Two days.
That was the extent of Delores Umbridge's time as Headmistress of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.
These days were not, as she had so been expecting, full of the kind of gratification, respect, and sense of accomplishment that should have come with finally achieving her biggest goal. The first sure sign of the troubles that would plague the new Headmistress was the unyielding denial of entry to the Head's office.
"Gargoyle, a new password will be instated immediately," she sang to the stone beast guarding her new base of operations. "Now if you'll please…" and she tapped it twice with her wand, uttered her new password, and waited for it to spring to life and move aside—but it did not. It stood quite still, as lifeless and immobile as you please, staring straight ahead. Umbridge tapped the gargoyle again and said her password, but to no avail.
She was alone in the corridor, but she looked from side to side as though looking for a sign that someone was witnessing this besides her. What a night she'd had—nearly having her reputation ruined by Potter's lies, nearly seeing everything she'd worked for come toppling down on her carefully styled head. She did not desire any more mishaps, but it seemed that desire would be denied, along with her entry to her own office.
It was hers, wasn't it? Well yes! Even though Minister Fudge had been disappointed by her outburst and had stridently admonished her for her behavior, he had granted her the position. He had signed the decree, hadn't he? Yes, yes…sure he told her that she would be monitored, that the scrutiny of both the Ministry and the entire wizarding community would befall her…but the position was given to her nonetheless, and it was a result of both her hard work and his trust in her.
Potter had nearly ruined it for her with his accusations…but thankfully things took a different turn. True—it had been Potter she'd been trying to get rid of, but Dumbledore taking the blame for the boy suited her just fine. She hadn't expected to reach this point so soon. She'd just have to come up with another way to silence Harry—she just had to be patient.
This proved challenging. And it started with that damned gargoyle.
She tried the last password Dumbledore had given it, her plump face flushed with impatience. "Fizzing Whizbee?"
Still…the damned thing would not budge.
Umbridge felt her patience shrinking, and as she opened her mouth to speak, it moved suddenly; its menacing iron face shifted down until its pupil-less eyes were looking into hers, and the mouth opened. "The entrance is barred—it is sealed." The voice was like bricks running over concrete, and it scared her, but more than that it made her angry. "Until the rightful Headmaster returns, the entrance is barred—it is sealed…"
She stamped her foot.
"What do you mean? I am the rightful Headmistress! I have here a decree stating clearly-!"
"The entrance is barred…it is sealed…until the rightful-"
Umbridge felt herself losing control as it continued repeating that stupid mantra that Dumbledore no doubt bewitched it to declare in his absence. She let out an angry little shriek and aimed her wand, tapping it over and over again and gritting her own password—but no use, it just kept saying "…it is barred…it is sealed…" until she wanted to scream.
"FILCH!" she screeched, not caring where he was, just that he come before she tried to disintegrate the bloody thing.
He had been lurking around a corner, and he came limping over as fast as his old bones could carry him. "I heard you calling, ma'am!'
"…it is barred…it is sealed…until the rightful Headmaster returns…"
"Can you do something to shut this thing up?"
"Er—n-not presently, ma'am…I ain't never heard it say nothing like that before…" Filch frowned at it dimly, running his hands together as if nervous that she would berate him for being useless to her. "You could try putting a Silencer on it, could you?"
"Oh that won't do at all, Filch," she snapped, shooing him aside and raising her wand. "Finite!"
The gargoyle growled roughly and went immobile again, its head moving back up to stare down the hallway. Umbridge rubbed her temples and took a deep breath. After a few moments of waiting to make sure it wouldn't speak again, she cleared her throat and said evenly: "As I said before, I am the Headmistress now. Delores Umbridge, got that?"
The gargoyle sat silent.
"Good. Now the new password…" and she tried her password again.
Nothing. Stillness. Silence.
Needless to say, since then everything Delores experienced as headmistress was steeped in unpleasantness.
Oh, those abominable Weasley twins—first defacing her decrees with such vile insults of her personal character all over the school so that she was unable to even walk down the halls without snickering children all around her muttering "ministry scum!", or "puff patrol!", or some other nasty thing under their breaths. Even the teachers' mouths twitched with restrained laughter when she sat in on their classes; it was insufferable! Filch was so damned slow and even for a Squib he was infuriatingly incompetent, so when it came to undoing the rapidly-spreading graffiti she was left entirely on her own. She instructed him to find the culprits and detain them to face her good judgment, but of course he couldn't pull that off, either.
Then the fireworks, Merlin curse them both!
She had been foolish enough to think that her humiliation would end with a few dozen decrees ruined, but of course leave it to those little brutes to take it a step further! The giant, glittering, cartoon-like likeness to her that they'd set off months before had been bad enough, but to have the halls of her school teeming with the things and her not being able to do a damn thing about it nearly sent her over the edge. If she could just get her hands on them! She would let Filch skin them alive if he wished, no one had to know…but they slipped through her fingers yet again, after she thought she'd finally caught them.
Delores stalked back to her office at the end of the day feeling enraged and put upon. She felt utterly sick with failure—only her first day as the new headmistress and already she'd lost her office, been called 'ministry scum' by virtually every student at Hogwarts, and let two of the biggest trouble makers in the school fly off and escape punishment.
If it had not been for the soft knock at her door; the sudden presence of one of her allies; she would have called Fudge and told him to find another stooge.
But at that first day's end, Umbridge found herself in the company of one Severus Snape, and he had good news. Yes…good news indeed. "I have finished the Veritaserum…" he uttered, his black robes draping him in shadow as he stood in her doorway holding a small, gleaming vial.
"Snape!" she whispered with relief. "Oh you clever man, you! This news hasn't come a moment too soon!"
