Harry wasn't really surprised when Angelina didn't show up for the D.A. meeting.
He himself almost skipped it. That probably would've been very rude, though, considering he was leader.
He simply did not feel up for much of anything since what happened. Angelina's absence from his every day life was rather jarring; he'd gotten so used to having her around him all the time that now everything just seemed a little cheerless. He was still very angry with her, but he missed her.
This was more intense than what he experienced at Grimmauld Place. This was his heart's burden of knowing he had found someone to love and that loved him—but who had, despite his finally being able to trust it in her hands, broken it. It sucked something awful. Walking around with a broken heart was a thousand times more painful than walking around with a broken arm. And the really crappy side of it was the reason he felt this way. It seemed, when measured against all the things he fancied might do that to a person, not quite up to scratch. After all, she hadn't cheated on him. Only withheld information—information that made him burn with animosity every time he thought about it…
Harry knew that if Angelina had run right to him the day it happened and told him everything that his reaction towards Malfoy would've been the same, but damn it all the truth was better than not knowing anything. Better than walking around like an ignorant fool. The fact that she kept it from him seemed like more of a betrayal because it implied (at least to him) that there was something lurking underneath her sympathy for that little shit. Harry hated the thought of it almost more than he hated Malfoy.
Also, he was plagued by haunting thoughts of the incident in Snape's office.
What happened to him? And why now, of all times?
When it was over, and he was alone with himself to think about it, he didn't feel any different at all—though he could remember the raw, thunderous anger that he'd felt on the last two occasions he had these strange, unexplainable releases of power. He was afraid to tell Hermione about it. He didn't tell Ron, either. When his best friend asked him how the lesson went he answered as honestly as he could without divulging too much information by saying that it had not gone well. The Potions Master had not mentioned it at all since, and Harry found that almost worse than if he'd been reported to Dumbledore. Actually, he would love to be able to talk to the old headmaster about it, but he kept getting this bothered, nagging feeling every time he considered it. Dumbledore's vagueness this year…his frustrating behavior…put the boy wizard off trying to seek explanation from him. He doubted he would get any sort of straight answer out of Dumbledore even if he did, and what's more—the headmaster had been drumming the same message over and over again in Harry's brain, even though he did it through other people like Hermione and Snape.
Master Occlumency, master Occlumency, listen to Snape, close your mind, do what Snape says…
Hermione's fear was that by neglecting his Occlumency, he was making himself terribly vulnerable to Voldemort. Though she didn't voice it exactly the way Harry thought of it, he could tell that she worried the evil wizard was seeping in; signs of his vicious mood swings were taking hold of Harry. She was afraid that Harry's temper was turning into something that he himself could not control because part of it was not his own, and that by resisting Occlumency for the sake of gaining more information about what Voldemort was up to he was doing far more damage than he really knew. Well, did they think he wasn't scared of the exact same thing? He had a vision where he was the evil bastard's pet snake, for Merlin's sake—and he attacked someone! And it was real, and it happened! And just like that had happened, Harry knew when he dreamed he was Voldemort it was just as real as Mr. Weasley's attack. Voldemort was gaining back his momentum—he was redoubling his efforts to find a way to take this thing…this weapon…and use it against the Order, but none of them seemed to care about that. Hermione dismissed it as something he shouldn't have seen, therefore leave it up to the adults to sort out and do as you're told. Snape seemed infuriatingly indifferent about this information, and where was Dumbledore?
Pacing in his study. Being silent and mysterious.
So why should Harry tell Dumbledore, if all the headmaster was going to do was cheat him out of discovering anything especially unique about himself by forcing the stifling practice of Occlumency down his throat?
As for Hermione and Ron…perhaps telling them would have been the first thing he'd have done if not for the look on Hermione's face when they'd managed to get him out of his determination to kill Malfoy. If not for Ron's dark, pensive expression when he informed Harry that he was talking in first person while explaining about the Rookwood dream, Harry would confide every detail to his best friend.
Still some small but powerful instinct told him…not yet. Not yet.
Harry had blown up his Aunt Marge once because she was badmouthing his parents. He had dropped Dudley into a snake enclosure because—well because he was Dudley and Harry fancied he deserved it strictly on principle. He shattered glass in Snape's office that time because he'd gotten angry…these things seemed to all be connected in that when they happened, Harry was in a state of upset. Only making glass disappear so that his fat cousin fell through it at the zoo was something far different than levitating a desk, or say…almost killing somebody. And if he could do that, what else could he do? Harry wanted to learn—he wanted to know. This was something he was doing by himself, because he felt he had to.
Secretly, he tried to tap into this power at random times. He tried willing Pansy Parkinson to trip when he saw her in the halls. He tried starting the fire in the common room by staring at it one night before bed. He tried to read Ron's thoughts, tried levitating Umbridge's porridge bowl at breakfast, summoning Hermione's quill while they were doing homework in the library—nothing worked. Nothing budged or bended to his will at all.
That scared him. It scared him because it suggested that whatever this power was, it was only coming to him when he was upset, and when it did he could not control it.
When the Centaur Firenze greeted him right before their first Divination lesson since Trelawney's sacking, he told Harry that he was "changed" and that "a dark tide draws you near, Harry Potter, be careful…" Of course, then the mysterious half horse, half man moved on as though he hadn't said anything at all out of the ordinary—as though telling Harry to beware of the 'dark tide' was a perfectly ordinary thing to do. And if that wasn't enough, he gave Harry another warning at lesson's end concerning Hagrid. "His attempt is not working. He would do well to abandon it. Tell him, Harry Potter."
Harry had done as Firenze asked, and Hagrid had remained just as stubbornly secretive about whatever it was he was up to as ever.
Even though his face was plainly bloodied up, he still insisted that it was just his usual messing about with the creatures he tended in the Forbidden Forest. But Harry had never seen Hagrid so ill-used before. It seemed he was being a lot more careless in whatever he was doing. Harry pledged that whenever he sorted through the current trouble he was dealing with he'd devote more time to investigating what was going on with Hagrid.
At the moment though, it was all a bit too much.
So despite tonight being Marietta-free and despite that tonight they were finally taking a break from their dueling lessons to work on Patronus Charms, Harry found himself out of the mood. Ron and Hermione noticed of course, but luckily the wonder of the Patronus lights and shapes kept everybody else distracted enough that he could brood without much interruption.
"They're so pretty!" Cho Chang, seemingly doing just fine without Marietta at her side, smiled fondly up at her swan-shaped one. It spread its wings, opening it's beak in silent song as they all watched.
Harry looked up at it and said patiently, "I'm glad you think so, but that's not what they're for. They're supposed to protect you."
"Well there's nothing attacking us now…" Ginny was trying but failing to conjure hers—her wand shot out faint sparks of light that evaporated before they took any sort of shape. She blew a lock of hair out of her face irritably. "Harry I can't—get—this—to work!"
