Chapter 45 - The Rise and Fall of the High Inquisitor

The ancient stones of Hogwarts seemed to shudder under the weight of the new regime. Dolores Umbridge, with her saccharine smile and deceptively soft voice, was tightening her grip on the school. Her first act, a brazen suspension of Defence Against the Dark Arts and Dueling classes, sent shockwaves through the corridors. She didn't stop there; Educational Decree after Decree cascaded from her office, each more oppressive than the last. The students found themselves navigating a labyrinth of rules – no groups larger than three, a six-inch minimum distance between boys and girls, and an outright ban on any public display of affection.

Rigel, his usually calm demeanour edged with frustration, moved swiftly. He confronted Umbridge, leveraging his status and connections to carve out a small concession for betrothed couples. It was a bittersweet victory; while he and Daphne could remain close, their friends were not so fortunate. The new rules ensnared them in a web of isolation and caution.

The situation escalated when Umbridge summoned Rigel and Daphne to the Headmaster's office. There, in the high-ceilinged room, surrounded by the watchful eyes of past Headmasters and Headmistresses, Dolores Umbridge stood rigidly, her squat figure casting an ominous shadow across the room. Rigel and Daphne faced her, a united front of defiance against her tirade.

"Mr. Black," Umbridge began, her voice dripping with condescension, "I find it increasingly difficult to see how you qualify as Head Boy. Your... association with certain individuals and your blatant disregard for school rules are alarming."

Rigel's jaw tightened, but he held his tongue, waiting for her to continue.

"And as for you, Miss Greengrass," Umbridge turned her beady eyes towards Daphne, "it is utterly inappropriate for students, betrothed or not, to share private quarters. It sets a... a dangerous precedent."

Daphne's eyes flashed, but she remained silent, letting Umbridge dig her own grave.

"I believe," Umbridge went on, her voice rising, "it is high time we reconsider these archaic privileges. Hogwarts needs order, not... not this romantic frivolity!"

Before Rigel could respond, Dumbledore's calm voice filled the room. "Dolores, I believe your concerns, while noted, are not entirely in alignment with Hogwarts' esteemed traditions."

Umbridge's face turned a shade of puce. "Headmaster, with all due respect, we must reinforce the foundation of our established norms to maintain the safety and propriety of our students!"

Dumbledore leaned forward, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "Indeed, the safety of our students is paramount. However, Mr. Black has shown exceptional qualities as Head Boy, and his relationship with Miss Greengrass has been conducted with the utmost decorum."

"But the precedent, Albus!" Umbridge spluttered. "We must uphold the institution's long-standing practices!"

"Ah, but Dolores," Dumbledore said gently, "sometimes the heart follows a course that tradition appreciates. The suite for betrothed couples is a tradition that dates back centuries. It symbolises trust and responsibility – values we wish to instil in our students."

Umbridge bristled, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "This is preposterous! I will not stand for this!"

Dumbledore stood up, his figure imposing yet gentle. "I am afraid, Dolores, that the matter is not open for further discussion. Mr. Black will continue as Head Boy, and the privileges granted to him and Miss Greengrass will remain."

Umbridge, seething with rage, gathered her robes and stormed towards the door. She paused, turning back to hiss at Rigel, "This isn't the last you'll hear of this."

As the door slammed shut, the tension in the room dissipated like mist. Rigel and Daphne exchanged a relieved look.

Rigel's lips curled into a chuckle, breaking the solemnity that had settled in the room after Umbridge's abrupt departure. He turned to Dumbledore, his blue eyes reflecting a mixture of amusement and surprise. "I must admit, Headmaster, I'm rather taken aback. I wouldn't have pegged you for an ally, not after everything that's happened."

Dumbledore's response was a serene smile, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "Well, Mr. Black, it appears we find ourselves in a situation where 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', as the muggle saying goes."

Rigel's chuckle grew heartier, resonating in the high-ceilinged room. "That's quite apt, Professor. However, let's be clear," he said, his expression sobering slightly, "this doesn't change where I stand. I won't suddenly align with the Order or shift my positions."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Dumbledore replied, his tone laced with understanding. "But for the time being, our interests do align, particularly in our mutual... discomfort with Dolores' methods. I suspect she's as much an obstacle to your endeavours as she is to mine."

A sly smile spread across Rigel's face. "Right again, Professor. Very well, consider us temporary allies in the matter of Umbridge."

Dumbledore nodded, his eyes twinkling with approval. "That's all I ask. For now, let's focus on mitigating the challenges she presents."

With a final nod, Dumbledore gestured towards the door. "You are dismissed, Mr. Black, Miss Greengrass. Thank you for this discussion."

As Rigel and Daphne left the office, a newfound understanding hung in the air between them. It was an alliance born of necessity, but in the halls of Hogwarts, it could make all the difference.

~~~o~~~

The atmosphere in Hogwarts had grown increasingly oppressive with each passing week. Dolores Umbridge, relentless in her quest for control, issued a barrage of Educational Decrees that tightened her grip on every aspect of school life. The once vibrant and bustling corridors now echoed with the hushed whispers of students, fearful of losing points for something as trivial as a loose tie or an unstraightened collar. The library, a sanctuary for many, became a shadow of its former self as books deemed 'unsuitable' were relocated to the forbidden section, now inaccessible without Umbridge's express permission. The professors were muzzled, restricted to teaching only the bare bones of their subjects, and practical spellcasting – the essence of magical education – ceased entirely. Stricter curfews were imposed, student organisations disbanded, and the spirit of Hogwarts seemed to be under siege.

In this stifling environment, Rigel received a letter from his cousin Tonks. To an unsuspecting eye, it was an innocuous family correspondence. But to Rigel, who knew the secret passphrase, it revealed a much more sinister message. Umbridge's mission, it appeared, was singularly focused on preventing the students from receiving combat training. Minister Fudge, paranoid and delusional, feared that Dumbledore would raise an army of students to overthrow the Ministry.

In the clandestine gathering in the Room of Requirement, the group laughed incredulously as Rigel shared the contents of the letter. The idea of Dumbledore leading a student rebellion seemed ludicrous.

"What's the plan, then?" Harry asked, his expression serious, "How do we combat Umbridge?"

Daphne, her eyes reflecting the flickering light of the room, spoke up. "The last 'legal' thing we can try is a petition. We can appeal to ease some of these decrees, remove others, and most importantly, reinstate Defence and Duelling classes."

Rigel nodded in agreement. "We should try the legitimate route first, before resorting to rule-breaking." He paused, his expression darkening. "I've also heard from my dad that Remus is in trouble. Umbridge has found out about his lycanthropy and is trying to get him fired."

A collective gasp filled the room, the group's concern for their beloved professor evident on their faces.

Without hesitation, Hermione sprang into action. She pulled out parchment and a quill, her mind already formulating the words of the petition. "We'll start with this," she said, determination etched in her features, "and if it doesn't work, we'll find another way. We always do."

As Hermione's quill danced across the parchment, the resolve in the room solidified. They were united, not just in their opposition to Umbridge, but in their dedication to each other and to Hogwarts. The fight was far from over, but they were ready to face it together.

As the days slowly passed under Umbridge's rule, the oppressive atmosphere within Hogwarts' ancient walls thickened. The next prefects' meeting, a gathering that once symbolised leadership and unity, had taken on a new sense of urgency. It was here that Rigel shared the first draft of the petition Hermione had prepared. During that meeting, they refined it further, channelling their collective frustrations and hopes into each sentence. Then, with a newfound sense of determination, each prefect took copies, ready to ask the students of their respective houses for their support and signatures.

The response was overwhelming. Within a week, the petition was laden with signatures, a tangible symbol of the student body's discontent and unity against Umbridge's draconian measures.

Rigel, along with Elara, the Head Girl, gathered the hefty stack of papers. With a sense of purpose, they led the prefects to Umbridge's office, the petition cradled in their arms like a banner of rebellion.

The office, with its sickly sweet scent and garish pink décor, seemed to shrink under the weight of their collective determination. Rigel and Elara carefully placed the petition on Umbridge's desk. The sea of signatures was a testament to the students' solidarity.

Umbridge, perched behind her desk, began to read the petition with an air of mock curiosity. She hadn't gotten through a third of it before she erupted into a high-pitched, scornful laugh. "No, no, no. This won't happen," she sneered, her eyes glinting with malice. "Try something like this again, and you'll all be serving detention until the end of the term."

Elara, her frustration boiling over, muttered "bitch" under her breath as she turned to leave. The other prefects followed suit, their heads bowed in disappointment.

Outside Umbridge's office, Harry turned to Rigel, his green eyes searching for answers. "What do we do now, Rigel?"

Rigel's face was etched with sombre lines, a rare sight that spoke volumes of the gravity of the situation. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice a low murmur. The uncertainty in his words hung heavily in the air, a stark contrast to his usual confidence. In that moment, the reality of their plight against Umbridge's tyrannical rule was painfully clear. The path forward was shrouded in doubt, but the resolve in their hearts remained unshaken.

Later that night, in the privacy of their suite, Rigel and Daphne were preparing for bed, the day's events weighing heavily on them. The room, usually a haven from the outside world, felt smaller, its walls echoing with the frustration and helplessness that Rigel couldn't contain any longer.

"That bloody bitch," Rigel burst out, his voice a mix of anger and exasperation. "She's undermining everything I've worked for. Hogwarts was on the cusp of unity, and now she's tearing us further apart than ever before." He paced the room, his agitation palpable. "We need to get rid of her, and quickly."

Daphne, watching him with a mixture of concern and understanding, let out a weary sigh. She could see the cogs turning in his mind, the plans forming. "I know, Rigel," she said softly. "What you're thinking... it could work. But we need the right moment. The perfect catalyst." She stood up and walked over to him, her movements graceful and soothing.

As Daphne reached Rigel, she gently cupped his face in her hands, drawing him into a deep, calming kiss. It was a moment of tranquillity amidst the storm, a reminder of their bond and shared purpose.

Rigel's tension eased under her touch. "You're right," he admitted, his voice now a resigned sigh. "We wait for her to slip up, or... we create an opportunity for her to do so." His arms encircled her, pulling her close, their kiss deepening with shared resolve.

Together, they climbed into bed, the warmth of each other's presence a balm to their troubled minds. As they drifted off to sleep, their conversation seamlessly continued in the realm of shared dreams, a unique connection that allowed them to plan, strategise, and find solace in each other, even in slumber. The night enveloped them, their determination and love an unspoken vow to stand against the challenges ahead.

