Chapter 13: Don't Drink the Tea

Tom's heart thudded in his chest as he sat at a table in the Hogwarts library, James's comforting hand on his shoulder. He wasn't entirely sure what was making him so nervous. Perhaps it was just the fear of the unknown that came along with looking into things that he'd long since ignored.

"You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to," James said soothingly. "You can wait until you're ready."

"I think I'll be nervous no matter how long I wait to do this," Tom said. "I'm ready to find out, it's just… a lot." James nodded. "Wait, you don't think Mom and Dad would be upset about this, do you?" Tom asked suddenly.

"Absolutely not," James said, immediately shutting down Tom's train of thought. "They would support you one hundred percent."

"Okay," Tom said, exhaling loudly. He couldn't bear the thought of disappointing the people who had so graciously taken him in when he had no one else. And no matter what he was about to learn, the Potters would always be his parents.

"Hello, you two," Lily said as she walked up to them. She set some notes down on the table before giving Tom a quick peck on the lips and taking a seat.

"Get a room," James teased. Tom blushed. Lily rolled her eyes.

"Thank you for doing this, Lily," Tom said.

"Anything for you, Tom," Lily said, smiling warmly. "Are you sure you're ready?"

Tom smiled, suddenly finding comfort in James and Lily's concern for him. "Yeah, I think I can handle it as long as you two are here."

Lily grabbed his hand as James squeezed his shoulder. He was going to be fine.

"Were you even able to find much?" James asked.

"More than I thought I would, actually," Lily said as she pulled her notes closer to herself and glanced through the research she'd been doing about Tom's biological family. Between her research skills, and the fact that her parents were muggles which gave her access to both muggle and magical resources, there was no one Tom would trust more with the duty of helping him to find out where he came from. And Lily had been honored to be trusted with the task. "I obviously didn't have much to go on, just your parents' names, but I managed to find several other relatives of yours."

Tom took a deep breath. "Okay, let me hear it."

"I'll start with your mother's side, okay?" Lily said. She waited for Tom's nod before continuing. "Dumbledore told you that the Gaunts are a pretty old wizarding family, which is true, but that there aren't many left, which is also true."

"And here I thought we were going to catch the headmaster in a lie," James teased.

"But," Lily continued, ignoring James, "it looks like there are some Gaunts remaining in a small English village called Little Hangleton. In a house bought by a man named Marvolo Gaunt."

Tom's ears perked up at that. "My middle name."

Lily smiled and nodded. "Exactly! Your first name may have come from your father, but your middle name comes from… your grandfather."

Tom smiled at the notion that he had enough of a heritage to have been given a family name. "So, Marvolo Gaunt is my grandfather, and he lives in Little Hangleton?"

Lily's smile shrank a bit. "Well… he did. It looks like he actually passed away about twelve years ago."

"Oh," Tom said. He would have only been three at the time of his grandfather's passing, though that was still three more years than his daughter would have had. Tom wondered if his grandfather had ever known that he'd existed, or what had become of his daughter, Merope.

"But, after he passed, ownership of the house transferred to his son. Morfin Gaunt," Lily continued. "And as far as I've been able to find, the house is still in his name."

"Hey, you've got an uncle!" James said, patting Tom on the back as if having an uncle was a great accomplishment of his.

"I guess I do," Tom said. Uncle Morfin. His uncle, just living a quiet life in Little Hangleton even as they spoke. Did he know he had a nephew? Would he care if he did?

"That's all I was able to track down of the Gaunts…," said Lily.

"That was more than enough. Thank you," Tom assured her. "You found what was probably my mother's childhood home, that she named me after her father, and that she had a brother who still lives there. What more could I ask for?"

Lily beamed. "I was able to find a bit about your father and his family as well. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to pinpoint him with just a name. 'Tom Riddle' maybe isn't super common, but there are still multiple muggles with the name. But get this." Lily paused for dramatic effect. "There's a Tom Riddle living in Little Hangleton."

"Well, that made things easy," James remarked.

"He lives in the same town as my mother's family?" Tom asked. "Wait, does he still live there?"

"I think he does," Lily confirmed.

