"Quite a read, isn't it?" said a voice behind them.
Ron and Hermione turned to see Harry standing behind them, his fists and his jaw clenched. Before either of them could say anything, Harry plopped himself down on the house table and took the newspaper in his hands. Ron, Hermione and the twins shot looks of confusion among them, aware of the mutterings that had rose in volume around them. Every single occupant's eyes were trained on Harry.
Harry, who had practiced the art of ignoring, kept his sight firmly in front.
"Harry," Hermione tried to initiate.
He sighed and pointed at his eight year old's photo, "We had an individual and class photo that day in primary school. The usual hullabaloo, everyone came wearing new, clean and smart clothes. Except me. The teacher called the Dursleys, who then decided that it was my fault for not informing them in advance and essentially embarrassing them in school. No idea why Petunia still has it."
"It's sick," commented Fred. George nodded.
"Heads up mate," warned Ron.
Harry looked up and saw Umbridge had entered the Great Hall. She caught his gaze and started positively striding towards him, with an evil glint in her eyes. Ron and Hermione stood up, while the twins scrambled from their seats too and formed a defense behind Harry.
The air seemed to crackle with electricity and Harry was pretty sure that it would take only one spark to ignite the whole thing. Never before had he been blindsided with such news; not even realising that he was a Horcrux during the war, for he had long ago accepted that death was much prominent in his destiny. Thankfully, he had survived and now miraculously been granted a second chance to change things. Of course, it wasn't going to be simple, with the main enemy hiding in the shadows and the Ministry behaving like a thorn in their way.
"Sit down you two," Umbridge said dismissively to Ron and Hermione. "Mr Potter, my office please."
"Wait a moment," said a voice.
McGonagall had stepped down from the dais. "Might I remind you Dolores, that you have no authority to invite -"
"Yes, yes. You have reminded me quite a few times, Minerva," Umbridge answered, with a sickening smirk forming on her lips. "I am sure that it will no longer remain the case."
She then raised her voice to address the students at large, "It was with a straightforward view that I returned to these halls of Hogwarts, where I was once a student like you all. Education has always been of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.
Harry rolled his eyes when he heard the same speech Umbridge had made in the original timeline's Welcoming Feast.
"Every Headmaster and Headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, albeit a suspicion was always cast on the current one. It is a shame that some have, under the guise of progress, violated these scared walls of learning by spreading nonsense and fear through rumours. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."
The quiet that had filled the Hall was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering among themselves. Harry had a dread feeling in his stomach, hoping that this wouldn't lead to Umbridge's countless decrees.
"Now, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge, interrupting his thoughts, "It's time we have a chat. Over a cup of tea and biscuits, of course. Wouldn't want you to miss breakfast."
Harry could see McGonagall attempting to intervene, but he shook his head, "It's alright, professor. The Ministry clearly has no limits when it comes to underage people." He assured Ron and Hermione that he would join them in their Charms class. As he suspected. they would follow him.
The walk to Umbridge's third floor office was no pleasant journey. It was clear that she wanted to gloat. He entered her office, a room he was more familiar with than he'd like. It seemed she had acquired yet more kitten plates, their big eyes and the bows around their necks looking stupider than ever.
"Have a seat, Mr Potter," she invited and gave her short wand a wave, and a cup of tea along with a plate of biscuits appeared on her desk. "Would you prefer something else? Coffee? Pumpkin Juice?"
"Nothing, thank you," said Harry.
"I wish you to have a drink with me," she said, her voice becoming dangerously sweet. "I insist."
He knew the sinister nature that lurked behind that smile. He repeated his first refusal. "Nothing, thank you."
"Is something the matter, Mr Potter? It's not poisoned, I assure you."
Harry gave a short laugh, this power struggle between the two of them ever since meeting her in the original and this new timeline was infuriating. She was trying to play him and Harry would like nothing better than to not let her dictate the terms of the game. The article in the Prophet, the implied labelling of him and Dumbledore as a liar and outing his early life at the Dursleys. Of course she wanted to rub that in his face, to use it against him…but that didn't mean he had to let her.
Meeting her beady little eyes he held her gaze. He would not be the first to look away. "Really? Although, seeing the limits and boundaries crossed by you has me wondering whether it's laced with Veritaserum."
Umbridge didn't play along. Instead she waved her wand again and vanished the snacks, rescinding the offer. "Paranoid, are you?"
"I rather see it as a healthy paranoia regarding accepting food and drink from those I do not trust. Speaking frankly, you are not even on the list."
"Pity your family didn't see it that way," she remarked.
Harry clenched his fists in fury. He knew that Umbridge was behind the sensational news article.
