— BY ORDER OF —

The Ministry of Magic

Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The above is in accordance with

Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight.

Signed:

Cornelius Oswald Fudge

MINISTER FOR MAGIC

That morning, Tim shocked everyone and no one by making a beeline for the high table and approaching Umbridge. The woman sat in Dumbledore's old seat at the center of the long table, though McGonagall and Snape, who usually sat on either side of said seat, had given Umbridge a wide berth, each leaving two empty seats between themselves and her, which got a silent laugh out of Tim.

Umbridge's eyes widened as she watched him approach, and a very small smile graced her lips. Tim slid into the empty seat on her right.

"Good morning, Headmistress," he greeted, taking one of her pudgy hands and placing a very, very small kiss on her knuckles. He immediately regretted the action and resolved then and there to brush his teeth three times before eating this morning.

Umbridge, however, giggled at his gesture and at the purposeful use of her new title, and she gave Tim a pat on the head. "Good morning, Timothy. I was hoping to speak with you before class this afternoon. How are you, dear?"

Tim let out an embarrassed chuckle. "I admit, there was something about which I had hoped to speak with you as well, ma'am, but, first and foremost, I wanted to congratulate you on your election to the post of Head of Hogwarts. You deserve it, ma'am."

"Why, thank you, Timothy," she smiled. "And, as Headmistress, I was thinking of doing a little promoting of my own."

"Are you now?"

"Yes, dear. I'm not sure if you're aware, but, just last night, I discovered that Harry Potter and his friends were conducting an illegal dueling club right under my nose!"

Now, Tim had been preparing himself for this conversation all night, reviewing possible conversation iterations in his mind, so, upon hearing this "news," he widened his eyes and brought his hands up to his mouth.

"Oh my god," Tim whispered, loud enough for her to hear. "Oh my god, this is all my fault, Headmistress!"

Umbridge, as he expected, looked both surprised and the tiniest bit suspicious. "Why, whatever do you mean by that?"

"I—oh my god, I'm so sorry, ma'am—" he pressed a hand to his temple and avoided direct eye contact with her, "—there was this Hogsmeade trip last semester, and Harry and his lackeys held this meeting at the Hog's Head where they organized this club that was supposed to prepare them for a war with the Ministry—a-and we all signed this paper—" He finally met Umbridge's eyes. "I was going to tell you, I swear—but then you released that Educational Decree, and—and I—well, I thought that meant that you already knew what was going on and had put a stop to it—" He started to tear up. "I'm so, so, sorry, I thought you'd put a stop to it!"

And when he paused to catch his breath, he watched as Umbridge's face twisted with—with genuine pity.

Holy shit, she took the bait. Truthfully, Tim had thought this little plan of his had maybe a 33% chance of not blowing up in his face.

"Oh, Timothy," she sighed, patting his cheek affectionately. "Oh, child, it's not your fault! You're right, I did know about the meeting that day, but even I had no clue that they had further plans past that. Dumbledore is, unfortunately, very good at scheming." She shook her head, giving Tim a loving smile. "It seems that Harry and his friends played you. I suggest you stop pretending to be their friend."

Tim nodded quickly. "Y-you're right, ma'am." And then, for good measure, he added another, "I'm just—I'm so sorry this happened—"

"Oh, don't be, Timothy," Umbridge said, shaking her head. "After all, if it wasn't for all of this, I wouldn't be sitting in this seat today, now, would I?"

Tim let out a breathy laugh, finally understanding his youngest brother's frequent urge to stab people. "I—I suppose you're right, Headmistress."

"In fact," she continued, "I was hoping to hand out some promotions of my own. I was wondering, Timothy—would you like to become a member of the Inquisitorial Squad?"

"What's that?" he asked, not even faking his eagerness.

"Well, it's a small selection of students loyal to myself and the Ministry who would act as enforcers of my Educational Decrees." She leaned towards him and whispered conspiratorially, "You would even be allowed to give and take house points, just like the professors!"

Tim grinned. "I'm honored that you would choose me."

"Why did she choose you?" Malfoy attempted to grab Tim's shoulder, but he was too quick for the Slytherin, grabbing the boy's wrist and wrenching it away. Malfoy hissed in pain.

"You're going to have to be more specific than that," Tim shot back, though he was fully aware of what Malfoy was talking about.

Goyle stepped forward, rolling up a sleeve like he was getting ready to take on Tim (a horrible idea, really), but when Malfoy turned and growled at him, the other boy stepped back. Ravenclaws and Slytherins alike kept a wide berth from the two on their way to the greenhouses, though it was clear that they were all interested in what was going down.