"I'll leave it with you, then." He walked into her office and handed it to her. She held it in her chubby hands; her eyes alight with malice. There was one thing she could do to make them all see she was a force to be reckoned with. Harry Potter would go down, and he would bring Dumbledore down with him. He would tell her where Dumbledore had gone, he would tell her where Sirius Black was hiding, and he would tell her what he had been doing with those other students for all those months in the Room of Requirement.
Her plan was perfect—she would get him to sign a confession, in his own writing, and it would be sent to the minister as soon as the serum wore off. She knew that little liar was keeping these secrets, she knew that there was something dark and unnatural inside of him—the legend of his defeat of the Dark Lord brought about questions that needed answers. The answer was in Harry Potter; the answer was in what she saw in her office weeks ago.
"Just three drops, eh, Snape? That hardly sounds like enough for someone as deceitful as Potter…"
As she stared at the vial, the contents of it glittering pristinely in the light from the lamp on her desk, she pictured the look on Potter's face when he went into his dark ritual. So rudely interrupting her while she was trying to counsel him; so eerily sitting there with his eyes fixed on hers. He had not really acted; he had not really said or done anything...it was simply his eyes, and that face.
"May I ask…what do you hope to get out of him?"
Delores had only seen artists' renderings of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and they were all done after his rise as the darkest and one of the most powerful wizards in their world. By then he no longer looked human—by then he had the legendary face of a humanoid snake, and the infamous red eyes. She had only ever seen one photo of the dark wizard before he became what he became; the photo of him as a boy. His neat black hair, his pale skin. The only telltale sign of him even being the same person was that icy, dark stare.
This face was the face Delores saw in Harry Potter on the night of his last detention with her.
He stared at her; he looked into her and found the only part of her that housed fear. He seized this fear like a freezing hand wrapped round her heart and he drew it out. She gasped, feeling a chill ripple through her whole body. Was it Potter looking at her? Or someone else? She felt he could see everything— inside her mind, where all her plans lay; that dementor attack, her scheming with Malfoy, her jealousy of Dumbledore…he did all this with something as simple as a look.
It was not Harry Potter looking at her. It was-"Professor Umbridge?"
She looked up from the vial, suddenly aware that she had begun to perspire a little. "Yes, what is it?"
"Potter—what information are you trying to draw out of him?"
Umbridge stood and turned her back on Snape, depositing the vial inside her pink teapot, before smoothing the front of her robes and giving him a thin smile. "That's confidential, Professor," she explained sweetly. "But rest assured the Ministry thanks you for your assistance...and your discretion."
"I wasn't aware the Ministry condoned the use of truth serum on underage wizards…"
"Good night, Severus."
He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her. "A request, first, if you'll allow."
Umbridge's smile grew wider; of course he would try to gain a favor in exchange for his services and his silence. She had been prepared to deal with such a request, and so she answered, "Go on…"
"Draco Malfoy will need to be treated for…an illness. I shall need to pull him from some of his classes from time to time until he has recovered."
It was Delores' turn to raise a curious eyebrow. "An illness, you say? What's wrong with him?"
"That's confidential, Professor…" Snape said coolly, using her own words on her. "His father would like me to be…discrete…and if you don't mind I'd rather not involve anyone else."
"Well…" Umbridge took a tight little breath and nodded, simply happy to have the serum in her possession. "As long as you don't keep him away from his studies too often, I don't see a problem with it. Lucius Malfoy has trusted this school with his son's wellbeing, and who am I to deny the child a speedy recovery?"
Severus nodded curtly and swept out again, leaving her with her thoughts. She began to look forward to the rest of her years as Headmistress of Hogwarts. She sat at her desk for perhaps another hour, daydreaming of finally turning the school around—finally seeing all those misbehaving students get their dues and finally seeing Harry Potter exposed for the wretch he really was.
The Veritaserum was the key to all of that.
Of course, by the second day's end, Delores Umbridge was no longer Headmistress of Hogwarts. And it was a pair of Extendable Ears (available in Diagon Alley at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for only five Sickles!) that would be her downfall.
Harry came to regret ignoring Lupin's advice not to tell anyone else about Snape.
He found himself going over the details of the memory with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Angelina a hundred times. He found himself answering the same questions over and over again. And of course, no one was more inquisitive (that is to say, bloody annoying) than Hermione.
"Hermione—" Harry began during breakfast, chewing his corn flakes and rolling his eyes, "—I've told you a hundred times already, this was not a dream. This was real; it was one of Snape's memories, and if you don't believe me-"
"I do believe you, Harry." Hermione sighed deeply and buttered her toast. She bit into it harshly, obviously upset. "But you're not listening to me. We know Snape works for the Order as a spy-"
"No, he works for the Death Eaters as a spy!" Ron interjected, jabbing a forkful of scrambled eggs into the air.
Harry nodded his agreement with Ron, chewing his cereal angrily, as Hermione gave them both looks of exasperation. She looked to Angelina for a little help, but the older girl merely shrugged, not having come to a conclusion on any of it. Hermione swallowed her toast and went on. "Let's just focus on the facts, then."
Harry put his spoon down and watched as she began to count off her fingers.
"Snape was instructed by Dumbledore to teach you Occlumency."
"Yeah…so?" Angelina rubbed his shoulder and he conceded, pushing his bowl away and crossing his arms. "Go on…"
Hermione licked her lips and continued. The sun streaked over her shoulder and warmed Harry's face as she spoke—the quiet buzz of sleepy, eating students cushioned her words as the five friends huddled together in the center of the Gryffindor table. The teachers sat at the staff table talking amongst themselves, as usual, though not one of them spoke to Umbridge. She sat in Dumbledore's place, eating her porridge in silence, her beady eyes surveying the Great Hall imperially. Though, anyone who cared to notice would see that those eyes lingered at the center of the Gryffindor table, on five little heads in particular.
"And did you or did you not actually manage to occlude yourself during the last lesson?"
"I…" Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and then snorted. "Yeahr I did."
