mizzrazz72 — Yeah, Dumbledore bashing on the way!
NOTES — Harry has a lot of inner turmoil, and his suffering is made known to the world. Expect violence. Rating updated to M.
Ron found Hermione in the library.
Yeah, totally unprecedented.
"I thought you had Divination?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"I skived," he said, checking the place for eavesdroppers.
"I'd say that's good, but this is OWL year—"
"Harry hurt Hedwig."
Ron whispered this, but Hermione flinched so hard she shut her book with a tremendous THUD!
"What?" she hissed.
"Keep it down!" Ron said frantically, scanning their surroundings. It was their last hour of the day, and a few others mingled about the library.
"Hedwig's wing," Ron reminded her. "Solace fixed it up alright, but Harry was the one who did it!"
"No way," Hermione refuted. "He'd never! Neville said he'd heard a blast—"
"I was awake," Ron whispered, wide-eyed. "Neville was still sleeping, and Dean was in the loo. I heard Harry use a blasting curse."
Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth. "Ron!"
"I didn't see it, but I definitely heard him!"
"Ron—"
"I can't believe it either!" Ron stammered. "But I saw the look on his face, there was… there was something seriously wrong! Remember when he and di Angelo were arguing—"
"Ron, the blasting curse would have killed her!" Hermione whispered in a rush.
"But I heard—"
"Maybe he was trying to break something, and she was too close," Hermione said. "Maybe it was an accident. He'd never hurt Hedwig!"
Ron grimaced. "I want to believe you. But I know something's up with him. I dunno what… what're you reading?"
She showed him the title. "It's the book Professor Blackstone had. The Energumen of Scotland. I saw her returning it just now. I've been thinking that if she, Solace, and di Angelo were here on Dumbledore's orders and if they have Riddle's diary, they may be doing something really important. I've been trying to read up on possessive spirits and stuff, but nothing connects to cursed diaries."
Ron slumped on the table. "I'd believe you if you said Harry was possessed. You saw his face yesterday."
Hermione shuddered. With the way he was acting…
"You know," she said slowly. "Murtlap shouldn't hurt your eyes."
Ron frowned. "Diluted. Ginny and I had Murtlap eye drops to stave off jaundice."
"But Harry said his face was burning," Hermione whispered.
Ron stared. That's right! They'd gotten him to the nearest loo where he'd washed the solution off furiously.
Hermione shook her head. "It shouldn't have hurt him… we just saw Solace heal his knuckles, how could it hurt him?"
"What if… what if he is possessed?" Ron said under his breath.
They contemplated this.
"You remember how he was back at the house?" she asked, now trembling.
"Not himself at all."
"I thought he was just angry," Hermione wondered. "But what if it's something more?"
"Possession?" Ron asked, clenching his hands. They'd entirely missed this when it happened to Ginny. What if it was the same with Harry?
"Nobody really knows what happened in the graveyard," Hermione said sadly. "Cedric died, Harry would have seen it! And then whatever Crouch did to him before Dumbledore got to the castle…"
"And the dementor attack," Ron added.
Hermione winced. "Any of those things could have done something to him. I don't think his aunt and uncle would really talk to him about it."
Ron grew sour. "They wouldn't. They're awful! He spoke to the Nate fella, but even then…"
The pair sat there for a while. Hermione thumbed the book in her hands and gathered it up slowly. "I'm checking this out. It has to do something with the diary. Maybe even with Harry."
They left the library, and Lou stared at their retreating backs in shock.
"We're in Brawl."
Will rolled his eyes. "I was hoping to get through this quest without fighting anyone, Jackson."
"Neeks!" Percy complained. "Your boyfriend is bullying me!"
"Builds character," Nico said.
"I can't believe you're teaching impressionable kiddies."
Nico scoffed. He had so far managed to outright avoid teaching anyone. Lou enjoyed talking about magical creatures and answering questions. She knew a lot about them so it was easy to simply follow the notes of the previous teacher, no matter how much she complained about their handwriting.
