not doing this again, are we?''
Voldemort didn't need to ask what he meant, the last time they'd been in this position still very clear in his memory. He was about to ask what he'd receive in return for aiding Weasley, when a voice of reason in his mind told him that the question should be what he'd lose if he wouldn't. He gripped his head with one hand, confused by his own anger, Harry's emotions, the whispers in his head and the blur of memories he'd extracted from Umbridge.
Attempting to suppress the trembling of his fingers, Voldemort lowered his wand, this time without having to be physically calmed down when recognising that all of this time, Harry's fear had been only for the life of his friend. ''No, we aren't,'' he reassured, unable to meet those harsh, green eyes now. ''Keep an eye on our prisoners,'' he brusquely ordered, heading into the office and lifting the silencing charm on the other three.
It didn't look like Granger was about to release her wounded friend, and to not upset Harry further, Voldemort attempted to ignore her presence entirely as he knelt down at Weasley's side to inspect the tentacles. A few diagnostic spells showed odd results, acting like the tendrils didn't exist.
''What are you doing?'' she whispered, clearly intent on refusing to be ignored.
Well, if she was talking to him, she might as well be of use. ''Did you hear the incantation of the curse fired at him?'' he asked, looking up into wide brown eyes. Interesting, her entire body language was screaming that she wanted to flee, he wondered how much courage she'd scraped together just to speak up in the first place. ''You'd better answer me if you want him to live.''
''He… he wasn't cursed,'' she replied, voice strung tight. It looked like she was in the middle of a panic attack. As that wasn't life-threatening, he felt no reason to relieve her.
''What then? Were these things kept in the Department?''
She nodded minutely. ''In a tank. They- they didn't look like this at first. They were floating b-brains. Until Ron stumbled into it and the glass cracked.'' Her voice cracked too and Granger's desperate grip on the boy tightened.
''The Room of Thought,'' he concluded. Of course, that made sense. The diagnostic spells hadn't picked anything up because these weren't physical at all. Interestingly enough, he concluded that they were kept immobile by a freezing charm. Could thoughts be literally frozen? A noteworthy experiment for another day… Knowing from what angle to approach this now, getting rid of the thoughts was child's play, at least for a Legilimens. He put his wand away and placed a finger on one of the slimy strands as there were no eyes to stare into, concentrating on the aura it exuded, the cold that seeped into his skin. He mentally pierced into the web of thoughts, finding most to be hostile and aggressive. The one who'd created these had problems, that was for sure.
''Harry really didn't take anything,'' came another whisper, and he raised an thin eyebrow at Granger, who looked like she wished she hadn't said anything, yet couldn't stop. ''Right after succeeding in our goal, Aurors came in and started chasing us through the Department. None of us took anything with us,'' she stressed.
''Your goal of… destroying the Ministry's time-turners…'' he slowly said, narrowing his gaze. She nodded nervously, not elaborating.
With mixed feelings, he neutralised the tentacles one by one, dissolving them by making them submit to his will, no different from how one could manipulate the mind of a living being. By the time he was done, all of the tendrils were gone, having left deep gashes that were sure to scar. To earn some more goodwill – as Granger's words had also confirmed what he'd seen in Umbridge's mind as opposed to his own conclusions - he healed up the worst of Weasley's wounds.
He stood and turned to Harry, who was pacing outside of the office and staring at something in his hand. In the glinting light that came from all directions, he noticed that it was something small and reflective. Another time-turner. A quick glimpse at Umbridge showed that the witch's bag was open, contents spilling over the floor. Suddenly, Harry hurled the tiny hourglass through the air, staring grimly at it when it smashed on the floor at the other end of the room, a few yards away from a cupboard that was repairing itself over and over again.
To his displeasure, the Dark Lord noticed that the teen was still bleeding. ''Evan, come here,'' he spoke, meeting Harry halfway, who threw him a wary look which turned to surprise when Voldemort merely took his arm and carefully healed it. He repeated the spell on the hurt leg. ''You should really know how to do that yourself,'' he commented.
A brief flash of embarrassment came as an instant response. ''I errr, I can,'' Harry admitted, to his annoyance. ''I hadn't really thought about it, is all.''
''You hadn't thought about it,'' he repeated flatly, then inhaled to calm down. ''Is this enough to your satisfaction that you will at last enlighten me to your full purpose?'' he growled, then flashed his wand again when the door opened– only to see it was Barty, who carried one body over his shoulder and hovered another in front of him.
''Those should be all, my Lord.'' He thoughtlessly dropped the Aurors on the hard wood, a frown creasing his brow as his eyes travelled between the two of them. ''There are no further Aurors at their office either, I assume that whomever was planned to drop by there this afternoon was already recruited for this task force.''
