The whispering abruptly stopped, and Harry looked up to see Umbridge standing in the doorway.
Harry didn't think he'd ever seen her so angry. Two blotchy spots of colour high on her cheeks drew attention to her bulging, furious eyes.
Ron muttered, "Yikes," very quietly, and Harry had to agree.
Oh, Dad. What have you done?
"When I came into my office this morning," she said in her high, unpleasant voice, "imagine my surprise at seeing several rare, valuable magical artefacts ruined and lined up impertinently on my desk.
"All of you are good little students, and would never do something like this." She turned her glare onto Harry. "Except, that isn't quite true, is it?"
Harry remained silent, standing extremely still. He felt rather like a rabbit that had been cornered by a fox, except he hadn't even done anything to deserve it.
"Tell me, Mr. Potter," Umbridge asked with sickly sweetness, "did you honestly think you would get away with this?"
His indignation saved him, then. "I didn't think anything, because I didn't do it."
"Remember, Mr. Potter," her voice dropped. "'I must not tell lies'."
Harry's nostrils flared. "I'm not. I didn't do it."
"Why should I believe you? You have a history–"
"I was with Professor Snape all evening for Remedial Potions, and before that I was eating dinner in the Great Hall with my friends."
"Of course your friends would lie for you," she dismissed.
"Er, Professor Umbridge?" Pavarti spoke up. "I saw Harry at dinner too, and in class before that."
Several other Gryffindors in the room were nodding their heads, and a couple were casting him occasional glances of admiration. Harry realised that they, too, thought he'd done it, but were more than ready to back him up for it.
Umbridge stared around at her class, sensing that she was losing control and that the moment for accusations had passed. With a final glare that promised future nasty consequences, she rounded her desk and sat down in her chair. "Everyone, take your seats."
The students did. As if in extra punishment, the lesson that followed was even more boring than usual. He could see Hermione vibrating with frustration at the subpar teaching, but couldn't find in himself anything but relief that she seemed to have subsided for the moment.
It would be hard to find evidence of his wrongdoing, at least, seeing as he hadn't done it.
The moment he had seen the broken quills lined up on her desk, Harry had known that it was Snape's doing. He could just feel it. He hoped Snape had fun destroying them, because life was about to get a lot more interesting.
It soon became obvious that the Gryffindor fifth years weren't the only students who gave Harry the credit for Snape's work. In the hallway, a Ravenclaw third year—a boy who had shied away from him only a week before—came up to him with a quiet "thank you". His right hand had a glove over it, while the left was bare. Harry felt a small flare of condensed rage, and could only manage a senseless nod. Fred and George bounded up on either side and chattered back and forth about how Harry was well on his way to creating a more diverse criminal profile ("Vandalism's a solid bet-" "-but the breaking and entering was even better. Next time-" "-a little arson could spice it up!") . Even Professor McGonagall gave him ten points for sitting at the correct desk.
It was nice not to be an object of mindless fear, but Harry knew that consequences would come soon. Umbridge really had no way to outright accuse him, but he couldn't help waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Three days later, it had: Draco Malfoy strutted up to him outside of Charms with a polished badge on his robes.
"Hey there, Potter. See this? Means I'm part of the High Inquisitor's Inquisitorial Squad. At least some teachers around here can recognize a proper leader when they see one."
"Maybe she needs glasses," Ron mused.
Standing in their usual positions as cronies, Crabbe and Goyle also bore the same badges.
"That's not fair," Harry said, with mock concern. "She shouldn't be making those two say a word like that. Inquisitorial. It's too long for them, s'got too many syllables."
Before Malfoy could retaliate, Flitwick opened the door and Harry strode inside with Hermione and a snickering Ron. Behind them, Crabbe could be heard muttering, "What's a syllable?" to a fuming Malfoy.
"That little swot," Hermione muttered and glared at the blonde. Ron grinned, ecstatic as ever to hear her insult Malfoy, with whose family the Weasleys had a long-standing feud. "So, Harry. What did you need a bathing suit for yesterday?"
"I didn't think Snape had a cauldron big enough for swimming in, but I could be wrong," Ron grinned. "He dunk you in an intelligence potion or something, then?"