"Some of these kiddies are older than us," Will laughed. "Where did you say you were?
"Brawl, Northern Scotland," Annabeth piped in from the side, pushing Percy away from the IM. "We figured it was best to go somewhere cool and right by the coast. Hazel says it won't actually affect magical fire, but it helps her."
In the background, they could see Hazel sitting on the wet sand, concentrating on a small pile of dry wood.
"How goes the search?" Annabeth asked.
Will smiled and Nico answered, "One of the headless ghosts reported just a while back. They got some funky vibes from the seventh floor. I took the compass there and it agreed. But there's no entrance. Will vetoed the dynamite idea and I can't seem to shadow-jump inside. We'll be checking it out again tonight."
"Fingers crossed! Did you—"
Lou ran into the room and shut the door. They watched her make the claw sign over her heart, fingers scratching down her blouse and then pushing out.
Nico and Will were on their feet. Nico had his sword out.
"What?" they demanded.
Lou exhaled, her face and neck covered in perspiration. "Potter was attacked by dementors over the summer."
"Potter…? Did you say 'dementors'?"
"Plural?" Will asked, shocked.
"I came from McGonagall's office," Lou explained. "She confirmed it, at least two dementors somehow found him in a mortal neighborhood and nearly sucked out his soul and his cousin's! He used magic to get rid of them. He even had a Ministry trial!"
"A trial?" Annabeth protested. "For what?"
"They didn't believe the dementors were real. Underage wizards aren't allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts," Lou said.
"We heard about this," Nico realized. "Remember what the bartender said? Something about a trial in the papers? It was a big deal because Dumbles was in it."
"He could've been representing Potter," Will figured.
"You think the dementors did something to him?" Percy wondered. "Even if he killed them?"
"He drove them away," Lou corrected.
"He got a trial for that?!"
"Could the dementors have done something to him?" Nico asked impatiently.
Lou groaned. "They could have frozen him, turned him depressed, and seriously cold. Will, does Murtlap hurt the eyes?"
Will stared. "Umm, no. Why?"
"Because Potter's face was burning after you spritzed him like a cat!" she snapped.
Will's jaw dropped. "Are you for real? I was trying to distract him! And he had glasses for Apollo's sake! It wouldn't even touch his eyes—"
"His scar," Annabeth said urgently. "Nico, could cursed scars react like that?"
Nico sheathed his sword, mind running a hundred miles an hour. Potter was attacked by dementors, he had a court trial, he was a Horcrux, a healing solution burned him…
"Murtlap won't do anything to Horcruxes," Nico said. "But Potter's more than a Horcrux, he's a living person with his own soul. And Riddle wouldn't have performed any kind of stabilizing ritual to safeguard this piece of soul because he didn't plan on turning him into one. Maybe the scar's an exposed part of Riddle's soul and any kind of healing agent could irritate it."
Annabeth frowned. She called out to Hazel and beckoned her to the IM before explaining Lou's news.
"I could try to extract the soul through the scar," Hazel said carefully. "But that's also super risky. Souls don't hang out at certain body parts, they're not really tangible."
"Well, we better figure something out," Lou muttered. Her voice had gone dark. "Potter's deteriorating. He may have broken his owl's wing."
Will and Nico stared.
"It was dislocated," Will responded stunned. "But you really think he hurt her?"
"His friends think so."
Six worried faces watched each other, hoping one of them had answers. Nico finally said, "I'll check out the seventh floor now. It can't be too difficult to find a secret doorway opposite a dancing troll legacy. Will, you check out everything you can about cursed scars. Lou and Annabeth find anything online and off that can help us. Hazel, keep practicing. Percy, sit pretty."
Percy had no retort, still frowning.
"Potter's friends think he might have spoken to someone named Nate," Lou remembered. "I couldn't get much out of McGonagall. But it seems his family isn't so close to him."