''Excellent. Well?'' he turned to his partner, still expecting an answer. Harry, however, seemed to have different worries, during the short exchange having stepped away to have a look at his friends. There was a whisper of ''I'll explain later, please roll with it,'' that was likely meant only for Granger's ears. Good thing that he had superb hearing. For a second, Voldemort forgot all ire when his partner turned around and gave the most stunning smile.
''You really saved him.''
Out of his depth on how to respond to such honest gratitude while being stared at by several other people, he opted for dragging answers out of Harry. ''I'm getting tired of repeating myself,'' he bit. ''Your version of the story, now.''
''It's long,'' the other nervously answered, looking at the many unconscious Aurors and Umbridge. There was a flash of pure loathing in the second that Harry concentrated on the Headmistress. ''Shouldn't we prioritise escaping first?''
''I already dealt with the guard outside. We have about an hour before a report on this mission is expected and more back-up might be sent this way.'' He cast another glance at the entrance to the Hall of Prophecies. ''Were you inside there?''
Harry sighed and leaned against a table, looking drained. ''Briefly. And yes, I know what it is and what it holds, but I did not come here to steal the Prophecy. Which, on a side-note, I should have been able to do without you going all berserk on me,'' he glared with a bit a venom. ''You expressed your thoughts on not wishing to know its contents, never did you state that I wasn't allowed to pursue it.''
''If you would know, I would too.''
''Since when does our connection-''
''Because you wouldn't have been able to shut up about it,'' Voldemort continued, crossing his arms.
''Well… okay, fair point,'' Harry sullenly admitted. ''But I didn't, and I wouldn't.'' He fell silent, very obviously brooding.
''Didn't you because there are thousands and you had no idea where to look, or…?''
~I didn't because I respect your wishes, you absolute twat!~ Harry hissed. If the sentence had been uttered in English, hell would have broken loose at those words. As it was, he merely attempted to ignore the insult in favour of focusing on the 'respect' part. It helped that he felt no true anger from Harry's side.
~Then I… apologise,~ he uttered reluctantly. ~For thinking worse of you than I should have.~
The teen's expression turned, for some reason, sad. ''It's understandable, after…'' he started, but didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to. It had been very recent that they'd explored the cave together that had become Regulus' grave. ''Right, if we have about an hour, I'd better start. You see, there were some problems at Hogwarts…''
''Harry, no!'' Granger cried out in alarm. ''You can't… you're not really going to trust him with everything?''
Voldemort carefully observed how Harry's expression went from desperate to determined in a few seconds. ''I trust him with my life,'' he declared loudly, earning him a shocked look. ''More than that, I trusted him with Ron's life. He needs to know, Hermione.'' She shot another worried glance, then pressed her lips together. Draco remained silent, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else.
At long last, Harry launched into the story he'd been waiting to hear. With growing astonishment and anger directed towards the pink witch, Voldemort listened to the detailed descriptions of that which his partner had apparently wished to discuss far longer. How Umbridge not only had ruined their lives by attempting to insert impossible rules into every crack of it, but also had gone so far with ensuring they were followed that she had endangered all of Hogwarts by playing with fire for too long. ''No-one we contacted about it so far from outside was any real help in stopping it,'' Harry unapologetically said, the 'not even you' hanging unspoken in the air.
''Since Fudge does anything she says regarding Hogwarts, stealing her own time-turner wouldn't have been enough. She'd have gotten another one within a day and guarded it better, winning us literally nothing. We needed to make sure that there was nothing left to replace it with. Not only because of Umbridge herself, by the way. I know that she wouldn't have lasted beyond this year. However, any replacement would have been granted the same rights, the same power, if she'd managed till summer. Hopefully now they'll think twice about sending another Ministry employee to rule over the school. Depending on what happens now, that is,'' Harry finished, throwing an uncertain look at Umbridge. ''I'm also still not quite sure what went down in Hogwarts. Since she's here and still had her time-turner on her, I assume the D. A. failed, I only don't know when exactly. Whether she was just so fast in catching on or…''
''I can provide some illumination on that,'' he admitted. After hearing the story, he was rather... impressed. Both in how far Harry had been willing to go and by the fact that it originally had all gone according to plan. Now Voldemort had a coherent story to compare it with, Umbridge's thoughts finally started making sense too. The article she'd read... Harry's presence at tomorrow's breakfast... If Umbridge would not have had an illegal second time-turner stowed away, they could have won. On the other hand, the woman would still have discovered her own fake time-turner and made Granger confess under Veritaserum, so who knew how that would have turned out. ''I performed Legilimency on her before entering, seeing events from her perspective, in reversed chronological order.''