Hermione swatted his arm, but Harry recognised the teasing waggle of Ron's brows and laughed. "Nah, although I'm sure he wants to." He told them about the complicated kick beat lesson from the day before, and Hermione winced in sympathy.
"My parents made me take swim classes when I was little. Of course, I never did anything that intense, but I always thought it was frustrating to have someone bossing you around about something that's supposed to be fun."
"Can't bring books in a pool," Ron snorted. "You can't have thought it was that fun." Hermione's blush said it all. "Didn't even know they had classes for that! I learned to swim in the stream by my house. Bill and Charlie used to chuck us in and fish us out if we started getting too tired. Kind of had to learn on the fly!"
Hermione looked aggrieved on his behalf and began protesting with the righteous indignation of an only child. Ron only shrugged, although Harry didn't miss his relieved slump when she had to stop as Flitwick called the class to attention.
It soon became clear that Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad had few people or things to check them. Harry quickly grew tired, as did most other students, of Malfoy's attitude about the whole thing. He'd even noticed a few Slytherins indulging in sneers of contempt behind the blond's back. The first person to really run afoul of them was, unexpectedly, Ginny Weasley.
She'd been headed to the Quidditch pitch, broom over her shoulder, to get some extra flying practice in when she was accosted by the Slytherin team. They had summarily tried to kick her off, but she held her ground, having already checked and seen that the pitch wasn't booked. Things got heated, and Malfoy had tried using his authority as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad to get rid of her. She hadn't taken well to it. Apparently, as the telling went, she called him out on his bull and used her Bat Bogey Hex on him. The stories disagreed on whether he'd fainted, screamed, or cursed his own nose off trying to get rid of the creatures crawling out of it. Beyond that, everything became a confusing mass of rumour and speculation. The first Harry knew of it was when he saw five people getting dragged to the hospital wing. One of them was Ginny, and he'd tried to get to her to make sure she was okay, but McGonagall (a witness to the whole thing who had rushed to end the fight and help everyone) sent him off with a stern look.
Harry went to find Ron and told him what he'd seen. The two of them and Hermione had run back to the hospital wing, but not been allowed in. Ron argued that she was his sister, but McGonagall flat-out told him that she didn't trust him not to curse the Slytherins in their beds. One look at the darkening hue of Ron's face brought Harry around to her point of view, and he and Hermione had each taken an arm and dragged him down to the Great Hall.
There, gathered for dinner, everyone was already talking about what happened. By the time the three of them heard it from Dean, the story had already become twisted enough from the truth that they heard with alarm about how Ginny had been supposed to meet up with the youngest Slytherin chaser, whom she was secretly dating, and taken her rightful vengeance on the whole team when he cruelly broke up with her in front of them all.
"I somehow don't think that's what happened," Hermione said, after a moment of stunned silence at the table. "Anyway, she's dating Michael Corner in Ravenclaw."
"She's what?" Ron gaped.
"Honestly, Ron, if you paid the least bit of attention, you'd know that already."
Harry was also taken by surprise to learn this, but tried his best not to show it. He nodded along seriously when Ron spluttered, then changed the subject when Hermione gave him a very knowing look. "They took five people into the hospital wing when I saw them."
"One against seven, and getting four of her opponents in the hospital wing along with her-? Ginny's kinda bad," Seamus grinned.
"Kinda?" Dean said, appearing slightly dazed.
Their conversation was interrupted when Umbridge stood up at the staff table. Most students looked over in annoyance, but she smiled vindictively.
"Due to the appalling events of this afternoon, my decision to accept Quidditch as a suitable pastime for young students such as yourselves has been revoked. As of now, there will be no more of this violent and extravagant sport at Hogwarts. Accordingly, all broom privileges have been revoked."
There was a moment of horrified silence, which threatened to explode into a roar of outrage. A simpering smile of hers, followed by a close scan of the room, killed it before it could start. Everyone shuffled in their seats. She pranced back to her chair, continuing her meal. As soon as she had apparently dismissed them, people began whispering.
The twins plunked down across from Ron and Harry looking so grave that he braced himself for a joke.
"Good thing Oliver Wood's not here," George shook his head.
"He'd have had a coronary," Fred agreed.