Tom's mind was racing. Could it possibly be that he wasn't technically an orphan after all? Did he actually have a living parent? And, if so, why hadn't he raised Tom? Did he know about his son? Was he looking for him? Had he decided he didn't want to be a father? Had he never known he was a father at all?

"He lives with his parents," Lily continued. "Thomas and Mary Riddle."

"So you were a 'the third,' Tom," said James. Tom had, of course, changed his name from Riddle to Potter, a decision he did not regret. It was still nice to know he came from an apparent line of Thomas Riddles.

"I'm afraid that's all I know," said Lily.

"That's plenty," Tom repeated.

"We may not know why your mother showed up to that orphanage alone, Tom," James said, "but it doesn't seem like there were too hard feelings between her and the rest of your family if she named you after members from both sides."

"Or maybe she always wanted you to have those clues. So you could learn about them if you wished to," Lily said.

"Yeah, maybe," said Tom.

"How do you feel?" Lily asked.

Tom sighed. "Relieved. I'm really glad I did this. I'm really glad you did this," he said, correcting himself to give Lily her due credit.

Lily grinned. "I'm just glad I was able to find something."

"Me too," said Tom. "I may never know my full story, but at least now I have a much bigger picture of where I came from."

James and Lily smiled comfortingly at Tom. His past may have been a mystery, but his future was bound to be bright with those two around.

Harry smiled at the thought of a young Tom learning about his family background. As someone who'd never had the opportunity to get to know his parents, he could relate to the way the smallest nuggets of information felt absolutely huge. Of course, Harry was fortunate enough to at least know who his family members were, but he still felt like he didn't know enough about them. His remaining relatives didn't exactly like to talk about their late sister and her husband. He supposed that these memories that Tom had put together for him had really become his way of getting to know his family. It seemed that he'd learned more about them in the last few months than the whole rest of his life combined. No matter where these memories were leading or how they would end, Harry knew that he would cherish the journal forever, if only because, tucked within its pages, his parents remained alive and happy.

Ron was looking at the roasted carrots in disgust. "I've had quite enough of these for one day! Why did they pick today to serve carrots for dinner?" he demanded.

"Clearly they weren't considering that you'd still be getting over your trauma from Herbology," Harry said sympathetically.

"I don't really think it was the carrots' fault-" Hermione started to say before she was cut off by Ron's glare. "No, you're right. They should have considered your feelings when setting the menu."

"I don't know why Professor Sprout gave me the chomping cabbage that must not have been fed in weeks," Ron sulked. "I fed it so many carrots, it never stopped trying to bite my hand off."

"Well, at least they aren't serving cabbage," Harry teased.

"It's not funny, Harry," Ron said. "I'm going to have nightmares about carnivorous vegetables for a week."

"I wouldn't call the chomping cabbage carnivorous, exactly. Its primary diet is vegetables, after all. Meat is more of a last resort," said Hermione.

"Good to know," Ron said sarcastically. "As I'm being eaten alive by one of the beasts I"ll say to myself, 'At least I'm not a carrot!'"

"Who is that?" Hermione asked suddenly.

Harry followed her gaze up to the staff table, where Umbridge was speaking with a man he didn't recognize, though he was sitting in Umbridge's usual seat. Umbridge was standing on the opposite side of the table and grinning happily.

"I don't know, but if Umbridge is happy about him being here he can't be anyone good," said Harry.

"Now, what is she doing?" Ron asked as Umbridge walked up to Dumbledore's podium. The headmaster was nowhere to be seen.

Umbridge looked out to the Great Hall and cleared her throat. "Students of Hogwarts! Your attention, please," she said. "After my fruitful inspections of the members of staff, I have a number of concerns about the way this school has been run."

"Here we go," Harry said with a groan.

"After addressing my concerns with Professor Dumbledore, we had a very productive conversation," Umbridge continued. "It is therefore my duty to announce that, at my suggestion, Albus Dumbledore has agreed to step down as headmaster."

"What?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione blurted in unison. The entire room was in an uproar.