''But then you knew-!'' Harry indignantly exclaimed
He shook his head. ''No, I did not. I had jumbled flashes of thoughts to work with. Whether caused by living in different timelines or the Confundus charm she was subjected to twice in the past hours, her memories were hazy, hard to follow. It appeared that she's been having problems with dissociated memories and memory loss for a while too. Not only that, she also jumped to conclusions and seems to be so paranoid that she automatically assumes that everything which happens around her is also about her.''
''Wouldn't that make you understand her better?'' the other blurted out.
''Oh, I certainly am starting to understand why she wished to punish you for impudence so often,'' he snarked, on impulse grabbing a fistful of Harry's hair, pulling just enough to cause pressure, not pain. Instantaneously, he could feel flares of desire and a quickened pulse. Aware of their audience, he let go again, curling his fingers around Harry's shoulder instead. ''Speaking of punishment, we have yet to speak of what shall happen with our guests.''
''Is this the moment where I have to talk you out of a quadruple murder again?''
Disgruntled, he asked: ''What do you mean, again.''
''France?''
Voldemort recalled the scene: a family of Muggle tourists wandering into Merlin's Forest without appreciation. He'd been so close to striking them all down, to satisfy the urge of killing without repercussion... He suppressed the hunger again as he caught worried eyes. ''That would have been a quintuple murder, do learn how to count,'' he merely commented, drawing a shaky laugh out of Harry.
''My Lord, as much as I dislike interrupting, we are getting short on time,'' Barty suddenly mentioned, who'd been standing off to the side, checking on the captured Aurors and renewing the stunning spells now and then while Harry had been talking. ''Is there an extraction plan? Do we leave this all clean or…''
''Unfortunately, that is not a possibility.'' He cast Barty a meaningful look, who didn't seem happy with the answer. ''I suppose clarification on Umbridge's exact moves can wait for after we leave, there will be plenty of time.''
''How so?'' Ah, now Malfoy Junior had finally found his whiny voice. ''When we return to Hogwarts…''
''That is the point, none of you can return to Hogwarts,'' he sternly declared. ''In short, Umbridge did travel back in time to stop you. She knew what happened and by whom. She told Fudge everything. With the amount of damage done here in multiple rooms that cannot be repaired, a complete cover up is out of the question. Like it or not, you four are wanted by the Ministry now.'' He'd expected the reaction from Harry to have been stronger than it was. Stubbornness maybe, a hint that his partner would refuse to accept this truth and fight tooth and nail. All he received was stoic acceptance. In a silent question, he arched an eyebrow.
''I counted on that,'' the Gryffindor merely said. ''I warned them-'' he gestured in the vague direction of the office, ''-about the possible consequences too. Of course, I wanted to try to keep out of Azkaban, but I very well knew that the possibility of returning to Hogwarts and continuing life like before would be slim.''
Voldemort nodded, glad that Harry had been sensible enough about it to realise at least that. ''Very well. Only two matters remain to be taken care of: deciding how to deal with each of our captives and…'' he broke off, reaching out mentally to wrap his magic protectively around Harry before revealing what he wished to do: ''destroying the Prophecy.''
Harry looked at him with astonishment. ''Are you serious? Why?''
''To reduce the chance of hearing it by twenty-five percent, of course.''
''I'm not sure statistics work that way,'' Harry spoke with a tight smile.
''It certainly doesn't, for 'statistics' is the wrong branch of mathematics. You mean probability,'' he corrected automatically.
''Whatever. I just mean… there are four copies, but the chances of hearing any are zero if we both just refuse to go look for them. Or a hundred if Dumbledore suddenly decides he wants me to hear it after all. Destroying this version wouldn't do anything.'' Displeased, he glanced over at the Hall, feeling uneasy about the Prophecy's proximity. ''Okay, look, if it makes you feel better, go smash it,'' Harry sighed. ''It's just my personal opinion that it won't make a difference, but if it gives you peace of mind, I'm not opposed to it.''
''It's not as if I needed your permission,'' he retorted, then stalked away into the direction of the Prophecy, unwilling to admit that he felt slightly better in knowing it didn't bother Harry. ''Barty, line our guests up, I wish to have a short talk with each of them before we leave,'' he instructed while striding away.
