Here is the Eighth chapter. Do let me know your thoughts, feedback, and any suggestions for improvement. Your support means a lot!
Posted: October 16, 2024
Chapter 8: Looming Confrontations
Harry stood outside Umbridge's office, his fingers brushing over the crinkled parchment invitation Daphne had handed him days ago. The heavy air of the corridor pressed down on him, as if the very walls were whispering caution. He'd decided to attend the meeting, mostly out of curiosity, but a sense of unease twisted like a knot in his stomach. The Inquisitorial Squad—a group handpicked by Umbridge herself—was something he instinctively wanted to avoid. But Daphne had been firm when she said, "It's more complicated than it looks." That had stuck with him. He trusted her judgment, at least enough to see for himself what this was all about.
Taking a deep breath, Harry knocked on the door. For a moment, there was silence, followed by Umbridge's unmistakably high-pitched voice calling out, "Come in!"
He pushed the door open, his eyes adjusting to the sickly pink tones of the room, which were a jarring contrast to the cold formality of the gathering inside. Umbridge's office looked even more suffocating than usual with its doilies, kitten plates, and an overwhelming scent of perfume that made Harry's nose twitch. It was a room that seemed to mock the seriousness of the meeting, but the faces of those present were anything but lighthearted.
The room was filled with familiar fifth-year faces—all Slytherins, of course. Draco Malfoy stood confidently near the fireplace, his back straight, arms crossed, looking like he already owned the place. Blaise Zabini was beside him, his posture deceptively relaxed, though his sharp eyes were alert, flicking around the room as if taking mental notes. Theodore Nott sat slouched in a chair, his arms draped lazily over the armrests, giving off an air of complete indifference, but Harry knew better. Nott was always listening, always calculating.
In the corner, Tracey Davis and Pansy Parkinson were whispering to each other, shooting the occasional glance across the room, as if they were trying to gauge the dynamics of the group. Their low giggles seemed out of place in the tense atmosphere.
As Harry entered, he could feel the subtle shift in attention. Eyes slid in his direction, some curious, others appraising. He was out of place here, and everyone knew it. Slytherin territory wasn't where people expected to see Harry Potter.
Harry was still scanning the room, trying to get his bearings, when a voice sliced through his thoughts.
"Ah, Mr. Potter," Umbridge purred, stepping forward from behind her desk. Her voice was saccharine, dripping with false sweetness, but there was an unmistakable sharpness behind her words. She smiled at him, her lips curling with an unpleasant satisfaction, like she had won some secret game by simply getting him to show up.
She looked far too pleased to see him.
"I must admit," she continued, her eyes gleaming with curiosity as she approached, "I was quite surprised to see your name on the list." Her smile widened, but it didn't reach her eyes, which were studying him intently, searching for something beneath the surface. "A Ravenclaw, but not quite the typical one, hmm?"
Her words carried an unsettling weight, and Harry felt as though she was dissecting him with every glance. The way her gaze shifted slightly towards the Slytherins in the room, especially Daphne and Blaise, made Harry's stomach twist.
"You're not like the rest of your house—ambitious, aren't you?" she said, her tone low and conspiratorial. Her eyes narrowed, now clearly assessing him. "And you seem to keep... prestigious company." She gestured slightly toward Daphne and Blaise with a quick tilt of her head. "You know how to make connections, don't you?"
Harry glanced at Daphne and Blaise, their expressions carefully neutral. Blaise gave the faintest of nods, acknowledging the attention, while Daphne remained perfectly composed, her face a mask of indifference. Harry wasn't sure how to respond. The entire situation felt like a trap, and Umbridge's words slithered around him, trying to ensnare him in some web he couldn't yet see.
There was something about her tone, the way she singled him out, that made his skin crawl. It wasn't just flattery—Umbridge was probing, trying to find out what drove him. Harry could feel the weight of her scrutiny, as though she were trying to peel back layers to see what really motivated him.
Before Harry could say anything, Umbridge straightened up, her face brightening as she clapped her hands together, the sharp sound echoing through the room. "Now, let's begin," she announced, her voice taking on a more formal tone, though the artificial sweetness never left it. She looked over the assembled students, her gaze lingering on each of them for a brief moment before moving on, like she was sizing them up for something far more sinister than just a school squad.
"You've all been chosen to join the Inquisitorial Squad from your year, which is an honor, I assure you," she continued, her voice full of self-satisfaction. "Your job, as part of this squad, will be to help me maintain order within Hogwarts." The smile on her face widened, but her eyes grew colder. "Dumbledore's reign of chaos has gone on long enough, and it's time for the students to be held accountable for violating the Ministry's decrees."
Her voice dripped with venom as she said Dumbledore's name, the saccharine mask she wore slipping just enough to show the deep loathing beneath it. The fake warmth she had used to greet them was gone, replaced by a sharp, almost cruel determination. Harry could feel the tension in the room grow, the students shifting slightly as her tone hardened.