~~~o~~~

In the days following Umbridge's latest decree, Hogwarts continued its transformation into a shadow of its former self, with each new Educational Decree tightening the metaphorical noose around the school's spirit. Broom flight outside of Quidditch matches was now a distant memory, and the library, once a sanctuary of knowledge, had become a restricted zone with many books deemed unsuitable by Umbridge's standards. The already oppressive distance regulation between boys and girls increased to a stifling one foot, exacerbating the unnatural divide within the student body. Harsher punishments were meted out for even the slightest infractions, much to the delight of Argus Filch, who seemed to revel in the school's growing atmosphere of fear and control.

Tracey, Hermione, Harry, and Neville, like all students, found themselves navigating the increased distance between boys and girls with a blend of awkwardness and frustration. The corridors, once bustling with lively groups and easy camaraderie, now resembled a bizarre dance as students weaved and dodged to avoid accidentally breaching the one-foot barrier. Laughter and spontaneous conversations were replaced with wary glances and exaggerated sidesteps, especially in the crowded hallways between classes.

For Tracey and Harry, the decree was particularly irksome. They were used to walking closely, often holding hands or sharing a quiet joke. Now, they had to communicate over an unnatural and uncomfortable gap, their whispers barely reaching each other over the distance.

Hermione and Neville, too, felt the impact. Group study sessions in the library had always been a mix of learning and light-hearted banter. But with the new decree, their gatherings had an undercurrent of tension, the fear of accidentally getting too close overshadowing their focus on their studies.

The Great Hall, usually a hub of spirited conversation and communal dining, had taken on a subdued tone. Students sat rigidly, acutely aware of the space between them and their peers. The decree had not just physically separated the students; it had put a distance between friendships, turning the school into a place of isolation and caution.

In this atmosphere of unease, the sense of unity and fellowship that Hogwarts was known for felt significantly diminished, the students bound by a rule that seemed to contradict the very essence of their shared learning and living experience.

The atmosphere of fear and suppression was palpable. For many students, it had been weeks since they last cast a spell, their magical education stunted by the draconian policies.

During their next meeting in the Room of Requirement, Hermione, always the voice of reason and foresight, raised a crucial point. "What if we teach the students ourselves? Here, in secret. With Voldemort out there, they need to be prepared."

Daphne, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation, nodded in agreement. "That's an excellent idea, Hermione."

Tracey, ever the spirited one, chimed in with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Let's call it Dumbledore's Army, just to spite Umbridge."

Harry, energised by the rebellious undertone of the name, enthusiastically agreed. "That's a brilliant name!"

Rigel chuckled, the sound echoing slightly in the spacious room. "I'm in for teaching, but I'll leave the leadership to you, Harry."

Harry, taken aback, hesitated. "Why me? I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of responsibility."

Rigel gave him a firm look, his tone serious yet encouraging. "It's an opportunity for you to grow, Harry. And honestly, I'd rather die than lead something called 'Dumbledore's Army'." A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "But the name is perfect, especially if we get the chance to rub it in Umbridge's face someday."

He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "But this will compromise the secrecy of this room. Everyone will know about it, leaving only our suite as a private space."

Hermione, her resolve unwavering, added, "It's a price worth paying. We can't leave the students defenceless."

Daphne, decisive and ready to take action, stood up and moved towards Hermione. "Then it's settled. Let's prepare some paperwork with enchantments to prevent anyone from snitching on us." The two immediately got to work, their quills moving swiftly as they drafted the foundation of what would soon be known as Dumbledore's Army.

Over the course of the following week, the Room of Requirement became a hub of intense focus and collaboration. Hermione, Daphne, and occasionally Rigel, dedicated themselves to the intricate task of crafting perfect enchantments for the protection of their secret meetings. The air was thick with magic and determination, as they poured over ancient texts and combined their diverse magical knowledge.

Finally, with a flourish of her wand and a proud smile, Daphne announced, "This is, without doubt, my best spell modification yet." She turned to Rigel, her eyes sparkling with gratitude, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Couldn't have done it without your help, Rigel," she said warmly, "and of course, Hermione's invaluable contributions."

As Daphne turned towards Hermione, Hermione let out a nervous chuckle. "You're not going to kiss my cheek too, are you, Daphne?"

Daphne's smirk widened, her eyes twinkling with mischief, which only made Hermione's cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. Their laughter filled the room, a welcome break from the intensity of their task.

Regaining her composure, Daphne explained the enchantment. "It's based on the Fidelius Charm," she began, her voice tinged with excitement. "We're treating the knowledge of Dumbledore's Army, its members, and its location as the 'secret.' But here's the twist – the secret-keeper is the parchment itself, which will only reveal the knowledge to those who sign it. As long as we keep this parchment secure, no one can snitch, and no one outside can find out about our meetings."

"That's brilliant," Neville commented, his eyes wide with admiration and a hint of relief.

Hermione, her mind always on the next step, added, "For the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, I've arranged to meet with a few people who might be interested in joining us."

The group nodded, understanding the importance of recruiting more members discreetly. Tracey, with her characteristic mischievous grin, couldn't help but tease Hermione a bit. "Is Ernie one of these people?"

Hermione's response was a bashful nod, her cheeks turning a shade rosier. "Of course, he is."