Harry took hold of her wrist to stop her stabbing the air with her wand and told her to take a deep breath. Frowning, she did as he instructed. "Okay, now…just try to relax. Think of something happy, a memory or something that you really cherish. Focus it…"
He caught the somewhat grateful look on her face as he spoke to her—for these were maybe the most words he'd said to her since the incident in the dungeons. It wasn't that he was particularly angry at her for what she did; he knew that if she hadn't done something to snap him out of it they would all be in big trouble…or Malfoy could've ended up in St. Mungo's or worse…
It was just that she hadn't been on his side, or at least it seemed that way. Harry had been beginning to fancy her as a different type of girl; his friend. He supposed he figured that she would understand his position and not try to stop him from confronting Malfoy. But, she decided to stick by Angelina's side—which was still a pretty decent thing to do for the older Quidditch captain—and leave Harry alone to sort things out by himself. Well, he had Ron. But it still stung a little.
After a few more attempts, Ginny finally got her wand to throw out a spectacular beam of light that formed a giant owl whose big black eyes caused several people to gasp and stare. But the animal simply spread its enormous wings and took flight around the room, matching Cho's swan in its path.
"Wow. That was kind of scary at first."
"Mine's not scary," Hermione spoke up happily, watching her otter-shaped Patronus roll around. "It's kind of sweet."
Harry sighed. "They're not supposed to be sweet, either. Listen—guys…there is a difference between conjuring them in a classroom with nothing to harm you and conjuring them when a Dementor is trying to suck the life out of you. You need to be aware of that."
"Yes, Harry's right, kids." Fred and George were trying to make theirs (a 'dirty great ape-beasty-thing' for Fred and a bobcat for George) do tricks for Seamus and Dean's amusement. George attempted to drive his bobcat at Fred's ape. "Let's not forget, in battle, these beasties could be our last defense—bite him!"
"This isn't wizard chess, Fred." Harry muttered, distracted from helping Ron with his Patronus. Both the youngest Weasley brother and Neville were having trouble. Harry thought it unfair that Neville's miraculous progress in the D.A. had stalled with the Patronus Charm. He wanted to try his best to help the other boy master it. Ron was watching the twins' futile attempts to make theirs fight, and was absentmindedly flicking his wand about.
Harry became annoyed by this and snapped at him to pay attention.
"Sorry…" Ron cleared his throat and adopted a serious look.
"S'ok, let's just try again. Neville, you go first. Remember—think of something positive, and it needs to be strong enough to carry the charm." He and Ron stood back to make room for Neville. After a slight pause, Harry added under his breath, "Like your happiest memory with your parents? That's what I use…"
Ron looked at him sharply, his eyebrows raised, and Harry thought maybe he'd made a mistake in saying that, but Neville merely nodded and closed his eyes. After a moment, he murmured, "I think I've got one," the corner of his mouth was turning up.
"Good, Neville!" Harry grinned as Neville raised his wand. "Say it nice and clear, now."
"Expecto Patronum!" Both Ron and Harry were almost blinded by the dazzling spectral horse that galloped its way out of Neville's wand, shaking its mane fiercely as it ran a path around them.
The other kids in the room applauded Neville, and his round cheeks turned bright crimson but he grinned, raising his wand even higher so that the horse galloped mightily around the room. Then it joined Ginny's owl, Hermione's otter, and Cho's swan, making them look like a strange fleet of animal warriors charging into battle. Fred's giant ape muscled its way along side them all, followed by George's bobcat and a stork that belonged to Lee Jordan.
"Oh…now why can't I conjure up a nice big ape like Fred, then?" Ron complained when he'd finally gotten his to show itself. It was a gazelle that leapt out at them nimbly. He made a disappointed face at it. "I wouldn't have minded a horse or even some'fin in the cat family…like a lion…"
"It looks like a pretty good one, Ron…" Harry said expertly, though truthfully he didn't really know exactly why people's Patronus' took the shapes they did. He didn't quite see the comparison a gazelle had to Ron, or Hermione the otter….maybe Lee Jordan's stork suited him…Harry actually thought the giant owl would suit Hermione better.
"Well I'd rather switch and take Hermione's funny-looking thing than get stuck with this girly gazelle," Ron continued. "This would be better for her, anyway. Can we do that, Harry?"
"Er-I don't think so Ron."
"It's an otter, Ron. Besides Harry's right," Hermione offered confidently, allowing her otter to be chased by his gazelle. "Your Patronus doesn't need to be some mighty beast to protect you. It's the power of your spell that matters. And look—your gazelle is pretty strong-looking in its own right."
"I guess so…"
"Excellent deer, little brother!" George called to Ron.
Ron rolled his eyes, "It's a gazelle, you git," but smiled.
Seamus, who still had not managed to do the Charm properly, elbowed Harry in the arm. "Go on, let's see yours Harry!"
Harry's mood had been elevated in the last few minutes as a result of witnessing so many of them master what he was teaching them, and he felt proud of them all. He was even proud of the ones who still hadn't managed it; they were at least putting a formidable amount of effort into it, and he couldn't ask for better. Giving a good-natured little wave of defeat when they all started chanting Harry! Harry! Harry!— he raised his wand and cleared his throat.
The incantation had not even formed on his lips before the door burst open and Angelina came rushing in, her eyes wide with fear and her hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. She was breathing like she'd run up to the seventh floor from the banks of the lake nonstop, and the first person her panicked eyes landed on was Harry.
She rushed forth into the fray of silent, stunned D.A. members, stopping just in front of their raven-haired leader. Her breath rustled his messy strands. "Harry! You must—I've just come from—they're on their way up here!"
"What?" Harry lowered his wand and stared at her, fear creeping up his spine and into his throat. "Angelina, what are you talking about? Who's coming?"
Angelina took a deep breath to calm herself, the emotion in her eyes pouring into him. "We don't have much time. I ran as fast as I could…Harry, Umbridge knows about the D.A.! Draco's leading her—she's coming for you, she's coming for you all!"
Harry glared at her for a beat, letting the information sink in, and then turned to regard the room full of staring kids. He shook his head quickly, gaping at them. "WHAT ARE YOU ALL STANDING THERE FOR?" he bellowed, causing several of them to jump. "RUN! GO!"
The whole room sprang into action. Kids went flying at the exit from every direction, the brilliant light from the many Patronuses now fading away, leaving a considerably darker atmosphere in its wake. A cluster of bodies formed at the door, and Harry found himself side-by-side with Angelina at the back of the urgent queue.
"How do you know this?" he hissed at her, stowing his wand in the holster she'd given to him that was strapped to his side.
She shook her head frantically, her watery eyes plastered to the door at the front of the line. "I-I was on my way from Dumbledore's office and I overheard-"
"And how did Malfoy find out?" Harry couldn't help the accusatory tone in his voice, even through his alarm and worry.
"Harry, I don't know!" she snapped right back. "I heard his voice. He's helping her, and it was lucky I ran into Dobby or I wouldn't have gotten here half as fast as I did!"