"Silence!" Umbridge demanded. "I will have order. This is exactly the kind of behaviour I intend to correct." The student outrage slowly dulled into a stunned silence. "Now, then. It is my immense pleasure to announce that I, Delores Umbridge, will be taking over as headmistress of Hogwarts." For some reason, Umbridge paused for applause, but was only met with quiet stares. She cleared her throat before continuing. "I'm sure you are all concerned about what this means for your Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but rest assured that I have a worthy replacement. Please welcome my associate, Professor Bartemius Crouch Jr." The man they'd seen Umbridge speaking to stood and raised a hand in greeting. Still no one made a sound. "I trust you will all treat him with the utmost respect."

"Not a chance," Fred muttered under his breath.

"Now, as headmistress, I intend to get to the bottom of the behavioral issues of this school. I will start by conducting individual student interviews with each of you," Umbridge said. This prompted another round of protests from the student body. "Silence! Honestly, the disrespect among the student body is out of control." The room slowly quieted back down. "You will be retrieved from class when it is your turn. That's all, get back to your meal. Hooligans." Umbridge turned from the podium in a huff and went to plant herself in Dumbledore's chair.

"How could Dumbledore abandon us like this?" Ron demanded once conversation around the Great Hall returned to normal volume. "Not that he'd been much help when he was here, but still. He didn't have to clear the way for her to take over as headmistress."

"Harry, didn't Umbridge tell you that there was something she wanted from 'someone else?'" Hermione said.

Harry's eyes widened. "She leveraged her poor reviews of the professors to get Dumbledore to quit."

"That snake!" Ron exclaimed.

"That manipulative snake," Hermione agreed.

"We're doomed," said Harry.

"Umbridge is starting the interviews today," Hermione said as she, Harry, and Ron took their seats in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It would be their first session with their new teacher, and none of them had any idea of what to expect. "I heard people talking about it in the corridor."

"She's as thick as you can get if she thinks anyone's going to march into her office and confess to breaking the rules right then and there," Ron said.

"Well, you have to admit she's a bit of a master of manipulation," Hermione pointed out. "She's used to getting what she wants, and she doesn't care what it takes to get it. She's bound to have some tricks up her sleeve."

"She's wasting her breath if she thinks she's getting anything out of me," Harry said. "I don't care what she does to me."

"I don't know, mate. You alone with Umbridge behind closed doors? She could do anything and get away with it," Ron said. Harry shuddered. He hadn't considered the lack of witnesses or backup. Maybe these interviews were going to be far more sinister than he'd anticipated.

"You haven't heard anything about what she's been doing in these interviews, have you?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head.

"Hello, students," Professor Crouch said as he made his appearance. He made his way to the front of the room. "My name is Professor Crouch." With a flick of his wand, a piece of chalk began to write his name on the board. "Well, you're a quiet bunch. Can't a guy get a 'hello' around here when introducing himself to his new class?"

"Hello, Professor Crouch," the students said in unison, though it was clear their hearts weren't in it.

"Better," Crouch said with a nod. "We'll work on it. So, I'm sure you're all thinking that it's a bit unorthodox to have a change in teacher so soon in the year, but I can assure you all that I intend to make this transition as smooth as possible. Headmistress Umbridge is a good friend of mine, and we share a lot of ideals about how Defense Against the Dark Arts should be taught."

"Great," Harry muttered under his breath, though he didn't really expect any differently from a professor who was hand picked by Umbridge.

"In fact, she raised her concerns with me that perhaps her beliefs on the matter were not being properly understood. It is for that reason that I have prepared a special presentation for you all today," Crouch continued. "Who knows what a fight or flight reflex is?"

There was silence for a moment, but Hermione finally raised her hand, unable to resist the urge to answer a teacher's question.

Crouch pointed to her. "Yes, Miss…"

"Granger, Sir," said Hermione. "Fight or flight refers to our primal instincts when threatened. Without even thinking about it, we will either flee or fight back against the threat, depending on which course of action seems best for our survival."

"Exactly right," said Crouch. "In years past, your teachers have been preparing you all for the scenario in which you choose to fight. But it is my belief, and the belief of Headmistress Umbridge, that this is incredibly irresponsible. If any of you find yourselves in a fight against a true evil, you will not win that fight. That is not a commentary of any of your magical abilities, but simply a statement of fact. No amount of defensive training will protect you from those who wish to harm you at all costs, and that is what I intend to prove to you all today."