"Banning quidditch?" Ron began, voice quiet but so highly pitched in fury that it approached the stratosphere. "I don't care what happens, if she touches my broom, I'll curse her stupid bow so far up her– ow!"
Hermione's foot moved back to where it had been before she'd viciously kicked his shin. "I'd be more worried about what she's going to do to Ginny."
"Nothing too bad, unless she actually wants to be cursed," George said, looking suddenly rather dangerous.
Harry glanced up at the table, where Umbridge was daintily eating her food. He glared darkly, wishing suddenly that Snape had done a lot worse than break her quills. Trailing his gaze along the rest of the table, he wondered what the other teachers thought about all of this. When he got to Snape, it was to find the man's black eyes already fixed unwaveringly upon him.
He immediately sensed the warning. Don't do anything rash. Harry matched his angry stare with one of his own. What am I supposed to do, then? he wanted to yell. Snape didn't let up or look away, and Harry finally felt his own expression cave in sullenly. He got the tiniest nod in return, although it was accompanied with a narrowing of the eyes. I'm watching. Harry got the message, but wished he hadn't.
It was going to be a lot more heated of an argument if Snape caught him.
"You ready?"
"Yeah."
"What about the girls?"
"They're going to meet us there."
Harry and Ron clutched their brooms tighter as they hurried out of the portrait with Fred and George. As previously agreed upon, the twins went off in one direction while Ron and Harry took off in another. Harry threw his invisibility cloak over them and they ran, crouched, down to a little-known side exit.
The Quidditch supplies closet might have been spelled shut, but the changing tents were not. Inside, barely extinguishable in the gloom, sat Katie, Angelina, Alicia, and a newly-recovered Ginny.
"This is a bit exciting," Alicia admitted. "I haven't sneaked out for midnight Quidditch in a while."
"I have," Ginny said.
"Wot?" Fred, George, and Ron said.
"Wot?" she parroted back innocently.
"C'mon, we haven't got much time," Angelina huffed. She was determinedly trooping through the year with a strong self-delusion that Umbridge would succumb to the DADA curse any day now, ideally right before when the Gryffidnor–Ravenclaw match was formerly scheduled to be.
Wherever they had got them from—and it was a secret they weren't sharing—the twins had found a full Quidditch set that glowed in the dark. "Not too much, 'course, just enough for us on the pitch to see." Harry carefully noted the bludgers' muted green shine and committed the Snitch's yellow light to memory.
They dragged the set out onto the pitch. It was a clear night, and the moon was new, so most of the light came from the bright winter stars. Katie pointed out that this was a good thing, as it would make them harder to see from the castle.
"Who's going to be looking out the window at half twelve?"
"Hopefully no one, but if they are, I'd rather not end up in detention with Umbridge."
"Not that it'd be too awful now, with those awful quills gone, eh, Harry?" Katie nudged him. He gave a wan smile and hoped the dark hid his wince.
"Let's go," Angelina said, mounting her broom and kicking off.
Harry and the others quickly followed suit. Harry had never played Quidditch when it was full nighttime like this, and it was exhilarating. With the sights around him so uniform and dull, his other senses took over. The rush of wind past his ears, smelling of night air and a hint of rain, sounded like laughter and close secrets whispered in the ear of a friend. He imagined that, if he listened closely enough, the dark would unveil hidden wonders about magic and the world around him.
He disregarded the snitch for a moment, rising above the rest of the players and enjoying the simple joy of flying for a while. Eventually, however, he grew curious and looked around for the tiny yellow shimmer.
He spotted it in the distance, buzzing in tight little circles on the other side of the pitch. He leaned forward on his broom, the night lending him daring, and sped towards it. He easily ducked and weaved around the other players, who gave good-natured complaints as he zipped past them with inches to spare.
He reached out a hand, about to close his fist around the snitch, when it jerked away a few inches to the side. He made another grab, but it eluded him again. Instead of zipping away like a normal snitch would, however, it resumed its tight little circle. He tilted his head at it, confused, then looked through the circle of light its path was making in the air to see a pink figure stalking towards them.
His heart dropped all fifty feet to the grass and he swiped the snitch up, turning and racing back to the other players.