Harry was suddenly overcome with a very strong urge and he seized her and embraced her, hugging her tight before letting her go and snatching her hand in his. "Whatever happens, don't let go of my hand, okay? If we can just get to the library or one of bathrooms down the hall…we can pretend we've been in there the whole time. It's still twenty minutes to curfew…" his nervous reasoning seemed to have caught on in the mass of escaping D.A. members. The word spread fast as orders from Harry, and by the time he and Angelina had pushed their way through the narrow door, he saw them all running as fast as they could to safety. He felt a surge of hope that they might still be okay—everyone had listened to him and weren't going to be stupid enough to try and make it all the way back to their respective common rooms.
"Run for the girls' toilets over there!" he heard Hermione say to Cho Chang as the two of them bolted around a corner, followed closely by Ginny and Luna.
He pulled Angelina behind him, hurrying towards the stairs nearest them; hopefully they could make it to the library just on the floor below them, where Neville and Ron were headed. But before he had run five paces he felt something catch him about the feet and he flew forward, hitting the marble floor hard. Angelina's hand slipped from his grasp as he slid several feet on his stomach before coming to a halt when he hit the wall that held Barnabas' tapestry. His wand had somehow come loose from its holster and was lying near his feet.
"Trip jinx, Potter!" Draco Malfoy's voice called nastily, and Harry twisted around on his back. "You stay down, now, or I'll have to jinx you again…" Malfoy had come out of his hiding spot at the base of an ugly iron vase and was now walking towards them, a hateful gleam in his blue eyes, his wand aimed at Harry.
Angelina had stopped in her tracks, her eyes glued to Harry's sprawled form with terror. When Harry saw her standing there he couldn't help himself; he bellowed: "Run, Angelina! Get out of here-!"
"Don't you move, Johnson!" Draco ordered.
And then the unmistakable clack, clack of heels on the marble was growing near. Draco smiled triumphantly, almost beside himself with satisfaction, as Umbridge rounded the corner behind him. She was out of breath, but her eyes were positively lit with greedy determination as they landed on Angelina, then Harry. She squealed grotesquely, her plump face flushed pink like that of an evil queen pig. "Oh, this is excellent! Well done, Malfoy! Fifty points to Slytherin, you have redeemed yourself tenfold!"
"Thank you, Ma'am." Draco sneered at Harry, who glared right back at him, wanting nothing more than to finish the job he started in the dungeons.
Pansy Parkinson came in Umbridge's wake around the corner, followed by Crabbe and that Tom Hacking kid.
"You three get your friends and round up the others. They'll have run for the nearest hiding places—look for anyone out of breath in the library or the lavatories…quickly, now." Pansy nodded and led the way as Umbridge surveyed Angelina contemptuously before seizing her by the arm and thrusting her at Draco. "Hold this one for me, Malfoy. Take her wand."
She smiled sweetly as Angelina struggled in Draco's hands.
"Oh, don't bother resisting young lady. You should know better than to get yourself mixed up with a miscreant like Potter and his little gang of trouble-makers."
Umbridge turned her malicious gaze on Harry, now. She walked toward him, the fire in the pits of her eyes burning brightly.
"Mister Potter…get up." Harry did as he was told, his whole body heavy with the weight of knowing that because of him Angelina would be expelled, along with Ron and Hermione and Neville and over a dozen others. Umbridge clasped her stubby fingers around his arm like a vise after scooping up his wand and pointing the way with it. "Let's take a little stroll down to the headmaster's office, shall we?"
The walk through the castle to Dumbledore's office seemed endless.
Harry's arm grew numb under the pressure of Umbridge's hold on him. He stared straight ahead, his mind reeling with worry for his friends. He felt so bad—Hermione would be devastated, Mrs. Weasley would probably murder Ron and Ginny, poor Cho didn't deserve to be expelled, and Neville had been getting so good…
Malfoy strutted along with his filthy hands on Angelina, every now and then smiling to himself. Harry forced himself not to look at them, but stared ahead of him the whole time, his mouth clamped shut and his nostrils hot with his coarse breathing. His wand hand itched, his heart pounded, and his arm throbbed. He willed himself to feel the power that coursed through him when he confronted Malfoy in the dungeons. He thought of everything—fire under Umbridge's shoes, Malfoy's leg to suddenly splinter, a giant tidal wave to come crashing down the hall towards them, drowning both his enemies and leaving himself and Angelina to swim to safety…
Umbridge marched him right up to the gargoyle, sang the password and then up they went on the spiral stair. They paused outside the office, where Harry could hear several voices coming from inside.
"You wait here with Malfoy, Miss Johnson," Umbridge ordered Angelina. "As for you, Potter…" She did not bother to knock, but strode straight into the office, toting Harry like a prize kill, her bosom swelling with triumph.
Inside, all eyes immediately turned towards him as they entered.
The office was full of people. Cornelius Fudge stood by the fireplace beside Dumbledore's desk, glaring at Harry with wicked delight etched all over his unfriendly face. An aggravated-looking Professor McGonagall stood stiffly next to Dumbledore, who was sitting calmly at the desk and was the only one not looking at Harry. Percy Weasley, Ron's big brother who Harry hadn't seen since his hearing at the Ministry, stood on the opposite side of the desk across from Fudge. He was apparently there to take notes, and he was looking at Harry without an ounce of sympathy. Snape was there as well, and the sight of him gave Harry a jolt of unpleasant memory concerning the last time they'd been in the same room together without there being a potion to make or a passage in a textbook to read.
When Umbridge shoved Harry into the middle of the room he turned around slightly to glare at her and saw Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Order member, standing with another unfamiliar-looking Auror on either side of the door like guards.
"Potter." Fudge almost purred, causing Harry to turn and face him. He was rocking on his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. "Well, well, well…"
"I'm having the other culprits rounded up as we speak, Minister." Umbridge spoke up, happily. "I just thought I'd bring Potter to you straight away."
"Very good Delores; very good!" Fudge gave Umbridge a nod of approval before turning his nasty gaze back to Harry. "Do you know why you are here, Potter?"
Harry glared at him, defiance coursing all through him, and he returned the minister's nasty look. He opened his mouth, prepared to say yes he bloody knew why he was there—but he caught sight of Dumbledore mid-breath. He was not looking at Harry still, but the boy could've sworn he saw the headmaster shake his head faintly. Acting on instinct and nothing else, Harry recovered and instead of saying 'yes' he uttered, "Yeh—No."
The echoing sounds of voices could be heard through the heavy door to Dumbledore's office, where only minutes ago Angelina had been talking with the headmaster about not expelling the boy that now stood before her.
The small corridor that separated the spiral stair from the office door was dark and narrow.