The mood in the room was instantly tense as Crouch reached beneath his desk and pulled out a small, black box. He stared out at the students with a grave expression. "Have any of you heard of the Unforgivable Curses?" he asked.

"They're illegal," Hermione blurted. Crouch's eyes met hers.

"They are indeed, Miss Granger," Crouch said. "And that fact alone may be a deterrent to a reasonable person. But to a person who is already committing unspeakable crimes, what's a few more?" He flicked his wand toward the chalkboard again. The eraser scrubbed off his name as the chalk came behind it to write out the names of the three curses; the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse. A chill went up Harry's spine.

"The Imperius Curse," Crouch said as he pointed to the board. "A curse that allows the caster to make their victim do anything they want, while the victim is powerless to resist. The Cruciatus Curse." He pointed to the next curse down. "Also known as the torture curse. They say there is no worse pain, though it doesn't leave a physical mark. And finally, the Killing Curse." He pointed to the final curse. "It does exactly what it says it does. Instant death." Then he looked out at his pupils. "How about a demonstration?"

The room erupted with panicked student protests. Harry started to grab for his wand. He didn't care what the potential consequences might be of attacking a teacher, he wasn't letting anyone fall victim to an Unforgivable Curse on his watch.

Crouch raised his hands in a surrender. "Calm yourselves," he said. "I will not be performing them on any of you. It is, as we have ascertained, illegal to cast them. At least, on humans. No, I have a different sort of volunteer."

With a dramatic flourish, Crouch flicked his wand at the box, and the lid tilted back. A small cage floated up out of it that appeared to contain a large, hairy tarantula. Several students gasped.

"Why did it have to be a spider?" Ron whispered.

Crouch opened the doors of the cage and waved his wand at the spider, transporting the little creature from the cage to the desktop. "Let's start at the top, shall we? Imperio." The spider stiffened, then began to follow Crouch's wand movements as he swung it back and forth across the desk. Its eight legs skittered frantically in a dance that would seem erratic if one didn't know the little guy was being used as a living puppet. "I can get him to do anything I like. I can make him walk through fire." To demonstrate, he made his assistant climb a lit candle, getting dangerously close to the flame. Horrified exclamations broke out among the students. "Shall I make him go for a swim? He doesn't know how, but that won't stop him from diving in if I tell him to." His point made, he relinquished his control. Harry could have sworn the spider sighed in relief.

"Now, I'll warn you all that, if that was hard to watch, it's only going to get darker from here," said Crouch. He pointed his wand at the spider and said, "Crucio!" The spider proceeded to make sounds that Harry didn't know a spider could make. Its little squeals couldn't be anything other than pure agony as its legs kicked and kicked, trying to find a relief that wouldn't come. Crouch finally let up after several students started to scream, unable to bear the sounds of a small creature in unimaginable pain.

"Only one left," Crouch said, his voice somber. He pointed his wand at the spider and said, "Avada kedavra!" Everyone jumped as a green light flashed across the room. The spider went still and did not move again. "The curses you have seen today are the worst curses known to man. And there is no counter curse that will protect you from a single one of them. The true evils of this world will not hesitate to use them on you. So, if you're ever in danger, relying on defensive magic is a fool's errand. When given the choice between fight or flight, choose flight."

The room went so silent that Harry flinched as the door opened behind him. Argus Filch, the castle's caretaker, poked his head into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, Professor," he said in his low, gravelly voice. "Headmistress Umbridge needs Mr. Potter for his student interview."

"Ahh, good timing," said Crouch. "I just finished up my presentation. Go on, then, Mr. Potter, you don't want to keep the headmistress waiting."

Harry sort of did want to keep the headmistress waiting, but he also didn't want to stay in the classroom that had quickly transformed into a house of horrors. He took a deep breath and stood up.

"Good luck," Hermione whispered.

"You too," Harry replied as he followed Filch out the door.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. Have a seat," Umbridge said as Harry entered her office. She'd cleaned out the frogs since the last time Harry had been there, but it otherwise hadn't changed much. Harry silently closed the door behind him and sat in a chair facing the desk, determined to speak as little as possible. "I'll get you some tea."

"No, thanks," Harry said. Umbridge frowned.

