The Quill
Cause of Azkaban Fire Deemed Accidental!
By Rita Skeeter
For almost two months, Wizarding Britain has waited with bated breath for a conclusion to the cause of the fire that tore through the Island prison in late October. Marred in controversy, the now former Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Donovan Smith, sensationally stepped down from his post last month citing that 'differences in opinions as to what had occurred left him unable to fulfil his role with the expected integrity.'
When asked his thoughts on the matter, Mr Smith revealed he had been forced to take a vow of silence regarding the matter, but that he did not believe Wizarding Britain should 'get their hopes up in hearing the truth.'
Pius Thicknesse, who replaced Mr Smith had this to say.
'It has been a difficult process for all involved ascertaining what transpired at Azkaban. Myself and my colleagues have worked diligently for weeks in the hope of understanding the cause of the disaster. There are records of an alarm being sounded the night of the fire, and that Madam Amelia Bones attended with aurors is support. Sadly, none who arrived survived the ordeal. However, I can confirm that, without doubt, what occurred here was nothing more than the most unfortunate of accidents. Having carried out a thorough investigations, faults in the protections implemented shortly after Sirius Black escaped a few years ago were not correctly placed, resulting in a volatile build-up of magic around the island. I thank you all for your time.'
Accident or not, the people of Wizarding Britain will unlikely be satisfied with the explanation of the incident that led to the deaths of several aurors, and the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
Harry could only shake his head as he finished reading the article. He'd expected a cover up of sorts, though not one so flimsy. The only two people to see Voldemort on the island was himself and Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord evidently took it upon himself to muddy the waters of what had truly occurred enough that an excuse could be found, thus, ensuring his presence remained undetected.
Nonetheless, it certainly had not been the excursion the man had expected, and certainly not the outcome. Harry had seen to that personally, and since, an eerie lull in anything pertaining to Tom and his followers had fallen over Britain.
In truth, Harry was not surprised. Although Bones had been killed, the Dark Lord had certainly ended up worse from the exchange.
Such an observation brought little comfort, but Harry was pleased with the reprieve, even if his grandfather had been furious with his actions.
Still, Harry did not feel what he had done was wrong. As things were, he was seemingly facing insurmountable odds and he would not be made to feel guilty for evening them, by whatever means he deemed necessary.
If he was fortunate, his actions would delay whatever Tom was planning; delay, but not prevent, though any additional time Harry could acquire would certainly be of benefit to him.
The gap between their abilities remained a chasm, and time was what he needed more than anything else to close it.
"Are you going to eat that?" Ron asked, pulling Harry from his thoughts, and pointing at the remaining sausage on his plate.
"No."
Ron grinned as he speared it on his fork, and Harry once more found himself on the receiving end of Hermione's questioning stare.
It had been shortly after the incident at Azkaban that she had approached him with the idea of forming a 'Defence Club' of sorts to assist the fifth years with their OWLs and for any other student who wished to attend to learn to defend themselves.
Harry was all for everyone being able to defend themselves, but he was reluctant to be the one to run the club. For the most part, he simply didn't have the time, though the conversation he'd had with Charlus on the matter had given him pause to deny Hermione's request immediately.
'You should always strive to help where you can, Harry. Think of the future opportunities that could be presented to you. Many of your peers will one day hold seats on the Wizengamot, and they will not forget that it was you who helped them when they needed it most.'
'To the detriment of my own progress?'
'To the benefit of the war effort,' Charlus had countered. 'It is likely that the war will be ongoing for some time. Do you not think it would be best for you to have allies you can all upon when needed?'
Harry did see the logical in the man's argument, but Hermione's impatience had irritated him greatly. So much so that the two of them had argued quite heatedly resulting in neither talking to the other for several days.
Ever since, things had been quite frosty between them, and yet, the ever-stubborn girl remained determined for him to relent and lead the club.
Harry had warmed to the idea the more time that passed. Day in and day out he watched his students struggling to self-study the needed spells required to pass the Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL, and even the seventh years with their NEWTs.
Not having attended any lessons with Umbridge since the very first and only, Harry had managed to distance himself from anything regarding the woman, though the effect of her terrible teaching was becoming more and more obvious.
Sighing deeply, he shook his head.
Harry and Charlus may not be on the best of terms right now, but he deeply respected the man's opinion and the way he too had always been willing to help his peers.
"We will talk about it tonight," he conceded. "You can tell me what ideas you have."