When Umbridge left them alone, Angelina caught Harry's eye. He did not look happy; he looked as if he wanted nothing more than to attack Malfoy again and this time not be stopped for pity. She didn't blame him. During these moments, as she stood alone with Draco Malfoy, there was a very strong feeling in her that perhaps she had made a mistake in going to Dumbledore. Perhaps Professor McGonagall would have been the better choice. Even though the headmaster had explained himself, explained why he chose to keep Draco at Hogwarts, and why Occlumency was so important for Harry…this information did little to comfort her now.
Angelina stood as close to the opposite wall from the stair, near the door, as she could. Draco simply watched her, every now and then cocking his head to the side to try and hear what was going on in the office. She stared at him, though she too tried to hear what was going on inside. After a few moments of silence, Draco moved abruptly and closed the space between them. Angelina instinctively went for her wand, but it wasn't there—he was carrying it. Instead of going for her, however, he pressed his ear to the door, his mouth open in what looked like surprise and amusement.
"Good grief, Potter is actually denying it…"
Angelina lifted the corner of her lip at him in disgust.
"It's a shame…" he muttered, now turning to look at her. She stared at him, not able to sort out the extreme feelings of loathing for him and fear for Harry simmering inside her. He continued, "I really didn't want you to go down too, but I guess that's what you get for sticking around with losers like Potter."
Draco smiled, turning to lean against the door on one side and crossing his arms casually. Yes, he had definitely changed…he seemed older to her standing here so close. His eyes—they seemed heavy with some kind of intensity she had never seen before, not even when he cornered her in the tunnel. Even when he attacked her—it was more of a panicked, uneasy Draco who cast that Memory Charm than the calm, ominous-looking Death-Eater-In-Training that stood before her now. He was mocking her, sure, and he was behaving every bit as spitefully as ever, but there was something…considerably darker…about this boy in this moment that caused Angelina to let the loathing win over the fear.
"You're a sick little bastard, you know that?"
He frowned at her, narrowing his eyes darkly. "You thought I was going to sit back and let Potter get away with what he did?" His tone lost its teasing sarcasm and turned to real malice. "You thought I would let him humiliate me in front of his stupid friends…attack me like the fucking thug he is and then just slip away quietly?"
Angelina noticed him coming closer and she stood steadfast. She would wait until he tried to touch her again…and then knee him good in the balls. Since she was going to be expelled by Umbridge anyway, she didn't see the point of holding back her desire to do this little twerp physical harm. Once he was down she could grab her wand and hex him into puss.
Draco stepped closer. "And then that rat ran his mouth in that ridiculous rag of a paper about my father and you think I'm supposed to ignore that?" Another step. She clenched her jaw, waiting…he smiled at her again. "Did you notice something?" The younger boy whispered. "Did you notice that Umbridge is back in my corner? With her on my side again, I can get away with anything." Draco shrugged casually and crossed his arms again, his movement toward her now stalled. "I admit my first idea wasn't very smart…"
The ominous look invaded his eyes again.
"I learned from that mistake…"
"How did you find out about the D.A.?" Angelina demanded before she could stop herself.
His smile grew and he actually laughed quietly. "You guys are priceless. Potter is truly very dim—he should know better than to kick someone out of a secret and illegal club for disagreeing with him…"
She didn't catch his meaning right away, but when she did she felt her hatred of Draco (and her dislike of Marietta Edgecombe) increase tenfold. Angelina wanted to kick him, but just then she heard Fudge raise his voice. They both paused to hear, but the shouting stopped. She turned to Malfoy again with a new approach.
"Your little secret is out…" she uttered viciously.
He lost his smile. "What secret?"
Angelina took pleasure in adopting that smile; she had seen him wear it on so many occasions, and now it was her turn. Even though she knew that nothing had really changed but the passing of information, she wanted to see the intensity in his eyes turn to fear. She wanted to make him feel the way she was feeling—Harry was inside being expelled, and so if Angelina couldn't do anything to help him or herself at least she could wipe that smirk off Malfoy's face.
"I told Dumbledore about you," she almost whispered, watching his features change slowly, "tonight."
"You—what?" Draco let his arms fall to his sides and he raised an eyebrow at her. It seemed he had grown confident (and comfortable) knowing that she could never tell on him. "What did you tell him?"
"He recovered my memory." Angelina's resolve to needle him intensified and she stepped forward when she saw the Slytherin boy's eyes widen in disbelief. "You didn't erase it like you thought you did—you screwed up the spell. He and I watched it together."
"You're full of it…" his voice was barely above a whisper, but his face was now completely drained of color.
Angelina shook her head slowly. She took another step forward. "No—he saw everything you did. Harry isn't the only one in trouble tonight."
Draco breathed, seemingly taking in everything she was telling him. Traces of the panicked boy on the moon-lit path that night were surfacing again.
"Don't try to trick me because you've run out of options, Johnson," he recovered, shaking his head at her in mock disapproval, though the apprehension in his eyes was clear. He clicked his tongue at her. "It's not very becoming. A girl as feisty as you shouldn't resort to lying your way out of a situation…" there was a mischievous undertone to his statement.
It gave her an idea as she recognized the gaze he was giving her then.
Angelina was the one closing the space between them now. She stepped up to him slowly, and he watched her come. "I'm not lying, Draco. I came to him tonight during dinner and told him everything." As she spoke, she moved even closer until she was mere inches away. He swallowed, his eyes drifting down to her mouth. Inside she was repulsed by his ability, even at a time like this, to focus on her sexually when she was telling him that Dumbledore knew he had attacked her.
Still…if she could just get her wand…it was tucked in the folds of his robes.
"He read what you wrote in my playbook…" she breathed, leaning into him. He exhaled. Her stomach tightened, but she inched her leg closer. Draco didn't seem to be listening to her—his eyes were glued to her lips and he was leaning in. What in bloody hell was wrong with him? "He read…every…single…detail…how you want me. How you wanted Harry out of the way so you could have me…and you still want me, even now, don't you?"
"Yes…"
Their lips were touching slightly—his cold and damp, hers soft and warm. She looked into his eyes for a second and found that he was completely transfixed by her. With a jolt of anger, she shot her knee up and it caught him in the crotch. He groaned and doubled over but when she went for the wand his hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist.
With a furious grunt Draco jerked her into himself and held her fast. He was strong. Stronger than she remembered…
"I knew you had that in you…" he breathed on her.
She twisted madly in his arms, and opened her mouth to scream for one of those head hunters in the office (or better—Harry) to come out and catch this creep, but he had his tongue in her mouth before she uttered a sound. He kissed her deeply, harshly, almost desperately…her breath was taken away before she began to resist, feeling as if she would explode with anger. Angelina pulled away with all her might and lunged for her wand but he leapt back. Before either of them could do anything further, Umbridge came out of the office and Draco backed up from the door out of her way.
"Malfoy, go and fetch Miss Edgecombe, will you? I'll take Johnson from here."
Draco looked to Angelina apprehensively before nodding and heading off, taking her wand with him.
Umbridge turned to her and smiled. "Won't you join us, Miss Johnson?"
Harry didn't see how he could go on pretending.