He stepped over the threshold of the Hall, inspecting the massive space. Voldemort had been in here before, of course, when there was no Prophecy with his own name on it adorning the shelves yet, but the sight of the towering room filled to the brim with silvery spheres once again impressed him. More worrisome was the fact that a large section of shelves near the entrance had collapsed, shards of empty husks littering the floor. He knew not where to search, exactly, as he hadn't felt the need to send people out to check the location when he didn't even wish to retrieve it. White fingers ghosted over copper plaques, noting how they were labelled. Perhaps that would be the key. Voldemort was about to cast a hunting spell, when feeling a tug of magic at his core. It was never wise to ignore such pulls, so he weaved through the aisles, gravitating towards the far end. In the flickering light of a candle, he noticed a sign that indicated he'd arrived at row 97. Behind him echoed the sound of familiar footsteps.
''Do you not trust me?'' he asked, without turning around.
''Says the one who insisted I stole it for myself to use against you,'' Harry scoffed. A warm body pressed against his back, strong arms wrapping around Voldemort's torso tightly. ''The only thing I wished to steal was a moment alone with you,'' the teen confessed, making the Dark Lord twist around to take his partner in his arms, who sighed contently as they at last embraced.
''I'd expected you'd wish to stay with your friends.''
''I know Mione feels more comfortable in knowing that I am keeping an eye on the Dark Lord than staring down Barty, who is busy keeping the Aurors unconscious anyways.'' He bit his lip, a movement Voldemort carefully observed. When teeth let go again, the bottom lip was redder than before and glistened invitingly. ''I-'' Harry started, unable to continue when Voldemort gave into his desire, bending down in the same moment he lifted his partner up so their lips could slide together in perfect harmony. The smallest of moans tickled his ear between a series of kisses that became needier with each one. He pressed Harry against one of the shelves, which knocked a few more prophecies down. Three crashed harshly to the floor, which Voldemort wasn't bothered by until he noticed pearly figures that escaped their glass shells, ghostly voices speaking all at once. Due to the simultaneous speaking, he only clearly picked up a few words. Both of them froze.
''I… had not expected that,'' the Dark Lord confessed, now second-guessing his decision to hurl the Prophecy violently against a wall.
''Neither did I,'' his partner said in shock. ''We were on the other side of the hall when the Aurors caused those shelves in front to crash, I had no idea…''
They backed away from the shelves, taking care not to cause more damage, and Voldemort put his partner down again. A hand found its way into his as they stared at the orbs. ''Perhaps…'' he started, ''We wouldn't be the only people profiting from a bit of destruction.''
''Is that our call to make…?'' Harry asked, getting what he hinted at immediately.
''I am a Lord of Magic,'' he justified. ''If divination is too large for me to use, is it not my duty to shield my people from this unpredictable branch of magic?''
''I think the whole point of Divination is that it's supposed to be predictable, actually,'' Harry muttered.
''It missed its purpose by miles, then.''
Their magic intermingled as they searched each other out, a safe way to explore each other's true feelings and opinions, coming to a harmonious consensus without needing to utter another word. They retraced their steps to the front of the hall, then turned around and raised twin wands. Holly and yew, dark and white…
''Bombarda!''
Their combined spell blasted through the Hall, the force causing a domino effect that left nothing untouched. When the noise at last died down, it felt as if they had ripped through fate itself.
AN: Yay for destruction! Okay, so in order to make the timelines clear just in case there is any confusion: 82.1- Head to Head (Harry's POV) happens in timeline B.
82.2 – Tail to tail (Umbridge POV) happens in timeline A until she jumps back. She changed time, because we don't do perfect time loops in this house.
Time magic would suck otherwise (and yes that means there is another Umbridge at Hogwarts for roughly 23 hours still who is as of yet unaware of any of this. We'll get to that).
82.3 – Ouroboros (Voldemort's POV) against happens purely in timeline B.
Timeline A has, for our stories' purposes, ceased to exist, as I will not be going into multiverse theories here XD I will leave that clusterfuck to Marvel.
Furthermore, it's not really described in Prisoner of Azkaban at which point the time-turner starts reversing time. It just describes Hermione turning it over three times and everything getting blurry. Since she could have done those 3 turns within a second, I doubt we can clearly define when the 'going backwards in time' happens exactly: whether it starts at the first spin and stops when the time turner notices it isn't being turned anymore, or if the user first spins it a number of times and then the time-turner notices it isn't being turned anymore and activates. Due to other scraps of 'evidence' like Hermione very suddenly disappearing in a split second in the middle of a conversation and no-one ever seeing her use it during the year, I am going with the first explanation. So, Umbridge activated the time-turner on the first spin and then had plenty of time to finish the 24 turns instead of her face getting mauled by a lion - as much fun as that would have been.
Please leave a review to let me know what you thought!
The next chapter will be posted as regular, 3 weeks from now. I am about halfway done with the next chapter so I think I'll be able to manage that :)