TWENTY FIVE - A New Year
It was still early and pleasantly sunny when the Hogwarts Express chugged along as fast as its enchanted steam engine would allow. The warm summer's light shone through the small compartment where their little group sat. Hermione sat across from Fleur, who had Harry's head resting on her lap as she ran her fingers through his hair. He'd been exhausted after pushing himself during his morning lesson with Madam Pomfrey, and although he'd been happy to reunite with the pair of them, he could no longer muster the energy for anything else.
Hermione had a troubled expression on her face as she fiddled with the prefect's badge in her hand. Fleur of course picked up on this.
"What is wrong, my love?"
Hermione let out a long sigh before shaking her head and smiling sheepishly. "It's nothing."
"It is not nozhing, if it 'as you frowning at zhe floor."
A small chuckle escaped her. "It's just, I always wanted to be a prefect, but after everything that's happened, and now with this Umbridge person who's going to be at Hogwarts. It feels so…"
"Meaningless?"
"Mhm." She barely nodded.
"It is not. If being a prefect is important to you, zhen it is all zhat matters. And do not worry about zhis woman zhe Ministry 'as sent. We will deal wizh 'er if we 'ave to."
"But Fleur, you heard what Harry said, she's going to be after you," Hermione ground her teeth. "If she tries anything–"
"She'll wish she'd never taken a step inside of Hogwarts," finished Harry resolutely. He still had his eyes closed but had clearly been listening.
"You two worry too much," said Fleur fondly. "D'accord, what kind of lover would I be if I kept you from revenge."
"A normal one," giggled Hermione.
"Tut-tut, where is zhe fun in normal."
There was a flash of red hair at the door before it slid open to reveal the grinning form of Ron Weasley. As always, he'd appeared to have suddenly gone through a growth spurt over the summer and had gained a good two or three inches in height.
"There you three are! Been looking all over!" He greeted them jovially as he entered and sat down beside Hermione who gave him a quick friendly hug before she grinned teasingly.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is a train? It's not exactly a labyrinth."
"A real comedian this one," deadpanned Ron, making Hermione laugh.
"What's up with him?" he asked, lazily pointing at Harry, who had barely cracked an eyelid at his entry.
"Arry is simply tired," explained Fleur. "E still 'as not learned 'ow to pace 'imself."
"I guess there's no chance of him coming back to the Quidditch team, then?"
"Nope," said Harry, popping the 'p'.
Ron grimaced. "Angelina's not going to like that. Oh, I've got to show you this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bronze badge which he showed them whilst grinning.
"You're the other Gryffindor prefect!" Hermione exclaimed, causing Harry to finally open his eyes and glance at them. He shot Ron a mischievous smirk.
"Congrats, now you can walk about after hours and sneak Fay into the prefect's bath."
"Harry!" gasped Hermione while Ron got lost in his imagination.
Fleur giggled and slid her hand from Harry's hair, down into the top of his t-shirt and onto the skin of his chest before she addressed Hermione. "So, you weren't zhinking zhe same chérie? Zhe three of us in zhat big bath, wizh all zhe bubbles?"
Hermione and Ron both blushed while Harry chuckled fondly. He caught Fleur's hand when it left his clothes and rubbed little circles on the back of it with his thumb.
"Speaking of Fay, where is she?" he asked Ron.
"I left her in the cabin with Parvati and the others, wanted to come find you three. I'm expected back soon, though. Fay'll have my head if I leave her alone with 'em too long."
"Prefects meeting?" asked Harry, glancing between Ron and Hermione.
"You were asleep," answered Hermione. "Cho informed us."
Ron stood to leave when Harry gave him a parting request. "If you see Ginny, mind letting her know I need to talk to her?"
"Uh, what for?"
"Nothing to worry about, it's a surprise, really."
"You're not plannin' on asking her to Hogsmeade or something, are you?"
Harry gaped at his friend. "What? No?"
His answer drove Ron to cross his arms and stare down at Harry. "Why not? What's wrong with my sister?" he demanded.
"Nothin–"
"Then why wouldn't you ask her to Hogsmeade?"
Harry just stared ludicrously at his friend when Fleur started sniggering, joined shortly by Hermione, who couldn't help it from dissolving into full on laughter.
"I'm just messin' with you, mate," chuckled Ron. "I'll let her know."
"Thanks."
He wasn't gone long before there was another visitor, except this one was not as welcome. The door to their cabin was pulled open rudely to reveal the only person in the entirety of their school with hair a lighter shade of blonde than Fleur's.