Hermione smiled brightly at him and once more, Harry shook his head.
"I'm not making any promises," he said firmly.
Hermione merely continued to smile and Harry frowned as a large barn owl landed in front of him with the arrival of the post.
He did not recognise the bird, but it stood proudly, presenting its leg to which an envelope was tied. Removing it, Harry removed the note within, the hand the note was written in elegant yet unfamiliar.
To Harry Potter,
I hope this finds you well.
I am sorry for what happened at the end of the tournament and my thoughts have been with you.
I am writing to invite you to our family ball this coming New Year's Eve. My father explained that he has already discussed it with you, and that you agreed to come.
If you have changed your mind, I understand.
All of the details are attached, and you are welcome to bring a guest, but there is no obligation to.
I hope to see you there so that I can finally speak with you in person.
Yours truly,
Gabrielle Delacour
Harry had all but forgotten about the invite to the Delacour ball, but he remembered assuring Sebastien that he would attend. It certainly would not do to go back on his word now, not when the man had shown so much understanding at Harry not having visited over the summer.
"Anything interesting?"
"Just a personal matter," Harry said dismissively as he slid the parchment back into the envelope.
He may have offered an olive branch in principle, but that didn't mean he was going to share his personal affairs with Hermione. The girl could be too nosy for her own good at times.
"Do you really think what happened at Azkaban was an accident?" she asked, nodding towards the newspaper.
"Of course it bloody wasn't," Ron huffed. "Even I'm not stupid enough to believe that."
Harry chuckled as Hermione scowled at the redhead.
She had been fishing for information again, already under the impression that Harry knew more than he'd let on. He'd discussed the matter with no one, not even Dumbledore at length since they'd returned to Hogwarts from the prison.
Hermione was as astute as she was nosy; a combination that did not bode well for her.
"Come on, we will be late for Runes," Harry sighed as he stood. "See you in Charms, Ron."
"And Quidditch practice later. We've got Ravenclaw next."
Harry nodded.
As expected, their first outing against Slytherin had ended as it always did with Harry beating Malfoy to the Snitch with little difficulty. It had been odd walking out onto the field without Katie and Oliver, but Demelza Robbins, Katie's replacement was fitting in well with the other Chasers and Ron was performing admirably.
Quidditch seemed to be the last vestige of normality Harry had, and he came to appreciate his time atop his broom greatly.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione murmured.
"For what?"
"Sticking my nose in at times," she sighed. "I don't mean to; I just worry about you. I know you're more involved in everything going on that you're letting on. Why else would you have met with the Order during the summer? I just don't want to see you get hurt."
Harry could not deny the sincerity in her voice and he offered her something of a sad smile.
"Maybe a part of why I'm doing what I am is so that other people don't get hurt," he replied. "I don't want to do this defence club and have a group of students thinking thy are capable of fighting a war. People talk about Dumbledore beating Grindelwald and what happened when I was a baby, but there isn't any glory in it, Hermione. Not for those who are fighting."
"I'm not trying to encourage anyone to fight, but they should be able to defend themselves if they need to. The Death Eaters during the last war used to attack cities and villages, people in their homes. What you teach them could save their lives."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"We will talk about it tonight," he promised.
Hermione offered him a genuine smile.
"Thank you, Harry."
He nodded once more as he followed her into the Ancient Runes classroom. Maybe he would regret entertaining the idea, but what Hermione had said was true.
There were many things Harry had learned that he could pass on. There was no promise they would save lives, but they could certainly be the difference between life and death should Voldemort and his followers adopt some of their older techniques.
For now, all was seemingly quiet, but Harry was in no doubt that the man was merely laying low, biding his time, and preparing for when he could strike next against Wizarding Britain.
(Break)
The Dark Lord walked the length of the room he'd converted into something of a medical bay, each side lined with bed occupied those he had managed to rescue from Azkaban.
Rabastan, of course, was dead and there had simply been no sign of Bellatrix on the Island at all.
Perhaps she had been consumed by the fire before she had been reached, though Lord Voldemort thought not.
No, she had been taken, and was either dead or in the hands of the enemy.
"What progress, Severus?" he asked simply, repeating the question he had been demanding an answer to since his followers had been transported here.
Severus simply shook his head.
"As slow as ever, my lord," he answered candidly. "Their minds will take considerable work, and it is unlikely they will recover sufficiently. Potter tore through them without care, and all of them are suffering greatly from the trauma."