Tracey's giggle resonated in the room, lightening the mood. The sense of camaraderie and shared purpose among them was stronger than ever. They were not just fighting against Umbridge's tyranny; they were fighting for the soul of Hogwarts itself.

~~~o~~~

A few days later, the group made their way to Hogsmeade, their steps leading them to the Hogshead, a pub known for its privacy and lack of patronage. Harry, walking alongside Rigel, couldn't help but express his surprise. "I'm amazed Umbridge hasn't cancelled Hogsmeade weekends yet."

Rigel grimaced slightly, his expression pensive. "Give her time. If she gets a whiff of what we're planning, I wouldn't put it past her."

Upon entering the dimly lit Hogshead, they found a secluded table and settled down. Harry turned to Hermione, curiosity in his eyes. "So, who's coming today?"

Hermione, her eyes scanning the room, began to list their expected guests. "Most of our close friends – Astoria, Luna, Ginny, the twins. Ernie, along with some of his friends. And a good number from our year, the OWL year. If today goes well, we might need to broaden our recruitment."

Nods of agreement followed Hermione's words. Slowly, the pub began to fill, the low buzz of conversation growing as more students trickled in.

Once everyone had gathered, Hermione stood up, addressing the room. "As you all know, Umbridge is unyielding in her restrictions. Many of us are preparing for OWLs, which have a significant practical component. Without proper training, passing them would be nearly impossible."

She then turned to Harry and Rigel. "We have a space where we can train, safely and undetected. Harry and Rigel will be our primary instructors." Hermione's gaze swept over the crowd. "Harry's prowess in duelling is unmatched in our year, and he was a hair's breadth from becoming the youngest Triwizard Champion in history."

Shifting her focus to Rigel, she continued, "Rigel has transformed Hogwarts in his short time here. His reputation as the strongest dueller and his achievement as Triwizard Champion speak for themselves."

"There's more to their credentials, but that's not pertinent right now," Hermione added quickly, sensing the growing interest. "What matters is we need practical training, and they're willing to provide it."

Dean Thomas, who had been listening with a sceptical expression, scoffed and stood up to leave. Ginny, quick on her feet, grabbed his arm. "Where do you think you're going?"

"This is a waste of time," Dean retorted, trying to shake off her grip.

Ginny's response was fierce and immediate. "No, it's not! It's exactly what we need."

Rigel's gaze fixed on Dean, his voice calm but carrying an edge of authority. "Thomas, why do you think this is a waste of time?"

Dean, defiance clear in his posture, retorted, "You and Potter are just nutjobs, buying into Dumbledore's delusion that the Dark Lord is back."

Rigel raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. "I don't recall ever making a public statement on that matter, nor did Harry. But that's beside the point. Even if you think we're 'nutjobs', you still need to pass your OWLs. And whether or not Voldemort is back," he continued, causing a ripple of gasps through the crowd, "the resurgence of the Death Eaters is undeniable. Wouldn't you want to learn to protect yourself? And what if they target Ginny? Wouldn't a good boyfriend want to protect his girlfriend?"

Standing up, Rigel's presence seemed to fill the room. "I'm not here for your friendship. What Harry, I, and the rest of our group are offering is a solution to the darkness that's encroaching – both Umbridge's tyranny within the castle walls and the dangers outside. It doesn't matter to me if you accept or not. I will continue to train, to be ready to protect my family when the time comes."

As he spoke of family, Rigel's gaze shifted, first locking eyes with Harry, then with Daphne, underscoring his point.

He then faced the crowd again. "You know what Harry and I are capable of. If you want to learn, sign up." He gestured to the parchment next to Hermione. "And for those who think this is 'a waste of time'," he pointed towards the door, "there's the exit."

The room was thick with hesitation, the students exchanging uncertain glances. It was Dean who broke the stillness. After a moment of contemplation, his gaze met Ginny's, a silent communication passing between them. With a resigned nod, acknowledging the importance of the skills they could acquire, Dean stepped forward. Ginny, a determined glint in her eye, followed closely. Their decisive movements seemed to break the spell of indecision in the room.

Encouraged by Dean and Ginny's initiative, the students began to surge forward, forming an eager line by the parchment. Amidst the hum of conversations and the shuffling of feet, Luna Lovegood's voice floated through the room, tinged with curiosity. "Why 'Dumbledore's Army'?"

Harry, a grin spreading across his face, replied, "It's to spite Umbridge. She's here to deny us combat training, fearing we'll take over the Ministry for Dumbledore." Laughter rippled through the crowd at the absurdity of Umbridge's fears.

By the end of the day, every single student in the Hogshead had signed up for Dumbledore's Army. The success was resounding, a clear signal of unity and resistance against the challenges they faced.

~~~o~~~

A few days later, the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army convened in the Room of Requirement. The members, a mix of various year students, stepped into the room, their eyes wide with wonder at the space that had transformed to meet their needs.

Harry, taking the lead, addressed the group. "As most of us are fifth years, we'll focus on spells for the OWLs and combat-appropriate spells. Those in younger years might struggle a bit, and the older students might not feel fully challenged. This will evolve over time."

He then detailed the spells for the session, demonstrating wand movements and incantations, explaining their uses. As the students began practising, Harry moved around the room, assisting those who needed help. Rigel, Daphne, and Hermione did the same, each lending their expertise where it was needed.

It quickly became apparent that Harry enjoyed teaching. He seemed more confident, more open than his usual reserved self. His explanations were clear and helpful, and there was a noticeable happiness in his demeanour as he helped others master the spells. Rigel and Daphne, though slightly impatient when students struggled with the spells, were adept at controlling their emotions, their frustrations imperceptible to the others.

As the meeting drew to a close, Harry initiated a feedback session. "How did everyone find the lesson? Any suggestions for improvement?" To his surprise, there was no criticism. The room buzzed with positive responses, everyone expressing their satisfaction with the lesson.

Finally, Harry announced, "We need to expand our membership. More students should learn to defend themselves. The Room can adapt to accommodate more people. If you have friends who want to join, tell them to speak to Hermione, but remember to be discreet."

With that, the meeting ended, and the students filed out of the Room of Requirement in groups of three, careful to adhere to Umbridge's absurd educational decrees.

As the weeks progressed, Dumbledore's Army steadily grew in numbers, its ranks swelling with students eager to learn. The Room of Requirement, with its seemingly limitless ability to transform, accommodated each new member, its vastness a testament to the unity and purpose that had brought them all together.

However, during one of the meetings, a hush fell over the room as Ernie Macmillan raised a delicate question. "Harry, is You-Know-Who really back?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and curiosity.

The room plunged into a deafening silence, every eye turning to Harry. He felt a weight settle on his shoulders, but he also sensed the bond that had formed within the DA. Deciding to honour that trust, he answered truthfully, "Yes. During the third task, Rigel and I were kidnapped by Death Eaters. They resurrected Voldemort. We barely escaped with our lives."

Ernie nodded gravely. "I thought as much," he said. "So, is the purpose of the DA to fight Voldemort?"

"In a sense, yes," Harry replied.

His response set off a wave of murmurs, which quickly escalated into a heated debate. Many members, still in denial about Voldemort's return, refused to believe Harry's words. Just as Daphne had predicted, the division was clear – those who believed in Voldemort's return and those who didn't.

The room was soon filled with shouting and arguing until Rigel, his patience worn thin, cast the Sonorus charm on himself. "SHUT UP!" he bellowed, his amplified voice cutting through the chaos. The room fell silent.

Rigel continued, his voice now at a normal level but still stern. "The DA has no higher purpose. We're here to learn spells, and that's it. Let's keep politics out of this and focus on learning."

Harry, about to suggest showing them the memory of that night, felt Daphne's hand on his arm. She whispered to him, "You don't have to prove anything, Harry." He sighed, realising she was right. Some people were too stubborn to accept the truth until they witnessed it firsthand.

The meeting continued in a more subdued manner, and by the end, they made it an official rule to keep politics out of the DA sessions.

As the group began to disperse, Ernie approached Harry and Rigel with a sheepish expression. "I'm sorry for asking," he muttered.

Rigel shook his head, a wry smile on his face. "No need to apologise, Ernie. The ignorance of others is not your fault. From now on, we'll refrain from such topics during meetings. Teaching some of these buffoons is hard enough without them arguing whether Voldemort is back or not."

Later that night, the group of friends gathered in the suite of Daphne and Rigel, one of the few remaining sanctuaries where they could speak freely. The room, usually a haven of comfort and solidarity, now held a palpable sense of urgency and contemplation.

Harry, looking particularly disheartened, slumped into a chair. Tracey, her concern evident, leaned towards him. "What's up, Harry?"

He sighed, his voice tinged with disappointment. "I thought the DA stood for something more... like fighting against Voldemort."

Rigel, lounging on a nearby sofa, sighed deeply. "The group's too large, Harry. And not vetted enough for that kind of purpose."

It was then that Harry's expression shifted, an idea dawning on him. "Back at Grimmauld Place, the twins joked about creating our own Order to fight Voldemort. Maybe... maybe that's what we should do."

Tracey nodded, her eyes alight with determination. "We're going to have to fight him anyway. Why not make it official and start gathering allies?"

Rigel interjected, his tone cautious yet thoughtful. "It's a good idea in theory, but let's not make it 'official'. The fewer people know about this new Order, the better."

"So, like a secret society?" Hermione asked, her mind already racing with the implications.

"Kind of like that," Rigel confirmed with a nod.

Harry scanned the faces of his friends. "Are we all on board with this idea?" he asked, seeking confirmation.

One by one, nods of agreement filled the room.

Neville, his voice hesitant but curious, broke the silence. "What will we name our Order?"

Harry grew thoughtful, drawing parallels to Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. "Dumbledore named his after Fawkes, but we don't have an animal..."

Daphne's smirk broke the contemplative mood. "We don't have one now, but we had one."

Realisation dawned on Harry's face. "Jingles!" he exclaimed. "The cat Rigel's soul was stuck in. How about the Order of the Black Cat?"

The suggestion was met with nods of approval, and Rigel smiled at his brother. "Harry, you should lead the Order."

