A/N: Happy new year! Just a reminder to you all: every few weeks there is an update on my profile page so you can keep track of my progress with the new chapter.
Enjoy!
Chapter 16
Umbridge's eyes blinked open and she squinted at the ceiling before scrambling to sit. She caught sight of the company and her eyes bulged.
The woman's usually stiffly-nurtured hair-cut had sagged into a heap upon her head. Harry felt a sting of satisfaction at watching her pudgy arms tremble in fear.
Voldemort beckoned. Blanking his expression, Harry rounded the sofa to stand next to him. A hand landed on his shoulder. This close Harry could feel the subtle pressure of magic which the man radiated, like water lapping against his skin.
His scar prickled, making him realize it had been quiet today. He remembered a night in Dumbledore's office, when they had discussed the changing dynamics of the bond. Snape had believed that Voldemort was clueless: "The bond must have strengthened to such an extent that the Dark Lord is not capable of blocking when he is most… distressed."
But the slimy git had been Voldemort's agent all along. Of course Voldemort knew. He just didn't care.
"Well?" Voldemort drawled, shaking Harry from his murky thoughts.
Harry drew his wand but held it off to the side, not quite ready, if ever, to start. He repressed a shudder imagining what sort of thing would satisfy Voldemort's thirst for bloody entertainment.
Umbridge now stood, swaying a little. Her face morphed into a scowl of wrinkles and squinty eyes as she regarded Harry. She then focused on Voldemort.
"Hem, my Lord." She gave a little tilt of her head in acknowledgement. "There seems to be a misunderstanding. I'm sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. I have been serving your cause faithfully for years – I have devoted myself completely to ridding the populace of the beastly blood. I am -"
Voldemort turned his head, which shut her up as effectively as a curse, and regarded him with impatience.
Harry wondered what Umbridge had done to incur Voldemort's wrath. She was a fanatic hunter of muggleborns, the papers cited her on a regular basis as an expert on the subject. He thought she'd fit into the new system like a tailored glove. He felt a sudden burst of anger at what Voldemort was forcing him to do.
His fingers though, they were itching to let loose against the horrible woman.
Her expression changed into a simpering smile as she noticed his hesitancy. He recalled an evening in her office – that same smile on her face when his left hand was being ripped open, drenching the paper in his own blood; when he was forced to drop the quill for the first time.
His surroundings faded into a blur.
He let loose the tight-wrung pulse in his arms. Umbridge skirted backwards from the blasting curse. She skidded to a stop halfway, unhurt. He threw a Lung Burner for more effect and the woman gave a scream that stroked Harry's ears. She muffled it the moment she realized that the action was increasing the symptoms.
Satisfied, he glanced to his left, but the Dark Lord looked unimpressed. Harry forced himself to stay in place as the man's magic made little stings crawl along skin.
"Do you imagine I am a patient man, Potter?" Voldemort said, gaze fixed on the crumbled form some ten meters away.
Harry rubbed his hands for a moment – they had become cold from the tension in his limbs. "No, my Lord." He scolded then, clenching his teeth. How natural did the honorific pass his lips completely without permission from his brain.
"Then show me something worthy of my attention," the tall man whispered. On Harry's other side Snape shifted, but he didn't dare look his way. What could be suitably impressive for the bloody Dark Lord, he wondered. But the answer was obvious. He relaxed his shoulders and unfocused his gaze.
"Imperio."
A warm buzz fell over him as the spell connected with Umbridge. He sighed, the tension in his back seeping away at once. Calm returned and he wondered why he had been standing so rigidly before. Everything was as it should be. The play on the stage had narrowed down to a simple narrative of master and slave.
Come here.
Umbridge stood and made her way over like a wooden doll. The magical contours of her body shimmered in Harry's thoughts, his will deciding their shape. He imagined the form to bend, as it seemed like that would be satisfying. In front of him Umbridge sank to her knees, the tip of her nose touching the floor.
The sting in his belly was back, making his eyelids droop a little. He searched for something to fuel it.
What are you most afraid of? Say it.
