It was not, in fact, that simple.

The History of Magic exam was going just great for Tim. He had finished looking over his questions for the third time and was now reciting the digits of pi in his head when there was a crashing noise.

At first, Tim assumed that Harry had had a seizure, and he immediately shot out of his seat and ran over to Harry's side so that he could clear the area around the boy's body. But as he approached, Harry began to yell, loud enough that everyone stopped answering questions and looked up from their work.

Harry's eyes shot open, and he gasped for air. Tim offered an arm to the boy, who shakily grabbed it and allowed Tim to lift him to his feet. He wobbled in place, pressing a hand to his scar and breathing heavily. Tim and the proctor (Tofty again, oddly enough) escorted Harry out into the Entrance Hall, the boy protesting all the while.

"I'm not going… I don't need the hospital wing… I don't want…"

Tim looked back. Everyone was staring out the door. Tim nodded at Ron and Hermione, who both returned the gesture, looking relieved. Malfoy just rolled his eyes and went back to work.

Harry was still protesting his removal. "Really… I just fell asleep…had a nightmare…"

"A nightmare?" Tim repeated. "Like the others?" Harry hadn't reported on any new visions, so Tim had hoped that the Occlumency training was finally paying off, but apparently not, if this incident was anything to go off of.

Harry nodded, although, for the first time, he looked almost…frightened by what he had seen.

Tofty was, with the best possible intentions, taking all of this the wrong way. "Pressure of examinations! It happens, young man, it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps you will be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answer nicely?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, and then shook his head almost immediately afterwards. "I mean…no…I've done—done as much as I can, I think…"

"Very well, very well," said the old wizard gently. "I shall go and collect your examination paper, and I suggest that you go and have a nice lie down… And you, child," he added, turning to Tim. "Thank you for your assistance, but you best get back to your test."

Tim waved a hand casually. "Nah, I'm done. How about you go collect Harry's and my exams, and I'll escort Harry to the Hospital Wing."

Tofty looked hesitant for a moment, but upon seeing the earnest expression on Tim's face, he nodded. "Very well, very well," he said again. "Go on, now."

Tim nodded, walking away with a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. The moment they were out of earshot, Harry shrugged Tim's hand off his shoulder.

He was pale and perspiring, and his eyes were filled with some unseen horror. He grabbed Tim's biceps, looking very much like he wanted to shake him back and forth.

"Voldemort has Sirius," he told Tim gravely.

"Is that what you saw in your vision?" Tim asked instead of outright affirming or denying the claim.

Harry nodded. "They're in the Department of Mysteries inside this room with all these shelves with glowing glass balls on them, and they're at row ninety-seven. Voldemort's trying to use him to get whatever's in there. He's…he's torturing Sirius…"

Tim took in all of this, nodding slowly. Then he reached up, grabbed Harry's arms, and pulled them off of him.

"Harry," he said carefully, "take a deep breath—"

"Sirius is in danger!" Harry hissed, trembling.

"No, Harry, he's not."

The bell tower rang.

"No, you don't get it—I saw it, Tim."

"Voldemort's trying to trick you."

"It was real," Harry insisted, growing more and more agitated by the second.

"No, it wasn't."

"And how exactly do you know that? For sure?"

Tim looked around at the students beginning to flock to the staircases and ducked into an empty classroom, dragging Harry along with him. "Listen, Harry. I know because Dumbledore told me what's in the Department of Mysteries."

Harry opened his mouth automatically, as if to reply, but then he comprehended Tim's words.

"He what?" Harry snapped.

Tim took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning against a wall. "Okay, so I told Dumbledore I wouldn't tell you because he didn't want you to know yet, but this seems like the type of thing you need to know right now."

"Oh, thanks," said Harry dryly.

Tim ignored the sarcasm. "You're welcome. Anyways, the 'weapon' that Voldemort wants? It's a prophecy. Specifically, a prophecy about you and him."

"A…prophecy…?" Harry was too confused to be angry at Tim, which he took as a victory. "What do you mean?"