He supposed Dumbledore's intentions were good, but he just couldn't think how he would escape the noose now that Umbridge had revealed she'd been tipped off. He stood there, watching Fudge's frustration melt to triumph again, and his heart sank. It was over. Whoever Umbridge had under her sleeve, they'd told her enough to chuck him for sure. His first instinct was that it was Malfoy she was going to fetch. Though he couldn't think how the rat had found out so much.
Angelina stepped into the room behind Umbridge when she returned. She looked at Dumbledore first, then Harry as she walked to the middle of the office to join him.
"Who is this young lady, Delores?" Fudge asked, raising a curious eyebrow at Angelina. "Is she the one who…?"
"Oh no, Minister," Umbridge tittered sourly. "She isn't the informant. No, she is just as guilty as Mister Potter here. She is one of the members of his illegal group."
"Alleged illegal group," Dumbledore corrected softly. He smiled. "We still have not established whether or not these secret meetings continued after the initial gathering in the Hog's Head."
Angelina stood by his side, looking angry and a little upset. He knew by the look on her face that she'd probably had words with Malfoy in the hall, and it made his blood boil. Maybe it would be best if Harry were expelled because then he would be free to carry that little shit into the Forbidden Forest and dump him in Arogog's lair.
Fudge snorted at Dumbledore's comment and narrowed his eyes at Angelina. "So, what do you have to say for yourself, young lady?"
Angelina stared at him. Harry's heart rate sped up—he hoped she had caught onto what was going on. He hoped she realized after what Dumbledore said that Harry was denying ever holding the D.A. meetings after the Hog's Head thing.
"About what?" she asked blankly. Harry internally thanked her, but he didn't rightly know what good could come of her participating in this obvious lie. Umbridge's informant would be there any moment, and then what would they do?
Fudge rolled his eyes impatiently and Umbridge shook her head. "Come off it, girl," the horrid woman leered, her eyes flashing threateningly as she addressed Fudge: "She's in a courtship with Potter, Minister. She'll probably stick to anything he says rather than save herself some dignity by telling the truth."
McGonagall snorted. "Are we expelling students for their personal involvement with each other, now?" She looked down at Dumbledore in mock confusion. "Is that what we've been brought up here past curfew for?"
"Now, Minerva," Dumbledore admonished her gently, his eyes fixed on no one but Angelina. "I don't think Professor Umbridge suggested that at all. She is simply implying that these two students are not telling the truth."
"They are not, Dumbledore, and you're very foolish to try and help them talk their way out of this!" Fudge exclaimed, apparently incensed by the headmaster's nonchalant attitude. He turned again to Angelina and dropped all pretense of a forgiving demeanor. "Don't pretend ignorance, Miss-what is your name?"
"Angelina." Angelina continued looking at him as if she hadn't the slightest regard for what he had to say. "Johnson. Sir."
"Right, well Miss Johnson, surely you realize that Potter cannot be saved—his arrogance will surely be your downfall."
"Sir, I don't know what you mean. We weren't doing anything-"
"Think of your parents, girl!" Fudge raised his voice angrily at her. "Do you really want to shame them by getting expelled trying to protect this boy?"
Harry spoke up before Fudge could continue, despite himself. "She isn't trying to protect me. I didn't do anything wrong." This he truly believed—he'd never done anything more right, in his opinion, than starting the D.A.
"Potter, perhaps you should do yourself a favor and refrain from speaking." Harry turned, slightly surprised, at the sound of Snape's voice. He was standing near Angelina, regarding the boy coolly. Harry first looked to Dumbledore, then Fudge (who had been on the point of speaking), then back to the dark professor. "Every word you say only incriminates you further…and I must say I'm finding myself disinclined to believe any of it."
Harry couldn't (well, no, he could) believe that Snape would side with Fudge and Umbridge right in front of Dumbledore, who was trying to help him. McGonagall looked scandalized as well, and her eyes narrowed at the Slytherin Head of House.
"Quite right, Professor Snape…" Fudge agreed uncertainly after a moment, clearing his throat. "Be quiet, Potter. We'll find out soon enough who's telling the truth. After all, there's nothing like a good witness, is there Dumbledore?" he raised his eyebrows maliciously at the headmaster.
Dumbledore didn't speak. Nor did he look at Harry. Harry did as he was told and clamped his mouth shut, fuming. Angelina was quiet as well. In fact, nobody said anything else until someone knocked on the door a few minutes later. Draco Malfoy stepped in, and Harry had to fight the urge to seize him by the throat before he muttered, "Here she is, Professor…" to Umbridge and stepped aside for—Marietta Edgecombe.
Harry's mouth came open but he quickly shut it again as the realization of what happened hit him hard. How could he have been so thick? That's what he got for listening to bloody Ron! As he watched her move into the office, guided by Umbridge who'd taken back Angelina's wand from Malfoy and dismissed him, the levels of his thickness began to hit him in waves.
Cho.
Cho said Marietta didn't like Zach Smith anymore.
She said 'M' and there was only one 'M' that Harry could think of right now who fit the equation. He's probably off snogging his other girlfriend and talking about what an idiot you are! Cho had said to Pansy on Valentine's Day.
And the person behind that curtain the night Harry almost strangled Malfoy to death? Yes…as Harry looked at Marietta, a lump the size of a Snitch now in his throat, he knew for certain that it had been her lurking behind there.
Probably Malfoy had been coming back from one of their snog sessions. Probably seeing Harry attack her new love interest (Merlin, it was disgusting—how could anyone find Malfoy attractive?) as viciously as he did confirmed her belief that he was dangerous and violent. Probably she ran to poor, suffering Draco's aid and when that ferret mentioned getting back at Harry she jumped at the chance to hell him about the D.A. like the whining traitor she was.
And Harry could see that she was at least paying for it. She had her hands covering her face as Umbridge led her to stand in front of Minister Fudge, and Harry found cruel pleasure in knowing that Hermione's jinx had marred her.
"It's all right, dear." Umbridge attempted to guide the girl's hands away from her face. "I'm sure the jinx has worn off by now. Why don't you tell the Minister what you told me?"
When Marietta finally lowered her hands, Fudge jumped back in shock, catching his robes on fire as his feet landed in the fireplace. The girl whimpered in embarrassment. Every pair of eyes were on her now. Once the Minister recovered from the shock of seeing the word SNEAK spelled out across her face in giant purple pimples, he stamped out the smoking hem of his robes and listened as Umbridge explained that Marietta had come to her that afternoon to tell her about the D.A.
"She told me that there was to be a secret meeting of an illegal dueling club tonight, and that if I were to proceed to the seventh floor at eight I would find Potter and the other members hidden there."
Umbridge waved her hand irritably at Marietta's face, which the girl had covered by drawing her robe up to her eyes.
"Of course, before she could say more this jinx began to take effect, and I had to waste time trying to find wherever this hidden meeting place was located on the seventh floor, but I had help with that."