She chuckled, "Consider the surprise I received when I visited your aunt and uncle. It was quite the revelation. The famous Boy-Who-Lived treated as a servant by his dead mother's sister. You see Mr. Potter, I was wrong in assuming you as spoiled-rich child. Instead you are just an abused child, continuously testing the patience of the authority and determined to get hero-worship bestowed upon you in order to keep that legend attached to your name going. However deep down, you know you deserve to be punished!"
Harry remained silent.
"It was luck that I stumbled upon your history. Here is a fifteen year old teenager, orphaned, but a living legend all the same. After disappearing into the Muggle world, he returns and keeps getting into mysteries all throughout the school year. Oh yes, I have heard interesting amount of your adventures - the disappearance of Quirell, the Chamber of Secrets, unauthorized participation in the Triwizard Tournament, it goes on. Now, running a defense group to supposedly train students in fighting a dark wizard that has been dead for fourteen years! You have no right to be treated as an underage student, when all your behaviour points to a criminal personality.
"And what do we do with criminals? We create a profile of them. Dig into their past and connect links. Not everyone is fascinated by you as your two faithful sidekicks. Mr. Draco Malfoy was proven a most trustful source, who has made a list of pertinent observations where you are concerned."
"Pity you don't employ such methods for the employees and associates of the Ministry of Magic. Then again, what can one expect when corrupted leaders such as you and Fudge are in charge," said Harry simply, ticking off the closeted Pureblood fanatics and Death Eaters in his head.
Umbridge growled in response. "Clearly, details about your childhood were shrouded in secret. Did you really think that they wouldn't come out into the open, when you have been putting yourself into so much spotlight? The Ministry always keeps an eye on it's citizens, Mr. Potter and you are no exception. Your muggle residence has been registered at the Ministry since your were placed ... sorry, left there on the doorstep. Naturally, Dumbledore has sought to keep your address away from the public records; however the high ranking officials and the Wizengamot have been privy to it."
Harry blurted out, "So, that is how you set the Dementors after me."
Umbridge faltered in her confidence. "Baseless accusations!"
"Unwilling to take the credit for this?" smirked Harry.
There was a nasty, eager, excited look on her face that Harry had seen before. "Very well. It's my words against yours. Somebody had to act. They were all bleating about silencing you somehow - discrediting you - but I was the one who actually did something about it… only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you, Potter?
"How the tables have turned now...Your aunt and uncle were quite willing to discuss you over a cup of tea. A single drop of Veritaserum in the beverage of those unsuspecting Muggles, and pathetic ones such the Dursleys and they spilled all the juicy details of your childhood. The neighbours were eager participants too. Of course, that witness you produced in that Squib near your house proved to be a small hindrance. Foolish woman spying on a witch."
Mrs. Figg must have caught her loitering in Privet Drive, but had failed to notify the Dumbledore. It was obvious that Umbridge had shown no restraint in using magic.
"What is it you are trying to achieve? I am not talented in Divination, but in no way in the near future will the truth not come out. Voldemort is back. He killed Cedric Diggory and is now stealthily gathering followers -"
"Enough," said Umbridge, raising her hand. "I had hoped that my intervention would serve as valuable food for thought. That perhaps in light of the article in the Daily Prophet you will give renewed consideration to the side you have chosen. After all…the standing of Professor Dumbledore is thoroughly diminished. It won't be long at all until he is gone entirely, and with it his bad influence on you and countless others students and people. That is why I have invited you here today, Mr Potter. To offer you a new way forward."
She paused, lingering on this sentiment. Her polite smile was filled with expectation, and then annoyance. As if recalibrating she cleared her throat, taking a sip of the tea she had poured for herself. "The damage to your own reputation can of course be repaired," she said lightly. "Were you to seek the forgiveness of Minister Fudge, and admit that Professor Dumbledore took advantage of you for political gain. I'm certain we can all make amends."
Clearly she was expecting him to either blow up and lose his temper, or to admit she was right and plead forgiveness. Just as he did she continued to persist.
"There is no hope, Potter. Not in the footsteps of a power-hungry and manipulative Albus Dumbledore. Continuing as you are will force the Minister for Magic to take measures against you. We can't have you unnecessarily alarming the good witches and wizards of this country. There must be consequences, which it seems you will face for certain if you choose otherwise."
Harry wasted no time in answering, the retort was right on the tip of his tongue. "I would rather eat a load of Doxy eggs than ally myself with Fudge's Ministry."
The silence that followed stretched on, lasting perhaps another minute entirely, before Harry made up his mind to depart. He stood up and just as he was about leave, Umbridge called.
"Mr. Potter, where is Sirius Black?"