The Dark Lord's jaw tightened.
"I need them, Severus, Augustus especially."
"I am doing all I can, my lord," Severus assured him. "It will take time, but Augustus shows the most promise. None of them will truly be of use other than what we may be able to glean from their memories."
"Do what you can!" Voldemort snapped angrily; the fury that continually bubbled beneath the surface bursting free once more.
Severus nodded as he continued to administer the necessary potions to keep his followers alive. As things were, they required round the clock care. When Severus was not here, the task fell to his other followers, as incompetent as they were.
Already, he'd almost lost another three of those that had been incarcerated.
Pausing at Rodolphus's bed, he pulled the sheet back and grimaced at the sight.
Potter had destroyed each of their minds with his violent attack, but he'd also removed their hands, gelded the men, and removed all of their tongues in a most grotesque manner.
None would ever hold a wand again, and as Severus has stated many times now, would truly be able to serve him further.
Now, all that remained was the possibility of repairing their minds enough to gather information, and if he was fortunate, Augustus would become lucid enough to provide him with what he wished to know pertaining to the Department of Mysteries.
Until then, everything need to be put on hold.
Our of the forty followers that had accompanied him to Azkaban, only twenty-three returned. The Giants were currently waiting in France for further instruction, and likewise, Greyback was somewhere on the continent and would join him when instructed.
Whatever magic Potter had implemented was impressive to say the least. So much so that even the dementors had refused to join the Dark lord from what could only be perceived as a deep fear, or respect for the boy.
Potter.
Once more he had hindered him, and the Dark Lord grew only more impatience and wary of the young man who was proving himself to be quite the thorn in his side.
With a growl, Lord Voldemort took his leave of the room and headed back towards his study.
For weeks now, he had been looking for any reference to the magic Potter had used, and yet, his efforts had yielded nothing.
It was becoming rather disconcerting, but as ever, it would prove only to be a minor setback in the grand scheme of his plans.
Potter would not survive the coming war. Thus far, he had been fortunate, but his luck would run out.
Eventually, he would have to face the Dark Lord, and when that moment came, there would be no greater pleasure than making him suffer for every transgression he'd dared to commit.
(Break)
The mood within Grimmauld Place had been rather maudlin in recent weeks. Although there was sense of relief that whatever efforts Tom was making had been ceased temporarily, the fallout within the Order had not been negligible.
Albus could not be more grateful for Harry saving him, something he had thanked the boy for most profusely. However, when what he had done had come to light, it had created quite the division amongst the members of the Order.
Sirius, Remus, and a few others had ardently defended Harry's actions, but most had not hidden their displeasure. Albus was in two minds. Of course, if it weren't for Harry, he would likely have perished, and if Harry had not have taken the actions he did, then the prospect of what they all faced would be much worse.
He'd acted rather rashly, but Harry had made a choice and stuck to it. Were Albus able to remain entirely neutral in his thoughts of what Harry had done, he knew he would be able to understand the logic of it.
In truth, he believed it would have been kinder to simply kill those in Azkaban than administer what he'd done.
'I didn't kill them, but I made sure they cannot hurt anyone again.'
There had been no coldness nor callousness in his tine. Harry had simply spoke matter-of-factly, and even having discussed the matter with Nicholas at length, the alchemist had not condemned Harry's actions.
'It's war, Albus, and with your government proving to be as ineffective and useless as ever, Harry is doing what he deems necessary. Would you rather they were free to harm others? Would you see that they were able to murder, rape, and torture those they deem to be unworthy? Harry did Britain a service. I have seen the cruelty of war many times throughout my life, and I know which side I would rather see neutralised.'
As ever, although Albus could not bring himself to justify what Harry had done, Nicholas was right. The very thought of the likes of Rodolphus Lestrange and his ilk, free amongst the general population was frightening.
"Severus, do you have any news?"
The Potions Master looked tired; his expression grim as he shook his head.
"He is determined to speak with Augustus so he can learn what he needs to access the Department of Mysteries without being detected. The Death Eaters will not fully recover, but he does not want to admit it. He has attempted to craft them hands similar to what he did with Pettigrew, to no avail. All efforts to undo the damage Potter has done have all been unsuccessful."
Albus nodded.
"Good," Sirius muttered. "They deserve nothing less for what they have done."