"So—if he was doing his best not to teach it to you, why do you think you were able to do that?" Hermione blinked at him expectantly, and the knowing look in her big brown eyes annoyed him to no end.
"I dunno…because I'm not an idiot, like everyone here seems to think…" Harry replied bitterly.
Angelina nudged him on the thigh.
"No one thinks you're an idiot."
Harry begged to differ, but he didn't receive a chance to retort, because Ginny piped up, making one of Hermione's next points for her. "And didn't you say that Snape hadn't reported Dumbledore leaving the school to anyone? That's why that Bellatrix woman was so angry with him, wasn't it?"
Harry shifted uneasily on the bench next to Angelina. "Well, yeah, but-"
"And," Hermione continued once Ginny turned to her again, "didn't you say that he told them about the connection after Bellatrix admitted Voldemort already knew about Professor Dumbledore?"
"Yes, but-!" hissed Harry, really becoming agitated now.
"So think about it, Harry…" Hermione leaned in, locking eyes with him beseechingly, "…if you were being backed into a corner by people that you need to trust you—we're talking your life depended on it, not to mention the lives of others—wouldn't you do the same thing?"
"Do what?" Harry uncrossed his arms defiantly, sitting up straight and glaring at her. "You're defending what he did? Hermione—he mocked Dumbledore! Snape might as well have spit in his face, he gave away everything-!"
"But, Harry there was nothing he could do. He had to tell them something; Voldemort-!" Ron shushed her and Hermione lowered her voice, leaning in closer, her face twisted in frustration. "Voldemort already knew about Dumbledore, Harry. That means his connection is even stronger than we thought—and all the while you're pushing everybody away, you're letting him get closer! You're letting him in!"
"But Snape-!"
"Harry…" Angelina spoke up, now, though she didn't raise her voice in exasperation like Hermione. She took his hand and he looked over at her. She was calm, and her deep brown eyes were filled with concern. She sighed. "I don't think any of us are trying to tell you that you're wrong about Snape."
"Well, actually, I-" Hermione started, but Angelina silenced her with a flicker of her eyes. Ron put his hand on Hermione's to stay her, and the bushy-haired girl clamped her mouth shut with some difficulty. Harry shook his head, a little saddened by her lack of loyalty.
Angelina waited until he turned to her again before she said anything else.
"What we want you to understand, though, is that Snape doesn't matter."
"Angelina…"
"He doesn't, Harry. Neither does Malfoy or Umbridge, or anyone else. What the real thing is—the thing we should be truly scared of, the thing Dumbledore stressed was absolutely the most important thing above all…" She looked up to his scar and back. "Harry you've got to protect yourself from Voldemort. That means protecting your mind…"
"Who'll teach me now? I can't go back to Snape," he whispered, suddenly afraid Voldemort was watching them all right now, through his own green eyes. "I can't…"
Hermione touched him lightly on the shoulder and he turned to her. "We will."
"What?"
"We'll teach you, all of us. We'll help you figure it out."
"Yeah, but Hermione you don't know Legilimency."
Hermione smiled a little, scratching her chin. "Well, true, but…at least we can help you try to close your mind at night before you sleep. We'll do that meditation thing you taught in the D.A."
"Yeah, mate," Ron added as Angelina leaned in and kissed Harry on the jaw. "I'll even stay up with you till you think you've got it, if you want."
"Thanks…" muttered Harry, still feeling a lingering desire to argue his case about Snape some more. "I guess it's worth a try."
"There have got to be books in the library on Occlumency and Legilimency," Hermione was saying, more to herself than to anyone. She let go of Ron's hand and began to gather her things. "I think I'll just pop by before Charms and take a quick look, shall I?"
"I'll go with you, Hermione," offered Ginny, and the two girls stood up from the table.
"Er—sure." Harry finally smiled, amused as Hermione gave Ron a peck on the cheek and hurried away, their argument seemingly forgotten. "Your girlfriend is a piece of work, Ron."
"No bloody kidding." Ron shook his head and shoved cold egg into his mouth, swallowing it down along with a few gulps of milk. "But for what it's worth, I agree with you about Snape. He's a nasty liar."
"Thank you!" Harry exclaimed before punching Ron in the arm. "Why didn't you—!" he punched the ginger-haired boy again. "—say anything, you twit?"
"Ow…listen mate, when Hermione gets going, nothing we say matters, you sawr'it for yourself, didn't ya?"
Harry sighed and nodded, unable to help himself from turning to look up at the staff table. Snape was chewing slowly, watching Professor Flitwik summon a scone from one of the platters at the end of the table. His eyes soon landed on Harry's, however. The boy and the man stared at each other with the utmost contempt—Snape no doubt furious over being discovered, and Harry fuming over not being taken seriously. Harry wondered, what are you gonna do, you sneaky bastard? Obliviate me while I'm asleep? Or try to kill me? His thoughts were interrupted by Angelina's voice.
"Professor Lupin said he would look into it for you?"
"Yeah…" Harry reluctantly tore his eyes away from Snape and turned to her. "But I don't think he believes me any more than Hermione does."
"I think you did the right thing telling him." She offered a smile. "If Snape is a traitor, he'll find out and tell Dumbledore. You can't fix everything by yourself, Harry. Some things are out of your control."
"I know." They kissed. Ron groaned and tapped his fork against his goblet.
"Yeah, well, not to interrupt your snog or anything, but we've got another problem."
Harry frowned. "What?"
Ron gestured to the staff table again. Hagrid was standing up, getting ready to leave so he could set things up for the day's first class. He looked awful. Even worse than the last time Harry had seen him; which, he realized, was ages ago—he'd been so preoccupied with everything that he'd actually forgotten all about Firenze's warning. Not surprisingly, as the large caretaker stood up, Harry saw Umbridge look over at him with no small amount of discomfort.