For a few moments longer Harry held her gaze, perhaps showing his innocence in the matter.
"Nothing to declare?" she asked. "Your aunt says that is how you reigned in their abuse by threatening them about your murderer godfather."
Upon seeing just how frustrated she was he too allowed himself to crack, he allowed the corners of his mouth to twitch upward, a barely restrained smile; he shrugged, "No idea."
He dismissed himself.
What followed the exposing article was a week full of rumours, gossips, hearsay and any other term describing circulation of doubtful truths. The piece appeared in the Daily Prophet on Tuesday and in a span of just five days, for today was Saturday, Harry had heard almost everything ranging from a frightened, abused child to power fanatic next Dark Lord. He had always been fiercely protective of his privacy, but an article detailing about how abusive his childhood was, had taken the whole thing to a new level of intrusion and shattered almost any chance of building up a shield for his mental health. If anything, he had to now endure countless stares from morning to night. As if people expected him to lash out and unleash his anger.
Harry was angry alright. Of that there was no doubt, but he hadn't reverted to his original fifteen year old self. He was a mature adult and quite adept at controlling his emotions, something that would have been highly advantageous when learning Occlumency the first time. He ignored others and went on with his routine. One thing Harry was most thankful about was how Ron and Hermione had once again taken up the task of supporting him unwaveringly. They staunchly defended him against the continued onslaught of jeers and taunts.
Ron and Hermione were the first persons he had ever trusted without doubt. They certainly had made assumptions of what he had remarked in passing over the years and the couple of times they had met the Dursleys. He knew they wanted to talk about it, Hermione most of all. He had caught her trying to bring up the topic, while Ron kept casting furtive glances at him.
That was the thing, Harry didn't want to rake out the past. That was his reasoning. It was all in the past. Nine years since he had last seen the Dursleys; he hadn't invited them to his wedding. He was content in maintaining a distant yet somewhat friendly relationship with Dudley by sending Christmas Cards every year. That was the extent of their relationship in the original timeline. He had no interest in talking about it. He wanted to firmly forget about the whole decade he had lived in Privet Drive. Ginny steadfastly tried to break his habit of internalising everything and coping on his own.
Ginny.
His heart clenched in sadness whenever he thought about her. Not for the first time, he missed her terribly. She was the only real thing in this world. For him, she was his best source of comfort and happiness. So, why he was reluctant to talk with her? They hadn't had their daily mirror talks that day and the day after next. She understood that he wanted to call her on his own terms. Finally he had plucked up the courage to call her last night. She had inquired after him, comforted him and she hadn't... hadn't demanded why he never told her about the cupboard.
She knew about the household chores, the ignored birthdays, withholding of meals and the loneliness in growing up at Privet Drive. The cupboard under the stairs. Was it going to haunt him for the rest of his life? He often dreamed about the closeted space, how tense he felt about shoving his own baby in the cupboard as punishment.
He could technically deny that it was all fabricated by the press, but he wouldn't do that to Ginny. She deserved the best. He just needed to calm down first. She would understand him.
Although, Harry was sure those weren't the only ones worried about him. Sirius and Remus definitely would like to talk to him. Molly had in her usual caring manner penned him a carefully worded letter the next day (for spying owl post was still a possibility) and assured him of her and Arthur's support. He could literally feel her warm nature when reading her words.
Even McGonagall and some other professors (Snape kept his distance) gave him a pitying look from time to time. Dumbledore was noticeably absent these past few days from the school. Harry assumed he was busy with Ministry matters. However, the howlers and the bunch of letters brought by the morning post left no doubt that Dumbledore's status as a powerful and respected figure had taken a steep dive. If his name was in the mud before, it was nothing compared to now. Dumbledore's many actions throughout the years had come under suspicion. The Wizarding World questioned whether a school headmaster was granted too much leeway where he was not concerned.
A sharp whistle blew and Harry shook his head off the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind. He was at a Quidditch match for Merlin's sake, and was playing the seeker.
The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ron streak off towards the goal hoops. Harry zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same.
Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium and Harry listened as hard as he could through the wind whistling in his ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing.
"Potter was born in a ditch, Thinks he's great at Quidditch, Uses four-eyes for the Snitch, He was born in a ditch.
"Discarded as an infant, That's why all Slytherins chant, Potter was born in a ditch, But thinks he's great at Quidditch."
Harry muttered under his breath, "Innovative." Atleast they hadn't started targeting Ron in his first Quidditch match. He wheeled around to watch Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goal hoops. It looked like he was faring better when the attention wasn't on him. He had let in only two goals and saved others. The score was 50-20 to Gryffindor.