"I'm not exactly square on the details, but the Department of Mysteries apparently holds a record of every prophecy ever spoken. Dumbledore wouldn't tell me the contents of this specific prophecy—"

"Figures…" Harry grumbled.

"—but apparently there's something there that Voldemort needs to know."

"So, he's forcing Sirius to retrieve the prophecy," Harry concluded.

"No, no. See, there's some enchantment on the place that only allows a prophecy to be removed by whomever the prophecy is about. The only people who could possibly retrieve the prophecy would be Voldemort…"

"…and me…" Harry finished slowly.

"Exactly. If Voldemort was in the Department of Mysteries, he wouldn't need to have Sirius retrieve the prophecy, he could do it himself."

Harry paused, furrowing his brows, but then his eyes widened. "That—that's what he was talking about with Rookwood! That's why Broderick Bode wasn't able to take it out!"

Now it was Tim's turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"My dream, it—!" Harry winced. "Sorry, I didn't tell you about that one. I had this dream awhile back where Voldemort was talking to one of his Death Eaters about trying to get into the Department of Mysteries. Rookwood said that Bode would have never been able to retrieve it…we'd thought he was talking about the weapon…but he was talking about this—this prophecy."

"Exactly," Tim smirked, relieved that this new information supported his deduction. "Then why would Voldemort ask Sirius to retrieve the prophecy? He didn't."

"But—" Harry bit his lip. "But it was real. I saw it. I heard it. I was there."

"You were where?" Ron stepped into the classroom, followed by Hermione, who both looked anxiously at Harry. Tim and Harry immediately relayed their conversation to them.

"Tim's right," Hermione agreed, after hearing what had been said. "It's five o'clock in the afternoon, and the Ministry of Magic must be full of workers. How would Voldemort and Sirius have got in without being seen? They're probably the two most wanted wizards in the world…"

Slowly, they were winning Harry over. "But all my visions have been real so far. Why should this one be any different?"

"Not all of them have been entirely real," Hermione pointed out. "Whenever you dreamed about the Department of Mysteries, it wasn't like Voldemort was there every night venturing into the Department of Mysteries." She looked to Ron for support.

Ron swallowed nervously. "Harry, you know I believe you, but Hermione and Tim are making a lot of sense…"

A sort of whine came from the back of Harry's throat. "I just—I can't risk it—he's the only family I have left." His voice cracked on the last word, and Tim felt his heart break a little.

Jason sighed, cracking open another beer. "I guess…" he muttered, taking a swig, "I just…" He ran a hand through his hair. "Dammit, I'm too sober for this shit…"

"Y-you don't have to talk if you don't want to," Tim reminded him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Jason, however, shook his head and downed the rest of his beer. "Nah," he said, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "This'll apparently be good for me, or so Dr. Ortega says." He grabbed another beer. "It—she—the adoption was still new back then, and I hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of Bruce as my father—ha," he chuckled, "I'm still not used to it. But, back then, when I found out that my birth mother was alive…it was like I wasn't an orphan anymore. I had a real family, not an adoptive one—"

Tim shoved Jason with a "Boo!"

"I know, I know," Jason said, setting his drink down and holding up his hands in defeat. "This is fifteen-year-old Jason, remember? And when Sh-Sh—" Jason cleared his throat, "when…Sheila appeared, I had a family again. And then I found out that she was being blackmailed by the Joker, and it was like I was about to lose my family all over again. And—and I know that Bruce told me not to go off on my own—"

Jason's voice cracked, and he shoved his face into his hand. "—but I couldn't lose her, not after finally finding her, not after finally having a family again. I didn't want to lose that. I wasn't going to let the Joker take that away from me."

Tim's throat tightened, and he reached out and patted Jason's back supportively. His older brother choked back a sob, gripping his bottle with white knuckles.

"She—she was the only family I had left…"

Tim sighed, the late-night conversation with Jason fading into the back of his mind.

"Yeah, I get that," he said quietly, almost to himself.

Everyone was quiet for a minute before Hermione said, "Say, why don't we—? No…no, that would be too dangerous…"

"What would?" Ron asked eagerly.