"As you know," she continued, her voice taking on a more lecturing tone, "many students are openly defying the Ministry's educational decrees. But with your help, we will restore order. You will find out who's violating decrees"
She began pacing slowly in front of the group, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, as though she were preparing to deliver a grand speech. Her eyes swept across the room, taking in every face with a pointed stare, making sure each student knew the weight of what she was saying. There was something unsettling about how controlled and deliberate her movements were, as if every step, every gesture, was carefully crafted to intimidate and manipulate.
"You will have the authority to report any behavior that goes against the Ministry's guidelines," she said, her voice taking on that high-pitched, sweet tone again, though the threat behind her words was clear. "You will be awarded house points for your efforts, and... I have been given permission to assign extra grades as well for those who assist me in keeping the school on track." She paused, letting the words sink in, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"This is an opportunity," she continued, her voice softening as if she were offering them some great gift, "for you all to secure not only your futures but the future of Hogwarts."
Harry felt his stomach twist uncomfortably. He had expected something along these lines, but hearing it laid out so clearly made it feel even worse than he had imagined. Spying on their fellow students, reporting them for any minor infraction, all in exchange for extra house points and grades? It was low, even for Umbridge. And the way she framed it, as though they were doing something noble by helping her tighten her grip on the school, made Harry feel sick. This wasn't about maintaining order—this was about control, pure and simple. 'Where in seven hells did I get myself into this time?' He thought.
Umbridge's eyes flickered across the room, watching for reactions, but most of the students stayed silent, either out of fear or perhaps quiet agreement. Harry couldn't help but glance at Malfoy, who looked far too pleased with the arrangement, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Your first task," Umbridge continued, her voice turning syrupy sweet once more, "will be to monitor gatherings of students. I've been told there are secret gatherings and we need to find them" She paused, as if the weight of the responsibility were a reward in itself. "And be on the lookout for any meetings that seem... suspicious. We must root out this Dumbledore-inspired rebellion before it spreads any further."
Harry's jaw clenched. 'Rebellion,' she called it, as if students meeting together to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts was an act of treason. This was what she wanted—to turn them into informants, spies in their own school, feeding her the information she needed to crush any opposition to her rule. 'Bloody Ministry , Bloody Voldemort and Bloody Dumbledore' he thought
When the meeting finally ended, Harry wasted no time making his way toward the door, his mind racing with thoughts of what had just transpired. The oppressive atmosphere in Umbridge's office, with her sugary voice laying out her plan to turn students into informants, left a bitter taste in his mouth. He stepped into the corridor, grateful for the cool air, only to find Daphne already waiting for him, her posture as calm and collected as ever.
"You seem to be taking this lightly," Harry muttered as they started walking, his voice low. The meeting had rattled him more than he wanted to admit. He couldn't shake the image of Umbridge's cold smile, the way she had so casually offered rewards for betraying fellow students.
Daphne gave him a brief, unreadable glance before her eyes returned to scanning the hallway, making sure no one was eavesdropping. Her face remained composed, almost indifferent. "It's not about taking it lightly, Potter," she replied, her voice steady, as if the whole situation was just another day at Hogwarts. "It's about understanding the game."
"The game?" Harry asked, his frown deepening. He had expected Daphne to have some explanation, but this felt almost too casual for what they'd just been dragged into.
Daphne stopped walking for a moment and turned to face him, her expression serious but calm. "It would look bad for me—really bad—if I didn't join. Think about it. If all the Slytherins joined and I refused without any solid reason, people would notice. Slytherins are all about positioning. If Umbridge suspects me of disloyalty, or if other students start thinking I'm not on board, it could cause more problems than you'd think. You know what's out there don't you. I just don't have only to think about Hogwarts anymore"
She resumed walking, her gaze flickering ahead. "And that's not a risk I'm willing to take, especially not when extra points and grades are involved. The deel is too good to miss out if I don't agree I would look like a fool with unnecessary target on myself and my family"
Harry's frown deepened as he processed her words. He had expected something more—maybe that she was secretly resisting Umbridge, or that she had some grand plan to undermine the Inquisitorial Squad. But her reasoning was so... pragmatic. "So, you're doing it for the grades and your family?" he asked, his voice laced with disappointment.
Daphne gave him a sidelong glance, and for a moment, the corner of her lips quirked into a half-smile. "I'm doing it because it's a smart move. Slytherins don't play these games for nothing, Potter. Sometimes you have to play along to stay ahead. Don't think of it as loyalty to Umbridge—think of it as self-preservation."
Harry let out a breath, frustration bubbling up inside him. "I still don't like it, and why was I even dragged in this?" he admitted, shaking his head.