Harry quickly shook his head. "If we want this to succeed, I shouldn't lead alone. What if Rigel and I share leadership?"

Hermione chimed in, her voice logical and clear. "An even number of leaders isn't the best choice. If there's ever a disagreement, there won't be a majority to decide. We should have three leaders."

The suggestion sparked a brief but intense discussion among the group. After some back and forth, they unanimously settled on Daphne as the third leader. Her strategic mind, coupled with her deep understanding of pureblood politics and her personal experiences, made her an ideal choice to balance the leadership.

Daphne, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of strategy, suggested, "We should have codenames, like the Marauders did. Within the Order, members should only know each other by these aliases, not our real names."

Tracey, excited by the idea, took it a step further. "And what about uniforms? We could have hoods and masks to keep our identities even more secret."

Rigel chuckled, clearly amused by the enthusiasm and creativity of his friends. "These are all fantastic ideas, but let's save them for when we actually start recruiting members. For now, let's each think of potential candidates to join us in the fight against Voldemort. And don't forget to come up with a codename for yourself."

The group nodded in agreement, their minds already racing with possibilities. The air was electric with the sense of a covert mission taking shape, a clandestine fight against a growing darkness.

Harry's voice, filled with conviction, cut through the room. "Our goal of changing the wizarding world for the better – we've always talked about it, dreamed about it. Now, with the formation of this Order, we have the means to make it a reality. This Order should be the vehicle for that change."

Rigel nodded, his expression resolute. "Exactly. The fight against Voldemort is just part of a bigger battle against the injustice and prejudice that plagues our world. The Order of the Black Cat can be the catalyst for the change we've been longing for."

Daphne's strategic mind whirred into action. "We're not just fighting a dark wizard; we're challenging the very foundations that let people like him gain power. Our Order can be a beacon of hope and progress."

The room was filled with a renewed sense of purpose and excitement. The Order of the Black Cat was no longer just a defensive measure; it was now the embodiment of their shared vision for a better, more just wizarding world.

As they left the suite, each member of the group felt the weight and promise of their expanded mission. They were no longer just a group of students learning to defend themselves; they were the founders of a movement that had the potential to reshape their world.

~~~o~~~

Over the following weeks, Dumbledore's Army made remarkable progress. The group's numbers continued to swell, and each member was steadily mastering the basics of defensive spells. In the shadows of their DA success, the founding members of the Order of the Black Cat – Harry, Hermione, Neville, Tracey, Daphne, and Rigel – diligently observed their peers, contemplating potential recruits for their new secret society.

One evening, they gathered in Daphne and Rigel's suite, the atmosphere charged with a sense of purpose. The meeting's agenda was twofold: to discuss potential additions to the Order and to reveal the codenames each had chosen for themselves.

Harry initiated the discussion of codenames. "I'll be 'Talon'," he announced, his voice carrying a sense of newfound identity, "inspired by my Animagus form."

Tracey's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she revealed her chosen name. "I've decided on 'Aquaphilia,'" she announced, her voice carrying an air of allure. She gave Harry a sly wink. "It mirrors the aquatic essence of my Animagus form and Patronus. And, you know, it quite suits my... playful nature too."

Neville, with a hint of pride in his voice, revealed his choice. "I'll be 'Mimbulus', after my favourite plant, the Mimbulus Mimbletonia."

Hermione followed, her voice steady and confident. "My codename will be 'Lutra', part of the Latin name for the Eurasian Otter, which is my Patronus."

Daphne, her expression serene yet assertive, announced, "I've picked 'Silverbloom'. It ties in with my animagus form and plays off my name."

Rigel, smirking with a sense of nostalgia, declared, "I'll be 'Jingles'. I've had such a long history with that name; it feels right to keep it."

Harry, slightly concerned, interjected. "Are you sure about that, Rigel? People like Dumbledore know about your true situation."

Rigel pondered for a moment before responding. "I've thought about that, but the personal history I have with 'Jingles' outweighs that concern. It's been a part of me for most of my life."

Harry nodded in understanding and agreement. After all, for a significant part of Rigel's life, "Jingles" was more than just a name; it was an identity.

Rigel gestured for the discussion to continue. "Let's move on to potential members. Harry, why don't you start us off?"

Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I've been observing closely, and I think the Weasleys would all fit well into the Order. They're strong magically and have a solid moral compass."

Rigel considered this. "They're likely good candidates. But we need to be cautious about their allegiance to Dumbledore. Their parents are staunch supporters, and we don't know how much that's influenced the kids. We should find a subtle way to gauge their stance."

Tracey pouted playfully. "I was going to suggest the twins."

Neville, looking slightly embarrassed, spoke up. "I've been so focused on the class itself, I haven't really thought about potential members. Sorry."

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Neville. It's a learning process for all of us," Rigel reassured him gently.

Hermione, with a faint blush, added her thoughts. "I think Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley would make good members. They're both capable and not particularly aligned with Dumbledore. Plus, they definitely don't support Voldemort."

"I knew it," Tracey murmured under her breath, earning a sharp glare from Hermione.

Rigel nodded thoughtfully. "Ernie has shown his worth, both in the DA and as... Hermione's boyfriend." This comment elicited chuckles from the group and made Hermione blush even more. "But let's observe him a bit longer. We've only recently gotten to know him better. As for Justin, I would suggest we recruit Ernie first, and if we are happy with him, he can then vouch for Justin."

Daphne then spoke up, her voice thoughtful. "I'd suggest Astoria, Ginny, and Luna. They've been close to us for a long time. While Ginny and Luna grew up with a pro-Dumbledore mindset, their views have started to shift. They've learned about the harsh realities of Astoria's home life and were shocked to realise that Dumbledore was aware yet chose not to intervene. And it's not just Astoria's situation – they were equally appalled to hear about Harry's terrible home life and Dumbledore's apparent knowledge and lack of action. These revelations have made them question things. They're still sympathetic to Dumbledore but are beginning to see that his decisions are not always infallible. They don't follow blindly anymore."

Rigel agreed. "They've been close to us, which is a good starting point."

Finally, Rigel shared his nomination. "I'd suggest Tonks. She's already working with us as a spy in the Order of the Phoenix. Officially including her in our Order would further cement her role."

Rigel concluded, "However, I propose we start with Astoria, Ginny, and Luna. They pose the least risk. We still need to figure out how to approach people about the Order without revealing our identities, something we'll need to work on over the summer."

Rigel looked around the room. "Does everyone agree?"

One by one, nods of agreement went around, solidifying their first recruitment plan for the Order of the Black Cat. The meeting concluded with a sense of accomplishment and a clear path forward.

As the meeting wound down and they prepared to leave the suite, Tracey suddenly pushed Harry against the wall next to the door. She leaned in and kissed him passionately, causing a bit of a stir among the remaining members of the group.

Hermione, catching a glimpse of the display, turned a deep shade of red and quickly exited the suite. Neville, witnessing the scene, simply chuckled and followed Hermione out, shaking his head in amusement.

Rigel, trying to maintain some decorum in the situation, cleared his throat pointedly. "You do realise this isn't your suite," he remarked, half in jest.

Tracey broke the kiss long enough to shoot back a playful retort. "Oh, shut up, Rigel."

Daphne, always one to see an opportunity, interjected with a suggestion. "I understand the need for intimacy, but I have a better idea."

Tracey, curiosity piqued, turned to Daphne. "What's that?"

Daphne smiled slyly. "Harry gave you a bath potion for your birthday, remember? I think it's high time you try it out – together."

Tracey's eyebrow arched in intrigue. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"There's a bathroom on the fifth floor, exclusive to prefects," Daphne explained.

Tracey, turning back to Harry, pouted. "Why didn't you ever tell me about this place?"

Harry, caught off guard, responded sheepishly, "It just... slipped my mind."

Determined, Tracey instructed Harry to meet her there. "We'll go separately because of Umbridge's ridiculous decrees." With a final glance at Harry, she left the suite to fetch the bath potion.

As Harry made his way to the door, Rigel called out to him affectionately, "Brother, your tie isn't straight. And you know Umbridge would love to make a fuss over that."

Harry quickly adjusted his tie, thanked Rigel and Daphne, and left the suite. His mind was a whirl of anticipation and nervous excitement as he made his way to the fifth floor. He knew he was in for quite an evening, one that promised to be a welcome escape from the stress of their secret endeavours.

~~~o~~~

Harry waited anxiously outside the entrance to the prefects' bathroom. When he saw Tracey approaching, his face lit up. He waved, spoke the password, and stepped inside.

Tracey, following close behind, was immediately awestruck by the bathroom's grandeur, which even surpassed those at Black Castle. Without a moment's hesitation, she set about preparing the bath, adding the special bath potion Harry had gifted her.