"I wasn't asking, Mr. Potter. I'm going to get you some tea. It will make you feel better, I promise. I'm sure you're a little on edge, but I assure you that you don't need to be," Umbridge said. She poured tea from a floral teapot into a matching tea cup and set it in front of Harry. "Oh, I forgot to ask if you take any cream or sugar."

"No, thank you, it's fine," Harry insisted.

"Well, have a sip, then," Umbridge insisted.

"Maybe later."

Umbridge sighed. "I try to do something nice. Look, it's a special blend of mine…"

"Special like those quills of yours?" Harry asked, unable to help himself.

Umbridge smirked. "No. Special as in calming, soothing. I think we may have started off on the wrong foot, Mr. Potter. Let me rectify that."

Harry glanced down at the tea in front of him. For some odd reason, it seemed that their conversation was not going to continue until he took a sip. He reached for the cup, but as he was about to bring it to his lips, the hair on the back of his neck stood on edge. Suddenly he was reminded of something his uncle had taught them in Potions class at the beginning of the term. On a whim, he stuck a finger into the tea and let it drip onto the back of his hand. Sure enough, it beaded up on his skin in a way that normal tea would not. His heart sank. Umbridge was trying to drug the student body with Veritaserum.

"Something wrong?" Umbridge asked. Harry shook his head and pretended to take a sip, being very careful not to allow a single drop to slip past his lips. Umbridge smiled. "Excellent. Let's get started, shall we?" Harry nodded. "I'm sure you're aware that there has been a lot of practical joking going on around the school as of late. I don't care for it, and I intend to get to the bottom of it. So I'm going to ask you, Mr. Potter, what is your involvement in all the sabotage and pranking?"

"I'm sorry, Professor, I'm not sure what you're referring to."

Umbridge's smile shrank. "Drink up, have another sip, don't be shy." Harry obliged with another fake sip of his tea. "Surely that's not true, though, is it? You can't deny that you were present for multiple incidents. Were you not in detention the day the chalk was jinxed?"

"I was."

Umbridge's smile returned. "And you were in the corridor the day my office was filled with frogs, were you not?"

"I was."

"And in your Potions classroom the day I was auditing your uncle. You were there when my hat was tampered with, and when…" Umbridge trailed off as if she was suddenly embarrassed to say it.

Harry decided to help her out. "When you started croaking like a toad."

Umbridge's eyelids narrowed. "Yes, that. You were present for all of it."

"I was."

"Am I supposed to believe that this is all a coincidence? That you were in the wrong place at the wrong time across multiple incidents?"

"Believe whatever you like, Professor."

Umbridge's face fell. "Are you sure you've been drinking your tea?"

"Yes, it's delicious. Thank you for your hospitality."

"Yes, well. Keep drinking," Umbridge said, her voice showing her annoyance. Harry took another fake sip. "You're sure you're drinking? It doesn't look like the liquid in your cup has gone down at all."

"Seeing as I have you here, there's something I'd like to ask you," Harry said, ignoring Umbridge fretting over his undrunk tea.

"I am conducting the interview, Mr. Potter."

"Just tell me. Tell me what it is you want from me. You've been targeting me ever since you got here, it's obvious you have some kind of end goal. Just tell me what you want from me."

Umbridge leaned back in her chair. "Mr. Potter, is it so hard to believe that I just want to give some much-needed structure to the impressionable magical youth of Britain? Children are our future after all, and it has become clear to the Ministry that this school has not been maintaining the proper standards of discipline that growing members of society need to become proper functioning adults. You may not agree with my methods, but you are a child. A child in dire need of remolding. You say you feel targeted. Do you not think I feel the same as my efforts to better this institution have been met with backlash at every turn? As the student body revolts against me in organized tomfoolery? I've had no choice but to push back harder and harder lest I allow this school to bow to the whims of children who have no idea what is best for them. That is the reality here."

Harry scowled but said nothing. He didn't believe a word of what he was hearing, but it was clear that Umbridge wasn't going to be direct with him.

"Now, are you going to drink your tea or not?" Umbridge demanded.

"I'm not going to drink the tea."

Umbridge sighed. "Then, we're done here. You may go, Mr. Potter."

"Thanks for the tea," Harry said as he casually walked out of Umbridge's office. But the moment the door was shut behind him, he broke out in a run.