"She's gonna sack him, sure as she's sitting there…"
Ron and Angelina nodded their agreement as they watched Hagrid make his way towards them. "Poor Hagrid," Angelina muttered.
The three of them waved at him sadly as he approached, and he tried to smile at them even though his face was swollen and purple. He raised one big, bandaged hand and returned their greeting. "All righ', you three?"
"Hagrid," Harry piped up despite himself, "what happened to you?'
"What are ya talkin' about Harry?" Hagrid stopped in front of them, trying his best to appear nonchalant—he looked like he was in pain, though. "I'm fine."
"No…you look like you got into a fight with a giant," said Ron around a mouthful of bacon.
"Who told you that?" Hagrid started, his swollen eyes darting around as if making sure no one else had heard.
"Told me what?" asked Ron, swallowing down his bacon. "Did you get into a fight with a-?"
"Now, listen you three, just never mind it, that's all. I'm fine, I've just been gettin' me hands dirty with some of the beasts in the forest. The Centaurs have it out fer me, all because of Firenze…"
"Hagrid is that all?" Harry didn't really believe him. He had seen what the other Centaurs had done to Firenze, but he couldn't picture Hagrid getting his face pounded in willingly on a daily basis. Why would he subject himself to that? Love of magical creatures or no, Hagrid wasn't that thick. Was he…?
"I've got a class to get ready for, and you three might like to do the same. I can handle myself, all right?"
He didn't wait for them to protest, instead turning and taking his long strides towards the entrance hall, leaving them staring after him. "He's lying, right?" Ron asked as they prepared to leave for Charms.
"Of course…" Angelina answered. She gave Harry a kiss and waved she'd see them later. Harry, while waiting for Ron to finish off his orange juice, watched her go. He stared at her swinging ponytail and felt so glad they were all right again. Just as Ron was setting his empty goblet down on the table, the murmur of conversation all around them was pierced with an ear-splitting shriek.
"PEEVES!"
Every pair of eyes turned to stare at the staff table, where Headmistress Umbridge was jumping up from her seat, her head having been doused in lumpy porridge. Peeves the poltergeist was floating in big circles above her, giggling madly and dangling the porridge pot like a prize. "Ha, ha, you can't catch me, Ministry Scum Umbridge! Hee,hee,hee heeee!"
Umbridge screeched bloody murder and aimed spells at him, which he dodged, rocketing all around the Great Hall with the pot swinging from his chubby, translucent hands. The teachers sitting at the staff table looked at Umbridge indifferently, some even lazily calling for Peeves to at least bring the pot back so the elves wouldn't lose it, but for the most part continued eating their breakfast as if nothing had happened.
Harry and Ron couldn't suppress their laughter, and neither could any of the other kids.
"Ministry scum, ministry scum!" Peeves sang, giggling as he picked up Ron's egg platter and tossed it at the Slytherin table. Several Slytherins stopped laughing and shook their fists angrily at him as the egg caught them about the faces and landed wetly on their robes. "Umbridge, Umbridge—ministry scuuum!"
Umbridge continued firing spells at him, her face beet red and sopping with the clumps of porridge sliding down her cheeks and the bridge of her nose into her bosom.
"Boy, I guess Peeves really took what my brothers said seriously!" Ron mused as the two boys made their way out of the Great Hall.
"What did they say?" Harry asked, grinning.
"They told him to give her hell for them." Ron shrugged. "I guess he respected them enough to actually do what they said."
"Well, if it involves making trouble, then I'll bet even Hermione could tell him what to do."
They looked at each other and both decided: "Nah…"
There was an odd mixture of serious thought and extreme amusement that followed Harry that day.
He went over and over his choices where Snape and everything else was concerned, but also he found this process interrupted by the wonderful torture of Headmistress Umbridge on only her second day in the job.
Peeves had indeed taken the twins' request to heart, and he harassed her non-stop. Harry saw her rushing from classroom to classroom as he walked the halls; her face red with breathlessness, her hair a mess, her wand drawn. Teachers sent for her, despite being able to handle Peeves themselves, when the ghost clapped the erasers together over their classrooms; when he unscrewed the chandelier on the first floor (Harry could've sworn he saw McGonagall tell him which was the right way to twist the bolts); when he smashed up Snape's potions supplies, smeared ink all over the Slytherin flag in the Great Hall, wrote profanities all over the mirrors in the girls' washrooms, and on and on.
"Maybe, in a couple of weeks, she won't be able to take any more, and she'll just quit…" Ron whispered with an amused smile on his face as they tried to avoid being bitten by the Fanged Geranium plants they were attempting to feed.
Harry snorted and snatched his fingers away from his own plant before it could do damage. "Yeah, if we're lucky."
"Have you noticed…" Hermione had finished feeding hers, and was now cleaning its leaves expertly. She frowned and nodded towards the Slytherin side of the greenhouse, towards the end where Malfoy and his friends usually stood. "…Malfoy has been missing some of his classes?"
Harry looked up to where she was staring; his own brow creased as he watched Pansy being nipped at by her plant. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the Geranium. "He's probably off being 'cured' by Snape."
He honestly did not wish to discuss it. It hardly seemed fair that he should get to miss class after class undergoing whatever treatment Snape was giving him for a little torture and a little poisoning. He deserved what he got, Harry though bitterly, starting on cleaning the plant's leaves, though finding it rather more difficult than Hermione seemed to.
"I found some books," Hermione perked up as they were making their way from the greenhouses after the lesson. "And actually, I came across that one I lent to Angelina before—I know it's primarily about Memory Charms, but there's some really interesting stuff in there about Occlumency as well."
"Great…" Harry attempted an enthusiastic smile, but for some reason couldn't muster very much excitement. They trudged up the path to the castle as a strong breeze rustled their hair, and Harry watched his shoes take step after step. He could not help wondering what would happen to him—what he would be able to do, if he let the power take over. If he let…no, that was a bad idea…if he let whatever was happening to him continue, he would be letting Voldemort in. That could not happen.
