CHAPTER 2: Out of the Shadows (Part 2)
The Great Hall
5:15 p.m.
He was the first one of the fifth-year Slytherins to reach the Great Hall for an early dinner, right after Umbridge's class. Wanting to get Parkinson's essay out of the way as quickly as possible, he would eat quickly before going to the Room of Requirement and advance on his and Parkinson's essay before doing another set of training simulations. Taking his place at the end corner of the Slytherin table, he began choosing his dinner - grabbing a stack of French toast in front of him, as well as some butter and syrup.
He was just about to start enjoying his delicious meal, but was interrupted by the ruckus behind him.
"It's ridiculous, we're not doing anything!"
"She's wasting our time!"
"Does she really expect us to just re-read the same chapter over and over again? I read it like four times before the class had even reached its half point."
"You bothered reading that shit? That book is a guide on how to repeat the same sentence over and over again until you reach fifty chapters!"
"Well, what else was I supposed to do?"
"Oh, I don't know, literally anything else! Ugh, make some room!"
"Oi, that's my place!"
"Dibs on the pancakes! Hey!"
"You can't call dibs on shit, Nott."
"Fuck off, Malfoy."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry snapped at the five Slytherins who had just invaded his corner.
"We were looking to play Quidditch, actually," Parkinson gave him a sarcastic grin.
"You lot can eat at your place in the table, this is my corner."
"We don't care if we're ruining the loner, brooding persona you want to maintain, Potter." Malfoy drawled as he cut his pancakes. "We have bigger problems than you being upset."
"I thought you liked Umbridge, Draco," Daphne smirked.
"Yeah, you talked about her so much last week that I was sure you would end up trying to snog the toad before the end of the month." Blaise continued.
"Ugh, gross!" Malfoy exclaimed as he put down his fork. "No way, I'd renounce magic and become a filthy muggle before I kiss that old hag."
"What does this have to do with me?"
"It's house business, so shut up and deal with it."
"What the fuck do you want me to do about Umbridge," Harry snapped. "You're the one whose father is close to the Minister."
"What, you want me to call my daddy for help?"
"Well, I'm lacking daddies right now, so I guess you'll have to be the one who does it."
"He brings up a good point, Malfoy," Theo backed him up. "Your father could fix this in an instant."
"First of all, if you think my father would do anything out of the goodness of his heart, you're deeply mistaken. Unless forcing Umbridge to give us normal classes or at least some preferential treatment benefits him, he won't move a finger. And second of all, even if my father tried to fix this, Umbridge has full control of her classes, so there's nothing he can do to change them. The bitch actually believes the shit she's selling us!"
"So there's nothing we can do?" Harry asked.
"Not that I can think of."
"Good," he stood up. "Then I'll be on my way."
"Ah, ah, ah," Pansy grabbed his hand and pulled him down. "We're here to try and figure how to fix this. So if I'm forced to be here, then so are you."
"Malfoy already said there was nothing we could do-"
"I meant from the outside. If we do anything, it'll have to come from us."
"So what? You want to go against Umbridge? Won't that ruin whatever your daddy's planning on the outside."
The group went quiet as Malfoy stared back at him. Harry had never particularly cared to tone down his frankness when it came to Voldemort, but this was the first time he had talked about him and the Death Eaters since they came back this year - and something told Harry that the older year Slytherins wouldn't appreciate it if they had heard.
"Whatever my father's business with the Ministry is none of my concern, Potter," Draco spoke in a deadly serious tone. "And I don't particularly look forward to having six hours a week where we read that bloody book, and then another four hours on the weekend to write the fucking essay."
"I know you have a uniquely small brain, Malfoy, but you do realise you can do other things in the class. You could do other homeworks, you can read other books, hell, you can fall asleep just like Blaise does!"
"Actually, Umbridge warned me about that," Blaise said. "She said if she caught me sleeping in class again I'll have detention with her, and given the rumours, I don't really fancy going."
"What rumours?" Pansy asked.