"I see, and who helped you discover them, Delores, if this girl—what's her name?" Fudge frowned, staring at Marietta rudely.
"Marietta Edgecombe." Umbridge informed. "Her mother works at the Ministry, sir. She is one of the Floo Regulators and she's been helping me keep an eye on the fires here at the school."
"Ah, now your mother will be proud to hear you've assisted the Ministry tonight, young lady!" Fudge exclaimed, his smug grin spreading. "If Miss Edgecombe was overcome by this…rather horrible jinx…who helped you find their meeting place?"
"Draco Malfoy volunteered sir, along with some of his other peers. In fact, it was Draco who first heard from Miss Edgecombe about the meeting and brought her to me."
Harry's theory had been confirmed, and he bit the inside of his cheek.
"I see. Well, I shall have to remember to tell Lucius." Fudge turned on his heels to face Dumbledore. "So, what do you say to that, Dumbledore? I'm betting you can't talk your way out of this one!"
Dumbledore nodded graciously and turned his gaze on Marietta. Harry waited, a hitch developing in his side from holding his breath, to see what exactly the old man would say at this point. "I thought—forgive me if I've misunderstood—that our purpose here was to determine whether or not there have been secret meetings going on for the last six months? That would certainly be a violation of the decree banning unauthorized clubs."
Umbridge scoffed. "Have you not been listening, Dumbledore?" she asked, a little out of her place, Harry thought. "Why do you think I've brought in Miss Edgecombe?"
"Oh can she tell us about six months worth of meetings? I understood her testimony was that there was one happening tonight, not any other time." He raised his eyebrows at the girl expectantly.
Just as Harry was feeling he'd run out of slack and would no longer be able to continue the charade, he felt the air change suddenly. He heard a faint sound, like barely audible words being spoken by someone…and the air around his midriff moved faintly. Harry had the very distinct impression that Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was standing directly behind him at the door, had said something…an incantation.
And the warm, soft push of air that went breezing past him was a spell…but why would Kingsley do that?
Umbridge turned to Marietta, who suddenly seemed a great deal more relaxed about her position here as a snitch in the middle of a room full of teachers, Dumbledore, and two of the people she'd ratted out. "Miss Edgecombe," she said sharply, her voice rising so that everyone could hear her clearly. "Tell me—how long have these meetings been going on? Isn't it true that Potter has been illegally teaching you and a dozen other students to duel for the last six months? You don't have to speak. I'm sure a simple nod of your head won't make the spots worse."
All eyes were on Marietta. Harry watched her carefully. She shook her head no. Umbridge faltered a little, turning quickly to look at Fudge, but recovered herself.
"W-What exactly does that mean, dear?" she asked, somewhat harshly.
"I thought it was clear," McGonagall spoke up. "She answered your question, no Delores. There haven't been any secret meetings for the last six months." As McGonagall spoke, Harry thought he heard the whisper again, but he couldn't be sure. He didn't dare turn his head to see if Kingsley's mouth was moving or not. He was beginning to feel pin pricks all over his neck, so apprehensive was he about what was happening. He knew that any moment someone would surely notice what he had. He could feel Snape's gaze on him…
Umbridge ignored McGonagall. "Miss Edgecombe—tell the truth, now. You have nothing to fear, you're not in trouble. Just tell me…you were going to these meetings, weren't you?"
Marietta shook her head again, her robes still clutched up to her eyes tightly.
"It seems asking her the same question more than once has done little to change her answer." McGonagall said in mock-surprise. Dumbledore didn't attempt to hush her sarcasm this time.
Umbridge turned to regard McGonagall with the acid glare of a caged snake wanting desperately to attack. "Thank you for your observation, Minerva…" she said through clenched teeth, her round cheeks turning bright red with frustration. "But allow me to offer some insight as to why this girl is afraid to speak freely here. Never mind that someone has cruelly placed her and the rest of the members under this jinx to prevent any of them from having even the faintest glimmer of conscience!"
"And what insight is that, Delores?" McGonagall responded, putting her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrows.
Umbridge's smile—that ubiquitous, slimy-sweet smile—crawled across her face as she uttered, turning to Harry: "It's Potter. It was his idea to start up this dueling club, where he has no doubt been teaching all the students involved Merlin knows what kind of violent spells."
She took a step forward, towards Harry, who stood fast and glared at her. He felt Angelina touch him at the top of his wrist, but his eyes remained fixed on Umbridge's.
"He has been rallying them against you, Minister," she said with an almost irrational air of accusation in her voice. "He has been teaching them Dark Arts, haven't you Potter?"
"Delores-?" Fudge started, looking from Harry to Umbridge in disbelief. "Are you saying…?"
"Oh yes…." The woman almost purred, stepping still closer to Harry slowly. "Yes I know it—I've seen what they did to the Quidditch pitch. Don't you try to deny it, Potter. You had them out there battling the night away, didn't you? You probably had them learning whatever dark thing you could snatch from the Restricted Section in the library!"
"Delores, you must be sure of such things before you-" Fudge was looking nervous because he was quickly realizing that they were losing the upper hand as her accusations grew more and more far-fetched.
She did not seem to heed his warning, but continued advancing on Harry. She stopped very close to him and though she was just barely his height, she seemed to tower over him evilly. Harry was feeling the dread seize up his limbs and close off his throat. He knew what she would mention next…
"Miss Edgecombe is afraid, Potter, because you have her under your thumb. You've threatened them all, haven't you, boy? I've seen the darkness in you, in my office, you did something…unnatural…and you were teaching them all to do it as well-!"
"That is quite enough!" McGonagall raised her voice. She turned to Dumbledore, who was merely staring at Umbridge just as everyone else was, though his gaze was somewhat more perceptive than others'. "Headmaster, you don't intend to let her accuse Potter of practicing the Dark Arts, training other students to do it, threatening them to keep quiet about it and who knows what else she'll come up with next!"
"Oh is it enough, Minerva? Is it?" Umbridge seemed to have become extremely agitated, she whirled around to face Professor McGonagall again with her eyes wide, anger etched into the round curves of her face. "You all stand around and let this boy manipulate you and lie to you and you believe that he is innocent?" She jabbed a finger at him, her pink fingernail almost catching his cheek. "I have seen with my own eyes what danger he poses to this school! Am I the only one willing to expose him for what he truly is?"
"Be careful, Delores…" Dumbledore stood up from the desk, his eyes flashing a warning. "I think Professor McGonagall's right—that is enough."
To everyone's utter astonishment, Umbridge actually laughed at Dumbledore. "You're blind, Dumbledore, if you can't see what this child has been doing right under your nose-!"
"Delores, please, get control of yourself!" Fudge snapped.
"What about you, then?" Harry spoke up suddenly, adrenaline beginning its thunderous course through his stiff body. He had been standing there listening to Umbridge rant about him being some kind of evil sorcerer in training; a teenage version of Voldemort, basically; his temper had been rising steadily all the while. He no longer cared what any of them had to say or what they would do to him. "You sent Dementors after me last summer!"