Remus and Tonks nodded their agreement, as did Kingsley and even the Diggorys.
The two aurors had taken the loss of Amelia Bones hard, and undoubtedly personally. The Diggorys too had been close to the Bones family and had been the ones to arrange somewhere safe for Susan to go upon the death of her aunt.
None of them had spoken negatively of Harry's actions, though the same could not be said for the likes of Sturgis, Elphias, and most others seated around the table.
"So, he will continue to wait to press forward with his plans?"
Severus nodded.
"That is his intention, but already he grows weary and impatient," he explained. "He is insistent that Augustus is able to speak. I do not think it likely to happen. The Department of Mysteries is still being watched closely in the hope that either you or Potter attempt to retrieve it."
Albus rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"I believe that is Harry's eventual intention," he sighed. "I will speak with him to see if he is willing to wait. We should use this lull wisely. I would like you all to consider others who would be willing to join us. Despite what happened at Azkaban, make no mistake, we will still be facing considerable odds in the future. I intend on speaking with Rufus Scrimgeour when a private meeting can be arranged. I expect he will be quite busy for some time finding his feet in his new role. If there is nothing else?"
When none spoke, Albus dismissed them and leaned back in his chair.
"Headmaster?"
"What is it, Severus?"
"I was wondering if you have managed to verify what has happened to Bellatrix? If she is dead, it would be less concerning. If Potter does have her, what are his intentions?"
"I do not know, Severus," Albus sighed. "I have mentioned her status to him, but he has not been so forthcoming. I will discuss the matter with him."
Severus nodded.
"She is a cruel woman, headmaster. It would be best if she did not find her way back to the Dark Lord."
The Potions Master left the room with the others and Albus deflated.
He had grown tired of death and suffering long ago, and yet, it seemed that even the remaining years of his life was to be filled with both.
(Break)
"Exactly how many people have you spoken with about this?" Harry asked as he eyed the stack of parchment Hermione had produced.
"Not too many," she replied dismissively.
"Hermione?"
"Maybe thirty or so."
"Thirty or so? That's not just a few people," Harry huffed irritably.
"I know, but once me mentioned it to the twins, they told the rest of Quidditch team, and they have friends in other houses, and we had already spoken to other people in other houses. It sort of spiralled a little."
Harry could only shake his head as he began thumbing through the parchment.
"Umbridge won't like this," he murmured. "Where can we even hold this?"
"I've already thought of that," Hermione said with a smile as she fished out a part of her plan. "If we get one of the teachers to support the club, it can be made official, and there won't be anything Umbridge can do about it."
Harry frowned and gestured for her to continue.
"The Quidditch Pitch," she sighed. "There is plenty of room for us to practice. Please, Harry," she added.
"Fine, but I'm not arranging anything other than what is to be practiced."
Hermione squealed as she threw her harms around his neck and all but crushed his windpipe from the enthusiasm.
"Thank you!"
"Where is she going?" Harry asked as she sprinted towards the staircase leading up to the girl's dormitories.
Ron shrugged.
"I don't know, mate, but you have no idea what you've let yourself in for," he said with a knowing smirk.
"What's funny?"
Before Ron could answer, Hermione returned carrying another stack of parchment.
"These are the practical OWL exams for the last fifteen years," she explained, laying them on the table in front of Harry, "and these are the theory ones. I'll be back soon; I need to get a few things from the library."
She left the Common Room and Ron laughed as he patted Harry on the shoulder.
"I told you."
Harry cursed under his breath.
"You know when you said she was mental during our first year? I think you might have been right."
Ron grinned smugly as Harry stared aghast at the parchment he had been left with, already regretting agreeing to help Hermione with her defence club.
"Oi, what's up with Colin?" the redhead asked as Harry debated throwing the pile of parchment into the fire.
Looking up, he could see the mousy-haired boy was pale and clutching his hand to his chest, wincing with every step he took.
"Colin?" Harry called, beckoning the boy over.
He approached reluctantly, tucking what seemed to be a bandaged hand in his pocket.
"Did you want something, Harry?"
Colin had been crying, and he didn't look to be well.
"Are you alright?"
Colin nodded and smiled weakly, though his effort did nothing to convince Harry of such.
"Just a long day," the younger boy answered, yelping as Harry took hold of his wrist. "It's nothing," he added quickly.
Harry frowned deeply as he unwound the sodden bandages, his anger rising at the deep markings that appeared to have been carved into the back of Colin's hand.