"Have you seen Longbottom's hand, recently?" Daphne countered.
"I'm not a palm reader, so no."
"Well, it's got some kind of carving on it. I couldn't read what it is, but whatever it said, it's not natural."
"Yeah, and some Ravenclaws were shaken up after their detentions as well," Theo added.
"What did they get on detention for?" Malfoy asked. "Shouldn't they be smarter than Longbottom and his gang and not antagonise her?"
"They weren't, according to some of the other Ravenclaws who were in that class, they were just finishing up other assignments and were caught."
"Now do you see why we need her out?" He turned towards Harry pointedly.
"I've always seen why she needs to go, but what do you want from me, Malfoy!? I'm not the fucking Boy Who Lived or have family in places of power, what the fuck do you expect me to do!?"
"That's it!" Daphne exclaimed. "You're not the Boy Who Lived."
"Yes, that's what I just said." Harry rolled his eyes.
"Shut up. You're not the Boy Who Lived, but Longbottom is! And if the past four years have told us anything, it's that the idiot will put himself in the middle of the situation!"
"He's going to try and take down Umbridge!" Pansy grinned.
"Exactly! And if he does anything, most of the Gryffindors will side with him."
"But they hate him right now," Blaise pointed out.
"Please, as if that's going to stick," Harry bit out. "Give them a month, and they'll be back to praising him as if he were a god."
"And they hate Umbridge much more."
"But what will Longbottom be able to do?" Theo asked. "I mean, not even Dumbledore could stop the Ministry from placing Umbridge here."
"He'll find a way," Daphne said dismissively. "How did he beat the Triwizard Tournament, or find the Chamber of Secrets, or protect the Philosopher's Stone?"
"Dumb luck."
"Most likely, but that doesn't change the fact that he's managed the impossible before."
"So what? You want us to team up with Longbottom?" Malfoy asked, disgusted.
"Of course not," Daphne glared at him. "But we can help behind the scenes, without anyone knowing. That way, when Longbottom makes his move, all the risk is on him and all the reward is on us."
"Even if that was true and even if he managed to somehow get rid of Umbridge, how are we supposed to know how to help without talking to them and knowing what they're planning?" Harry questioned.
"We learn what they're planning."
"No shit, Sherlock. But how do you plan on learning what the three most secretive and closed-off students Hogwarts has seen in the past hundred years are planning to do?"
"I haven't gotten to that part yet, Potter, and I don't see you coming up with any better ideas."
"Alright," Draco cut it. "Here's what we'll do. Daphne, you and I can work on finding a way to snoop on their conversations. There must be something in the library or even in our family grimoire's that should let us do that - maybe Snape knows of a spell or potion that could help too. Theo, Blaise, you guys start spreading the idea of getting rid of Umbridge around the school, I don't think it should be that hard given how no one seems to like her, so it's an easy job."
"Yessir." Blaise grinned.
"Potter and Parkinson-"
"Stop right there, Blondie." Harry chuckled. "You might have these guys fooled to be your goons, but I'm not. You're not calling the shots around here, and I'm certainly not taking orders from you."
"What's your deal, Potter? What's the big deal about who's leading?"
"If it's no big deal, then I'll take the reins."
"Over my dead body, you are. I'm the leader of our year, you're the good for nothing recluse we decided to include."
"It's as simple as this, Malfoy. Either I call the shots, or I'm gone."
"Then go! We don't need you."
"Finally," Harry stood up, grabbed his bag from the ground and turned to leave.
"Do you know what your problem is?" Draco asked.
"Enlighten me," Harry replied sardonically.
"You think you're better than us. Ever since you bloody got here, you've had this entitled attitude, and it's why you don't have any friends."
Harry turned back and slightly ducked so that he was looking right at the Slytherin's face.
"I don't think I'm better than you, Malfoy. I know I am."
With one last smirk, Harry took his leave and began walking out of the Great Hall. The Umbridge plan was a good idea, one that he massively supported, but it wasn't his problem. The other Slytherins could do it with or without his help, and the last thing he wanted was to become another one of Malfoy's gorillas. He was actually surprised that even the others were willing to do so themselves.