"Wizards aren't allowed to reveal magic to mortals," Will said. "So, either Potter was breaking the rules, or this Nate could have enchanted him—"
"Dancing troll legacy."
Everyone turned to Percy.
"Was it a pink fabric on a wall?" Percy asked Nico, completely serious.
Nico gawked for a moment. "Yeah! A tapestry! That's what the ghost said."
"That was my dream," Percy said quietly. "Potter killed and skinned Dumbledore in that corridor."
Hazel gasped. "The Horcruxes! They can interact with each other!"
Realization dawned on them.
"So… if Potter gets close to a Horcux, he becomes less of himself?" Will asked, baffled. "That doesn't explain yesterday. He was about to throw hands with Nico after picking up a destroyed one."
"It could be a reminder," Hazel suggested. "Anything to do with the trauma or the memory of one could push him."
Lou made an "Oh!" sound.
"The dementor attack," she explained. "It was the trigger! It must have hit him hard and wreaked havoc on his soul and magic."
Nico swallowed. "I'll find the Horcrux today and bring it to Brawl. Everyone else, keep at it."
"We need to tell Dumbledore," Will whispered.
The others agreed. Nico sighed and relented.
"Coming along nicely, wouldn't you say?" Umbridge asked sweetly. Her fingers pressed into Harry's knuckles and the red words stood out on his bloodless hand.
He didn't say anything. The pain was no longer helping him. It was adding to the weight. His head felt worse than ever. Hedwig avoided him now. Ron and Hermione gave him worried glances when they thought he wasn't looking.
"You're done for the day," Umbridge said, dropping his hand onto the table. Harry gritted his teeth, still feeling her disgusting touch imprinted on his skin.
"I hope you've learned your lesson, Mr. Potter," she continued. "I would hate to revisit this."
Harry clenched his fists, pain shooting up his entire arm now. He wanted to scream, yell, throw something at her head, preferably her own heart.
"What do you say?" Umbridge demanded.
He glared at her.
"I'm offering you kindness by cutting your punishment short," she said slowly, like something was wrong with Harry and not the other way around. "What do you say to someone who's nice to you?"
Harry kept his mouth shut.
Umbridge sighed. "Perhaps the impression hasn't sunk in. I will see you here tomorrow, same time, Mr. Potter."
She picked up her traveling cloak and nodded at him to leave the classroom. Harry grabbed his bag and exited, slamming the door.
It made a satisfying cracking sound.
He hoisted his bag over his other shoulder, trying to wrangle his aching arm into a better position. If Ron saw it like this, he'd tell Hermione. She'll make him go to the Hospital Wing. Solace might toss a cauldron full of that burning liquid on him.
No, thanks.
He dug his hand into his pocket and retrieved the tiny stone. It glinted in the lights. Its odd, sharp scratches now revealed a triangular shape. Harry figured this wasn't all that important because di Angelo, Solace, and Blackstone hadn't busted into Gryffindor tower demanding it.
Still, he felt like he'd one-upped them. When they would inevitably ask for it, Harry would simply demand information in return. Balance things out.
He took a wrong turn and didn't realize it until he was walking right into a dark corridor with one side completely devoid of paintings and designs and the other side featuring a ridiculous tapestry being marveled at by a distracted Dumbledore.
The castle was quiet, and Harry heard him humming. Something ugly reared its head inside Harry.
He paused in his tracks, a whole host of emotions rising. His hands shook, and he shoved them behind him. He could turn around and double back all the way or just keep walking and take the next flight of stairs—
The shadows behind the Headmaster warped and di Angelo jumped out.
Harry backed behind a column, heart pounding. What. The. Bloody. Hell?
"Something's in there," di Angelo said. "But it's not letting me in."
Dumbledore smiled. "I do adore this castle. It is magnificently frustrating."
"Yeah, yeah. But we need to find a way!"