But…could he perhaps learn Occlumency, shut Voldemort out, and still be able to tap into this thing inside him? Harry wasn't a stellar student; he realized this. But he had magical capability beyond what everyone assumed—it had been confirmed by no less than McGonagall and Dumbledore. Hell, even Snape was in awe of him…and he's trying to get me killed for it, Harry thought.
"Harry what's in the bean?" Ron asked, and Harry saw in their faint shadows that Ron's head was turning slightly to regard him. He didn't look up from his shoes, however.
Harry shrugged. "I'm on the fence."
"How could you possibly be on the fence about this?" Hermione cut in before Ron could respond.
"I-I'm just not sure I want my ability, or whatever it is, to completely go away." He gestured with his hand, feeling that old inability to articulate his feelings properly take over again.
"Well…it's risky…" Hermione frowned. "The way I see it, there are two choices…" she lowered her voice as they entered the castle, "…one-you let us help you learn Occlumency, or two-you wake up one morning with red eyes and scaly skin."
"Thanks for putting that into perspective for me, Hermione," Harry muttered sarcastically. "You're shaping up to be more annoying than Snape."
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled apologetically as they turned to enter the Great Hall. "Sorry. I'm just trying to-"
"Help, I know," Harry finished, sighing heavily. "I appreciate it, really. We'll start reading those books tonight after dinner, all right?"
"Sure…"
Harry was just about to settle himself in his usual spot, his eyes scanning the Great Hall for sign of Angelina, when Filch limped up to him from behind and tapped him roughly on the shoulder. Harry made a face at Hermione and turned around. "Huh?"
"Headmistress wants to see ya in her office, Potter," Filch rasped, sucking his teeth. Acting on instinct, Harry found his eyes traveling up to the staff table. McGonagall was speaking to Hagrid, grimacing at his appearance and shaking her head. Hagrid looked really nervous, and as she was shaking he was nodding, his eyes fixed to his large bowl of soup. He couldn't stand there all day, Filch's arms were already shaking with impatience and he rasped, "Move it along, boy."
Harry attempted to pass meaningful looks along to Ron and Hermione. Ron looked confused and Hermione tilted her head, her eyes going wide. She mouthed 'what does she want?' but Harry had to move along with Filch close on his heels.
He walked through the Great Hall again, searching out Angelina. He didn't spot her before they went through the large doors, and his heart rate sped up nervously. Harry flexed his hands, his palms becoming slick. He tried to walk as slowly as he dared—he did not want to go up and see Umbridge without someone on his side knowing about it.
He thought he was out of luck a second before he finally saw Angelina coming towards him with Katie and Alicia on either side of her. She was maybe five steps away, pausing in her conversation with Katie, her brow furrowed as she watched Harry and Filch approaching. Harry stared directly into her eyes with as much meaning as he could and said loudly: "Um, what does Professor Umbridge want to see me about, Mr. Filch?"
Filch grumbled and poked him forward with a hard, boney finger. "Just mind your steps Potter, you'll find out soon enough."
Harry ignored the rickety caretaker's wheeze of malevolent laughter and kept his eyes on Angelina's until they passed each other. She looked as if she understood what he'd been trying to convey. She understood…right? He really hoped she understood…
Angelina had been divulging to Katie Bell that for a young chap Harry was a deliciously good kisser, when she saw him coming out of the Great Hall with Filch.
She stopped mid-sentence, instantly realizing what was happening by the look on Harry's face. Filch prodded him forward, grinning in the way he always did when a student was about to get into serious trouble. She remembered what McGonagall had told them the night Dumbledore left. Harry needn't have looked at her so; she knew what to do immediately and when they passed each other she muttered to Katie and Alicia that she had to do something and headed straight for Ron and Hermione.
"Hey—what did Filch want?" she interrupted them.
"He took Harry to see Umbridge, why?" Ron answered through a mouthful of meatloaf. Angelina guessed that Harry hadn't told them about McGonagall's speech, but she didn't waste time trying to explain. She turned to Hermione as Ron gulped down the food.
"I need you to do me a favor."
Hermione frowned but lowered her spoon from her mouth attentively. "Sure…"
"I need to find out what Umbridge wants with Harry." She knelt down behind Ron, lowering her voice urgently. "You and Ron have to help. We need to think of a way to listen in on what they're saying. Can we use Harry's cloak? Do you know where he keeps it, Ron?"
"Do you think she's going to do something? Expel him?"
Angelina shook her head, glancing up at the staff table to search out McGonagall. "I don't know, but we have to find out and tell McGonagall. She said if Umbridge tries anything else to tell her—I think Umbridge is still gunning for Harry, especially with Dumbledore out."
"And she's probably got a nasty temper on, what with Fred and George humiliating her," Hermione added. "I'll bet she's even more determined now."
"Extendible ears…" Ron muttered quietly. Both Angelina and Hermione turned to face him. He pushed his plate away and leaned closer, dropping his voice down to a whisper. "George gave me an extra pair…we could use those."
"Good. Get them and meet me in that corridor around from Umbridge's office in five minutes." Angelina stood up from the table and hurried to fetch Professor McGonagall. Ron and Hermione exchanged looks for a split second before springing to action, both of them abandoning their food and gathering their things.
Ginny and Dean stopped their chat to watch them go. "Hey, what's-?"
"Explain it later," Ron answered over his shoulder. Of course, Ginny did not heed this. She pecked Dean on the cheek and hurried along to follow them.
Angelina approached the staff table quickly, ignoring the curious gazes she received from the teachers; especially Snape. McGonagall looked as if she were giving poor Hagrid a grueling admonishment, but when Angelina approached she stopped talking abruptly, turning to gaze at the girl with a raised eyebrow. "What is it, Angelina?"