Since the start of the first year, there were stark contrasts between the six genuine Slytherins, and the other four who were only there because of familial ties. Crabbe and Goyle had the combined intellect of a brain-dead horse, Davis was what you would find if you looked up sycophant in the dictionary, and Bullstrode was as independent and cunning as she was attractive and smart.
It was the other five house-mates who Harry respected.
Daphne was not only one of the most beautiful girls in the school, but was extremely cunning and manipulative in the most subtle ways. Blaise was a social butterfly who was friends with everyone, there was no person who disliked him, no rumour he didn't know, and he used all of that for his advantage. Theo, while also superb in the social area, was a master in any sport he picked up - he was almost chosen as seeker in their first year, but Snape didn't allow for it since it broke the school rules, and was later picked for it in second.
Draco, for as much crap as Harry enjoyed giving him, was more than competent in all the academic areas, and a prodigy at potions, and clearly good enough a leader to rally the whole year behind him. And then there was Pansy, she wasn't the cleverest in the social area, though when she really wanted to, she would be even better at it than Daphne or even Blaise, and she was whip smart in everything out there - there wasn't a subject she didn't ace at and was the only competition for Granger in becoming Head Girl.
He respected, and to a certain extent admired, each and every one of them - but goddamn it, could they get on his nerves.
"Where do you think you're off to, Potter?" A voice called out to him from behind him.
"You can't take a hint, can you, Parkinson? You should really know when you're being rejected."
"People don't reject me," she told him with a patronizing smile.
"I'm not people."
"Oh, I know." Pansy walked closer to him as the two stood alone in the second-floor hall.
"What? Did your lord Malfoy send you here to give me those doe eyes and make me come back to the team?"
"Fuck Malfoy-"
"My, my, I never knew you had a crush on our gel-covered leader. He's all yours if you- ow!"
"You done?" She asked, putting away her wand.
"Really?" Harry shook his hand to try and stop the burning sensation. "Out of all the spells to learn non-verbally, you learnt the stinging hex?"
"Oh, that effort completely paid off with this." Pansy grinned.
Note to self, look out for silent spells when dealing with Parkinson.
"Where are we going?" She asked.
"We? We are going nowhere. I am going to the library, and you are going to the furthest part of the school grounds from it."
"The library, huh?"
"Yes."
"The one that's on the first floor? Or is there another one I don't know about?" The faux innocence was dripping from her words.
"I needed the exercise."
She looked him up and down, her eyes moving at the speed of the beat of his heart. "Not really."
"I would thank you for your input, but then I remembered I didn't ask for it."
"Thanks," she grabbed his arm. "Now come on, let's go."
Harry stood firm and grabbed her arm on his hand, causing Pansy to turn back to him, displeasure clear on her expression.
"What's your game?"
"What do you mean?"
"Cut the bullshit, Parkinson. Draco and all the other guys from the school might be fooled if you try hard enough, but not me. For four years, we barely talk outside from when we need to, and now you can't seem to get away from me."
Pansy ripped her arm out of his grasp. "I'm not playing any games, Potter. But, like you, I'm not going to follow Malfoy every time he barks. He already thinks of himself as the king of the house, I'm not going to prove him right by becoming another one of his lapdogs."
"So, what are you doing here?"
"What am I- are you really that dimwitted? I want Umbridge out, I doubt there's a student here who wants her to keep her place as our teacher. And with how the Ministry is acting against Dumbledore and Longbottom, if we don't act now, we may not have a chance to stop this at all. Let's work together on this! Let's be real, Malfoy and the others won't get far without our help, but we can do it without theirs."
"So you just want to remove Umbridge?"
"Yes!"
"Then find someone else to work with." Harry turned around and began to walk away.
"What!?"
"I'm sorry," he said as he kept walking. "I must've spoken in French. Let me rephrase it; piss off, Parkinson."