Her mouth dropped open and so did Fudge's. Dumbledore turned sharply to look at Harry for the first time.
"I-I—you—Minister, he's lying-!" she sputtered, her face growing still more crimson with anger.
"No I'm not!" Harry shouted. Angelina had closed her hand around his forearm now to hold him steady, but the presence of her cool fingers did not calm him. He could feel his fury beginning to tremble within him as he continued. "I know you got Lucius Malfoy to help you convince the Dementors to come after me and my cousin that night—I heard you and Draco talking," he told her viciously, almost ecstatic with the triumph of calling her out in front of her precious Minister Fudge. "You did it so you could shut me up, so you could get me expelled for underage magic—and you got a Death Eater to help you!"
"Potter, don't stoop to her level by trying to out do her with crazy accusations," McGonagall warned quietly, though she sounded as if she believed him.
"That isn't true, Delores." Fudge said, flabbergasted, and it sounded more like a question than a statement.
"No it is not!"
"Yes it is!"
Umbridge gave a sharp cry and seized him by the collar of his shirt. She began to shake him violently, and he clawed at her chubby hands in effort to get her to release him. "You wretched little liar!"
"Get off me!"
"Delores, take your hands off of him, now." Dumbledore strode from around his desk, his wand drawn, his eyes ablaze. He looked angry for perhaps the first time since this whole thing began.
"DELORES, STOP!" Fudge rushed toward them, prying her shaking hands away from Harry's neck. She waved them around as if she'd been burned by something hot, shaking her head and attempting an apologetic smile.
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry Minister!" Umbridge gave a pathetic little laugh. "I-I forgot myself…"
"Calm down, Madam Umbridge…" Kingsley's deep voice could be heard fully now as he stepped up to Umbridge and gently backed her away from Harry. "You don't want to hurt the students…"
"No…I didn't mean to…" she said breathlessly.
Marietta stood still and calm, her eyes fixed on the fire behind Fudge. She said nothing, nor had she even flinched while all the shouting was going on. She seemed barely to notice when Umbridge pounced on Harry.
Fudge sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a brief moment, as though asking a higher power for patience. "Delores—can we please get back to what we came here for? The illegal society that Potter formed…do you have proof beyond this girl's now recanted testimony that it existed under the decree banning them?"
"Um…uh…" Umbridge took a deep breath to calm herself. "Y-Yes. As a matter of fact, I was getting to that part before Miss Edgecombe…" she narrowed her eyes, but trailed off. She reached into her pocket and withdrew a folded piece of parchment. As soon as Harry saw it he knew what it was. "I have here a list of names. Apparently, one of them tried to take it with them knowing it could be used as evidence to apprehend them, and in their haste to escape punishment they dropped it. I found it on my way to get Potter."
She opened it and handed it to Fudge. He stared at it, a sour smile spreading on his face. "My, my…Dumbledore's Army?" He snorted. "Oh this is too good…"
"As you can see, Potter's name is the first on the list—and it goes on to name all of the perpetrators involved."
"Oh no…" Angelina whispered in his ear. She hadn't spoken at all since Fudge interrogated her, and the sound of her voice so close took him out of his fixed gaze on that piece of paper that Hermione had scribbled on months before.
He turned his face to hers—she was standing very close to him now and he hadn't even noticed it until that moment. Their eyes met…but he turned away to look at Dumbledore, who had taken the list from Fudge and was now staring at it. There was heavy silence for a long pause, as Dumbledore's eyes read over the list. Then he smiled suddenly, handing the parchment back to the minister.
"Well the ruse is up." Harry started, confused, but Dumbledore's smile grew and he shrugged simply. "Would you like a written confession, Cornelius, or would a statement here now suffice?"
Fudge looked as confused as Harry felt. "A—what? A confession?"
"Yes!" Dumbledore seemed almost cheerful. "You've seen it for yourself, there is nothing I can say or do to hide it now. Dumbledore's Army…not Potter's Army…"
"Headmaster," Snape spoke up again, his voice somewhat alarmed. "Are your sure you wish to-?"
"Yes, Severus, I'm sure," answered Dumbledore firmly. He then brightened again and said, "I confess, Cornelius!"
"You mean…?" said Fudge slowly as it dawned on him. "You mean you-?"
"Me." Dumbledore confirmed.
"—organized this whole-?"
"I did."
"—and you have been plotting against-?"
"That is correct."
"You recruited these students for some kind of army against the Ministry?" said Fudge stupidly, apparently still in shock from the headmaster's confession.
Dumbledore tipped his head from side to side patiently. "Not quite. I recruited them for an army against Voldemort—but if the Ministry still chose to stand in our way, turn a blind eye to the signs of his return—then so be it. Tonight was to be our first meeting, but I can see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, what with her mother being an upstanding employee of yours."
"Dumbledore, you crackpot!" Fudge shouted, seemingly torn between anger at Dumbledore and elation that he'd confessed at last. "You still think that he's-! You're plotting to overthrow me, and you try to lure students into your delusion that we're all in mortal danger of some ridiculous return!"
"So, you'll arrest me now, will you?" the headmaster asked calmly.
"NO!" both Harry and Angelina shouted.
Both Kingsley and McGonagall flashed them looks of warning but Harry didn't pay them any attention.
"Professor Dumbledore, no!"
Harry felt a powerful surge of emotion course through him just then as he realized what Dumbledore was doing for him—the fire violently blazed forth suddenly, Fudge yelped and jumped away from it, and Dumbledore turned sharply to look at Harry.
"Harry do not let your anger get control of you…be quiet or I shall have to ask you to leave," he said this very softly and Harry got the odd feeling that Dumbledore knew something about what was going on inside him.
"Yes Potter, be quiet!" Fudge ordered him, licking his lips as if famished and staring at Dumbledore like he was a four course meal. "Be glad your crackpot old fool of a headmaster has finally confessed! He's saving your hide, boy! I came here expecting to expel you Potter, but this…" he wheezed his laughter.
"Yes, you get to arrest the 'crackpot old fool' instead, Cornelius. Funny how the tide turns, isn't it?"
Harry stared at Dumbledore, but the old man was not looking at him anymore. His heart thumped hard, Angelina's grip on his arm was tightening, and he felt himself slipping into angry defiance. Dumbledore was giving himself up to save Harry, and those two vultures were eating him up. Fudge barked at Percy to make sure that he had recorded everything Dumbledore had confessed, and with an impish gleam in his eye he announced that news of what happened would be on the front page of the Daily Prophet come morning. Then he motioned for Kingsley and the other Auror to step forward.
"Shacklebolt, Dawlish—arrest him." Fudge ordered. "You'll be formerly charged at the Ministry tonight, and then taken to Azkaban to await trial for treason, Dumbledore."
Harry balled up his fists. Fawkes made a sound from his perch—Snape, whose arms had been folded across his chest as he looked on the scene, now lowered them to his sides as his eyes drifted down from Dumbledore to Harry.