Harry frowned, tucking himself into the small albeit lit nook. He brought out his invisibility cloak and immediately threw it over himself. It smelt terrible, reeking of sweat and musty dirt, but he persevered.
They saw nothing.
"This is perhaps the Room of Requirement," Dumbledore mused. "I may have stumbled upon it last year and it revealed a wondrous collection of chamber pots."
Harry held his breath. He knew this! Dumbledore had mentioned it during dinner at the Yule Ball!
"So you know how to get in?" di Angelo said, excited.
"I'm afraid not."
"ὦ θεοί," the man grumbled, "οὐ πληροῦμαι ἱκανῶς μισθοῦ!"
Harry did a double-take.
O Theoi?
He sounded like Nate.
Like the times Nate spoke in Ancient Greek, pleading with Harry, singing to Junie, whispering old stories and myths of heroes and monsters.
Harry stared past the shadows at Nico di Angelo.
No. This man was not his Nate. di Angelo created fury and frustration in him. Nate loved Harry.
But was di Angelo a god as well?
"Have the ghosts not been able to help?" Dumbledore asked.
"They don't know the way in and they can't seem to phase through the wall," di Angelo shrugged.
"They have lived here the longest," the Headmaster muttered. "Surely…"
But di Angelo was irritated now. "If we can't get in right away, you need to do something about Potter."
Harry's heart leaped.
Dumbledore frowned. "I have made my view on the matter clear."
"He's not safe," di Angelo said bluntly. "He may be the reason we're here at all. You brought him into the safehouse and he was irritable and frustrated, wasn't he? It's because the Horcrux was there, just waiting for him to find it!"
The what?
"Volume," Dumbledore said mildly. "If we are to discuss the past, I suggest we move to my office—"
"Just move him somewhere else," di Angelo groaned. "One of these days, he'll explode. That anger in him? It's not normal. I saw it in his face, he's way too close to losing it completely."
Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. They knew what he was feeling?
"Nico," Dumbledore sighed.
"Even his friends are scared of him! Weasley himself said Potter used a blasting curse on his bird!"
Harry's body seized up.
No.
Ron wouldn't lie. Harry was trying to curse the broom, not Hedwig!
"Ron must have misread the situation," Dumbledore said firmly. "Harry truly loves his owl."
"Your golden child isn't shining anymore," di Angelo warned. "Everyone can see it. He punched a classmate. He got detention on his first day."
Dumbledore sighed. "The cards seem to be stacked against him, but I assure you—"
"Seem to be?" di Angelo spluttered. "The dementor attack changed something in him. You and I know it. The Order knows it. How can you not see clearly?!"
"Mr. di Angelo," Dumbledore finally said, pulling himself to his full height. The man fell silent and even Harry recognized the warning.
"I requested a favor of you when you came to me seeking for an object that is mine. I promised you this object in return for your services. There's nothing more you may add to it. Not even your advice."
"You told me and my friends to find the Horcruxes," di Angelo replied, just as dangerously. "We've located three and destroyed them. The diary makes four. There are two in the castle, one hidden behind this wall, and one in Potter's scar, and according to you, I am allowed to destroy both of them?"
In my scar?
A horror… Hor-crux?
Dumbledore glared. "You know that is not what I meant. Leave Harry and find the others."
di Angelo fumed. "You can't ignore the problem much longer. What're you gonna do when Potter's friends come to you saying everything they found out? That they know his scar is cursed, that they know whatever happened last year at the graveyard and with Nate and the dementors? You're gonna turn them away too? Potter is suffering! He needs help not for us to pretend everything is fine!"
Harry backed away.
Did… did they all know?
Ron and Hermione never told him about this. How long have they known? All through the summer? And Sirius and Remus, they knew and didn't tell him?
"The Ministry is watching us too closely for me to act boldly," Dumbledore said, with a hint of warning.
"So, what? You're fine letting the pink toad breathe down his back? She couldn't expel him so she's giving detention to punish him in a different way."
"I think we're done here."