Hermione sucked in a breath. "Well…maybe we could talk to Sirius…using Umbridge's fireplace."

"Again?" Ron said.

"Again?" Tim echoed, as this was the first time he was hearing of this troubling news.

Harry cleared his throat, looking sheepish. "About a month ago, I, ah, broke into Umbridge's office so I could talk to Sirius." Upon seeing Tim's disappointed glare, he added, "It was really important."

Tim groaned. "Fine. Whatever. It doesn't matter anyways because you're not doing it again. Umbridge's almost certainly upped the security in her office."

"What makes you say that?"

"Uh, maybe because Lee Jordan's been tossing nifflers in there for the past couple of weeks?" Tim suggested dryly.

"That was Lee?" Ron grinned, having completely lost the point. "Brilliant."

"I don't care," Harry replied to Tim. "I need to know that Sirius is okay."

"Umbridge is going to find out," Tim argued.

"Let her. I don't care."

But you should care! Tim thought angrily. You're my responsibility, Harry! Instead of saying this, Tim opted to recognize that Harry was an individual with free will who would probably break into Umbridge's office even if Tim explicitly told him not to. If Tim wanted to keep Harry safe, he'd have to play along with whatever Harry was planning and try to minimize the damage.

There weren't nearly enough people to pull off the plan, so Tim stopped Luna and Ginny in the hallway and told them that he and the Gryffindor trio needed help screwing Umbridge over, which the two immediately agreed to without requiring any further information.

Tim was to go find Umbridge and lead her away from the office, into which Harry and Hermione would sneak using his Invisibility Cloak, while Ron, Ginny, and Luna redirected students away (Ginny said something about 'Garroting Gas' being a viable excuse).

Finding Umbridge was easy enough; she was on her way out of the Great Hall, toddling alongside Filch, who was himself flanked by his cat, Mrs. Norris.

"Headmistress!" Tim called, running up to her and hyperventilating to make it seem like he was out of breath. "Peeves—Transfiguration—smashing the whole place up—!"

Umbridge seemed excited to see Tim, but this vanished as soon as he started speaking. "That can't be the case, Timothy, Mr. Filch here has just informed me that he is smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes."

Oh, for fuck's sake…

Tim shook his head. "No, no, a Slytherin told me, she's got no reason to lie, ma'am."

Umbridge frowned, disappointment evident on her face. "Did she now? Did you recognize her?"

"No, ma'am," Tim started, rapidly going through the list of second-year Slytherins whom he had seen over the past year. "She was short and had dirty-blonde hair." Tim had seen around six different Slytherin girls matching that description just last week, so it would be hard for Umbridge to verify.

"Well, then!" Umbridge huffed, clearly perturbed. "Thank you for reporting this to me, Timothy. I will handle—" She stopped, snatching her short wand out of her handbag, the tip of which was flickering a light blue. "Someone's in my office."

She enchanted the door, dumbass.

"W-what?" Tim said, trying to go for casual and failing miserably.

"Someone's broken into my office!" Umbridge repeated, whipping her head around to face Tim. "Quickly, go up to my office and seize anyone who looks suspicious along the way. I have to go get the Inquisitorial Squad. They should be somewhere in the dungeons…"

Tim sprinted off before letting her finish, hoping she would interpret his haste as eagerness. He skipped steps as he rushed up the staircases towards Umbridge's office.

"Tim—!" he heard Ginny cry out as he rushed past her. Sliding to a halt in front of Umbridge's office, he swung her door open to find Harry crouched down on his knees, head submerged in emerald flames, while Hermione had already drawn her wand, aiming at Tim. He saw the recognition cross her face, and she relaxed, lowering her wand.

"God, Tim, you nearly scared me half to death!"

"Umbridge is coming," Tim shot back, skipping pleasantries, "along with the whole Inquisitorial Squad. You two need to hide." He grabbed Harry by the shoulders and yanked him out of the fire. "Time's up, kid."

Harry bent over and coughed up ash. "No, wait, Kreacher still didn't—!"