"You couldn't possibly want Umbridge to stay!"
"I don't."
"So why the fuck aren't you doing anything!?"
Harry stopped in his tracks and turned back towards her. Pansy was only centimetres away, he could feel her rapid breaths clash against his chest as she stared up at him, determined and angry.
"Because I don't see how that's my problem. Up until now, Umbridge is only punishing students who go against her, idiots who are constantly antagonizing her rather than being smart and keeping their mouth shut. So no, I don't give a shit if I have to read a stupid book over and over again or make boring essays for the rest of the year - hell, my business might boom because of her. So tell me, why the hell would I do something that would not only hurt my business, but help Neville Fucking Longbottom?"
"So that's it? All of this is because of Neville Longbottom?" Harry stayed silent and Pansy continued. "How did I never realise that you're more jealous of Longbottom than even Malfoy. It's pathetic really, is your ego that frail that you hate Neville Longbottom that much, even if the boy himself doesn't even know who you are? Are you really that desperate for attention that you can't deal with the fact that, outside our house-mates, no one seems to even know you?"
"Shut the fuck up, Parkinson."
"Or what? You know, for all the shit you talk and how tough you act, you're nothing but a scared little kid, whining that the rules aren't fair. Well, let me give you an insight into life, Potter; it isn't fair! The sooner you learn that, the sooner you'll stop acting as an entitled child and use the cards that life gave you."
Harry blinked a few times, not removing his eyes from her. "Are you done?"
"Yeah," Parkinson scoffed. "Yeah, I think I'm done. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to the library and think of a way to stop Umbridge, because, unlike you, some of us don't just think about ourselves."
Pansy hit his shoulder with her own as she walked past him, leaving Harry alone in the hallway. He could feel his heart trying to tear itself out of his chest, and the bile stuck at the top of his throat. His hands were almost shaking, and it was taking all of his energy to maintain a composed look.
He wanted to punch something, to launch a thousand curses, to grab a broom and ride it at its highest speed to the point where it is almost falling apart because of the exertion. Harry clutched his fists and clenched his jaw, before furiously heading towards the Room of Requirement, already decided on skipping the essays.
The Room of Requirement
8:30 p.m.
Harry panted fiercely as he stared at the eight dummies laying on the ground in front of him. Two were still burning in the corner of the room, the clothes completely gone at this point, leaving the endoskeletons the room created for the dummies. Another one was basically on his feet, completely beheaded with an axe he'd conjured and launched at it before he had grabbed it and manually decapitated it. The other five were sprawled around, all of them killed with powerful variations of either the expulso, reducto, or diffindo curses.
He'd been at this for the past three hours, doing duelling test runs over and over again, not even bothering to ask for realistic scenarios to simulate, the flaming ire inside him being the only thing managing to keep him from getting tired. He could tell that the room had slowly but surely reduced the difficulty of the dummies as he asked for more of them to fight, but he didn't care. The only thing on his mind was taking his anger out on anything he could.
"Cut it," Harry told the room as he dropped the axe to the floor, and immediately, all the dummies began gradually disappearing.
He walked out of the arena section of the room and into the bathroom that had just materialized. He hadn't even bothered with placing the usual charms on himself or his clothes, leaving him dripping wet and in need of a new outfit before he returned to the dormitories. Stripping naked, Harry went into the shower and began cleaning himself as best he could.
He was barely conscious of what he was doing, his body was acting on its own as his mind was still focused on his argument with Pansy. Who the hell did she think she was? She didn't know him, she didn't know how good he really was, she didn't know shit about his life. She had no right to piss on his day just because he wasn't in a particularly sharing or caring mood. Besides, Umbridge hadn't done anything to him, she was not his problem.
What did she want from him? Did she really expect him to be like Longbottom and ruin his life to play the hero? That wasn't his bloody job, and besides, who was her to judge him. She was just as selfish as he was, she had constantly bullied Granger and Longbottom, she had never done anything for anyone unless it benefited herself. And now she wanted to get on her high horse and shit on him? And he was supposed to, just what? Let her? No ma'am, no, thank you.
