The first Hogsmeade weekend of the year fell in mid-October. There'd been a lot of discussion about holding an Eihwaz meeting that morning while most of the rest of the school was in the village, but they ultimately decided that it would be too conspicuous; they kept a list of students who left the school, which meant—if Umbridge were so inclined—she'd simply have to use the process of elimination to find the names of those who'd stayed behind. It wouldn't tell her everything—Harry was fairly sure she didn't quite know what was going on—but she was suspicious of something and those names were sure to go on her own list of who to watch more closely.
Even if that were not the case, Harry would still have been inclined to go; though it had only been a week, he was eager to see Padfoot—and whoever else was free to come with him—who'd promised to meet them at the Hog's Head… them being Harry, Ron, and Hermione; Draco had received a letter from Mr Malfoy, asking to meet up, and Ginny had made plans with Luna, Colin, and the Greengrass twins.
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter," Hydrus said, shoving past Harry as they neared the school gate.
"What for?" Harry asked tersely, though he wasn't surprised; Hydrus had been deducting points almost every time he opened his mouth in Harry's vicinity.
"This should have been a nice day out to the village, but you're here, marring it with your general presence and patheticness." He gave Harry's empty left sleeve a glance. "And actually, another five for being found in the company of a mudblood and bloodtraitor." He smirked at Ron and Hermione.
"Hydrus," Draco said wearily, and Hydrus straightened a little, eyeing him. Draco's eyes narrowed. "Kindly—"
"Twenty points from Slytherin," Cedric said, coming up behind the fifth year Slytherins with Cho beside him. "For an abuse of power and blatant prejudice, Malfoy, and because you lot—" He frowned disapprovingly at Crabbe and Goyle, and at Pansy and Daphne. "—are going along with it."
"The High Inquisitor gave members of the Inquisitorial Squad permission to deduct house points as they saw fit, Diggory," Daphne said, lifting a hand to adjust the silver pin on her robes.
"No," Cho said, frowning. "She gave us permission to deduct points to enforce safety and respect in her absence." Her own pin glinted in the morning sun as she stepped forward. "If she were here, I very much doubt she'd be deducting points for blood status, which means you shouldn't either."
"You're a new member," Pansy said, sweetly enough that Harry thought she had at least a little respect for Cho, "so maybe you don't understand how all this works just yet…"
"You're right," Cho said, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. "I should ask the High Inquisitor myself, for clarity… I'd hate to undermine everything she's putting into place here by not properly understanding the bounds of the powers that come with this." She nodded down at her pin.
Daphne and Pansy blanched at that, but Hydrus only sneered and led the others away.
"Good riddance," Harry heard Cho mutter. She folded her arms, frowning after them, but when Cedric wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she smiled.
"Very noble of you both," Draco said, "saving Gryffindor from a descent into negative house points… for another few hours, anyway."
"What he means is thank you," Hermione said, elbowing Draco. She sighed. "Although he's probably right."
"I think there are more important things to worry about than house points at the moment," Cedric said. "Did you see the—" He glanced at something behind them and his mouth pressed into a thin line. It was an expression Harry recognised, and resignation crawled over Harry, even before she spoke:
"Is there a problem here?" Umbridge asked.
"There was, actually," Cedric said, straightening. "I'm disappointed to report I came across several Inquisitorial Squad members abusing their station by docking unwarranted house points."
"From Mr Potter and his friends, I suppose," Umbridge asked. "Because if so, I think it's quite likely it was warranted, Mr Diggory. Further, as you are not a member of my Inquisitorial Squad and therefore not familiar with the rules I've set for them, I'm not sure you're well placed to police their actions."
"Sorry, High Inquisitor," Cho said timidly, "but I have been briefed as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, and they were doing the wrong thing…"
As Umbridge turned her attention to Cho, Cedric caught Harry's eye and gave a subtle tilt of his head.
"Thanks," Harry mouthed, and then he and the others slipped away toward the gate.
Sirius let out a low whistle when Ron—the last of the kids—had been allowed through the gates by Filch and off the school grounds. As he'd expected, the others were oblivious, but Harry's head snapped up and when his eyes landed on Sirius and the others, he blinked in surprise. He also looked a little worried, and Sirius saw rather than heard him murmur something to the others and lead the way over.
Stella let out a screech and pulled free of Dora's hands to totter toward Harry, arms outstretched.