As Tracey immersed herself in the task, Harry quietly closed the door behind them. He pulled out his wand and gently tapped the door three times. The wood of the door shimmered for a moment, and a soft, enchanting melody echoed briefly in the air – a magical melody that signified the activation of a locking charm. This particular charm was not just any lock; it was designed to alert them if someone was attempting to enter, offering them both privacy and a warning system. With the bathroom now secured, Harry turned his attention back to Tracey, who was busily preparing their enchanted bath, her movements reflecting her anticipation for the relaxing escape they were about to enjoy together.

Then, with a mischievous smirk, Tracey began to undress, each movement slow and deliberate, clearly intending to tantalise Harry. Once she was naked, she winked at him and gracefully jumped into the bath. Harry, chuckling at her antics, quickly undressed and joined her in the warm, fragrant water.

Settling into the bath, Tracey requested, almost demanded, that Harry massage her. "These past few weeks have been anything but relaxing," she complained, her annoyance evident. "Not being able to touch you in public is driving me insane. I thought Hogwarts was bad with its rules against sex. But now, we can't even kiss or hug. It's maddening."

Harry sighed in agreement, his hands working gently on her shoulders. "Umbridge has really overdone it with her decrees. No one's learning, everyone's just miserable."

After a few moments of massaging, Tracey broke free from his grip. She turned to face Harry, straddling him as she pulled him into a deep, fervent kiss. The tension and frustration of the past weeks seemed to melt away in that embrace.

They remained in the bath, lost in each other's company, until the water turned cold, relishing the rare opportunity to be together without fear of prying eyes or repercussions. It was a much-needed escape, a brief respite from the oppressive atmosphere that Umbridge had created at Hogwarts.

Eventually, they got out, dressed again in silence, the comfortable kind that comes from deep understanding and connection. Harry, ever the gentleman, draped his invisibility cloak over them both and escorted Tracey back to the Slytherin common room. The corridors of Hogwarts, usually bustling with activity, were eerily quiet under the strict curfew.

As they reached the serpent statue, Tracey turned to Harry, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you for a wonderful evening," she whispered, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek. With a final smile, she slipped into the common room.

Harry stood there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of their time together before he set off to fulfil his duties for the evening patrols. As he walked the silent halls of Hogwarts, the challenges they faced felt a little less daunting, bolstered by the love and support they shared.

~~~o~~~

A few weeks later, the atmosphere at Hogwarts turned grim. The news that Professor Lupin was being fired for being a werewolf spread rapidly among the students. Harry, upon hearing this, was in disbelief.

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry, Hermione, and Neville rushed to the courtyard near the castle's exit. The air was tense as they joined a crowd of students who had gathered there. They saw Remus Lupin standing with his belongings, his face a mask of quiet dignity in the face of humiliation.

Umbridge, in her sickly sweet and condescending tone, was berating Lupin. "Your irresponsibility endangers these children," she scorned. "Selfishness, but what else to expect from a creature like you."

Harry's fists clenched at his sides, his anger boiling up as Umbridge continued her tirade against Professor Lupin, reducing him to less than a person with her cruel words. Just as Harry was about to let out a furious retort, Dumbledore appeared with his usual calm demeanour. The Headmaster's presence was like a balm in the tense atmosphere.

Dumbledore approached Filch, his voice even and authoritative. "Argus, please assist Professor Lupin with his belongings. They are to be taken back inside."

Umbridge, her face contorted in annoyance, snapped at Dumbledore. "Headmaster, may I remind you of the powers granted to me by the Ministry? According to Educational Decree Number Twenty-Three, I have the authority to dismiss any professor I deem unfit for duty."

Dumbledore, turning to face her with a serene yet unyielding expression, replied, "Indeed, Dolores, you have the authority to dismiss, but not to expel from the castle grounds. That privilege," he paused for emphasis, "remains solely with the Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Umbridge's mouth tightened into a thin line, her eyes flashing with restrained fury. She attempted to maintain her composure, her voice taking on a sickeningly sweet tone. "Of course, Headmaster. For now."

At that moment, Harry lost his composure. He stepped forward, calling out to Umbridge. When she turned to face him, he spoke with barely controlled aggression. "You're destroying Hogwarts," he accused her. "Every student, every professor is miserable. We're not learning anything anymore. And now, you're getting rid of the best Defence Against the Dark Arts professor we've ever had, during times like these!"

Umbridge, undeterred, replied sharply, "There are no dark times, Mr. Potter. I would advise you to watch your mouth."

Harry let out a bitter laugh. "No dark times? Voldemort is back, building his strength, and you're leaving us defenceless."

Turning to address the gathered students, Umbridge declared, "Mr. Potter is delusional. Do not believe his lies."

Harry, his voice steady despite his rising anger, countered, "The only one lying here is you."

Umbridge's face twisted in fury. "Detention, Mr. Potter. Report to my office after dinner."

As Umbridge briskly walked away, her robes swishing with barely concealed indignation, Hermione and Neville approached Harry. Concern was etched on Hermione's face as she began, "Harry, you should have kept your emotions in check..."

But Harry cut her off, his voice tinged with frustration. "I know, Hermione. But I just lost it when she went after Remus like that. He's... he's family, not by blood, but he might as well be."

Hermione's expression softened, though worry still lingered in her eyes. "I understand, Harry, but still. Umbridge isn't going to be lenient in detention. She could even take away your prefect role."

Harry's response was sharp, "I don't care what she does." He paused, realising his tone, and his expression softened. "Sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to snap at you. I know you're just looking out for me."

Hermione offered a small, understanding smile. "It's okay, Harry. But we really should hurry if we don't want to be late for Charms."

Nodding in agreement, the trio quickly composed themselves and began making their way to their next class. The incident with Umbridge had left a sour taste, but they knew they had to continue with their day, each step a small act of defiance against the injustices unfolding around them.

~~~o~~~

After dinner, with a heavy heart, Harry made his way to Professor Umbridge's office. He knocked hesitantly and entered upon her prompt. As Harry stepped into the office, the overly sweet scent and pink décor immediately made him uneasy. Umbridge, seated behind her desk, looked up at him with a disingenuous smile.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter," she said in a tone that was almost sickeningly sweet.

Harry cautiously took a seat, keeping his expression neutral. Umbridge, with a gesture that feigned hospitality, offered, "Would you like some tea, Mr. Potter?"

"No, thank you," Harry replied curtly, wanting nothing more than to get this over with.

Umbridge's smile didn't falter. "Very well. Let's get straight to the point of your detention then."

Harry braced himself, knowing that whatever Umbridge had planned, it wouldn't be pleasant. The sense of dread he felt was palpable, a stark contrast to the falsely cheerful atmosphere of the office.

Umbridge's smile turned a little more sinister. "You'll be writing lines, Mr. Potter. A simple but effective lesson." As Harry reached for his ink and quill, she stopped him. "There's no need for that. I have a special quill for you to use."

She handed him a quill that looked unusual, but Harry couldn't discern why. Puzzled, he asked about ink, to which Umbridge replied, "You won't be needing any."

"And what am I supposed to write?" Harry inquired, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I must not tell lies," Umbridge stated simply.

Harry's frustration grew. "And how many times?"

Umbridge's voice took on a sickly sweet tone. "As many times as it takes for the message to sink in."

Reluctantly, Harry began to write. Almost immediately, he felt an uncomfortable sensation in his left hand. The discomfort quickly escalated to a sharp, stinging pain. To his horror, he saw the words "I must not tell lies" emerging on the back of his hand in his own blood.

He glanced at Umbridge in shock, and she casually asked, "Is something the matter, Mr. Potter?"

Determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing his pain, Harry replied sharply, "No," and continued writing. He did his best to hide the agony each word inflicted, but it was a struggle.

After what felt like an eternity but was about thirty minutes, Umbridge finally declared, "That will be enough for today." She took the quill back and added, "In the future, Mr. Potter, I suggest you consider your words more carefully." Then she dismissed him.

Harry left Umbridge's office, the back of his hand burning intensely. Each step was accompanied by the sharp, relentless pain etched into his skin, a cruel reminder of Umbridge's vindictive nature. As he walked through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, his mind was in turmoil.

Thoughts of how his friends, and more importantly, his brother Rigel, would react to what had just happened, raced through his mind. He could imagine their outrage, their concern, and their insistence on taking some form of action. Yet, as he pondered this, Harry decided that he would rather deal with this alone. They were always there for him, a constant source of support, but everyone had so much on their plates right now. He didn't want to add to their burdens. They were all fighting their own battles, especially with the growing resistance against Umbridge.