"Malfoy," sighed Harry in annoyance. The Slytherin nuisance wasn't alone, being accompanied by his two usual lackeys. And there Harry was hoping it was going to be a repeat of last year, when the blonde ponce had been quietly leaving them alone.
Clearly neither Malfoy, Crabbe, nor Goyle were surprised to see Fleur. Though for Crabbe at least, it might have been masked by the way his eyes glazed over for several moments. He was as weak-minded as ever, especially if Fleur's allure still affected him. She had it very well under control.
"Potter," sneered Malfoy as Harry stood, abandoning the comfort of Fleur's lap.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" demanded Hermione.
Fleur, who had said nothing so far, had placed her hands in her now vacant lap, but had actually positioned herself to be able to quickly draw her wand, should the need arise.
Draco glared at Hermione, as if insulted at being spoken to by her. He ignored her quickly enough, in lieu of meeting Harry's eyes with a hateful gleam in his.
"Your godfather thinks he can take what is mine? Tell him to enjoy it while it lasts because I'll be taking it back."
"And how exactly do you intend on doing so, exactly?" asked Harry, with calm steel in his voice. Honestly, the entire situation seemed ridiculous to him.
Draco didn't respond to him. Whether that was because he'd suddenly had a bout of cunning, or lacked any sort of plan was unclear. In fact, it was irrelevant, Harry already knew that Lucius wished Sirius would be dealt with in some manner and suspected Draco was banking on his father resolving things. What neither Draco nor Lucius knew, though, was that Harry had already been made heir. Even if Sirius were out of the picture, they would need to deal with Harry as well.
"Things are going to be different at Hogwarts this year," said Draco, seemingly shifting the conversation abruptly. "No more sneaking about for you." He removed a prefect badge from his pocket and made a show of pinning it on his shirt.
His belief that being a prefect would somehow be able to prevent Harry from wandering about the castle when he shouldn't, caused Fleur to snort.
Draco was never one to handle mockery well and turned to regard Fleur with disdain. "Flitwick's new apprentice. How fitting, a half-breed for a half-breed. Hogwarts really has gone to the dogs."
Insults such as those were nothing new to them, especially Fleur. She'd heard far worse in her life. As far as she was concerned, it was nothing but hot air from the mouth of another useless windbag. It did not mean that Harry or Hermione would let such comments go unanswered.
Draco choked as his mouth suddenly felt scorching pain, as if he'd gargled hot sauce. His face turned pink and his eyes watered as he coughed and coughed.
He watched through his blurry vision as Harry returned his wand to his arm holster, barely registering that he'd never even seen him draw it.
Crabbe and Goyle, who'd done nothing but look lumpy in the back, tried to reach for their wands but froze when they found Hermione's pointed at them. She shook a finger left and right. "Don't."
Draco glared hatefully at Harry but didn't try anything when he saw the cold fury in his eyes. So, as the coward that he was, he turned his gaze back to Fleur, instead. "I'd be– careful if I were you. If y–ou keep associating with Potter, it w–on't be long until y–ou find yourself winding up like the rest of this place's filth."
Fleur grinned challengingly at Draco and opened the palm of her hand which ignited with a small flame that despite its size, was exceedingly hot. Enough so, that Draco could feel the heat on the skin of his face. The temperature in the small cabin also began to grow rapidly.
"Per'aps zhey should zhink twice, I wouldn't want to give 'Arry and Madame Pomfrey more work. Burns are such a pain."
Harry smirked and feigned pity. "We're so busy as it is, they'd have to wait."
The renewed mockery infuriated Draco, but he was interrupted before he could respond with more bile.
"Can the three of you please stop blocking the passage?" came a sudden, irritated female voice. It was one of the older Ravenclaw students. "What in Merlin's name is wrong with you, Malfoy?"
"Bad every-flavor-bean," answered Harry before Draco could. "Chili it seems."
"Hm." The older girl clearly didn't believe them but couldn't be bothered to investigate further. "Well, move along, then."
Draco would have protested but the jinx Harry had hit him was burning his mouth something fierce. Desperate for relief, he shot Harry and particularly Fleur with a hateful glare. Clearly, he'd somehow decided she was at fault.
Harry sighed when he was finally gone, and the door closed once again. He sat down and rubbed at his temple. "That's disappointing," he said.
"Quoi? 'Ow so?"
"He'd been quiet last year," Harry said tiredly. "I was hoping it meant something."
"We suspect he fancied Ginny," added Hermione.
Fleur blinked owlishly at that. "I don't zhink 'e would survive one day wizh 'er."