Before he knew it, Harry exited the shower and was shocked when he found a clean Slytherin uniform hanging above his old, bloody one that was crumpled on the floor. "Thanks," he mumbled before proceeding to dry himself and put on the new uniform. His emerald eyes stared back at him on the mirror as he straightened his similarly-coloured tie. His eyes seemed distant and unfocused, he must be tired after everything.
Harry yawned and walked towards the door. "See ya, tomorrow, room," he muttered. "Good night."
It wasn't until he'd walked away from the room that he realised he had forgotten to ask it to leave him somewhere closer to the Slytherin Common Room. However, he was too lazy to turn back, knowing that it would still be a shorter way if he did, and kept on going.
The way back to the dormitories was fairly quiet, it still wasn't curfew, but by this point most students were either in their respective common rooms with friends, or in the library cramming for the next day. He didn't encounter a single student on his way there, at least not until he reached the second floor.
There was a stairway that lead straight to the dungeons and was right beside the Slytherin Common Room, but it only went up to the second floor. So when Harry reached that floor, he left the path he was taking via the Grand Staircase and took the lesser known path. It was then when he heard it, he'd just passed the Defence classroom and was about to turn a corner, but stopped when the sounds of whimpers and cries echoed across the corridor.
A part of him wanted to turn back and forget he even heard it, to be on his merry way and never think of it ever again, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He slowly turned the corner, and saw a small kid sitting against the wall. He had jet black hair and was wearing green robes above his uniform - it was one of the first-year Slytherins. Harry hadn't interacted with the first-years this year, or for the past three years, for that matter. He wasn't picked as a prefect and wasn't looking to befriend small kids, so he just kind of ignored their existence.
Harry hesitated for a second before he walked towards the kid, but it seemed that he wasn't as quiet as he thought, because the kid almost instantly looked up, looking panicked.
"Hey," he told him as he crouched down. "What's your name?"
"M-Michael," he stuttered. "Michael F-Flint."
"Hello, Michael." Harry stopped, he didn't really know what to say - he'd never really been in this situation before. "How are we doing, tonight?" He asked lamely.
Michael bit his lip, his eyes getting redder as if he was about to begin crying again. "Good," he choked out.
"Good?" The kid nodded at his words. Harry stared at the kid for a few seconds before he slowly extended his hand. Michael recoiled away, almost as if he expected him to hit him, and Harry stopped mid-air until he was sure the kid was okay. Once he didn't flinch, Harry wiped the tears away from his face.
"Never let them see you cry," he told him with a small smile. "It doesn't matter what they do to you or how bad they hurt you, never give them the satisfaction. Cry when you're alone, when no one can see you like that, but never in front of them, okay?"
"O-okay," he answered, slightly more relaxed.
"What happened, Michael?"
"I- I- Professor Umbridge- she-" The kid couldn't continue, he broke down and began crying again. He tried to continue talking, but it was mostly whimpers rather than words.
"Hey, it's okay, it's okay." Harry tried comforting the kid, but failed miserably at it. A part of him felt the need to grab him and give him a hug, but he couldn't do it. He kept trying to calm him down by rubbing his arms, but abruptly stopped when he caught sight of his hands.
"Michael," Harry told him gently as he grabbed his hand and inspected it. The hand was bleeding profusely, and there was a large carving on it.
I MUST NOT DISOBEY MY BETTERS
Harry's blood began to boil, he could feel himself fuming with anger, the rage in his chest felt like an added weight to his body. He wanted to smash into Umbridge's office, to rip her apart with his own hands, her and any other person who would dare treat a child like this. Never had he ever wanted to kill someone with the fury he felt at the moment.
It was close, extremely close, it was honestly a miracle that he managed to force himself to stay right there and not break his calm demeanour.
"It's going to be okay, Michael," his voice was trembling, and he had to remove his hands from the kid's arms out of fear of gripping them too tightly. "You're going to be okay. I promise."