"Look at you," he said, meeting her halfway, and knelt to hug her and scoop her up. Dora's scent was proud and warm, and she went to hug Harry. Fleur likewise moved forward, hugging Hermione first, then Ron and Draco, and then finally pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek.
"What's going on?" Harry asked Sirius, as Dora and Stella moved to greet the others. "I thought we were meeting at the Hog's Head…?"
"We were until we saw the Prophet," Sirius said grimly. Harry's mouth turned down and he nodded; clearly he'd seen the morning's paper.
"Awful, isn't it?" Hermione asked, hugging Sirius. "Do they know if Mr Ollivander's alive? The paper only said he was missing—"
"That's still all we know," Dora said, frowning. "Hopefully the fact that there wasn't a body means he's alive, but then, the Dark Mark usually means…"
"Nothing good," Ron finished. He shook Sirius' hand, and then stepped back to let a grim-looking Draco do the same.
"Was anything else taken?" Harry asked. "Wands, or money, or—"
"We're not sure," Sirius said. "The whole place was ransacked, and without Ollivander to help inventory what's left behind, there's no real way to know."
"Right," Harry said. He looked troubled, and Sirius was sure they were both wondering the same thing; was this attack on the wandmaker's shop part of Voldemort's own project, or was it part of whatever Crouch and Peter were working on?
"As soon as I know more, you will," Sirius promised. "Oh, and speaking of knowing more… These came for you lot, before I forget." He pulled four envelopes from his robes and handed them out. Hermione brightened, but the boys all looked bewildered.
"What—?"
"Well, well…"
Harry's expression had turned politely neutral—though Sirius could smell his frustration—but Ron, Hermione, and Draco all openly frowned.
Dora—who'd had pink hair—seemed to take one look at Umbridge's pink ensemble and immediately changed her hair to green, and Fleur folded her arms and drew herself up to her full height; as far as Sirius knew, she hadn't met Umbridge before, but if her scent was anything to go by, the stories doing the rounds back at Headquarters were sufficient for her to have formed an opinion.
"What do we have here?" Umbridge continued, when none of them made any move to greet or otherwise acknowledge her. Several responses came to mind—none of them polite—and it took more effort than Sirius would have expected not to say them aloud.
"I'm sorry," Fleur said, arching a perfect eyebrow as she stared down her nose at Umbridge, "but who are you?"
It was hard to tell whether Umbridge was more annoyed she hadn't been recognised, or more pleased she'd have an excuse to introduce herself; she drew herself up to her full height (which was shorter than everyone except perhaps Dora, only Sirius noticed Dora seemed to be subtly growing) and smoothed down the pink tweed jacket she was wearing:
"I, dear, am Hogwarts' High Inquisitor and Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher—Dolores Umbridge."
"Hmm," Fleur said, looking unimpressed. "And did you want sometheenk?"
Though it was a clear dismissal, Umbridge did not take it as one; her pale eyes brightened and she nodded:
"I did, yes," she said, and turned to the kids, holding out an imperious hand. "What are those? The envelopes."
"Not any business of yours," Sirius said incredulously, before Harry or any of the other three could respond.
"That's where you'd be wrong," she said, with a poisonously sweet smile. "As High Inquisitor—"
"You're in charge of reviewing the educational standards at Hogwarts, overseeing the discipline of students, and castle security," Sirius interrupted. "I read the Prophet. That's why I'm not sure why you seem to think you're entitled to read students' private post for no other reason than that you're curious about what it says."
"In order to protect students in the castle, it may sometimes be necessary to screen their post for— for curses, or— poisons." Umbridge's confidence returned. "These are dark times we're living in after all, or so your department keeps saying."
"About time the rest of the Ministry started to acknowledge that," Dora said, arching an eyebrow. Umbridge curled her lip. "I admire your vigilance, High Inquisitor, but I think you're clutching at straws in this particular instance; Sirius is an Auror. He's trained—like the rest of us—in the detection of curses and poisons, and knows how to deal with them. He'd certainly never give Harry—or any of the others—anything dangerous."
"And what of the dangers enclosed which aren't magical?" she asked. "Children's minds are easily influenced, and if that influence is a poor one, the result—"
"You're in charge of their school curriculum, High Inquisitor," Sirius said firmly, "not of who they can or can't talk to, and what they can or can't read, and what they can or can't think."