"Ah, I thought we might hit that little snag…" Dumbledore said softly.
Fudge scoffed, "Snag? What snag, Dumbledore?"
Very quietly, the moving gadgets sitting all around the office began to stop their motion one by one. Harry felt he ought to do something—this wasn't right. No way could he stand by and let Dumbledore be sent to Azkaban for him. No way could he let Umbridge and Fudge win out…let that wench get away with sending Dementors after him and putting her hands on him.
Snape was staring at him hard. Marietta seemed to snap out of whatever trance she'd been under and she turned her head to look at Harry as well. Everyone else was watching Fudge and Dumbledore.
"Well, it seems that you are laboring under the delusion that I'm going to allow you to simply take me in." He shook his head. "I have no intention of being sent to Azkaban, and I dare say you'll find it a tough job trying to force me to do so."
"Why you arrogant old-!"
"I don't have time to waste submitting to your formal charges, or being carted off to prison—where, incidentally, it would be no trouble at all to break out—and frankly I can think of many other, more productive things I could be doing."
Fudge sputtered angrily for a beat before clamping his mouth shut and drawing his wand. He looked over to Kingsley and Dawlish again before turning back to Dumbledore. "So you intend to take on two Aurors, Umbridge, and myself single-handed do you?"
Harry saw the Auror Dawlish reach for his wand slowly. Harry didn't have a wand. The gadgets around the office began to move again, but not in the various ways in which they ticked and whirred before—the one closest to Dawlish was now floating six or seven inches from its table. Marietta's eyes went wide as she watched the heavy, silver thing that belonged to a set of medicine grinders steadily rise above her head.
"Well not unless you are foolish enough to force me to!" Dumbledore answered good-naturedly.
"Arrest him!" Fudge shouted a split second before the silver grinder flew past Dawlish and hit the wall over the fireplace just above his head. It left a dent there. The portraits, who had for the most part been silent through this whole encounter, gasped collectively.
Snape took several deliberate steps towards Harry, but Dumbledore now had his wand drawn as Dawlish and Shacklebolt closed in. Two more of his gadgets flew across the room out of nowhere, cutting across Snape, and by then Harry was gone.
"Dumbledore, you're only—making this—worse for yourself!" Fudge shouted between dodging the flying objects.
Angelina realized what was happening, and it seemed so did Umbridge. For just as she was beginning to shake his arm to snap him out of it, Umbridge's eyes widened in recognition when they landed on Harry's face. More things zoomed out at them—books flew off shelves, tables fell over, and more heavy gadgets started one by one to propel themselves across the room.
McGonagall leapt forward from the desk and seized all three students, pushing them to the ground for safety.
"Stop him!" Fudge was saying, still trying to aim his wand but having to duck every five seconds as more things hit the walls around him. The fire roared again. "Shacklebolt, disarm him now!"
"It's…it's not Dumbledore…" Umbridge muttered, staring at Harry with a mixture of fascination and fright. "It's not him, it's POT-!"
But she was cut off when a silver streak of light flashed, blinding them all. There was a loud BANG and then Fawkes was off his perch, screeching shrilly as more silver light shot around the room. Seconds later the office was filled with a cloud of dust, there was a scream and then one after the other—thud, thud, thud—bodies could be heard hitting the floor after each streak of silver light from Dumbledore' wand.
When Harry's vision and senses came back to him, he inhaled and coughed loudly for the dust surrounding them. He looked over in surprise at McGonagall, who still had him, Marietta, and Angelina crouched to the floor. She was breathing hard, her eyes flickering all around the office for any sign of movement.
"Are you all right?" Dumbledore's tall figure emerged from the settling dust, Fawkes soaring around the office above him.
"Oh my goodness!" McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief and got to her feet. Harry and the girls rose with her. "Yes…"
Harry looked around the office. Dumbledore's desk had been overturned and the fire had died out. There were pieces of the shattered instruments everywhere. He gazed at the still figures of Umbridge, Fudge, Kingsley, and Dawlish lying slumped on the ground.
"I had to hex Kingsley, unfortunately. It would've looked very suspicious if I'd left him standing. He acted very quickly with Miss Edgecombe," he said, reaching out to grasp Marietta's shoulder gently. "I'm grateful to him. Everything will be all right, Marietta."
Harry knew he was referring to the spell that Kingsley had done on her—he realized that he had probably modified her memory while everyone was looking the other way. Dumbledore released Marietta and turned back to McGonagall.
"Now you must act as if no time has passed or they'll know we had time to talk."
"Of course." McGonagall swallowed, looking at him gravely. "Where will you go, Albus?"
"I'm not going into hiding, Minerva, if that's what you're asking. I think Fudge will find that dislodging me from Hogwarts was a very foolish mistake. He'll see; before this is all over…he'll wish he'd never done it. No—I must go and finish what I started."
Snape appeared at Dumbledore's side. "Dumbledore…"
The headmaster turned to face him and they looked each other directly in the eyes. "Severus there is something I shall need you to do for me. I cannot speak about it now—there isn't time—but you will hear from me soon. It's very important."
"Yes, sir…" Snape's gaze fell on Harry and he stepped back, staring at the boy shrewdly.
"Professor Dumbledore…" Harry whispered. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to convey how grateful he was for what the headmaster had done for him, and he wanted at the same time to tell him every single detail of everything he'd done and seen and dreamed about this year—because it was hitting him that Dumbledore was leaving and there was no telling when or if he'd come back.
Dumbledore reached out and pressed one hand to Harry's forehead and his other took hold of Harry's arm before the boy could say another word.
Harry's feelings of guilt and gratefulness snapped away upon being touched and were instantly replaced by an extreme hatred that turned his stomach. He knew it wasn't his own, but he felt it simmering underneath what he knew to be his true feelings towards the old wizard. It was painful, having those hands on him, and it shot through his scar as he felt for a second time that terrible desire to strike at the man standing before him.
Dumbledore's shining blue eyes burned into Harry's and he spoke next very softly but very urgently, his hands still on Harry's skin.
"Harry…do not let your anger control you. Listen to me—you must practice Occlumency as hard as you can, do you understand? Do everything Professor Snape tells you and try your best to close your mind before you sleep to avoid bad dreams. I know it seems like you've gotten no answers from me—" those familiar words escaped his lips, "—but I promise you that you will come to understand why I ask you to do this soon enough."
The Auror Dawlish was waking up.
Harry was beginning to calm as Dumbledore held him. He felt the snake-like longing to attack fading and the pain in his scar eased. Dumbledore's touch grew cool and Harry's unnatural hatred towards him melted. Dumbledore looked at him with some kind of emotion that Harry couldn't quite place—he only knew it was strong.
He let go of Harry and backed away, past Snape. "Remember…close your mind Harry…don't let it control you…" And with a tiny wink at Angelina, Dumbledore reached up and grasped one of Fawkes' talons and was gone in a flash of red flame.