Angelina looked sideways at Snape before speaking carefully. "May I ask for a moment, Professor? I-I just have something I wanted to run by you…about the match and all."
McGonagall stared at her for a beat, her thin lips tightening and her brow creasing, before nodding and gesturing to the small corridor off to the side of the staff table. "In there," she stood up and pushed her chair back. "I shall speak with you again later, Hagrid."
"'Course, Professor…" mumbled Hagrid, too lost in his own woes to notice Angelina's peculiar behavior.
Snape watched Angelina and McGonagall stonily as they made their way past the dining teachers and slipped into the corridor. Once inside, the older witch closed the door to the buzz for a quiet atmosphere so they could speak softly. "What's happened?"
Angelina whispered urgently, feeling they were running out of time. They were missing something, she was sure of it. She simply had a feeling; a very bad feeling, and Harry obviously shared it judging by the look on his face when they passed each other. "Umbridge pulled Harry up to her office. I know it isn't anything solid, but he wanted me to tell you, you should have seen his face-"
"He's up there now?"
"Yes, ma'am."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed past Angelina thoughtfully for a split second before she nodded sharply. "You did the right thing by coming to me. I've had a feeling after yesterday…" the older woman paused, and Angelina held her breath. After a second, McGonagall began to move past the girl in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. "I need to do something first, but I'll be up there as soon as I can." Her back was already to Angelina and she was walking briskly; determined.
"But-?"
"Keep watch and don't let yourself be seen," was all the Transfiguration teacher relayed over her shoulder as she disappeared quickly into another doorway down the hall. Angelina did as she was told, turning and running back out into the Great Hall. She walked quickly past the long tables full of students, out into the entrance hall, and broke into a sprint up the marble stairs where she would meet Ron and Hermione near Umbridge's office.
Harry felt the seconds ticking by lethally as he followed Filch up to Umbridge's office.
He knew that there was no plan to follow; no surefire way to catch Umbridge at her worst for whatever she was about to do to him, but he hoped with every step he took that something could be done. The feeling of dread increased as they drew nearer their destination. He was not afraid of her. He was not intimidated by her—he loathed her and what he really wanted was for her not to exist, not to be there, not to have come to Hogwarts at all. Be gone, you evil bitch, Harry thought, heart-a-pounding as they reached her door.
Filch knocked twice hard, and a sing-song voice called: "Come in…"
The door opened and Umbridge was sitting at her desk, a satisfied smile planted on her plump face, writing some notes on a scroll of parchment. Harry thought silently as he was pushed inside by Filch that she was probably writing another decree celebrating the banishment of Harry Potter the Liar. Filch did a pitiful little bow. "Potter to see ye, Ma'am."
"Please sit down, Potter. Take his wand, will you?"
Harry begrudgingly gave up his wand to Filch, who snatched it and smiled crookedly at Umbridge.
"Thank you Filch." She did not look up from her parchment as Filch stooped again and shuffled out.
Harry sat down in one of the armchairs across from her, listening to her clock ticking along with the faint scratching of her quill against the parchment. They sat there like this for a long time it seemed, or it was simply that Harry could not stand being in the same room with her. The kittens rolled around but he was oblivious to them, having seen them many times before. He tried to read what was on the scroll, but she finished and snatched it off the desk just as his eyes fell on it. Harry watched her roll it up neatly and deposit it in one of the drawers. Then, pausing to smile at him sweetly, she pulled her wand out and conjured two steaming cups of tea.
"Drink, Potter?" she purred, batting her eyelashes at him. The evil pits in her beady eyes were aglow—he knew he couldn't trust her.
"No, thanks," he croaked, adjusting himself in the chair. "I'd rather just get this over with and go back to dinner, if it's all the same to you."
Umbridge bristled at his tone, but her smile remained. She made a soft 'tut, tut' sound with her tongue and pushed one of the cups of tea his way. "Your rudeness never ceases to amaze me, Mister Potter. Yet I'm prepared to be the bigger person—I wasn't asking. Have some tea." She inched it further towards him.
Frowning, Harry eyed the teacup warily before he reached out and picked it up. "Fine."
"Milk? Sugar?"
"No thanks."
"Oh have some sugar, Potter. Young boys like a little something sweet now and again, don't they?" Umbridge took his cup again and stood up from the desk; turning away from him. Harry watched as she made a little show out of adding sugar to his tea, his suspicions rising considerably. Where the hell is Angelina…? Umbridge turned back and handed him the cup again, sighing with satisfaction and taking her seat. She picked up her own teacup and leaned back lavishly, the smile of all things evil still firmly set. Harry watched her sip with her eyes still on him. She gestured with her cup to his own expectantly. "You're not drinking, Mister Potter. Remember what I said about rudeness? I will not tolerate it."
"What do you want with me exactly?"
"What?" She blinked at him, her smile slipping a little. " 'What do you want with me,' what?"
Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes at her. "What do you want with me, Professor Umbridge?"
"That's better." Umbridge set her tea down and leaned forward again, clasping her hands across the surface of the desk. "Oh just a chat—but first drink up, drink up!"
Harry knew that he should not drink anything she offered him—this was one of the lessons the fake Mad-Eye Moody taught him the previous year. Imposter or not, it was good advise. He had about two seconds to make a decision. She expected him to drink it…he could see in her gaze…she was willing him to drink it with all her might. Harry winced as the hot liquid neared his lips, and boldly he took a sip. He tasted tea, nothing else. He put the cup back on the desk and her smile grew wider.
Harry sat still, waiting.
"That wasn't so bad, was it? It's a shame you think so little of me that we can't even have tea together Potter…" He said nothing. She paused, and then quite abruptly asked, "Where is Albus Dumbledore?"
Harry blinked, realizing why she wanted him to drink so badly. "What?"
"Have another sip of tea…"
"No thanks…"
Very suddenly, Delores dropped all pretence; she drew her wand and pointed it at him. "That was not a request, Potter."