Harry could hear Luna's ludicrous lion hat roaring amidst the Gryffindor cheers and felt heartened. Harry ducked a Bludger that Crabbe had sent rocketing in his direction and resumed his frantic scouring of the pitch for the Snitch, keeping one eye on Malfoy in case he showed signs of having spotted it, but Malfoy, like him, was continuing to soar around the stadium, searching fruitlessly ...
Although that didn't stop him from miming a rude gesture at him. It was childish if they thought they could rile him up with the song.
"- Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey - Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good - I mean bad - Bells hit by a Bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession"
But Harry had seen it at last: the tiny fluttering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch.
He dived…
In a matter of seconds, Malfoy was streaking out of the sky on Harry's left, a green and silver blur lying flat on his broom…
"POTTER WAS BORN IN A DITCH...
The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goalhoops and scooted off towards the other side of
the stands; its change of direction suited Malfoy, who was nearer; Harry pulled his Firebolt
around, he and Malfoy were now neck and neck…
"DISCARDED AS AN INFANT..."
Harry pulled his broom upwards, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval. He heard Madam Hooch's shrill whistle.
"Take that you Slytherins! When you don't have anything bad to say about a great seeker, you go after nonsensical things to taunt!" swore Lee Jordan loudly on the magical megaphone. Weirdly he wasn't stopped for shouting that.
Harry heard a snort from behind him and turned around, still holding the Snitch tightly in his hand: Draco Malfoy had landed close by. White-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer.
"Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"
Harry didn't answer. He turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph.
"We wanted to write another couple of verses!"' Malfoy called, as Katie and Alicia hugged Harry. "Originally it was for Weasley, but your pathetic backstory was just a golden opportunity."
Fred and George had realised what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand, they stiffened, looking round at Malfoy.
"Leave him, he's being a jealous arse," said Harry.
Before either of them could start throwing punches at Malfoy, Harry slyly waved his wand and Malfoy's pants came down. Everyone saw his trunks adorned with little snitches.
"Looks you didn't need another Snitch," said Harry, showing off who had won. Without bothering to wait for his retort, the team moved their victory parade back to the castle.
The Gryffindor team was about to move their celebrations to the Common Room when they were interrupted by McGonagall coming down from the steps of the castle.
"Mr. Potter, if I could talk to you in my office, please," she said. "The others continue your celebrations, but don't let it get out of hand."
Hoping that it wasn't anything bad, he followed her to her office. Ron and Hermione tagged behind him.
"I- Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger...Alright you can stay," said McGonagall seeing them enter. The door closed automatically behind them.
She didn't beat around the bush.
"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were arrested by the Muggle please-men today morning."
Whatever joy the Quidditch victory served, was all sucked out. Harry felt annoyed and frustrated. It seemed even after planning meticulously for the future, their luck had finally run out and now the things were going downhill. His childhood was exposed, they were no closer to have access to Lestranges' vault and Voldemort still had to make a move out into the open.
Had he unknowingly created a big ripple in the timeline? He had no idea about the mechanics but he couldn't find any other reason for it. He was so proud of keeping Umbridge away from Hogwarts that she had come back with twice the vengeance. He felt a shiver run up his spine when he recalled Voldemort's words - 'Your future knowledge is going to be your own undoing.'
Was that it? The more he tried to change, the more it would get out of his hands.
Harry, Ron and Hermione returned to their Common Room where the party was going on in full swing. Harry conveniently excused himself from his house mates to be alone in his dormitory.
"I will talk to you later," said Harry firmly and left them downstairs.
He sat on his bed, his head in his hands. Granted, he was ... abused (accepting itslef had taken a long time). Not physically, but he had always felt downtrodden in the Dursley household. When he was really little, he wondered what he could do so he would be treated the same way Dudley was treated. Many times, he blamed his parents for leaving him alone with these vile people. That was much before he knew about the Wizarding World. Slowly, he realised that no matter what he did, he would always be inferior in the eyes of the Dursleys. When he was locked in the cupboard, he would often dream of what he would do after growing up - leave the Dursleys and never come back. He would rather make it on his own.
The irony was that, after starting Hogwarts, after becoming friends with Ron and Hermione and having so many people who cared for him, one thought kept nagging him - it wouldn't last. A mad dark wizard was hell bent on killing him. After defeating Voldemort, he felt ... shallow. He had no idea what to do next. Countless funerals, many sleepless nights plagued with nightmares, the press frenzy, all that overwhelmed him.
However, throughout the whole ups and downs, Ginny was the only real thing. She would always remain his source of comfort and happiness.
He sniffed.
He glanced at his trunk, and quickly made his decision.
He took out his Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map and left.