"Dumbledore!" di Angelo snapped. "Have you heard about the gray dementor?"
Both Harry and the Headmaster frowned in confusion.
"I don't believe dementors are gray…"
"Yeah, well, I hope I'm seriously wrong about this," di Angelo said. "But if we don't act now, we risk making that a reality. I've dreamed about it. It's a creature that will kill brutally. I don't know what it has to do with all this shit, but it's connected, I swear to you! Thanatos was adamant we resolve the situation—"
Harry backed away.
Thanatos knew them.
Nate knew everything.
Everyone knew everything.
Except for Harry. Because nobody would tell him the truth, even about himself.
He ambled along and took the long route, dragging his feet. He trudged up to the Gryffindor Tower, his mind a melting pot of unnamable qualities of voices that demanded answers and explanations and vengeance and blood.
His fists relaxed and the cuts in his palms didn't help him anymore. Harry's body raged, his brain boiled, and his soul screamed, rattling at the bars, begging to be let out.
It was Friday when Harry realized that Umbridge had cut his detention short because she'd gone to meet someone. Somebody outside the castle, that is.
He'd totally zoned out her odd behavior since Dumbledore and di Angelo's illuminating conversation had dismantled his sense of security.
Harry sat in DADA class right now, staring at the horridly magenta traveling cloak thrown over the back of Umbridge's chair. The others were lazing about, reading unhappily. Hermione was reading a different book, hidden behind the one Umbridge had prescribed. Ron was doodling along the margins.
Umbridge had plans to meet someone tonight as well. She kept looking at her watch, her mouth moving as she spoke to herself. But was she planning to meet them right after class or dinner?
Her quill moved quickly and he burned with the desire to know.
Harry stood up quietly, picked up his book, and walked fast. She saw him approach and tried to shove the piece of parchment away but Harry caught the upside down words before they were hidden.
ree broomsti
"I'm dropping this class," Harry said and tossed the book onto her table. He turned on his heel and marched out of the classroom. All eyes were on him and he was almost growing used to that.
Step one: Secure an alibi.
Step two: Sneak down to Hogsmeade.
Step three: Hide in the Three Broomsticks.
If nobody would tell him, Harry would find the truth on his own.
Sally licked her thumb and flattened Percy's cowlick.
"Mom!" Percy blushed. "We're in public!"
"And I like my son to be neat in public," Sally said, not the least bothered.
Estelle giggled and pointed at Percy. He pointed back at her and stuck out his tongue.
"Sally," Annabeth said, smiling faintly. "You don't have to be here for this."
"We want to be," Paul added.
Sally grinned. "We're family, Annabeth. Paul and I want to be here for you. It's not an easy quest, I can tell. And we know we can't help you directly, but we have your back."
Hazel nodded, exhaling in relief. Percy knew how she felt. Even after destroying the other Horcruxes, they were no closer to figuring out how to save Potter. From Nico's conversation with Dumbledore, it was clear the old man liked to pull strings the way only he deemed best.
So Percy's idea to reveal what they'd found out to Potter's godfather should get them all moving and find ways to actually help.
"Almost five," Annabeth whispered.
She and Percy turned around. Hazel winked at Estelle and put up a soft wall of the Mist through which only Sally and Paul saw and heard them. The other mortals in the outdoor cafe were oblivious.
A werewolf, a shapeshifter, and a dog walked into the cafe.
"Angel?" the werewolf asked.
"Phoenix," Annabeth greeted them.
They sat down. The dog perched itself on the sixth chair and Percy had to keep reminding himself that it was actually a person.
"I'm Remus," the man said. "This is Tonks, and our friend, Snuffles."
Snuffles the dog yapped. Percy realized this was Sirius Black, the dog with a man's soul, as Nico had put it.
"I'm Annabeth," his girlfriend said. "This is Hazel and Percy. We have been working with Nico, Will, and Lou to find the other Horrors. In total, we've retrieved and destroyed three of them."