"You're not supposed to like it," Daphne said, her voice cool but not unkind. "But we're in a difficult situation. Slytherins know how to survive. Sometimes that means blending in, playing the part, even if you don't agree with it. As for you Nott purposed your name he liked how you were working in our club"
Her words lingered in the air as they walked. Harry couldn't argue with her logic, but it didn't sit right with him. The idea of playing along with Umbridge's twisted plans, even for the sake of self-preservation, felt like giving in to something dark and corrupt. Yet, he couldn't deny that Daphne had a point—refusing outright could paint a target on her back and her family as well, and that wasn't a risk most people would take. 'I just wanted a relaxing year before I disappeared and now am stuck in this' he thought.
"Look," Daphne added after a moment, her tone softening slightly. "You don't have to like it, and you don't even have to agree with it. But if you keep your head down, you might find there's more to gain than you think."
Harry glanced at her, uncertain. Daphne wasn't saying much outright, but there was an underlying message in her words. Maybe she wasn't just talking about grades and house points—maybe she was talking about something more. Something he hadn't quite grasped yet.
In another part of the castle, Neville Longbottom sat in the Gryffindor common room, staring down at the Marauder's Map spread out in front of him. The flickering light from the fireplace cast long shadows across the room, but Neville's attention was fully on the map. His heart raced as he followed the little dot labeled Harry Potter, moving around inside Dolores Umbridge's office, surrounded by other familiar names—Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott. The longer he stared, the more his stomach churned.
"Look at this!" Neville softly exclaimed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and panic as he hurriedly turned the map so Ron and Hermione could see, who were sitting nearby.
Ron leaned in first, his eyes narrowing at the sight. "What the hell?" he muttered, his tone dark and suspicious. Hermione, sitting beside him, gasped as she took in the scene.
"Harry… Potter? What's he doing in Umbridge's office?" she asked, her voice filled with doubt and confusion. Her eyes darted from Harry's name to the others, her mind racing to make sense of what she was seeing. It didn't add up. Harry hated Umbridge as much as any of them—maybe even more.
"I can't believe it!" Ron burst out suddenly, his face flushing red with anger. His fists clenched at his sides, and he stood up, pacing in front of the couch. "I knew something was off! He's a bloody traitor! He's joined her squad, hasn't he?" He sat down quickly as he saw other Gryffindors eying him.
Neville frowned, trying to calm Ron down, though he wasn't sure he could do it as he felt rage within him. His own feelings were bubbling up, twisting inside him like a knot he couldn't untangle. "He had been acting... different lately," Neville added quietly, his voice tinged with rage.
Ron slammed his fist down on the back of a chair. "This is it, isn't it? He's sold us out! I told you he was fishy from the start! First he doesn't come to the recent meetings, then he's always sneaking off—now we know where he's been going!"
Hermione bit her lip, her mind replaying the last few weeks, trying to piece together what had changed in Potter's behavior. He had been distant, showing little interest in Dumbledore's Army meetings, or their efforts to fight back against Umbridge's oppressive rule. But still... something about this didn't sit right with her. She refused to believe that He would turn his back on them so easily.
"There has to be an explanation," Hermione said, though her voice was wavering with uncertainty. She stared at Harry's dot on the map, moving in circles inside Umbridge's office. "Maybe he's doing something else? Maybe he's... spying on them for us?" she suggested, though even as the words left her mouth, they sounded weak.
"Spying?" Ron scoffed, his face twisting with disbelief. "Are you serious, Hermione? No way! Ponce has joined them! He's been distant for weeks. He's probably told Umbridge everything about Dumbledore's Army by now! That's how she's going to shut us down!" He muttered this time his face was all red.
Neville nodded slowly, his expression grim. "He's in there with Malfoy and the rest of them, Hermione. In her office. What else could he be doing? I don't know... but we have caught him red-handed... I never trusted him….. But this is hard evidence…. You have to agree with us now"
The weight of the situation hung heavily in the room, the crackling of the fireplace the only sound that broke the suffocating silence. Hermione's mind raced as she tried to make sense of it all. She knew Harry—didn't she? She wanted to believe that he wouldn't betray them like this, that there was some other reason for his actions. But every passing moment, with his dot lingering inside that office, made it harder to convince herself that it was anything other than what it appeared to be.
"But still..." Hermione said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked down at the map again. "This could be something else. I want to believe that Harry wouldn't betray us like this. He wouldn't—he couldn't."
Ron's face twisted with anger, his patience snapping. "You're too trusting, Hermione! He's sold us out! Wake up! He's been off with the Slytherins—sneaking around with Greengrass. He's probably in bed with them too. And now this? You really think he's on our side anymore? We've been played!"
Hermione flinched at Ron's words, her throat tightening as doubt started to creep into her own thoughts. She didn't want to believe it. But the evidence was there, right in front of them, as clear as day.
Neville spoke up again, his voice heavy with sadness trying to comfort Hermione. "To you it may seem you don't know what's going on, but... he's in there with them now. You may want to believe him, Hermione, but this... this doesn't look good for him. See from our perspective"
Hermione looked at her friend's face and then map with a deep sense of gratification. "For the first time in quite awhile she didn't have any answer for her friends"
So, this was for the Eighth chapter.
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