"It is not for you to tell me what I may or may not do, Auror Black," Umbridge said. "I act with the Minister's full support in all things." She looked at Harry and his friends. "Weekends at Hogsmeade are a privilege, not an entitlement." She smiled and adopted a tone of false concern. "I fear, given your predispositions to disrespect and disruptiveness, that allowing you to mingle with the local rabble—" She eyed Sirius and then Dora and Fleur. "—may lead to a further decline in your behaviour. I must insist that the four of you return to the school immediately."
Harry's jaw set. His scent was thick with furious helplessness, and there was nothing Sirius could do about it… He thought—feared—he might have already done enough and that saying anything else at all might only make things worse.
"Surely zat is not necessary," Fleur said, tossing her sheet of silvery hair over her shoulder, and giving Umbridge a surprised look. "We 'ave come all zis way to see zem, and zey 'ave done notheenk wrong." Her tone was cajoling now, and she was exuding an air of confidence, compulsion, almost. "Eet ees just a letter—"
"This is not how I'd wished things to go either," Umbridge said, with a poor effort at sympathy. "But unfortunately, this is how it must be." She turned and looked at Harry. "Unless… I could supervise your catch up— "
"Zat will not be necessary," Fleur said coolly. She cast a sad look at Harry and his friends. "Je suis désolé, but while I am incredibly fond of you all, I would razzer be wizzout you zan spend my day wizz 'er." Ron visibly had to choke back a laugh despite the circumstances.
"We understand completely," Hermione said sweetly.
"Go!" Umbridge said. She held out one hand for the letters, and with the other pointed back to the castle.
Harry turned and took the envelopes from each of his friends in turn. Umbridge's smile and scent turned smug and triumphant…
Until Harry walked right past her and set the letters in Sirius' hand.
"There," he said to Umbridge. "Now they're no danger to us at all."
He shared a look with Sirius—who was so helplessly angry he was almost shaking, but more than that sorry—and smiled small and resigned. He hugged Dora—whose hair was bright red—and Stella, then Fleur—then turned and strode away. Ron and Hermione waved unhappily and turned to follow him back to the school.
Draco stayed put, and Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him:
"Mr Malfoy, I believe I—"
"I'll go," he said, "as long as you're happy to explain to my father why I can't meet with him now, like I said I would." Umbridge opened her mouth, then closed it, and glanced back toward Harry and the others.
"Mr Filch," she called, and the caretaker—and his awful cat—both looked over at her voice. "Escort Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, and Miss Granger back to their common room, please. I shall accompany you, Mr Malfoy. If you truly are meeting with your father, you won't mind me tagging along."
"No, but he might," Draco said. He turned and headed up the road without waiting for Umbridge, who cast a hasty, vicious smile at Sirius, then hurried after him.
"Zat cow!" Fleur said, once they were out of earshot.
"Cow's an understatement," Sirius snarled, though Fleur had progressed to a stream of such angry, rapid French that Sirius couldn't understand her at all and which—if Dora's wide eyes and the impressed, angry amusement in her scent were any indication—might be a bit more fitting. "She won't let them spend the day with us, but she has no problem with Lucius fucking Malfoy!"
"Lushu," Stella agreed.
"No," Dora said, startlingly firmly. "That will not be your first wor— ah!" She jumped as Sirius hexed a tree. He spun on his heel and stalked toward the village. He heard Stella whine and Dora start after him, and a second lot of footsteps, which were presumably Fleur's.
They didn't say anything which was fine with Sirius… though it meant he had the entire walk to stoke his anger rather than vent it, since Umbridge was perfectly visible, walking alongside Draco up ahead.
It was only when they road changed from worn earth to cobblestones and the trees started to thin that—with no small amount of concern and exasperation—Dora spoke, keeping her voice pitched low to avoid it carrying:
"Where are we going, Sirius?"
"The post office," he said shortly.
"The—" He felt rather than saw Dora and Fleur exchange a look. "But if you post them—"
"I'm not posting these," he said, touching the pocket that held the kids' letters. "I'm going to post the nastiest curse I can think of."
"To 'er?" Fleur asked, eyes darting to Umbridge's figure up ahead. "Ees zat a good idea—"
"To Harry," Sirius said. Both she and Dora looked bewildered, but after a moment, understanding dawned on Dora's face and in her scent.
"Which is the same as sending it to Umbridge," she said, "because we can guarantee she'll intercept it."
"Exactly." Umbridge and Draco peeled off, headed for wherever Draco had arranged to meet Lucius, and Sirius turned to lead the others toward the post office. A nice paralysis curse, perhaps… temporary, or at least, removable once someone figured out the counter—
"Brillante."