Percy overturned Will's satchel bag and everything tumbled out. Remus examined the locket and Tonks gasped as she picked up Hufflepuff's cup.
"He ruined ancient artifacts for his sick experiments," she complained, her hair changing from pink to red. The demigods watched in fascination.
Remus cleared his throat. "Three in a week? Have you roamed all over the country for them?"
Percy shrugged. "You could say so."
"Surrey too?"
Percy and Annabeth frowned. Hazel said, "No… we stayed close to London most of the time."
"So," Tonks said slowly. "You never met Harry Potter?"
The demigods shook their heads.
"Ever heard of someone named Nate Portman?" Remus asked.
Hazel was puzzled. Percy frowned. "Natalie Portman?"
"No. Nate. Harry said he'd spoken to someone named Nate over the summer. Is he not part of your team?"
"No," Annabeth said firmly. "We've only been searching for the Horrors. Our meeting now is to discuss a problem about them."
Snuffles growled at Remus. He nodded and said, "Very well. What's the trouble?"
Annabeth glanced over at Percy and Hazel who nodded back.
She said, "Aside from the diary, we have three more left. One is in the castle. Nico and the others are figuring out how to access it. Another is most certainly with Voldemort. We know that he's hiding in Germany with a few supporters. We went as far as the Eastern Alps before we had to turn back. But it's true Voldemort has one of the Horrors. We think it's a living being. A snake."
Remus and Tonks were simultaneously taken aback. The dog barked, hackles raised.
"Nagini," Remus muttered. "It has to be! But a live creature?"
"Is that even possible?" Tonks asked. "Because we're talking about souls."
"And souls are made to live in bodies," Annabeth shrugged. "Speaking of which we will need to have your friend in human form for this next bit."
Remus frowned and Tonks shook her head. "I'm sorry, but his disguise is necessary. Not for you but for Muggles and otherwise.
Hazel said, "We have a barrier between us and the civilians. They don't see us now."
Remus looked around, confused. Tonks said, "What barrier?"
Percy cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "HOLY SHIT, IT'S TAYLOR SWIFT!"
Absolutely nobody looked their way. Sure they were in London and not the States, but Swifties reign supreme.
He heard his Mom and Paul sighing quietly behind the wall. Tonks was impressed. "That's amazing! What kind of a spell is it?"
"It's a wall," Hazel corrected.
"But what—"
"I don't want this to take up too much time because you're going to have a lot of questions," Annabeth interrupted. She turned toward the dog, staring hard.
Remus finally nodded.
In front of their eyes, the big, black dog shuddered. Its body morphed, limbs growing out and bones elongating. Its pelt was pulled back into the skin and its snout reduced and formed a shaggy, very human face.
Percy whistled. "How'd the clothes appear?"
Sirius stretched his limbs. "Best to not ask. So, what's this big news?"
Crossing the point of no return, Annabeth said, "There's no easy way to say this. But Harry is the seventh Horcrux."
Madame Rosemerta placed two Butterbeers in the corner booth. He thanked her and waited. The pub had grown less crowded.
The door opened and his visitor entered. She shook the cold off her eye-catching cloak and marched in smartly. He moved his bowler hat aside.
"Dolores," he greeted her. "Has he said anything else?"
"Manners, Cornelius," she said, tapping the bottle with her wand so it filled her glass. "Good evening."
Fudge sighed, exasperated. "Yes, yes! Good evening! Has he said—"
"The Headmaster remains evasive," she murmured. "But the boy has been quiet since the last detention. Unfortunately, he has attempted to stop attending my class."
Fudge nearly spilled his drink. "What?! No, we need to find out—"
"Calm down, Cornelius," Umbridge chastised him. "DADA is a core subject. No one can simply drop it. I have asked Minerva to speak to him. We will revisit that in the coming week."
Fudge wipe the beads of sweat off his face. "Yes, of course. I know you can handle him. I'm just afraid… Albus is far too sharp. He may pull a stunt and allow Potter his way."