Harry laid back down and returned to resting his head on Fleur's thighs and closed his eyes. "Not if he's back to being a first-class ponce. Wake me when the trolley lady gets here."
The Great Hall was bustling with eagerly chatting students who were glad to reconnect with their friends and classmates after the summer break, including several of the teachers who were fondly speaking to one another. Even Professor Snape, who was usually the harbinger of misery amongst the staff table, was deep in conversation with Professor Sprout. The only exception was a new face, one Harry could easily recognize as the woman he'd been warned about – Dolores Umbridge. She was a pudgy woman with a face that bore a remarkable resemblance to a toad, but worse than her physical appearance was her choice of clothes. Pink. A garish, nauseating amount of bright candy pink.
"So, that's her," commented Hermione coldly, who observed the way the woman turned to stare at Fleur with barely hidden disgust. Thankfully, her girlfriend sat beside Professor Flitwick, far from the dreadful woman.
"You know who that is," asked Katie curiously, "she seems awfully familiar, but I can't think of where I've seen her before."
"Dolores Umbridge," answered Harry. "She works for Fudge. Nasty piece of work, I'm told."
"Yeah," said Neville from slightly further up their table. "My gran hates her. She was right mad when she heard that the Ministry pushed for having her here. 'That disgusting wretch should not be anywhere near people, let alone children', and my gran never curses."
"Why is she here, then?" A deep frown formed on Katie as she listened to their comments.
"That's a long story," said Harry. "The gist of it, the Minister thinks Dumbledore's out for his job, so he forced his pink minion into Hogwarts."
Katie gaped like a fish out of water. "But that's– Everyone knows Dumbledore's been offered the position at least three times…"
"He's clearly irrational," said Hermione. "I've hardly interacted with the man, but he strikes me as incredibly self-important. In his mind, how could Professor Dumbledore not want to be in his shoes."
"By the way, have any of you heard from Cedric?" asked Harry, as he glanced at the Hufflepuff banner. "I sent him a letter over the summer, but he never responded."
Katie shifted in her seat with a troubled expression before answering. "I heard from Leanne… Cedric's had a rough time with his leg."
"A rough time?" Harry was confused, Cedric's injury shouldn't have been difficult to treat.
"From what I heard, he has these episodes where it cramps up, almost seizes. It's very painful…" She shook her head sadly. "He's quidditch career's been put on hold until the healers at St. Mungos manage to fix it."
Before Harry could respond, the huge doors of the Great Hall opened with the sound of creaking wood and groaning metal hinges, and in walked Professor McGonagall, followed by the buzzing swarm of excited new students. Every one of them was mesmerized by their surroundings, as some pointed at the house banners, or the floating candles and the enchanted ceiling. A few of them waved at students they knew, older siblings or friends. It was a perfect distraction from the negative implications of Umbridge's presence or Cedric's condition.
Professor McGonagall had the new students stand still as she went up to the center front of the hall, where a stool sat with the Sorting Hat. It came alive, drawing gasps out of many of the new students, who watched happily as the crusty hat sang its song.
Harry checked on Fleur at the staff table, and found her it all with even more excitement than the kids being sorted. She'd seen his memory of his own sorting and was now getting the chance to witness one firsthand. Feeling his eyes on her, she glanced over at the Gryffindor table and shot him a beautiful smile, which he returned with a mischievous wink.
"I think Fleur wishes she was down there with the new firsties," chuckled Harry.
Hermione giggled, "She wouldn't have bothered waiting her turn."
The image of a young Fleur simply skipping her turn out of sheer excitement amused him greatly, mainly because it was actually plausible. Their more mature girlfriend could be remarkably impatient at times.
…
It took a surprisingly long time for all of the new students to be assigned to their houses. There was not only one, but five hat-stalls. The last of which was a very petite little firstie who eventually made their way to Hufflepuff. The annoyed frown on her face during her sorting had Harry almost certain she'd been arguing with the hat, not unlike his own sorting.
By the time Professor Dumbledore had finished with the usual welcomes and warnings for the year, he was faced with a sea of hungry faces.
"I am sure, most, if not all of you have taken note of the fresh faces at the staff table," said Dumbledore. "Firstly, Madam Dolores Umbridge," he gestured to his right, "your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. She has so graciously taken the time off from her position as Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic in order to fulfill the role."
Umbridge gave the students a sweet smile that was as insincere as it was convincing.
"Returning students will most likely recognize Miss Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons' Triwizard champion of last year. She will be completing her charms mastery under the tutelage of Professor Flitwick. While not a member of the faculty, she will be awarded the same authority as your head boy and girl."