Malfoy turned back to Tim, unsuccessfully trying to yank his hand out of Tim's iron grip. "How did you get in Umbridge's pocket?"

"Same way you did, Malfoy," he smirked. "I decided that I wanted to be on the winning side, and I made sure Umbridge knew that."

"Bullshit," Malfoy growled through clenched teeth, and Tim watched as the boy's other hand reached back behind his robes. "I've seen you hanging around Potter and his sidekicks, I know you're just as self-righteous as the rest of them."

"I was playing them, moron. How do you think Umbridge even found out about their little club in the first place?"

"It was that Ravenclaw girl," Malfoy said immediately, though he looked less than a hundred percent sure.

"I meant when Umbridge put out the Educational Decree that banned clubs," Tim drawled, like this should have been obvious. "I was the one who tipped her off." Tim was really banking off of the fact that, if he himself had not been aware of the man who had been sitting in the Hog's Head that day, no one else was—a pretty bold thing to assume, but Tim was long past the point of being cautious. Any day now, Umbridge might just piece together the clues and poke enough at the holes in Tim's stories that she'd find out the truth—that he knew she was a worthless excuse for a human being—and bring her full wrath down upon him, but until that day actually came, Tim was going to keep on piling on the lies. It was a specialty of his—lying to authority figures.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, frowning. "You're lying."

"Tell that to Umbridge," Tim countered while simultaneously hoping the boy did not, in fact, tell that to Umbridge.

Malfoy paused for a moment, and then said, "I don't trust you, Drake."

"And you think I trust you after that shit you pulled last semester?" Tim scoffed. "Listen, we don't have to trust each other or even like each other, but we're on the same side, so at least act professional about it." He finally let go of Malfoy's hand, and the boy drew it back quickly like he'd touched something hot.

"Oh, I'll act professional," Malfoy started, "but you're not fooling me. One way or another, I will expose you for the filthy liar that you are."

"I look forward to it," said Tim chipperly, and headed into the greenhouse without so much as a second glance in Malfoy's direction.

Tim carefully avoided sitting next to the Gryffindors when he attended Transfiguration that day, but it seemed they hadn't gotten the message, because they confronted him right after class ended.

"Tim, what's going on?" Hermione asked.

"Why were you talking with Umbridge at breakfast?" Harry added.

"And why are you avoiding us?" said Ron.

Tim turned to Ron first. "You mean before today or after today?"

"Both!" he replied.

"Oh, well, Harry here," he gestured lazily in the boy's direction, "has been acting weird whenever we talked, and he refused my Occlumency help even though he's apparently not doing so hot at it (Harry looked taken aback at this), so I thought you guys had beef with me or something."

Harry's face turned bright red, and Tim saw him clench his fists. "I-it's not like that…" he mumbled, refusing to look Tim in the eyes, and for a moment, Tim could have sworn it was Damian in front of him, internalizing all of his problems and refusing to tell Tim why he was acting up. Tim felt a sudden surge of affection towards Harry and decided at that moment to put aside his own petty grudge against the boy and forgive him for being an angsty teenager.

"Okay, listen," he told Harry. "I know I'm basically a stranger to you compared to everyone else here, and I know that it doesn't help that I've been keeping things from you, so I understand why you wouldn't want to tell me what's going on. But Dumbledore said that you need help with Occlumency, and I don't want Voldemort to mess with your brain just as much as the next person. So, can we, like, call a truce or something?" He offered his hand in Harry's direction. "I just want you to be safe, and now that Dumbledore's gone, I kind of feel like it's up to me."

Hermione and Ron both turned to Harry, and he looked at the both of them like they were holding a silent conversation, since they probably were. But finally, Harry held out a hand and shook Tim's with a surprisingly firm grip.

"You—you're right, Tim. I'm sorry. I just…" Harry bit his lip. "There's just a lot going on right now, and it's kind of overwhelming."

"That, I can understand." Tim nodded. "Listen, I'll stop by the Gryffindor Common Room tonight after hours and tell you all everything, but for now, I need you all to stop interacting with me in public."

"What?" the three of them cried in unison.

Tim sighed. "Listen, Umbridge is basically in my pocket. I managed to convince her that I knew nothing about the D.A., and she believed me." Ron's jaw dropped. "Yeah," Tim chuckled, "crazy, I know. But what's important is that in doing so, I made it so that you all know that I'm an Umbridge supporter." Harry and Ron didn't seem to be tracking Tim's words, but Hermione nodded, so Tim trusted her to explain to them later.

"I'll explain in more detail tonight, but just avoid me in public spaces, okay?"

Ron blinked for a moment. "You're not allowed in our common room," he said blankly.

Tim smirked. Of course Ron was stuck on that. "And, what, you think that'll stop me?" he snorted, walking out of the classroom.