"No," Dora began, sounding surprisingly firm, "Sirius—"
"Oi! Sirius!" Fred and George were waving from beside Zonko's. "We'll catch up with you," Fred said to Lee Jordan, and Lee waved at Sirius and continued on toward the Three Broomsticks. Fred and George came to join them.
"Mrs Lupin, Miss Lupin, Miss Delacour," George said, with a flourishing bow.
"Got time for a chat about how testing's going?" Fred said. "We think we've figured out how to—"
"Yes," Sirius said, holding a hand to cut them off. "But first, I need your help." He slung an arm over the shoulders of each twin and steered them toward the post office.
"I reckon he might be up to no good," Fred said, over Sirius' head, to George.
"But it looks like he wants our help managing his mischief," George said. He patted Sirius' hand. "We're in, of course."
"You don't even know what he wants," Dora said exasperatedly. Fred and George turned to look at her.
"Anyway," Fred said loudly, looking at Sirius again, but not before grinning at Dora, who scowled. Her hair went a few shades darker and Stella reached for it, delighted. "You were saying?"
"He was saying that in the absence of her husband, who'd also probably be on board with whatever it is that Mr Padfoot needs," George said seriously, "the role of aiding a fellow purveyor of mischief falls to us—"
"Obviously."
"If she ees able to trace eet back to you…" Fleur said, biting her lip as she looked at Dora's frown, then at Sirius.
"I'm posting a curse," Sirius said, releasing the twins.
"A curse?" Fred asked, frowning. He smelled a little taken aback, but also rather intrigued.
"Exactly," Dora said to Fred. She turned to Sirius. "This is a bad idea." She let out a gusty breath, then lifted her chin, even as she shrank a little in height. He and Dora didn't always agree with each other; they bickered, and they'd had some fairly rigorous discussions, but this was—at least that Sirius could remember—the first time she'd properly opposed him. And that's exactly what she was doing, even though she hadn't said so outright yet; her scent gave her away.
"Why's that?"
"You're an Auror," she said, straightening. "We don't go around cursing people—however much they might deserve it," she added, pre-empting his response.
"Wouldn't be the first time," he said. "I cursed Lockhart with warts after he vanished Harry's bones, and I seem to remember you finding that funny—"
"It was," she said. "But it was also reactive." She took a deep breath. "This is different. This is premeditated. And I don't think you're thinking anything as innocent as warts, either." She'd had the sense to keep her voice low enough that it wouldn't carry, but it was growing more and more agitated, and Stella made an unhappy noise and patted Dora's cheek. Dora bounced her a little in her arms, murmuring little reassurances, but her eyes never left Sirius, and her expression never changed. "And even if you're willing to disregard your job, I'm not; I'm not going to be complicit in you wanting a bit of petty revenge—"
"Then go," Sirius said, waving her away. "I'm not asking you to help—"
"Just them," Dora said, frowning at the twins, who were watching the exchange with raised eyebrows. "Sirius, if this is linked back to you—"
"It won't be," Sirius said, exasperatedly. "I'm not going to sign my own name to it—"
"But if it was," Dora continued, "then you will have attacked a high-ranking Ministry official. You know how things are at the moment—"
"It'll be addressed to Harry," Sirius said. "From Voldemort, probably." He grinned and the twins sniggered, but Dora was not amused. "It's not going to be directed at her in any way she can prove—"
"And how would it look if you were linked back to an attack on Harry?" Dora asked. "You don't think the Prophet could spin that in a million awful ways, or that Umbridge would?"
"I'm sure they could," he said, "but I'm not going to get caught."
"That doesn't make it okay," Dora said. Her voice was smaller now, but no less unhappy. "You're better than this—"
"I'm happy to make an exception for her sake," Sirius said, unconcerned.
"She's a cow," Dora said, and her hair flashed red as if in support of her statement. "But this isn't the way to get back at her. This is— how is going about it like this any different from when Death Eaters leave something cursed lying around for muggles to find? You're baiting her."
"I— that's not—" He scowled at her. "She can't keep getting away with things like this," Sirius said at last, feeling nettled.
"She's keeping you away from Harry," Dora said. "Attacking her doesn't fix that." She smiled suddenly in a way that was entirely Remus—Sirius thought parts of her face might even have changed a little to resemble his more as she did it, so strong was the resemblance. "But figuring out a way around that does, and we know she's going to be down here in the village for the next little while, while Harry and the others are up at the school…"
Sirius opened his mouth and closed it again, begrudgingly very taken by the idea.