"Not this time," Umbridge said, sipping her butterbeer. "They simply cannot get away with outlandish things anymore. I expected you to put your foot down when they entered Potter's name in the tournament, but imagine my surprise when the papers said he was to join the First Task!"
Fudge sighed. "The old rules of that tournament are binding, Dolores. My hands were tied."
"You are bound by more than rules," Umbridge hummed. Her perfume was thick and filled his throat.
"I will not fall to the poisons of this job," he said. "Merlin knows, Lucius has expressed his concerns twice! He even talks of taking Draco out of Hogwarts if Potter keeps spouting those lies. We cannot afford that!"
"I'm aware," Umbridge simpered. "Fret not, Cornelius. The Headmaster will slip up sooner or later. Potter's action over the summer has lost traction, but we can dredge it up again with some well-placed whispers. It shouldn't take much. He was childish enough to use a dementor excuse to defend his third infraction. Really! An elf, an aunt, and then this? It's just a matter of time."
"You're right, of course," Fudge nodded. "I simply can't imagine it! I' spoke to the boy a few years ago during that dreadful Black business. He was very mild-mannered and well-spoken."
"No doubt, Dumbledore's teaching."
"Yes." Fudge gulped down his drink. "Amelia keeps hounding me from a different quarter."
"Let's not bring her up!" Umbridge shook her head despairingly.
"But I must," Fudge insisted. "She sent a missive off to Azkaban to check the headcount."
Umbridge placed her glass on the table hard and burst into a soft girlish laughter. "Whatever for?"
"She believes Potter," he answered simply. "Believes there really were dementors in Little Whinging."
Umbridge chewed on the inside of her cheek.
"I am worried she listens to her niece," he continued. "Susan is in the same year as Potter, did you know?"
"Different houses," she pointed out.
"True, but it merits concern. We need our opportunity faster."
She nodded slowly. "How long can you give me?"
"Two days," Fudge said. "Amelia is dexterous about these things."
"Can't you slow her message?"
Fudge blinked. "I can try… but what would it matter? The reporters will know she sent it off in the first place."
Umbridge hesitated. Then she spoke carefully, "Opportunities rarely manifest out of pure luck, Cornelius."
Fudge stared. He didn't understand at first.
Umbridge rested her hand on his palm. "We cannot all abide by the strict rules, Minister. I request you to continue the plan. The goal is to expose Dumbledore for his falsities. Our route there is not always perfect."
Fudge gulped. "Dolores, did you—"
"Potter can make a perfectly stable Patronus," Umbridge whispered. "He was in no danger, I assure you."
"I… you…"
"Cornelius, remember the goal?"
Fudge exhaled. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to relax his tense body. A heavy gust of air escaped his tight lungs and he slumped in his seat.
"Yes," he murmured. "I can… I will try and stop Amelia's message. Reroute it somehow."
"You'll find a way, Minister," Umbridge said happily. She patted his arm.
"Dolores… you are playing with fire," he said carefully.
She cocked her head and giggled. "No, Cornelius. I am merely extinguishing theirs."
He grimaced but she was pleased with her wordplay. Finishing their drinks, they exited the pub. The sun was setting and the number of folks wandering around the streets had dwindled thanks to the cold winds.
"Winter will be early this year," Fudge said.
Umbridge nodded. "That it will. I will floo next week, Minister. I'd rather not keep meeting in the village. People notice patterns."
"Of course," he said, disgruntled. "Good evening, Dolores."
"A very good evening to you, Cornelius."
She marched toward the gates of the castle, taking short and quick steps. There was a bounce to her energy and Fudge put on his hat and headed to the other corner of the village toward his apparition point.
This was a bad business, he thought. If Potter had been telling the truth about the dementors, then what else was he right about?
Perhaps… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?
He shuddered. No. That was simply not possible. Nobody can rise from the dead. Not even him.