"She's coming!" he warned hoarsely.
"Who?"
"You know who!"
"What?!"
"No, not- the other one!"
"Umbridge!" Ginny gasped.
"Go!" Angelina snapped, and they all took off. Fred and George hurried to gather up the quaffle and bludgers, while the girls all headed straight for the tent to gather up any evidence of who had been there. Ron moved to land, but Harry punched his shoulder.
"No! Come on!"
He turned his broom for the castle, and Ron followed without question. Harry stuffed the snitch into his pocket and gripped his broom with both hands, rising high into the air and zagging erratically towards Gryffindor tower. He hoped she wouldn't notice them, but didn't want her to see where they were headed if she did. Just in case, they did a lap around Ravenclaw tower before heading for the window into their dorm.
Harry rapped his knuckles urgently on the pane as Ron glanced back over his shoulder at the pitch.
Neville's bemused, half-asleep face came into view. He saw them and his eyes widened comically. He hurried to unlatch the window, opening it with a rough tug.
"What are you doing?"
Harry and Ron squeezed through sideways, brooms clattering against the frame. Dean and Seamus both peeked out of their curtains and looked over.
"Trying not to get expelled," Harry said. "Ron, go get changed, I'll take care of these."
Ron tossed his broom at Harry, who spelled them both to be resistant to Accio like Hermione had shown them. He then stared at them for a minute, ears straining for any sounds of Umbridge or Filch at the door. Abruptly, in a flash of inspiration, he put sticking charms on the handles and leaned out the window to wedge them under the short sill outside. He pulled the pane shut behind him, ignoring the other boys' further questions as he practically ripped his uniform off and threw on his pyjamas.
He had just thrown himself under the covers when there was a commotion in the common room.
"Please don't tell," Ron begged Seamus, who hesitated before nodding curtly.
"Delores, I must protest!" McGonagall's voice snapped. The door was thrown open, and Umbridge stood there. Her hands were on her hips. She panted heavily, figure dishevelled where it was outlined by the light in the hall. She must have ran back as soon as the players noticed her approaching and scattered.
"Students on the Quidditch pitch! Breaking curfew, the broom restriction, and the Quidditch ban! These are grounds for expulsion!"
"I don't know who you're going to expel. Clearly, all of these students were asleep before you forced your way in," McGonagall said, glaring daggers at Harry and Ron over Umbridge's trembling head. Harry apologised to her in his mind, swearing to himself that he would buy her so many cat treats in thanks for standing up for them. Actually, that might not go over well…
"All of you, up!" Umbridge snapped, ignoring the head of house. The five boys all jumped out of their beds, standing awkwardly to attention next to them.
"P'ffesor? What's going on?" Ron slurred in a criminally convincing imitation of someone who had just been woken from a deep sleep. Umbridge marched over to him, looking him up and down for any evidence of rule breaking.
Out of her line of sight, Neville waved frantically to get Harry's attention. He pointed at the pile of Harry's clothes on the floor. In the pocket, the night-snitch's glow could be seen through the fabric. He hastily used his toe to flip a nearby sleeve over it.
Umbridge whipped around to glare at him suspiciously. He tried to blink owlishly.
"If you were sleeping, Mr. Potter, why do you have your glasses on?"
Bloody hell and double-bloody hell. "I fell asleep reading." Fortunately for him, he'd dumped his school books on his bed that evening and never bothered to pick them up in his rush to get back. One had been knocked off and had roughly landed, pages first, on the floor. He was amused to see that it was his Defence textbook. Potions, however, was still on his coverlet, and he gestured towards it.
"He does that a lot," Dean agreed. "Too tired from Snape's lessons and detentions to do his homework."
Umbridge's face grew even more squashed with displeasure. She looked from Dean, to Harry, to Ron, and finally back to Harry again. She settled her enraged look on him.
"If I get the slightest hint that you were on that Quidditch pitch tonight, Mr. Potter, detention will be the least of your worries." She turned on her heel and marched out. McGonagall gave them one more death glare before shutting the door.
The five of them stood frozen, listening to the footsteps retreat. When they were gone, Harry and Ron exchanged glances and gave in to quiet, shaky laughter.