"Zat sounds like a better use of our time to me," Fleur said hastily.
"Doesn't it just," Dora agreed, raising an eyebrow at Sirius. She turned to the twins. "For the record, Remus would probably agree with me on this one." Fred and George glanced at Sirius; he shook his head at them for appearances, but he thought—though he would never say so aloud—that Dora was probably, annoyingly, right. "Because he'd be sure—like I am—that Sirius would much rather spend his time with Harry than he would cursing a piece of paper. Right?"
Fleur gave a tinkling laugh and fell into line with Dora, as she turned and strode back toward the road to the school.
"Actually, Madam Umbridge," Father said, "you're welcome to stay for now; I think you'll find our first topic of conversation to be most enlightening." He smiled amusedly at Draco, who shoved down feelings of wanting to hex or hit Father. Instead he curled his lip at Umbridge, who was standing in the doorway of the private room Father had hired at the Three Broomsticks, eyes alight with nasty curiosity.
"Oh?" she said, pulling the door closed. "And what might that be?"
Draco had known from Severus that the Dark Lord knew about Eihwaz, and had figured that was the reason Father had requested a meeting in Hogsmeade. He had not expected Father to invite Umbridge to stay for the conversation, and neither had Weasley, when they'd discussed how Draco ought to tackle the whole thing.
"I felt it was time for me to have another conversation with my son about loyalties and his choice of friends—" Father's tone was stern and his expression disapproving; it seemed that was the way he'd decided to present this to Umbridge, and clearly, Draco was to play along. "—off the back of some rather troubling rumours…"
Draco sneered to keep up appearances, but it was not a fake expression.
"And what rumours might those be?" Umbridge asked.
"That Hogwarts has a new club," Father said. "One which practices complex and rather questionable magics, extracurricularly…" He studied his cane for a moment, then glanced at Draco. "I assume there's some truth to it?" Draco said nothing, expression as surly as he could make it… which wasn't hard. "And I assume, from the look on your face, that you're involved." Draco stayed silent, and Father drew his wand and sent a Stinging Hex his way in one sharp movement. Draco bit back a yelp and saw a flash of apology in Father's eyes, but no actual regret. "Explain yourself."
"It's a Defence Against the Dark Arts club," he said through gritted teeth, rubbing his stinging arm. "It's for practicing Defence Against the Dark Arts, since the general sentiment at Hogwarts is that you're—" He looked at Umbridge. "—such an appalling teacher, the formal lessons aren't of any real value for those of us wanting to pass our exams."
Umbridge looked—to Draco's grim pleasure—like he'd slapped her; both angry and offended.
"Manners, Draco," Father said, and hexed him again.
"You asked!" Draco said petulantly.
"Who is involved in this… group?" Umbridge asked, after a visible struggle to rein in her temper.
"Lots of people," Draco said.
"Names, Mr Malfoy," Umbridge said. "Who are they?"
"Myself, obviously," Draco said. "But that's the only one I can give you." Umbridge gave Father a look, and Father's wrist twitched. "Don't," Draco said, holding a hand up toward him. "I can't give you anyone else's name, because we all signed a contract to keep it secret. We can give up ourselves, but not anyone else."
This was obviously news to Father; he looked surprised, then considering, as if trying to fit that piece of information in with what he did know, to determine its validity. It was a lie, of course; being one of Eihwaz's founders meant Draco was exempt from that particular condition, but he and Weasley had agreed he ought to keep that quiet… even from the Dark Lord himself.
"The rumour I heard claimed the Potter boy was leading it," Father said. Umbridge looked both furious and like Christmas had come early.
"I'm not able to confirm or deny that, Father," Draco said. "The contract—"
"Contracts can be broken," Umbridge said, eyes alight. Her voice softened, sweetened. "Sometimes there are consequences for doing so, but in this instance, Mr Malfoy, believe me when I tell you you have nothing to fear. I can protect you—"
"That won't be an issue," Draco said. "It's an enforcement contract, not a retributionary one." Furious colour rose in Umbridge's cheeks, and Draco reflected that it was a pity Granger couldn't be here to see the frustration her handiwork had caused. She'd have appreciated it, he thought, but he'd probably never be able to tell her. He looked at Father. "Was there anything else, or can I go now?"
"If he leaves here," Umbridge said, "it's to return to the school. Unfortunately, his privilege to visit Hogsmeade today has been revoked. I made an exception to allow this." She gestured between Draco and Father, and her tone suggested Father ought to be grateful. Draco could see he didn't like that.