"Umbridge is coming. Put on your Invisibility Cloak and leave before someone spots you in here."

Harry's eyes widened, and he scrambled up onto his feet. "How close is—?"

The doorknob turned, silencing everyone in the room.

Hermione immediately pointed her wand at Tim and hissed, "Petrificus Totalus!" In the split second it took for the curse to travel at point-blank range, Tim recognized the spell, recognized Hermione's strategy, and tossed his wand in her direction before the white spell hit him directly in the chest, sending Tim toppling to the ground.

He would have winced when he hit the carpeted ground if his face had been capable of any movement, but, as was generally the case with this particular curse, he could only breathe through his nose, mouth snapped shut.

He heard Harry protest, "Hermione, why did you—?" before the sound of the door opening cut him off, followed by a girlish shriek.

"I knew it!" Umbridge cried, rushing forward and yanking on Harry's loosened tie, which quickly tightened under the pressure. He stumbled forward, and Umbridge grabbed his shoulder with her other hand. "You think that after two nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells placed all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish boy." She snapped her bejeweled fingers together twice. "Take his wand," she ordered Malfoy, who was standing off to her side. "Hers too," she added, nodding in Hermione's direction.

While Malfoy and Millicent Bulstrode carried out her orders, Umbridge's eyes finally trailed over to where Tim lay, and, with a furious huff, she pointed her wand at him, removing the curse. Tim stumbled over to Millicent, who plucked his wand off the ground and offered it to him before shoving Hermione to the wall and yanking her wand out of her hand. Tim bit his lip but otherwise avoided making any visible signs of sympathy.

"What happened here, Timothy?" Umbridge asked Tim, fury and glee mixed in her voice.

"I—" Tim's eyes flickered over at Harry, who was still in Umbridge's grasp. "I entered your office and Herm—Granger blasted me with a Full-Body Binding Curse before I could figure out what was going on."

Umbridge grit her teeth and pulled on Harry's tie. "I want to know," she hissed, "why you are in my office."

"I was—trying to get my Firebolt!" Harry choked, obviously struggling to breath properly with such stress on his throat.

"Liar," she growled, giving his tie a harsh tug and forcing Harry's head down. "Your Firebolt is under strict guard in the dungeons, as you very well know, Potter. Now tell me why you are in my office!"

Harry wheezed out, "I—I wanted to find your quills—and destroy them all—!"

"Liar!" she shrieked, and she let go of his tie and practically threw him into her desk. Harry's hands flew behind himself to break his fall, and he ended up knocking down a stack of papers and a teapot just to keep himself standing.

The door, which was still hanging half-open, swung out so that Crabbe, Goyle, Mathilda Greenford, and Cassius Warrington could enter, each accompanied by their own gagged prisoners, Neville, Luna, Ginny, and Ron, respectively.

"Got 'em all," Warrington smirked, shoving Ron into Umbridge's office with no small amount of force, causing the boy to stumble slightly. "That one," he explained, jabbing a thumb in Neville's direction, "tried to stop me taking her," he then pointed to Ginny, "so I brought him along, too."

"Good, good." A truly maniacal grin stretched across Umbridge's face. "Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?" She sat down in a truly horrid floral armchair. Malfoy let out a booming, forced laugh at this, tossing Harry's wand into the air and catching it again.

"So, Potter," she began, folding her hands together. "You stationed lookouts around my office, and you had your little friend," she tilted her head in Hermione's direction, "hex the first person to enter my office. That seems like an awful lot of effort for simply destroying my property. So tell me why you are in my office?"

"None of your business," Harry growled back, apparently out of excuses at this point.

Umbridge tightened her jaw, a dangerous look in her eyes. "Very well," she said slowly, and then repeated, "Very well, Mr. Potter…" She tapped her stubby little fingers against her armrest. "I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco—fetch Professor Snape."

Tim grinned, knowing that the Slytherins in the room would take this as a sign that Tim was excited for Snape to exact his judgement on Harry. Of course, Tim was excited, though that stemmed from the fact that Tim had been waiting for the right opportunity to inform Snape of Harry's vision, and here it was, presenting itself to him.