"Merlin, what the hell is that?" Ron asked, his own skin paling at the sight.
"It's nothing," Colin said dismissively, trying to remove his hand from Harry's grip.
"I must not tell lies," Harry whispered. "Colin, who did this to you?"
Colin shook his head and bit back a sob.
"I can't," he choked. "She said no one would believe me and if I did tell, she would do the same to Dennis."
"Who did?" Ron demanded to know.
Once more Colin shook his head and Harry helped him into the seat next to him as he began trembling violently.
"Colin, you just have to tell me who did this to you and I will fix it," he said calmly, though he felt anything but.
Colin met his gaze, searching for the reassurance he sorely needed before swallowing.
"Umbridge," he whispered, his gaze flitting to every corner of the common room from fear she would burst out of each one.
"Umbridge?"
Colin nodded.
"She has this quill that she makes us write lines with. Whatever we write appears on the back of our hands like this."
"Wait, she does it to more students?"
"Only to those who are muggleborns," Colin explained.
Harry felt his anger rise as he pondered what kind of quill was designed to have such an effect.
"Any ideas, Ron?" he asked.
The redhead shrugged, though he appeared to be as disturbed as Harry felt.
"It can't be legal," he murmured. "There's no way that's allowed in a school."
Harry hummed irritably.
"Do you have your camera, Colin?"
The boy nodded and removed it from his bag and Harry took a few snaps of his injuries before removing a few phials from his own.
"Here," he offered. "It's Essence of Dittany. It will help heal it."
"Thanks, Harry," Colin said gratefully, wincing as he applied some of the liquid to his wounds.
"What are you thinking, Harry?" Ron asked curiously.
"I'm thinking Umbridge has some retribution coming her way," Harry muttered. "Who else has she done this to that you know of?"
"Two girls in Hufflepuff and a Ravenclaw," Colin answered.
"Can you speak with them quietly?"
Colin nodded.
"I can," he replied cautiously. "What are you going to do, Harry?"
"I'm going to make sure this doesn't happen again," Harry declared as he stood. "Develop the photos, Colin. I need to see what I can find out about this quill. Where does she keep it?"
"In the top drawer of her desk. It's black."
"Are you going to Dumbledore?"
"I'm not sure yet," Harry sighed. "Umbridge will only accuse someone of planting it, and Dumbledore will have to go through the governors to do anything about it. If it is illegal, then I think it would be best to take it straight to where it can't be covered up."
"Sirius?"
Harry nodded.
"It will give him something to do, and you know what he's like. He'll enjoy handling something like this."
"Where are you going?" Ron questioned as Harry made his way towards the exit.
"I'm going to see if I can get the quill and speak with someone who knows more than us about it. Help Colin with his wounds, Ron," Harry requested. "Just keep dabbing it with Dittany until it stops stinging."
Taking his leave of the common room, Harry concealed himself within his cloak and consulted the map.
Umbridge was currently alone in her office, but it wasn't there he intended to go first. No, once more, he required the services of a certain blonde Slytherin, even if it would cost him another favour.
Umbridge could not get away with harming the students in such a way. The very thought of what she was doing angered him deeply, but he knew he needed to remain calm and use his cunning in dealing with the woman.
How she thought she could get away with it, Harry didn't know.
Was she truly so cocksure that she was untouchable?
It didn't matter.
He wasn't going to waste time pondering her motivation or sense of self-entitlement. Harry couldn't care less for such things, but he would not see his fellow students harmed in such a way.
"Where are you, Greengrass?" he whispered to himself.
He spotted her in one of the girl's bathrooms in the dungeons and drew his wand, snickering to himself at the fright she was going to receive.
"Expecto Patronum."
(Break)
Once more, he sensed that he was being followed.
Sirius had been frequenting Knockturn Alley regularly for several weeks now, watching and waiting for those with nefarious dispositions to make an appearance.
From time to time, he would spot the likes of Nott, Avery, and even Malfoy, though the moment they became aware of his presence, they were gone in the blink of an eye.
From the very start he knew he should have adopted a disguise, but that would only have defeated the purpose of the game he was playing.
He'd been followed from Gringotts the day Lucius had paid the exorbitant sum to him, but this time, it was different. Whomever it was pursuing him had not been sent to merely follow. He could smell their murderous intent in the air, and it excited Sirius greatly.