"I see," he said. "And what has Draco done to merit such a punishment?" Father arched an eyebrow at him.
"I wouldn't give her a letter," Draco said.
"A letter?" Father asked.
"A letter delivered by Sirius Black," Umbridge said, with a significant look at Father. "Each of the other children—Potter, Granger, and a Weasley—were receiving similar ones. You can imagine my concern about what such a letter might contain—"
"What did the letter contain?" Father asked.
"Don't know," Draco said. "Someone—" He flicked a glance in Umbridge's direction. "—was so insistent about her authority to read it that Potter gave them back to Black before I had the chance to look." The look Father shot Umbridge was distinctly irritated. She pursed her lips.
"Might I have a moment with my son, Madam Umbridge?" Father asked. "Alone, now?"
"I have a few more questions for Draco, Lucius—"
"Then you may ask him in your own time," Father said, "rather than in mine. I have other things to do today."
"I'll be waiting outside, then," she said stiffly. "Mr Malfoy can answer my questions on our walk back to the school."
She left and Father immediately flicked his wand at the door, locking it. The walls shimmered purple as a silencing charm settled over the room.
Father considered Draco, not looking particularly impressed.
"I came for information," Father said, irritably. "Not for your theatrics. You've made me look foolish—"
"You did that yourself," Draco replied. "You should have found out what I knew and was at liberty to share before you invited someone else to be a part of the conversation."
"I have already told you that Umbridge is an asset, even if she's not a formal ally," Father said. He frowned. "The Dark Lord wants this group disbanded—it's dangerous for Potter to have that level of influence over the school." Draco raised his eyebrows at that. It was… he supposed, not that Potter was thinking about it that way. "The Ministry are no happier about this little group than we are. I believe where there is alignment, there is opportunity—"
"And the Dark Lord is happy for my cover to be blown in the process?" Draco asked. "He's deemed this that important? Because I could probably give her enough to find and disband the group, even with the contract in place, but doing so will almost certainly compromise me-"
"Don't be dramatic, Draco—"
"Potter and the others were sent back to the school earlier, and I was given a special exemption to continue my morning's plans and meet with you. They know she—" Draco jerked his head toward the door. "—tagged along. How will it look when she suddenly has information she shouldn't have about the Defence group?"
Father opened his mouth, frowned, and closed it again.
"I'd hope they wouldn't immediately assume you're responsible," Father said at last.
"Is the Dark Lord willing to test that assumption?" Draco asked. "What were his instructions, Father, specifically? Or are you here of your own volition?" Father's lip curled:
"Careful, Draco—"
"I'm trying to be," Draco snapped. "And of late, you've been making it very difficult. The last time we met you tried to give me instructions for your own personal gain which went directly against my own orders from the Dark Lord—"
"It was to serve our Lord. I did not know—"
"No," Draco agreed coolly, "because the Dark Lord didn't need you to." He folded his arms. "If he has instructions for me, Father, share them. Otherwise I'll thank you for the information and await actual instructions."
"And they're different, are they? His instructions and mine?" Father said after a moment.
"I'd just rather take his direction on what he wants than rely on someone else's interpretation," Draco said. He gave Father a pointed look. "For both our sakes."
"The Dark Lord wants the group destroyed," Father said. He sounded annoyed and Draco took satisfaction from that. "I've told you that already. Further, he agreed with my counsel that utilising Umbridge is our best and simplest course of action." Draco said nothing, chagrined. "Your instructions are to provide her with the information she needs to make a proper job of it. There can be no uncertainty here, no doubt or loopholes for Potter to wriggle through, or for anyone who might come to his defence to use."
"He doesn't just want the group destroyed," Draco realised. Begrudging approval flickered over Father's face and he gave a sharp jerk of his head. "He wants Potter expelled, or disgraced—"
"Both, ideally," Father said. He straightened, smoothing down his robes; it was an indication the conversation was wrapping up, but Draco was now not ready for it to.
"But what then?" Draco asked, mind racing through the possibilities. "Potter will probably just disappear—back to Order Headquarters, where he's protected, so—"
"The Dark Lord does not need you to know that just yet," Father said, and the hint of a smug and rather nasty smile played at the corners of his mouth, and it did not escape Draco's notice that his tone was the same cool one as Draco had used to say the same thing earlier. He said nothing and Father looked a little irritated by the lack of reaction. "You have your instructions. Go."