He resolved to watch his temper around Umbridge in the future. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Harry knew that sometimes endurance was a form of resistance. He would not give Umbridge the satisfaction of seeing him break.

With these thoughts weighing heavily on him, Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. The familiar sights and sounds of the castle did little to ease the sense of injustice burning within him. But he knew he had to be strong, not just for himself, but for everyone who was counting on him.

Harry stepped into the Gryffindor Common Room, his heart heavy, only to find Hermione and Neville by the fire, clearly waiting for him. Hermione immediately rose and approached him, with Neville following close behind.

"How was detention, Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice laced with concern.

Caught off guard and utterly unprepared, Harry found himself blurting out, "It was good." As soon as the words left his mouth, he mentally chastised himself. 'Good'? Of all the things he could have said, that was the best his mind could muster? In the heat of his encounter with Umbridge, his thoughts had been consumed with how to handle her and the situation she had created. Yet, ironically, he hadn't spared a moment to consider how he would conceal the truth of the detention's painful reality from his friends. The omission now glared at him, as glaring as the disbelief etched on Hermione's face. He was unprepared for this part, the part where he had to mask the torment he had endured and present a facade of normalcy to the people who knew him best.

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion. "Good?" she echoed. "How can detention be good?"

Harry scrambled for a more plausible explanation. "I mean, it wasn't terrible. Just had to write some lines, that's all."

But he could see the scepticism on Hermione's face. She knew him too well.

"That sounds rather light for Umbridge," Hermione remarked, her suspicion evident. She started to say something more but suddenly stopped, her gaze fixed on something. Following her eyes, Harry's heart sank as he realised she was staring at his left hand. The scar from the weird quill had reddened the entire back of his hand, a detail he hadn't noticed until now. Hastily, he shoved his hand into his pocket.

"What's wrong with your hand, Harry?" Hermione pressed, not easily deterred.

Harry, in a feeble attempt at diversion, showed her his right hand. "See? Everything's normal."

Hermione, undeterred, reached out and firmly pulled his left hand from his pocket. As she and Neville examined the scarred skin, their expressions morphed into ones of shock and concern.

Hermione's voice was firm, laced with urgency. "Harry, you need to tell Sirius about this. Now."

Harry pulled his hand back and moved to sit on the sofa, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace. "I can't," he said quietly. "Remus was just fired. If Sirius knows, he'll make a scene and might get fired too. I can't be responsible for that."

Hermione, her voice rising with frustration, insisted, "But Harry, that woman tortured you! You need to tell Sirius – he's your Godfather. He'll take care of this."

Harry's response was adamant. "No. I won't give her the satisfaction."

Hermione's voice softened, pleading. "Then at least tell Rigel." When Harry only grunted dismissively, she continued, nearly in tears, "Harry, just thinking about the pain you must have endured makes my stomach turn. Did she make you use a special quill that didn't need ink?"

Harry nodded silently, and Hermione pressed on. "How many pieces of parchment did you fill?"

He shrugged. "I didn't count. Maybe ten, fifteen?"

Hermione could no longer hold back her tears. "Harry, she must have used a blood quill. Those are used for signing magically binding contracts. Writing just your name hurts because it uses your blood and magic. Writing on so many parchments... Can you even feel your hand anymore?"

"It hurts like hell," Harry admitted quietly. "But I want to deal with this myself. Hermione, you're the one who told me to be more independent."

Shaking her head, Hermione countered, "Yes, I want you to be independent, but this isn't the time for that. You've been tortured, Harry. You could be scarred for life." Her voice was firm. "Either you tell Rigel now, or Neville will get your mirror and do it."

Neville, who had been quietly observing, looked shocked but quickly nodded in agreement, his expression stern.

Harry, feeling cornered but understanding their concern, finally relented. "Fine, I'll tell Rigel. But not Sirius." He stood up, his movements sluggish, and made his way to his dormitory to get the mirror. The burden of his experience weighed heavily on him, but he knew his friends were right. It was time to share the burden with someone who could help.

In the dorm room, Harry spotted Dean and Seamus deep in conversation. He swiftly grabbed the mirror and returned to where Neville and Hermione were waiting by the fireplace. To ensure privacy, he quickly set up a silencing ward around them.

With a heavy heart, Harry held up the mirror. "Rigel Black," he called out, his voice barely above a whisper.

A moment later, Rigel's face appeared in the mirror, his usual cheery demeanour on display. "What's up, Harry?"

Harry struggled to find the words, the difficulty of asking for help suddenly very real. "I... I just came back from detention with Umbridge," he began, his voice faltering.

Rigel's expression immediately shifted to concern. "What happened?"

Harry stammered, unable to articulate the experience. Instead, he lifted his left hand, showing Rigel the scar.

Rigel's face darkened, a mix of anger and concern evident. "That bitch," he muttered. "Wait in the common room. I'll be right there."

The connection ended abruptly, leaving Harry, Hermione, and Neville surprised. Rigel, a Slytherin, was coming to the Gryffindor Common Room?

About ten minutes later, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open, revealing a slightly panting Rigel. Hermione, unable to contain her curiosity, blurted out, "How did you know the password?"

Rigel explained, catching his breath, "Head Boys and Head Girls can enter any common room if they have a good reason, just like the professors."

Rigel then turned to Harry. "Let me see your hand," he requested softly. Harry timidly lifted his scarred hand, and Rigel carefully traced the markings with a look of concern.

Hermione interjected, "We think Umbridge made him use a blood quill."

Rigel's expression turned even grimmer, his eyes reflecting a deep sense of resolve. The situation was more serious than he had imagined, and it was clear that they needed to take action.

Rigel looked at Harry with concern. "Have you told Dad yet?"

Harry shook his head. "No, and I won't. Sirius is already in hot water as it is. I don't want to give Umbridge any more ammunition against him."

Rigel sighed but didn't press further. Instead, he motioned for Harry, Hermione, and Neville to follow him to the fireplace. Standing in front of it, he muttered a Latin phrase, "Secretum Revelio Ignis." To everyone's surprise, a brick shifted, revealing a small hidden box.

"What's that?" Harry asked, intrigued.

Rigel explained, "Each common room fireplace has a secret stash of Floo powder for emergencies. They're hidden behind passwords known only to the professors, Head Boys, and Head Girls." He grabbed a handful of Floo powder and closed the brick compartment.

Rigel then turned to Harry, his voice soft but tinged with underlying anger. "We're going to St. Mungo's to get your hand fixed."

He threw the Floo powder into the fire, calling out "St. Mungo's!" and then turned to Hermione and Neville. "You two will have to stay here, for obvious reasons. But once Harry's hand is healed, I promise Umbridge will get what she deserves—the Dementor's Kiss."

Rigel motioned for Harry to step into the green flames, and after Harry had gone through, he followed swiftly.

At St. Mungo's, Rigel took charge, quickly securing a room for Harry. A doctor soon arrived to examine Harry's hand. "We can certainly reverse this, but it'll take about a day. Mr. Potter will need to stay here during that time," the doctor explained, before leaving to prepare the treatment.