"You're joking." Harry stared at the wand, and his eyes flickered back up to her face. She was quite serious. Her smile had disappeared and was now replaced by cold determination. Harry's heart rate sped up; blood pumping anger and exasperation through him slowly. "What did you put in that tea?" He knew the answer already, but he had to hear her say it.
"Drink it. All of it." She brandished the wand at him, standing up to glare down at him cruelly.
"No!" Harry stood up from the armchair defiantly, glaring right back.
He expected her to yell at him or try to grab him or something, but she did not lose her cool. Umbridge smirked and raised her wand to his face. "Let me remind you of something, Mister Potter: I am in control here. Now, kindly take your seat and drink that tea."
She flicked her wand and he heard the lock on the door go click softly.
He balled up his fits, very sure that she had put Veritaserum in the tea and was not going to let him leave until he drank all of it. Judging from her first question, she thought he knew where Dumbledore was. He wasn't very worried about the old headmaster, though—he thought of Sirius; of the Order. His eyes flickering to her aimed wand briefly, Harry breathed through his nostrils, feeling his cheeks burning. He shook his head stiffly.
"No."
"You think I'm playing games with you, you evil little boy?"
"I'm not as evil as you are!" spat Harry, despite himself. He had to stall her, no matter what the consequences. Angelina was coming with McGonagall…she was coming…she had to be. "Hanging out with Death Eaters!"
To his utter surprise, Umbridge threw her head back and laughed at him. He had never heard her laugh this way—she cackled evilly before landing her maniacal gaze back on the fifth year boy. "Are you referring to that pile of lies you put in that filthy paper of Lovegood's? What wizard in his right mind would believe that rubbish?"
"Plenty…" breathed Harry, really understanding that this woman was insane.
"Lucius Malfoy is no more a Death Eater than I am, boy."
"But he did help you send those dementors after me," came Harry's calculated reply. The last little puff of steam evaporated from the cooling tea sitting between them as the office fell silent again. "What kind of wizard would send those things after a kid and a Muggle?"
He seemed to throw her off with this question, and she faltered, blinking at him. Her plump bosom rose and fell with her agitation. Umbridge still held the wand aimed at him but she seemed to be thinking…
"I did what I had to do…"
"Sure you did. But what I don't understand is why."
"Someone had to do something!"
He was getting to her; he could tell. He pressed his luck further, swallowing and shaking his head. "Do something about what? Me? All I did was tell the truth-!"
"No one wants to hear the truth Potter!" Harry stopped mid-sentence and gaped at her. She looked positively incensed, but he did not care as long as she forgot about that tea. "Can't you get that through your thick little skull? Why…to continue saying that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to power…t-to spread that kind of fear into people's minds…it's…it-it's simply impossible!"
"It's not impossible-that's what you and Fudge aren't getting. Stop being so afraid and face the fact that Voldemort is back, and he's going to start another war!"
At this, she smiled again. She was switching back and forward from old, syrupy sweet Umbridge to crazy witch-lady so quickly that he was finding it hard to tell which side of her would emerge next. He simply stood there, wandless, trying to stall for time until someone came to witness this spectacular scene. "Oh, and you'll know all about that, would you Potter?"
He hesitated, but wisely answered: "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh-ho, look who's denying things now!" She clucked her tongue at him contemptuously. "You certainly do make a fuss about the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who, but I wonder…what I saw during that debacle in the Head's office….and what you did here…"
"What do you mean?"
"Don't try to deny it, Potter. Even without the Veritaserum, I know you're lying. You know what I'm talking about…"
Harry panicked slightly at the mention of the serum, but stood his ground. "I don't."
"In my office…mere weeks ago…you sat there in that chair…and you changed."
"I…I what?"
"You changed, Potter," breathed the scheming teacher quietly, as if remembering the fright she felt during that experience quite vividly. "You changed into him. Into V-V…" she couldn't say it without shivering, and the look in her eyes drove a cold spike down Harry's spine.
He swallowed, listening carefully. He had not been able to remember what happened during his detention with her that night. Indeed, before he even had a chance to sit down and really think about it, he was rudely interrupted by the news of Malfoy and Angelina's kiss on Valentine's Day. After that…after that he had almost killed the other boy. Something Hermione said to him was floating around in the back of his mind, hidden in darkness. He couldn't remember it exactly, but Umbridge's story seemed too authentic to ignore. He narrowed his eyes at her as she continued.
"Voldemort!" she whispered, so low he could barely hear her. It was as if she were afraid that saying it too loudly would cause him to materilaize or appear behind Harry's eyes again. Her wand hand began to shake, and she was completely lost in her own memory. "I've never seen him in person, oh Merlin, no…not until I saw the look in your eyes that night…"
"Professor? Are you…are you all right?" Harry didn't particularly care for her wellbeing, but she was looking at him and the look was more than a look—she was becoming more afraid the more she spoke. It wasn't even as if she were really looking at Harry, but at some image of a Harry/Voldemort hybrid beast she'd conjured in her brain. She stared at him—Harry did not like the way she was looking at him at all.
"You saw me—you saw into me. You saw that I was afraid of you and you took that fear and made it cold, and you twisted it cruelly…those eyes…"
"Professor Umbridge, I really don't know what you mean…" Harry knew what she meant. He had experienced a gaze with such a powerful effect before, in the cemetery the night Voldemort came back. The night Cedric Diggory died. "But I would really appreciate it if you'd lower your wand."
She shook her head suddenly, as though clearing it of all traces of fear, and jerked her wand in his face again. "Nice try, Potter…but I'm afraid we have unfinished business. Now you pick up that teacup and you drink every drop."
"What do you want from me?"