He'd become something of a high-profile target for the Dark Lord, the main person that stood between the man and whatever political aspirations he harboured.
Perhaps Sirius should be taking more care, and yet, he would not be relegated once more to be cooped up in his home.
If Voldemort wanted him dead, the Dark Lord would have to come and take his life himself.
He smirked as he ducked into an alley between Borgin and Burke's and an unused building, finding himself facing a dead end.
"Thought you could hide from us forever?" a breathless voice asked.
"Who's hiding?" Sirius returned evenly.
His wand was already in hand, and the group of seven that had trapped him attacked without further preamble.
Sirius threw himself to the ground as a blinding light filled the alleyway and the spells sailed over him as he took aim with his own flurry.
When his vision cleared, it was to the sight of the attackers collapsed in a heap on top of one another, and a trio of people standing behind them.
"Are they dead?" Remus asked.
"They're not getting up," Tonks answered, nudging one of the men with her foot.
"Well, let's not hang around," Kingsley advised. "Cut their sleeves off and let's go."
In a matter of seconds, the Dark Mark each of them sported was visible for all to see and the foursome activated the portkeys that returned them to Grimmauld Place.
"Do you think we were seen?" Tonks asked.
"No," Sirius snorted. "Even if we were, who's going to give a toss about that lot?"
"Dumbledore won't like it," Remus sighed.
"Dumbledore won't know as long as this stays between us," Sirius pointed out. "Come on, Moony, you remember how badly the last war went. If something isn't done, it's going to end up the same way. Harry needs us."
The werewolf nodded; his resolve steeled once more.
"Good man," Sirius praised. "We are in this together. Kingsley and Tonks are more vulnerable than anyone else. Look what happened to Bones."
"I know," Remus huffed. "I know."
Sirius grasped his oldest living friend on the shoulder and gave him a nod of encouragement.
With Voldemort seemingly laying low, now was the time to weaken him. At best, his numbers would dwindle and there would be a reluctance to follow him. At worst, he would be forced to act and come out into the open before he was ready.
For those opposing him, there were no drawbacks.
Perhaps Dumbledore wouldn't like it, but this was a war, after all, and Sirius refused to bury Harry because of some misguided moral ambiguity.
If Harry was willing to do what was necessary to end this war, why shouldn't everyone else?
(Break)
Daphne screamed as a ghostly figure suddenly burst into the cubicle, and she fell off the toilet and onto the hard tiled fall from fright.
"If you can come to the owlery when you're done, I'd really appreciate," the voice of Harry Potter spoke from the ethereal thestral. "Oh, and remember, more than two shakes… I'm sure you know it."
Daphne simply gaped at where the creature had been standing for a moment after it vanished before she cursed profusely, cleaning herself up and casting a disillusionment charm over herself.
She was going to kill Potter.
How did he even know that she was in the bathroom?
It didn't matter, she was going to kill him when she made it to the owlery. Storming from the bathroom, she made her way there, imagining all kinds of pain she could inflict upon him. By the time she reached the seventh floor, she'd considered no less than ten ways he would be suffering in the coming moments.
"Where are you?" Daphne demanded as she entered the room, startling some of the owls.
"Don't scare the poor buggers," Harry huffed, holding his hands up as Daphne pressed the tip of her wand against his cheek. "Did I interrupt something?" he asked with a smirk.
Daphne's nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed.
"That was not funny, Potter!"
"Oh, lighten up," he chuckled. "At least you were in the right place if you were going to shi…"
He paused as Daphne pushed her wand harder into his cheek.
"Don't," she warned.
He merely grinned in response and Daphne growled before relenting.
"Sorry, I couldn't resist, and I wouldn't have disturbed you unless it was important."
"If you're going to ask me for another favour…"
"I'm not," Harry assured. "Well, not a favour as such. I just thought you'd be the best person to ask."
"Ask what?"
"Have you heard of a quill that will carve into your skin whatever you write on parchment?"
Daphne frowned deeply.
"Why?" she asked warily.
"I just need to know."
Daphne searched his gaze, and though Potter seldom gave anything away, she could see he was rather troubled and angry about something.
"I suppose you're asking me because I'm an evil Slytherin who would know that sort of thing?"
"Exactly."
Daphne tutted.
She knew he was teasing her once more but she wouldn't take the bait.
"A blood quill," she answered. "They're used for business and marriage contracts mostly, or if you purchase a house. Why?"