Whispers broke out amongst the tables, predominantly from the older Ravenclaw students who were staring enviously at Fleur. They wished they could be in her position, studying for a mastery,
"At times, Miss Delacour will be assisting Professor Flitwick in his lessons–"
*Ahem*
"–which may include teaching several of the first or second year–"
*Ahem*
"–classes."
*AHEM*
The great hall broke out in shocked whispers as the recently introduced woman in pink repeatedly interrupted Dumbledore by clearing her throat. The other professors wore their indignation openly on their faces, a sentiment shared by most of the student body. Except the Slytherin table, where many were watching with gleeful disrespect.
"Froopy, would you be so kind as to provide Dolores with a cup of tea, chamomile with a touch of ginger and honey. I believe she has a sore throat."
A cup of tea appeared on the staff table in front of Umbridge, which she shot an offended look at before ignoring it and standing up.
"I'm sorry, headmaster," she opened with a voice that grated on your ears. "Did you say she will be teaching?"
If looks could kill, the utter loathing in Harry's eyes would have ended Umbridge's life thrice over. Hermione was more stunned than anything, an emotion shared by Fleur who, despite knowing what to expect from the new 'teacher', couldn't believe that the woman would challenge Dumbledore so blatantly.
"I did, indeed."
"Do you think that is appropriate? Certainly, she is not qualified to teach." The irony was not lost on Dumbledore or any of the members of staff, who had been educators from even when Umbridge herself had passed through those halls. Were one to look at Fleur's academic achievements in comparison with Umbridge's, she would be the more suitable teacher, in spite of having only recently graduated. But it was as clear as the fury on Harry's face, that it was not Fleur's merits that were considered lacking.
"I, along with Professors Flitwick and McGonagall, have personally reviewed Miss Delacour's transcripts. I assure you, she is suitably qualified to teach foundational charms."
"At Beauxbatons, perhaps," countered Umbridge sharply. "But this is Hogwarts–"
"And at Hogwarts," Dumbledore cut her off. "We believe that the realm of academics is ever changing, and only through a change in perspective can we discover our flaws. In time, I hope you will come to see that a young mind is truly our most remarkable of wonders. Their approach to magic has at times left even myself scratching my head in awe."
"I imagine you will feel the same, soon enough."
While he appeared jovial, there was an underlying steel to Dumbledore's voice, enough so that Umbridge closed her mouth and hmphed before biting her tongue and sitting back down. Satisfied, the old headmaster returned his attention to the students who had been watching it all.
"I do apologize for the excitement. I believe any further announcements can be delayed until breakfast. For now, let us eat. If you please." He said the last part as if addressing a ghost in the room before clapping his hands together to begin the feast.
Harry met Fleur's eyes from across the hall. He could see that what had just happened had bothered her. It was one thing to be discriminated against by an idiot schoolboy, but an entirely different thing when it's done by an adult in your workplace. Despite their distance, Fleur was comforted by Harry and Hermione's presence.
When the food appeared, to Fleur's surprise, right in front of her was a bowl of bouillabaisse. It was the only one in the great hall. She whispered a soft 'merci' to the house elves who had likely done so to cheer her up.
"She's bleedin' mental!" Harry heard Seamus's voice from further down the table, which was now busy with gossiping students feasting away.
Hermione, Harry realized, was completely silent. He turned to check on her and found her looking past him at Umbridge. There was no visible anger on her face, no furrowed brow or smoldering glare. Instead, it was with an almost neutral expression that she stared at Umbridge with. Harry just knew that Hermione had just placed Umbridge at the very top of her shit list.
…
Later that night, when most of Gryffindor tower had gone to bed, Harry was cuddled with Hermione on the single-seater couch. Ron was sipping a butterbeer from where he sat on the thick rug, while resting his back against one of the other couches, where Fay was fast asleep. They spoke quietly to avoid disturbing her.
"We're going to do something about her, right?" voiced Ron. He had a soft spot for Fleur, ever since she'd pushed him to ask Fay to the Yule Ball.
"We can't just get rid of her," said Hermione, frustratedly.
"You're right," agreed Harry. "But that doesn't mean we can't make her time at Hogwarts a nightmare."
"What do you have in mind?" asked Hermione.
"I don't know yet," he glanced at Ron. "But I bet the twins will have some interesting ideas."
"The twins, you want to use pranks?" Hermione blinked in surprise. "Like dungbombs and jinxed teacups?"