"I want to know exactly how much you know, Potter. About all the nasty little secrets you've been keeping. I want to know what you know about that dementor attack—I thought I covered my tracks well but I see you pose a threat not only to the innocent witches and wizards you've terrorized with your truth-telling-" she spat out this word as if it tasted rotten, "-but also to me and the things I'm trying to accomplish."
"You're cracked," said Harry bitterly.
"Maybe, but soon I'll be rid of you!" she sang, gesturing to the teacup. "Once you've spilled your little guts, you're going to sign a confession and you're going to be Obliviated. You won't remember any of this, Potter."
Harry scowled at her, really wishing he had his wand. He was sorely tempted to start his meditation—perhaps that would scare her into letting him go, but he did not wish for Voldemort to appear. And, if one listened to Umbridge tell it, this was a very good possibility.
"The tea, Potter."
Harry had to resist. "Sod off!" And he reached out with a quick hand, knocking the teacup over onto the desk. The contents spilled out all over her parchment and quills, and she shrieked angrily, poking him in the shoulder with her wand.
"You little-!" her face turned red as a tomato. Harry rightly guessed, from the way she was gawking at the spilled tea, that she put all the serum she had into that cup. "Urgghhh, Potter that is the last straw!"
"Let me the hell out of here, you crazy-!" Harry demanded, turning and trying the door. She scooted her fat arse around the desk quickly and pushed in front of him, blocking his way with her hefty bosom.
"I have more than one way of getting the truth out of you…" she whispered nastily. She backed him up towards the desk. He watched her eyes…they were aglow again with that evilness he knew so well. She didn't seem so afraid of him now. "My patience with you has run out, boy. You are a threat to everything I have worked for, and I cannot have you ruin it! You'll tell me…you'll confess…"
He noticed her moving her wand tip from point to point on his body, as if…as if trying to figure out which part she wanted to…
"Whatever you're thinking," he breathed, his bum now pressed against the edge of her desk. "You'll be in big trouble if-"
"What the Minister doesn't know won't kill him. I am doing this for the greater good, not just for myself. It'll be the Cruciatus for you, Potter."
"No!"
"CRUC-!"
BANG!
Umbridge screamed as her door blew off its hinges and shattered to pieces all over her and Harry. She tried to cover herself with her arms, leaning against him—pushing him onto the soaked desk. He shoved her away with his palms and scrambled over the desk just as Minerva McGonagall flew into the room, her face contorted with so much rage that Harry half-expected her to start beating Umbridge over the head. "Delores Umbridge you step away from that boy now or so help me I will blast you into oblivion!"
Umbridge righted herself hastily and tried to adopt that smile of hers, but McGonagall would have none of it. "Minerva? What on earth are you-?"
"Drop your wand," uttered McGonagall through clenched teeth, her eyes ablaze with fury behind her spectacles. Harry never felt so glad to see this woman in his life. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. The seat of his pants were damp from the tea…he didn't give a damn. He only knew one thing: Umbridge was caught.
"Minerva," Umbridge began shakily, trying to adopt an air of authority in her voice. "I demand to know what you are doing-!"
"I could ask you the same question, Delores…" came a very sad, very numb voice. Harry's eyes flew from McGonagall to the door, where Minister Fudge was now standing. He almost leapt up and whooped in triumph. Fudge was holding something thin, something long, something flesh-colored in his hands. Fred and George's Extendible Ears…
Umbridge looked from Fudge to Minerva to Potter and back. She was trapped—like a fat little dear—she had nowhere to go but down.
"M-Minister, I can explain!"
"Oh…and I'll want to hear it, Delores," said Fudge dejectedly. "But first I'm afraid you're going to have to drop your wand, as Professor McGonagall has instructed."
"You're going to Azkaban, Delores," declared McGonagall, her eyes flashing triumphantly. "You can damned well explain all you want when you're in shackles. Dawlish, leave the children and come in please!"
Harry watched as the very same Auror who tried to take out Professor Dumbledore came in, followed closely by Ron and Angelina. Harry wanted to go to them immediately, but he was across the room. The three of them stared at each other, grins on their faces as broad as Umbridge's rump. Dawlish took out his wand and gestured for her to come to him.
Harry should have been paying attention, because instead of going quietly, she lunged straight for him and seized him by his throat. Her grip was tight, and for a split second he saw stars, but then someone shouted angrily and she was immediately hit with a Stunning spell that made her drop heavily to her knees and fall over sideways onto her back.
Harry grimaced, rubbing his throat, as Angelina rushed into his arms, stepping over Umbridge on the floor.
They embraced tightly before Fudge said quietly: "Dawlish, take her away…" Harry had no sympathy for the git. If he had listened all along he wouldn't be in this mess. "Charge her with conspiracy, harm to underage wizards, and attempted use of the Unforgivable Cruciatus…"
Dawlish nodded and hoisted a dazed Delores up to her feet. He dragged her over to her fireplace, took out some floo powder from his robes, and dropped it, saying clearly: "Azkaban Prison."
Fudge looked at Harry for a moment, anger and defeat clear in his lined face. "Happy now, Potter." This was not a question. Harry said nothing. "Minerva, let's go down to your office to discuss the…well…to discuss the now vacant Head and Defense posts."
"Filch will escort you, Minister. I'll see to the children first."
"Fine." Cornelius slumped out of the office, leaving them alone.
"Thank you, Professor…" Harry muttered, grinning. He held onto Angelina with a loose arm, but lifted the other at his Transfiguration professor. She blinked at him impassively for a moment before taking his hand. They shook.
"Thank Angelina," she told him. "If she had not acted quickly, that crazy woman would have tried to kill you next, I'm sure of it. Get to bed, all of you. You've had enough excitement for one night."
Harry nodded his agreement as McGonagall swept out of the office. Hermione and Ginny came in after her, joining Ron. No one said anything. They all just stood there smiling, happy that at last Hogwarts was free from the tyranny of Delores Umbridge.
Ding dong, the mean old witch is dead.