"So, it would be illegal to use it as a form of punishment?"
"Potter, just get to the point," Daphne grumbled irritably.
He nodded and gazed around the tower to ensure they were alone.
"Umbridge has been getting students to write lines with one."
Daphne's eyes widened.
"Are you serious?" she whispered.
Harry nodded grimly and Daphne shook her head.
"That's definitely illegal," she murmured thoughtfully, disgusted by the revelation. "I don't know what charges could be brought her against her. Maybe torture, but definitely abusing minors. She'll be finished if it's true."
"So, you think I should go about it the official way?"
"What other way were you considering?"
"Well, I thought maybe giving her a taste of her own medicine would be a good start."
"Are you sure you shouldn't be a Slytherin?" Daphne snorted.
"The hat did want to put me there," Harry revealed.
Daphne thought he was joking once more but realised quickly that he was not.
"From what I have seen of you, that really doesn't surprise me, Potter, but no, giving her a taste of her own medicine wouldn't be better long term. Think about it; she adores Fudge and the Ministry more than anything. If you take that away from her, it will hurt more than a few scars."
"True," Harry conceded with a frown. "Maybe then I can get out of doing this bloody defence club."
"Granger managed to convince you then?"
"How do you know about it?"
"She asked if me and Tracy would be interested in coming," Daphne answered with a shrug. "I think you should still do it, no matter what happens with Umbridge."
"Why?"
"Because you can help people, Potter. You could really save lives by teaching us something worth knowing."
"You're going to come?"
"Maybe," Daphne replied airily. "Depends on if I think you're any good."
"What if I ban you?"
"Then I will tell everyone that you like harassing people when they're on the toilet!"
"Touché," Harry chuckled. "Fine. Seeing as I agreed to it, I will, but I'm still going to ruin Umbridge. I just need to gather some more evidence."
"You'll need it to be watertight," Daphne warned. "If there's any shred of evidence that she might be innocent, Fudge will jump all over it. I suppose you will have your godfather handle it in the Wizengamot?"
"I will."
"Good," Daphne praised. "Sirius Black is the hottest political commodity at the moment. It would be good to use him."
Harry nodded gratefully.
"Thank you," he offered sincerely. "I probably would have just made her write until she killed herself."
Daphne rolled her eyes.
"As much as your pursuit of justice is admirable, don't you think you should consider less severe options before resorting to violent measures?"
"My approach worked with Malfoy," Harry pointed out. "He hasn't been a prat all year."
"He hasn't," Daphne agreed, "but you'll have a seat on the Wizengamot in less than two years, Potter. I'm not stupid enough to ignore what is happening out there, but politics will be one of your strongest weapons, especially when the fighting ends. You need people to see you can be diplomatic as well as act."
"Why do you care what I do?"
"I don't," Daphne said dismissively, "but I care about what our world will be like when the war is over. If you win, you will be the most influential person in the country. I'd rather you were inspirational in all the right ways."
Harry seemed taken aback but nodded his understanding.
"You're right," he sighed, taken Daphne by surprise once more. "I will take what you've said into consideration."
"Really?"
Harry shrugged.
"Doesn't being inspirational mean you should take advice from others when it's good?"
Daphne nodded as she smiled.
"It does."
"Thanks, Greengrass," Harry offered sincerely. "As ever, you've been a lot of help."
"You're welcome, Potter," Daphne replied as he made his way towards the staircase. "Wait!"
He paused and she approached.
"You owe me two favours."
"I do."
"Well, one of them can be helping with fighting, duelling, defensive magic, or whatever it is you do."
"I'm going to be doing that anyway," Harry pointed out.
"I mean private lessons," Daphne sighed. "As much as I want there to not be a war, I'm not an idiot, Potter. We could all get caught up in this and I'd rather be able to protect myself and my family."
Harry nodded his understanding.
"Fine," he agreed. "I will give you some private lessons. You just have to say when, and I will make some time for you."
"Why not right now?"
"Now?"
Daphne nodded resolutely.
"Alright," Harry agreed. "Let's find somewhere. I have a few simple things I can cover with you tonight."
Daphne beamed.
She had been pondering what favours she would ask of Potter, and this one had come to her suddenly as they'd been speaking. Whether or not she would regret it remained to be seen, but she had no doubt that Potter had a lot to teach, and if it proved to be worthwhile, then enduring his company would not be so bad.
She hoped.