Although the Gryffindors in the room were struggling against their captors and being very obvious about their attempts to escape (Luna was being, well, Luna), Tim was rather impressed by Harry's neutral expression as they all waited for Malfoy to bring Snape back. The boy was now leaning against Umbridge's desk, hands gripping the edge, but his face reflected no emotion.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" Snape entered Umbridge's office, his presence as commanding as ever.

Umbridge got up out of her seat. "Ah, Professor Snape…Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

Tim could tell that it was taking a lot out of Snape for him to not roll his eyes at her. "You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," he reminded her. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

"Y-you can make some more, can't you?" she said, her face reddening.

"Certainly. It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month," Snape told her plainly.

"A month?" cried Umbridge indignantly. "A month? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter breaking in and entering my office under suspicious circumstances!"

"Really?" Snape looked about as interested in this as he might the fate of an insect on a wall. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules."

"I wish to interrogate him!" Umbridge basically whined. "I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!"

"I have already told you that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum," he said slowly, as if he didn't expect her to understand. "Unless you wish to poison Potter—and I assure you, I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did—" he added dryly, "I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling…" He glanced over at Harry, seemingly disinterested, though Tim could see the cogs in his brain turning.

This was too much for poor Umbridge to handle. "You are on probation!" she declared. "You are being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

"He's got Padfoot!" Harry suddenly blurted out, staring intensely at Snape. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Snape, halfway out the door, turned around, looking at Harry without any discernable emotion on his face.

"Padfoot?" Umbridge practically shrieked with excitement. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

Snape glanced over at Tim for the briefest moment, during which Tim ever-so-slightly tilted his hand back and forth. If he had been lifting it up, it would have made a "so-so" gesture. "That's not the whole story, don't freak out," was what Tim was trying to communicate to Snape, and he had perfect faith that the vague message would be enough for the professor. Snape possessed Bruce-levels of subtlety, as was evident throughout this whole interaction.

Snape rolled his eyes. "I have no idea," he drawled, raising an eyebrow at Harry. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me, I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job."

Everyone watched as he left, but, as soon as the door shut, all heads swiveled back to Umbridge, who was practically livid at this point. Tim couldn't tell if her face was flushed from embarrassment or from sheer anger.

"Very well," Umbridge muttered, retrieving her wand from her handbag. "Very well… I am left with no alternative… This is more than a matter of school discipline… This is an issue of Ministry security…yes…yes…"

She's bargaining with herself, this can't end well, Tim thought, watching her smack her wand against her palm over and over again like it was a horsewhip.

"You are forcing me, Potter…" she continued, "I do not want to (a likely story), but sometimes circumstances justify the use (never a good argument) … I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice (Will he? Do you really think that?) …"

"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," she whispered.

Tim wasn't sure what he expected, but it definitely wasn't that. He'd known Umbridge was a bad person, but it took a certain kind of person to use an Unforgiveable Curse, especially one so cruel as the Cruciatus Curse. Hell, Tim had firsthand experience on what that one was like. The experience was not so easily forgotten.

"No!" Hermione screamed. "Professor Umbridge—it's illegal!"

She slowly raised her arm, and Tim saw the faintest of smiles creep onto her face.

"The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!" pleaded Hermione, earning herself a twisted wrist from Millicent.

"What Cornelius doesn't know won't hurt him," was Umbridge's best response. "He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same…"

And Tim had thought she couldn't surprise him anymore. Shows what I know, huh… So, she was no stranger to breaking the law. That, at least, didn't surprise Tim.

"It was you?" Harry gasped, eyes wide. "You sent the dementors after me?"

"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…" She pointed her wand at Harry's forehead. "Only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you, Potter? Not today, though, not now…"

She took a deep breath. "Cruc—!"

Two things happened. Firstly, Hermione shrieked, "NO!" her voice cracking, and bucked against Millicent's grip. Secondly, Tim punched Umbridge in the jaw, cutting off her incantation.