Harry was just about out of breath by the time he caught up with Ron and Hermione, who had just left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. It seemed that class had just ended.

"Harry, you're back," said Hermione. "How was it?"

"Are you okay, mate?" Ron asked as Harry stopped in front of them and took a moment to catch his breath.

"Umbridge… Verita… serum," Harry said between breaths.

"What?" Hermione said, horrified. "Are you saying she gave you Veritaserum?"

"I didn't… drink it," Harry managed to say. "But we have… to warn…"

Ron's eyes widened. "Blimey, Harry, if she manages to get a single member of Dumbledore's Army…"

Harry nodded, glad that his friends were catching his meaning.

"I'll find Fred and George," Hermione said. "I think everyone's schedules are still in the Room of Requirement. Maybe they can use their patronuses to spread the word." She wasted no time waiting for a reply as she sprinted off to do just that.

"I'll help you tell everyone in the meantime," Ron said. "Let's split up to cover more ground." Harry nodded and the two of them set off in opposite directions.

"Umbridge is spiking tea with truth serum during the interviews," Harry called out to a group of third years he passed in the corridor. Beyond the necessity of ensuring that Dumbledore's Army secrets stayed safe, no one deserved to be subjected to Umbridge's truth telling tea. Besides, the more people who knew and could spread the word, the more likely it was that the news would get to the right people. "Don't drink the tea! Spread the word."

Harry continued roaming the halls, warning everyone he came across to not drink the tea. But suddenly he found that his path was blocked by Peeves, the school's mischievous poltergeist, who was refusing to let anyone pass unless they could guess his secret password. A bit of a traffic jam was already forming.

"Peeves, come on, you've got to let me through. It's important," Harry said urgently.

"Well, if it isn't Potty wee Potter, come to play," Peeves said as he cycled through a bunch of strange facial expressions and poses. "Potty cannot go to class, unless my password he can guess!"

"This is about Umbridge," Harry pleaded. "She's trying to drug everyone's tea with truth serum to get them to admit to all of their secrets, I have to warn everyone."

Peeves's expression turned to a scowl at that. "Umbridge is a nasty witch, she makes my skin crawl, sweat, and itch."

"Exactly," Harry said, though he wasn't sure if Peeves actually had what one would call skin. "Can you let me pass?"

"I'll do you one better, Potter," said Peeves. "I will help you spread the word." He saluted and floated away chanting, "Don't drink the tea, let it go cold, lest you spill your guts to the toad."

With Peeves out of the way, Harry continued on his mission. His journey through the castle eventually brought him to the Gryffindor Common Room, where he knew that many students liked to relax between classes. "Everyone listen up!" he called as he entered. "Umbridge is drugging the tea with truth serum during student interviews. Tell everyone you can not to drink it." The exclamation was met with well deserved outrage, but Harry didn't have time to share the sentiment. He turned and headed for the exit.

But just as he was almost to the door, it opened and Neville walked through. "Harry!" he said.

"Neville," said Harry. "Umbridge-"

"Harry…," Neville said again, cutting him off. It was then that Harry noticed the despair in Neville's eyes and his heart sank. "I don't know what happened. I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened. It was like I couldn't control it."

"I know, Neville. It wasn't your fault," Harry said. His limbs suddenly felt extra heavy. He was too late. "Umbridge spiked the tea with truth serum. You didn't stand a chance."

Neville's mouth widened in shock. "I can't believe I fell for it, I'm so stupid! I'm so sorry, Harry, I-"

"It wasn't your fault, Neville," Harry said again. "Umbridge isn't playing fair. If it wasn't you, it would have been someone else."

"I told her everything, Harry. The names of everyone in Dumbledore's Army, everything we'd been planning. What are we going to do?"

"There's nothing we can do, she bested us," Harry said sadly. "I think we should have known that we couldn't keep the secret from Umbridge forever. She will stop at nothing to get what she wants."

"What happens now?"

Harry shrugged. "We wait and see how Umbridge responds. Whatever it is, we'll get through it together, okay? Don't blame yourself. We're dealing with a true evil." Harry thought back to his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Crouch and wondered if he was right. That when it came to true evil, there was no defense.