Once they were alone, Rigel turned to Harry. "I'll go inform Dad now. Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't do anything rash. And as I said back in the common room, Umbridge will suffer the fate she deserves for this." He smirked slightly. "I wonder how long it's been since anyone has kissed her. The Dementors will surely be eager."

~~~o~~~

A few days after his hand had fully healed, thanks to the capable doctors at St. Mungo's, Harry found himself in an unusual setting. He was in a small elevator, descending to the lower levels of the Ministry of Magic, accompanied by Sirius, Daphne, and Rigel. Rigel had managed to gather compelling evidence against Dolores Umbridge through the extensive Black family connections and had subsequently pressed charges against her. They were now on their way to her trial.

As the elevator descended, Harry couldn't help but ask, "Is it normal for the courtrooms to be this far down?"

Sirius, leaning against the elevator wall, replied, "Not typically. These levels are usually reserved for trials involving dangerous criminals. I'm not sure why we're headed down here for Umbridge's trial."

The elevator eventually reached the bottom, and as the doors opened, they saw Minister Fudge conversing with Lucius Malfoy in front of a rather ominous-looking door. Upon noticing their arrival, Lucius gave a curt nod to Fudge and promptly departed.

Fudge approached the group, addressing Rigel directly. "Lord Black, are you certain you wish to proceed with this trial? We still haven't located Umbridge."

Rigel's voice held a trace of annoyance as he responded, "Cornelius, we've been over this. Just because Umbridge was clever enough to flee doesn't mean we can't convict her. The evidence against her is overwhelming, both for torturing Harry Potter and her subsequent flight. Is your Undersecretary truly so valuable that you're willing to jeopardise your own position for her?"

Fudge chuckled nervously, clearly unsettled by Rigel's assertiveness. "Of course not, Lord Black. I am, indeed, eager to see this evidence presented." He quickly excused himself, leaving them in the hallway.

Daphne, who had been quietly observing the exchange, turned to Rigel. "I'll head to the visitors' gallery," she said, giving Rigel a quick kiss before she departed.

Sirius then guided Harry and Rigel to a heavy door. "This is it. The courtroom."

Harry felt a surge of nerves but was reassured when Rigel patted him on the back. "You don't have to do anything, Harry. I've got everything under control."

Harry offered a small, grateful smile to his brother. The three of them then stepped into the courtroom, ready to face whatever the trial would bring.

As the courtroom settled into a tense silence, Fudge stood up to announce the beginning of the trial. "We shall now commence," he declared, trying to assert some control over the proceedings.

Nott, sitting among the Wizengamot members, scoffed audibly. "Trials usually don't start without the accused present."

Rigel, undeterred, shot back sharply. "If Lord Nott had taken the time to review the evidence, he would understand that Umbridge is currently a fugitive. The purpose of this trial is to determine whether we send Dementors after her or simply task Aurors with her capture."

Lucius Malfoy then interjected with a sneer. "Lord Black seems to presume the outcome of this trial."

Rigel chuckled lightly. "If it were Draco instead of Harry who had been tortured, I imagine you'd be just as eager for justice, Lucius."

Fudge, feeling the weight of the courtroom's gaze upon him, called for order with a sense of urgency. "Enough! Any further irrelevant interruptions will result in a fine." His eyes then settled on Madam Amelia Bones. "Madam Bones, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, please present the case."

Madam Bones stood, her demeanour exuding authority and calm. "Thank you, Minister Fudge. While it is customary for the DMLE to present the evidence, Lord Black has been instrumental in gathering the evidence for today's proceedings and has expressed a desire to present it himself." She glanced over at Rigel with a stern look. "However, let it be known that should Lord Black deviate from the facts or engage in any form of misconduct, I will not hesitate to take control of the presentation. Is that understood, Lord Black?"

Rigel nodded, a look of determination in his eyes. "Understood, Madam Bones."

With the room's attention on him, Rigel approached the courtroom's Pensieve. He carefully dropped a memory into it, and as the memory was projected above, it displayed Harry's hand marked with the vivid scar.

"This," Rigel began, his voice steady and clear, "is the aftermath of Madam Umbridge's torture. The full memory from Mr. Potter has been submitted to the Aurors. At his request, we won't view it in its entirety here, but Madam Bones has personally verified its authenticity."

Madam Bones nodded in confirmation.

Rigel then turned his attention to Fudge. "Did Umbridge have ministry permission to possess a Blood Quill?"

Fudge hesitated but replied, "As Undersecretary, she had access to one. It was necessary for her job."

"And she had access to one or multiple?" Rigel pressed on.

"Just one," Fudge answered. "Blood quills are heavily regulated."

Rigel nodded, then presented another memory into the Pensieve. This time, it showed a document detailing Umbridge taking thirty Blood Quills into her possession before leaving for Hogwarts. "The original of this document is with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Rigel stated. "Upon searching her office at Hogwarts, the Aurors found her in possession of twenty-nine Blood Quills, all confiscated and returned to the Ministry's inventory."

The courtroom buzzed with murmurs as the gravity of Rigel's evidence sank in. The trial was quickly turning against Umbridge, even in her absence.

Rigel, seizing control of the courtroom, continued his argument. "Why would Madam Umbridge need thirty Blood Quills at Hogwarts?" He turned to Fudge with a pointed look. "Were there plans to seal numerous contracts during her tenure as High Inquisitor?"

Fudge, now visibly stuttering and uneasy, replied, "I-I didn't approve of this. There were no plans involving Blood Quills at Hogwarts."

"So, you were unaware of this," Rigel pressed on, "which leads us to assume that Umbridge abused her position to gain access to these quills?"

Fudge conceded, "She must have." It was evident he was trying to distance himself from Umbridge as her guilt became increasingly clear.

Rigel continued, "Perhaps we averted a great tragedy. Madam Umbridge's derangement is evident in the many 'Educational' Decrees she passed. She likely intended to use these quills to torture students who displeased her, as she did with Mr. Potter."

At this point, Nott interjected, "And what did Potter do to warrant detention from her?"

Before Harry could form a response, Rigel's voice rang out sharply, "Objection!" His tone was commanding as he addressed the courtroom. "The circumstances leading to the detention are irrelevant. The nature of detention, under any circumstance, should never escalate to torture."

The room fell into a brief silence before Fudge, who had been closely observing the exchange, cleared his throat and spoke up, his voice carrying a note of unexpected agreement. "Lord Black is correct. The Ministry does not, and should not, condone any form of torture as a disciplinary measure within our educational institutions," he stated firmly, his gaze sweeping across the room. "The nature of Mr. Potter's detention, regardless of the reason, should not have resulted in the severe physical harm we are discussing today."

Nott, taken aback by Fudge's straightforward concurrence with Rigel, had no choice but to retreat. He sat back down, his dissatisfaction evident, but his voice lost in the sea of murmurs that had begun to ripple through the courtroom.

Rigel then concluded his argument. "Umbridge's actions following the discovery of her crimes clearly indicate her guilt. Somehow, she must have known the Aurors were coming for her. When they arrived, the signs of a hasty departure were unmistakable. Most of her possessions were left behind, except for a few essentials. Why flee in such haste if she was innocent? The truth is obvious – she isn't. The evidence against her is overwhelming."

The courtroom fell into a contemplative silence as the weight of Rigel's words hung in the air. The case against Umbridge was compelling, and her flight only served to solidify her guilt in the eyes of those present.

Rigel, standing tall and resolute, concluded his powerful speech. "As Umbridge has committed crimes against a ward of House Black, I call for the highest punishment – the Dementor's Kiss. Such a threat to the future generation of this country must be made an example of with the sternest of measures."

Fudge, looking slightly taken aback by the severity of the request, called for a vote. "All in favour?" To his visible shock, a majority of wands went up throughout the courtroom. Though seemingly unnecessary, he continued, "All against?" Only a few raised their wands in opposition.

With a heavy tone, Fudge declared, "Dolores Umbridge is found guilty of torturing Mr. Potter, potentially endangering other students, and resisting arrest. She is sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss."

Rigel then spoke up loudly, ensuring his voice carried through the room. "The House of Black offers a substantial reward for any information leading to Umbridge's capture." His voice held a chilling edge as he added, "If possible, I would like to be present when the Dementors administer her sentence."

With that, Fudge officially ended the session.

As the courtroom began to empty, Rigel called out to Rita Skeeter, who was scribbling furiously in the press section. "Make sure to print the call for clues, Rita. I'll pay extra for front-page coverage tomorrow."

Rita, with a knowing smirk, replied, "Consider it done," and quickly left to file her story.

Sirius approached Rigel, clapping him on the back with a grin. "You did a bloody good job today," he praised, his voice filled with pride. Harry, standing nearby, nodded in agreement, his own sense of pride for his brother evident in his expression.

Daphne, who had just joined the group, immediately linked her arm with Rigel's and planted a quick kiss on his lips. Their unity was a beacon of comfort amidst the surrounding chaos.

Just then, Madam Bones approached them, her demeanour professional yet carrying an air of approval. "Lord Black," she addressed Rigel, "I must say, you've handled this trial exceptionally well. I wasn't needed here at all."

Rigel offered her a polite smile. "Thank you, Madam Bones. I appreciate you giving me the opportunity to present the evidence."

Madam Bones considered him for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "Have you ever considered a career within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? You'd do great things there."

Rigel chuckled, a light-hearted sound amidst the gravity of the courtroom. "I'm flattered, but being Lord Black already keeps my hands quite full. Thank you for the offer, though."

Madam Bones then turned her attention to Sirius, her tone playful yet respectful. "Sirius, are you sure Rigel is really your son? I would have expected the son of the notorious prankster Sirius Black to be quite different."

Sirius's laughter echoed softly in the space. "I suppose he must have taken after his mother more," he replied warmly, the camaraderie between the two evident.

Madam Bones nodded, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "I see a lot of Marlene in him," she remarked. Then, glancing at the clock, she added, "Well, I still have plenty of work to attend to. It was a pleasure seeing justice served today. Goodbye, everyone."

With a respectful nod to the group, Madam Bones excused herself, her figure receding into the bustling activity of the Ministry.

As they made their way back to the Atrium where the Floo Network was located, Rigel turned to Sirius and Harry. "Daphne and I will head to Gringotts first to set up the reward fund for the clue hunt. We'll meet you back at Hogwarts."

With a nod of understanding, Harry and Sirius stepped into the green flames, each calling out "Hogwarts, Duelling Office" and vanishing from sight.

Rigel and Daphne, ensuring they were unobserved, stepped into the fireplace. Rigel whispered "Noirisle" as quietly as possible, and in a swirl of green flames, they were transported.

They arrived at a beach house, the warm tropical climate a welcome change from the chilly British winter. Daphne moved towards the window, her gaze drawn to the pristine sandy beach and the azure waters beyond.

Rigel joined her, explaining, "This is an unplottable, hidden island. And as you know, it's under the Fidelius Charm since I shared the secret with you just yesterday."

He pointed to another beach house in the distance. "Over there."

Daphne sighed and slipped off her heels. "Heels and sand aren't the best combination," she remarked with a smile, placing her shoes on a nearby table.

Rigel suggested, "You should probably leave your wand here too. The wards are strong, similar to Black Castle, and should block the Trace. But it's best not to take any chances."

Daphne nodded in agreement, placing her wand next to her heels. "You should take off your shoes too," she suggested. "Walking barefoot in the warm sand will be quite pleasant compared to the cold back in Britain."

Rigel complied, and together they stepped outside, the soft, hot sand welcoming their bare feet. As they walked towards the other beach house, Rigel turned to Daphne. "Can you feel it?" he asked.

Daphne nodded. "Yeah, I can feel the sand under your feet."

"It's incredible how our bond is still growing," Rigel mused. "I wonder how much stronger it can get."

Daphne leaned in and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "It will be as strong as we are, one day," she said softly.

Arriving at the beach house, they entered, ready to continue their plans in the seclusion and beauty of Noirisle.

Rigel approached the cellar door, a determined expression on his face. With a quick motion, he unlocked it and swung it open, announcing, "In here."

As the door creaked open, muffled noises emerged from within. The sound was jarring in the otherwise peaceful setting of the island. Daphne followed Rigel as they descended the steps into the cellar.

The sight that greeted them was Dolores Umbridge, bound and gagged, sitting against the wall. Her condition was far from ideal – she appeared dishevelled and agitated. Upon seeing Rigel and Daphne, her eyes widened with fury, but the gag rendered her voice nothing more than incoherent, muffled sounds.

Rigel greeted her with an overly cheery demeanour that was laced with an unmistakable edge of sinister satisfaction. "Hello, Dolores," he said, his smile unnerving in its brightness. The stark contrast between his pleasant tone and the situation at hand created a chilling atmosphere in the dimly lit cellar.