When Tim entered the Gryffindor Common Room that night, it was like someone had gotten engaged. There was food everywhere, fireworks in the air, and Fred and George had become champions of the people within a single afternoon. It wasn't particularly hard to see why.

Earlier, when Tim had heard the explosion, he had rushed out of the Great Hall, forgetting where he was and the cover he was trying to keep, his wand already in hand. This was all done only to find that the source of said explosion was a pyrotechnical show to rival the Capitol Fourth. There were pinwheels and sparklers, rockets and roman candles, and life-size dragons made completely out of magical fireworks. It was glorious pandemonium, and once the adrenaline left his system, Tim found himself appreciating the work that must have gone into this display, especially the way the fireworks reacted upon being hit with particular spells. Despite their lackadaisical approach to schooling, it was clear that the Weasley twins were geniuses in their own right. And Tim knew it was the Weasleys—who else could have successfully pulled off a prank of this scale?

"Tim!" George shouted the moment he saw him slip through the portrait hole. "How'd you like the show?" A couple Gryffindors looked at Tim in shock, but it was actually rather comical how the majority of them accepted the fact that a Ravenclaw had just managed to enter their common room.

"Spectacular," Tim grinned, offering the twins double high-fives from their perch atop one to the tables. "We had Defense Against the Dark Arts today, and Umbridge kept on popping in every fifteen minutes covered in soot and ashes before having to run out of the classroom again. Thanks for that."

"Brilliant!" Fred laughed. He poked at Tim's sweater, where Tim had forgotten he'd pinned the silver 'I' that Umbridge had given him before lunch. "Say, looks like you've moved up in the world!"

Tim smirked. "Oh, you noticed? Yeah, I'm one of the big shots now. Best if you all didn't approach me in public."

"Hear that?" George shouted, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. "Outside of this room, Tim here is one of Umbridge's bitches."

There was a collective "Boo!" at these words.

"But inside of this room," Fred continued, "he's one of us!" And he shoved a butterbeer into Tim's hand as everyone burst into applause. Tim took a showy bow.

"Tim?" a small voice squeaked, and the face of Dennis Creevey popped out of the crowd. He squeezed in between his fellow Gryffindors until he was in the front of the crowd, and he looked up hopefully at Tim.

"Um, a Slytherin took House points away from me today for being a—well, a Muggle-born." Tim was certain that that wasn't the word the Slytherin had used. "C-can you do that to the Slytherins? Take House points away from them, that is?"

Tim grinned madly, a magnificent idea coming to mind. "Say, Dennis, how many points did this Slytherin take from you?"

"T-ten."

"Well then," Tim announced. "I think I'll give Gryffindor fifteen points for not bowing down to Umbridge."

The room erupted into cheers, and Tim found himself being hugged by various strangers telling him how he was the 'coolest Ravenclaw' they'd ever met.

"Malfoy took thirty this morning from us because he's a dick!" Ron called from somewhere in the crowd.

"Then I'll award you, Ron Weasley, forty points for having to endure that shitty cheer the Slytherins keep using at your Quidditch matches."

"You sure you can do that?" Harry asked later, once Tim had gotten away from the crowd and had sat down at another table with him, Ron, and Hermione. "Give us house points like that?"

"Totally," Tim assured him. It was an enchantment put on their Inquisitorial Squad pins, but Tim didn't tell them that, or people would start trying to steal the Slytherins' badges and Umbridge would have no choice but to end the enchantment.

"And you're certain it won't get suspicious?" Hermione added. "You know, house points just appearing like that?"

"Houses gain and lose points all the time," said Tim. "I'll just space it out throughout the day. Just make sure you don't come to me directly when you're docked points. Go tell Cordelia or something, and she'll let me know."

For a moment, the four of them were all silent in a room of rowdy teenagers who were cheering and drinking and altogether having a good time.

Tim cleared his throat. If he wanted Harry to open up to him, he'd have to be the one to open up first. "Okay, I'll start. So, first of all, I have a mic hidden in Dumbledore's office, so I heard everything that went down with the Minister for Magic and Umbridge."

To Tim's surprise, Harry looked pretty relieved by this news. "Oh, good, it took me, like, an hour to explain everything to Ron and Hermione. Is that how you knew about Occlumency?"

Tim shook his head. "It was more like confirmation of what I was already suspicious of. You haven't talked to me at all about your lessons. In fact, you've been deliberately avoiding the subject when I try and bring it up, so I had a feeling things weren't going well. How have your dreams been?"

Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry, raising their eyebrows. Harry squirmed under their judging gazes.