"Those are Zonko's products," said Ron. "Don't underestimate Fred and George. They used to test some of it on me before my mum found out. She had to rush me to St. Mungos when my nose wouldn't stop bleedin'. Spent an entire afternoon sipping blood replenishers like it was tea."
"That sounds awful," said Hermione. "I can't imagine your parents were very happy with your brothers."
"A right fury that day, she was."
"Then, we're agreed?" asked Harry.
"Mhm," nodded Hermione. "Let's ask them."
Hermione went quiet after saying that and snuggled closer to Harry. He tightened his arms around her, sensing her need for comfort.
"You alright, love?"
"How does someone as awful as that woman become a high-ranking ministry official?"
It was the real question. How someone so blatantly bigoted, could still find their way into the highest offices of their government. Was she simply incredibly well connected? Or cunning to a frightening competence? Which seemed unlikely based on her behavior in the Great Hall.
The most likely answer was both the saddest, and most worrying. That her prejudices were simply so widespread that they posed no issue.
Fay, who they believed was deeply asleep, suddenly spoke up. "Since I heard all of this, does that make me an accomplice?"
Before anyone could offer a reply, a new voice entered their conversation. "You're dating a Weasley, it's about time you took part in our special brand 'o mischief."
"Aye," said the other Weasley twin, joining his brother. "Or be like those two lovebirds, cuddling away over there. Honorary Weasley's, they are."
"With all the madness they get caught up in, you'd think they were making it into a competition."
"We don't go looking for it!" protested Hermione with mock indignation.
Fred grinned in amusement. "So, I didn't overhear a plot to wreak a little havoc with that pink toad?
"Uh– you did, but this is different!"
"Different?" pondered George. "How so?"
"You saw what she did!"
"We did."
"So, you'll help?" asked Harry.
"Of course," agreed George. "Umbridge was out of line."
"Besides," added Fred. "We've heard dad complain about Umbridge before. She nearly got him fired once too."
Ron was startled at that, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. "Why haven't I heard about this?"
"T'was a while ago," sighed Fred. "Back when dad was busy with those raids. She wasn't too happy about it."
"That whole mess with the flyin' car," continued George, "she tried to use it against him."
Ron wilted as if struck, he remembered the howler he'd received in his second year. It mentioned his father facing an inquiry, but the seriousness of it all had flown over his head at the time.
Harry too had a troubled frown on his face. Their foolish idea had very nearly cost a good man his livelihood.
Fay climbed off the couch to sit next to her boyfriend. It was a small gesture, but he appreciated it, nonetheless.
"You should've told me," Ron accused, weakly.
"It wouldn't have helped, you were twelve, besides, we weren't meant to know," responded Fred.
"Dad was tellin' mum when we overheard," explained George, taking the reins from Fred. "That snake was looking for a reason to go after our dad. If it wasn't over the Ford, she would've found something else to nail him. It could'a turned out worse. So don't let it bother you, same goes for you, Harry."
"Fred's right," commented Hermione. "We should just be thankful Umbridge failed miserably."
"Thanks," said Harry, softly.
"So, there you go," said George. "We have our own bone to pick with that woman, too."
Dumbledore combed his beard with his fingers as he stared out of his tall, stained office windows with a stormy expression on his face. Accompanying him in his office were Professor Snape and staring from the fireplace was the fiery head of Alastor Moody, who was using the floo to speak with them.
"This is worrying news, Alastor," said Dumbledore, gravely.
"You suspect something?" asked Moody, the floo distorting his voice slightly, giving it a scratchy quality.
"I do."
"These disappearances," Snape spoke up. "Have the aurors found anything noteworthy?"
"Aye, they did," the fiery head nodded before shaking from side to side, "It doesn't make a lick o' sense, and Fudge's forced 'em to put a lid on it, but them missing folk. They were all born on the same day as Potter."
Dumbledore turned and looked at Moody intensely, a look the retired auror recognized.
"All ten o' 'em, born the same day as Potter. Bones 'as already brought it to those shady bastards in the basement, but far as I know. They got nothin', or they sayin' nothing. No surprises there."
"I see." Dumbledore grew solemn and quiet, returning to stare out at the Hogwarts grounds. The summer nights were calm, and the sky was clear enough for the bright moon to shine on the waters of the lake in the distance.
Moody's head turned in the fireplace, as if he'd heard something behind him. Without a goodbye, he vanished, ending the floo call, leaving the office in silence, bar the crackle of the fireplace.
"Headmaster–"
"I know, Severus. I know.
END CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
26, 27 available at / Office_Sloth if you want to read ahead. Thank you!