The apparition point was at the edge of the tree line, deserted as expected. He liked to use this space to avoid prying eyes.
He brought out his wand, focusing on the front yard of his home when someone hissed, "Expelliarmus!"
Fudge's wand flew out of his hand. He stumbled, spinning around to stare at—
Nothing. Nobody stood there.
"Who… who are you?!" Fudge shouted. "Reveal yourself!"
"Umbridge admitted the truth!" someone warned. Fudge rubbed his eyes and stared at his surroundings. Whoever was invisible was doing a good job because he couldn't even find a disillusioned outline.
"She told you what she'd done and you're letting her go?"
The voice was young, filled with furious energy and heart stopping rage. Fudge watched in disbelief as a disembodied hand appeared and ripped an invisibility cloak from the air.
"Potter?" Fudge murmured, backing away. Then he grew angry. "Disarming the Minister has serious repercussions! You just got out of a trial—"
"I was attacked," Harry hissed. His body was stiff yet his hands shook. His eyes were bloodshot with the pupils enlarged such that there was practically no green left. Veins stood out in his neck and he advanced, prowling toward Fudge with murderous intent.
"She sent those dementors!" Harry snapped. "And you still defend her!"
Fudge blurted, "If it wasn't dementors it would have been something else by your own accord. A hover charm when you were twelve, a human inflation hex at thirteen! And then the tournament!"
"The first was a house elf!" Harry yelled. "The second was an accident!"
"How do you not mean to cast a spell?!"
"I didn't even cast it! It was accidental magic!"
Fudge burst into incredulous laughter. "You were thirteen, boy! Thirteen-year-olds do NOT display accidental magic! Dolores was quite right, these freakish lies must cease—"
"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course, I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as—as— abnormal…"
"I'll be in my room, making no noise and pretending I'm not there."
"You…" Harry shook with fury. The muscles around his torso contracted and he couldn't breathe.
"Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked. That first year, Creevey, was annoying Potter at the Quidditch match. Next thing we know, Creevey's been attacked."
"No one knows how he survived that attack by You-Know-Who. He should have been blasted into smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark Wizard could have survived a curse like that."
"Hand over my wand," Fudge demanded. "NOW!"
"If there's something wrong with the bitch, there's something wrong with the pup."
Harry threw his hands over his head and moaned. The clouds in his head were concentrated. Poisonous voices spoke over each other.
"Stop it!" he cried.
"That's enough of this nonsense!" Fudge's voice warped and joined the others.
"I don't know why you're bothering to lie. That friend of the Fat lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh?"
"Even his friends are scared of him!"
He choked on the memories.
"Where are you taking Junie?!" Harry begged.
"You can't help her," Nate said and disappeared. It was the last Harry had seen of them both.
"He left me," Harry gasped. "He took Junie. She was my everything!"
"Just admit it! You and Cedric went for the cup, there was an accident and Cedric ended up dead. Or maybe you did kill him and you're trying to cover it up!"
"You have crossed your last line!" Fudge roared. "Dolores was right!"
"You're fine letting the pink toad breathe down his back? She couldn't expel him so she's giving detention to punish him in a different way."
I must not tell lies.
"Dumbledore cannot save you this time!" the Minister warned, advancing now.
"You need to do something about Potter. He's not safe."
Not safe. Volatile. Freak. Rotten. Fit to burst.
Harry exploded.
Energy blasted out, knocking Fudge back several feet. Harry's body was gone, lost in the chaos of dark, murky clouds. Wisps of heavy smoke lingered in the air, rising over Fudge's petrified form. He opened his mouth and screamed.
The villagers heard the ear-splitting shrieking of a man.
Rosemerta and many others rushed out onto the streets, wands aloft. Then she craned her neck and found a strange gray shape hovering over the forest. Her heart galloped.
The distant screams cut off. One of her patrons pointed at the horrid creature and yelled, "DEMENTOR!"