"Well…" he said slowly, "I've been having a recurring dream about the Department of Mysteries."

"Yes, the Department of Mysteries is a part of the Ministry of Magic," Hermione explained, assuming, understandably, that Tim was not aware of what exactly it was. "We're not really sure what goes on inside there, but we think Voldemort wants something there. A weapon of sorts."

"But you're probably already aware of that," Harry cut in. "You know, being in the Order and everything."

Tim sighed. Was Harry's life enough in danger that he needed to know about the prophecy? Or maybe Tim could get away with divulging some information and not all of it. That was what he'd been doing for the past couple of months.

"Listen," Tim said, noticing how Harry was now eyeing him suspiciously. "All I know is that they're something there that Voldemort wants, but he can't just walk in and get it himself because, well, he's kind of a known criminal."

"Understatement of the century," Ron muttered, barely audible over his fellow Gryffindors.

"I also know," he continued, "that Voldemort might be trying to trick Harry into getting it for him."

The three stared at him blankly.

"Come again?" said Harry.

Ron actually laughed at Tim's words. "You-Know-Who thinks Harry's gonna hop on his Firebolt and leave school just to get something out of the Department of Mysteries in broad daylight?"

"Why on Earth would Voldemort want Harry to do it?" Hermione asked.

"No clue," Tim lied. "That's all Dumbledore would tell me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Leave it to Dumbledore to only tell you what you 'need to know,'" he grumbled, making air quotes with his hands. Apparently, he was unaware that Tim was doing the exact same thing to him. The irony did not escape Tim.

"That's why we need to stop you from having these dreams," Tim finished, "because we can't actually be sure anymore that they're not just visions sent by Voldemort to confuse you."

"But they've been helpful, too!" Harry argued. "A while ago, I had a dream where I was Voldemort talking to Rookwood, and the way he talked about things made it seem like he didn't know I was watching."

"So, you've been having more dreams from someone else's perspective?" Tim restated.

"That was the only one since the snake," Harry admitted. "But it still gave us more information than Dumbledore has all year."

Tim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Kids these days… He loathed the words that he was about to say, but they had to be said. "Okay, hot take here, but have you ever considered the notion that maybe, just maybe, Dumbledore is keeping information from you for your own good?"

Harry snorted. "How's he supposed to know what's good for me?"

"Uh, I don't know, maybe because he's the most powerful wizard you know? Maybe because he's been an adult longer than any of us have been alive? Maybe because he actually understands teenagers after having taught them for decades?"

But it was clear that this was not what Harry wanted to hear. No, Harry just wanted to know it all. Tim understood the feeling; he'd been where Harry was before, but Tim had also been in Dumbledore's position, and so he trusted Dumbledore's judgement over Harry's right now. Despite the fact that the old man had tried (and succeeded) to lock Tim up, Tim couldn't just discount the fact that he'd taken off the spell when he left, giving Tim the power to leave whenever he wished. Then, Dumbledore asked him to stay. Not forced, asked. Tim wanted to stay mad at the wizard, he really did, but Damian's words about giving people second chances were ringing in his ears.

Hermione, looking back and forth between Tim and Harry, cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well then. That's that, I suppose."

Harry looked up at Tim and sighed, rubbing at his face with his hand. "Listen, I—I'm sorry. It's not you I'm mad at, Tim."

But it's hard when someone you know trusts a stranger more than you, Tim supplied mentally. Then he caught sight of the back of Harry's hand.

'I must not tell lies.' It was clearer than it had been a month ago.

"Dammit," Tim whispered. "I didn't know Umbridge was doing the quill thing again." She must have finally gotten her hands on more of those black quills. Tim wondered when a good time would be to break into her office and trash these ones as well.

Harry glanced down casually at his hand. "Oh, yeah. I don't know why, she was pretty fond of the whole—the—the—" The boy looked like he was choking on his own tongue, and Tim realized that Harry still had that curse on him forbidding him from explaining the nature of his detentions. One more reason to hate Umbridge's guts.

Funny thing, I often find myself thinking "Am I making Tim too smart?/Am I making the wixen too dumb?" and then I remember that Tim has been written as a manipulative little shit ever since he hired an actor to be his "uncle," and the Harry Potter series is constantly mentioning that wixen rely on magic too much and overlook more logical, nonmagical explanations because they just don't even consider that.
Also I love writing 19-year-old Tim being like "glad I'm not an overemotional teenager, I'm a real adult" like if that isn't the epitome of being 18/19, I don't know what is.
Also, peak social anxiety is lying to someone in a social situation and then later on "confessing" and telling them 50% of the actual truth. It's like being 100% genuine and truthful is just Zeno's paradox in the real world. Me, projecting? Never.