~~~o~~~

A few days earlier

Once they were alone, Rigel turned to Harry. "I'll go inform Dad now. Don't worry, I'll make sure he doesn't do anything rash. And as I said back in the common room, Umbridge will suffer the fate she deserves for this." He smirked slightly. "I wonder how long it's been since anyone has kissed her. The Dementors will surely be eager."

Rigel, seeing the toll the ordeal had taken on Harry, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Get some rest, Harry. You need it," he said softly, his voice carrying the concern of a protective brother.

Harry, feeling the weight of exhaustion bearing down on him, managed a small nod. "Thanks, Rigel. I... I appreciate everything you're doing," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Rigel gave him a reassuring smile, his eyes reflecting a promise of unwavering support. "I'll be back soon. Just focus on getting better for now." With those parting words, Rigel turned and left the room, leaving Harry to the much-needed rest and the quiet solace of the hospital room.

Once at the St. Mungo's Floo network, Rigel checked to ensure no one was within earshot. He then called out, "Hogwarts, High Inquisitor's office," and stepped into the flames.

Upon arrival, Rigel found himself in Umbridge's office. On the floor lay Umbridge, unconscious. Daphne stood over her, wand in hand.

Daphne looked up at Rigel. "I did what you asked through the bond. What's the next step in the plan?"

Rigel quickly thought through his next moves. "Kreacher!" he summoned.

The house-elf appeared with a pop. "Yes, Master Rigel?"

"Take Umbridge to Noirisle," Rigel instructed firmly. "Tie her up in one of the side beach house's cellars. Lock her wand away in the main beach house."

Rigel's voice was stern, brooking no argument. "This must remain a secret, Kreacher. Not even Grandmother can know. Provide Umbridge with just enough food and water to keep her alive. If she refuses, you are to force her. Is that clear?"

Kreacher bowed deeply. "Yes, Master." He grabbed Umbridge's arm and her wand, then disappeared with a plop, taking the unconscious woman with him.

Rigel turned to Daphne, his expression serious yet focused. "Make it look like Umbridge left in a hurry, but it's crucial to leave no evidence that we were here. I'll call the Aurors from our suite's Floo. Once I've done that, I'll inform you through our bond – that's your cue to get out of here immediately."

Daphne gave a firm nod, her face a picture of determination. "I can do that," she assured him confidently.

Rigel gave her a small, appreciative smile, then pulled her into a deep, meaningful kiss. Breaking away, he whispered, "Next, we press charges against Umbridge. After the legalities are sorted, we'll deal with her ourselves."

Daphne returned his smile, her eyes reflecting a shared understanding of the gravity of their actions. Without another word, Rigel left the office to make his way to the suite's Floo. The plan was in motion, and they both knew that every step had to be executed flawlessly.

~~~o~~~

Rigel approached Umbridge, who was bound and gagged in the cellar of the beach house on Noirisle. With a swift movement, he removed the gag from her mouth. Instantly, Umbridge spat out venomous words. "You'll pay for this," she hissed.

Without hesitation, Rigel's hand struck her across the face. "Shut up and listen," he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

"You've just been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, Umbridge. Your life is effectively over. In fact, it was forfeit the moment you decided to torture Harry with a Blood Quill."

He leaned in closer, his eyes unyielding. "You do have control over one thing: how much suffering you endure before your end comes."

Trembling, Umbridge's defiance seemed to waver as she asked, "What do you want?"

Rigel's smirk was chilling. "Now you're speaking my language."

Daphne stepped forward, her tone as cold as Rigel's. "We need dirt on Fudge. He's run this country into the ground, and it's time for a change."

Umbridge's face twisted in anger. "I'll never betray Cornelius," she spat.

Rigel stood up, disappointment evident in his voice. "A pity." He turned to Daphne and asked, "Would you like to go first?"

"With pleasure," Daphne replied, taking Rigel's wand.

She pointed the wand directly at Umbridge. "Crucio," she uttered calmly. The effect was immediate – Umbridge began to scream, writhing in agony under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

Rigel, his expression one of cruel determination, continued to address the bound and pained Umbridge. "You see, Daphne and I aren't quite proficient with the Cruciatus Curse yet. But with enough practice, I'm sure we'll improve."

Daphne handed him back his wand, and Rigel aimed it at Umbridge. "Crucio," he said, the spell casting an intense, though brief, wave of pain over Umbridge. "See? Doesn't pack enough of a punch, really."

He then turned to Daphne. "Do you want to practise any other spells?"

Daphne's smirk mirrored Rigel's own. "Practising some Bonebreaking Curses couldn't hurt."

Rigel's smirk widened. "Wonderful idea," he said, handing her the wand again.

With precise aim, Daphne cast a Bonebreaking Curse on Umbridge's lower leg. There was a loud crack as the bone snapped and dislocated, eliciting another scream of agony from Umbridge.

Rigel chuckled. "Have you been practising without me, my love?"

Daphne simply smirked in response, clearly satisfied with the effectiveness of her spell.

Rigel then addressed Umbridge, who was now in considerable pain and unable to speak. "This won't be our last visit, Dolores. We'll be back every couple of weeks or so. It'll give you another chance to give us the information we want."

He then called for Kreacher. When the house-elf appeared, Rigel gave his instructions. "Keep an eye on her health, Kreacher. Heal any life-threatening injuries, but let the others heal naturally. And check on her at least three times a day. We wouldn't want any accidents to happen, now would we?"

Kreacher bowed deeply, replying, "Yes, Master," before disappearing again.

Rigel then gagged Umbridge once more. "Bye bye, Dolores, until next time." His tone was mockingly cheerful as they left her in the cellar, a stark contrast to the horrific scene they had just enacted.


Authors Note:

Finally, the Order of the Black Cat has been formed. Also did you expect Daphne and Rigel's actions?

I'd love to hear your thoughts and reactions. Your insights and feedback fuel my passion for storytelling, and I genuinely appreciate every comment and review. So, don't hesitate to share your views and let me know what you think!