Umbridge's mouth opened. "I am afraid I will get infected by a half-breed."
He narrowed his eyes, annoyance cutting into his drowsiness. "That's not possible. You're supposed to be the expert on this... You're afraid to get Lycanthropy, is that what you're saying?"
Umbridge twitched, fighting the curse. He concentrated hard on the magical shape in his mind and she slumped back into a complacent state at once, as if he had pulled on invisible strings.
"Yes," she mumbled finally.
"Well, we can arrange that, can't we?" Harry felt a smile grow that might split his face in two. Voldemort was breeding armies after all.
"We could," Voldemort unexpectedly cut in. "But it would take too long."
"Of course," Harry's clouded mind conceded to the man with a flamboyant half-bow. "What else, Umbridge, hm?"
He felt a kind of detached surprise with his own casual manner; it was the small part of his brain not affected by the amused buzz along his scar and the absolute confidence surging through him.
"That someone would break my wand."
As Harry thought of doing just that, Umbridge obediently presented the item. Break it, he whispered into her mind and she did, snapping the rather small wand in two. He cancelled the curse.
At once Umbridge reared back, the pieces clattering to the floor from her slack fingers. She stared down in horror at what remained of her wand.
"No! Repair it, now!" she screeched, her eyes wild.
Harry just laughed. He jumped when the pale hand snug back into his vision to press down on his shoulder.
Voldemort whispered: "Finish it."
Harry stared at him. "What?"
There was a moment of silence in which not a muscle moved in the Dark Lord's face. "I don't have all evening, Potter," he said.
Harry took a shuddering breath. He let his wand arm fall, which was betraying small tremors. Right. Finish it, clear enough, no explanation needed. He just had to… kill her. Like Voldemort had killed his parents. And Sirius.
Umbridge was frozen into wide-eyed stillness. He looked down at the wand of holly.
"Oh you can't?" Voldemort jeered when it became clear he wasn't going to move. "I was hoping for that, actually. Dobby."
Harry's head snapped up. Dobby appeared with a soft plop in front of them, bowed low.
"Dobby, get the Granger girl."
And Dobby was gone again. It all went so fast that only after he appeared a second time, clutching a bewildered Hermione, did Harry react. Raising his wand he placed himself between her and Voldemort. He heard a startled take-in of breath behind him.
"Potter," Snape drew his attention, then shook his head once, sharply.
"Dobby, go and take her with you," Harry said, turning back to the Dark Lord, alert for any wand movements.
"Dobby is so sorry, Harry Potter, but he cannot disobey the Headmaster in this." Another plopping sound signaled his departure. His scar had turned into full-blown agony again.
"Restrain him," Voldemort ordered. Something jerked him backwards and into black cloth, his wand torn from his hand.
"Behave and I won't have to restrain you with magic," Snape drawled behind him. Harry jerked away but paid for it when ropes cut into his arms to squeeze his wrists together behind his back. Hermione had drawn her wand as well, but hadn't cast anything yet. He felt terrified for her.
"Next time I expect to see more exotic curses from you Potter. Like this one." Voldemort made a couple of small slices through the air with his wand. Hermione screamed. Blood was welling in lines on her face. One cut narrowly missed an eye.
Harry wrestled in Snape's hold with renewed energy. He heard an Immobulus cast behind him and all his movements stopped. Damn him.
Voldemort was sketching the air with the precision of a muggle surgeon. Harry was still able to keep Hermione in his field of vision. She had muttered a healing charm on her face, but Voldemort had already started in on her chest.
Stop it! He wanted to shout, as if it would be any use. It hadn't helped Narda any. Whenever he begged, it was too late already, the damage done.
Hermione had switched to counterattack, animating nearby books and whole bookcases to throw themselves against Voldemort. They crumbled against an invisible shield surrounding the man. The chandelier did catch him by surprise however. Not expecting a threat from above, the man was forced to sidestep as it crushed into the floor.
Voldemort laughed. Without any outwards gesture from the man, Hermione was lifted off the ground and thrown into the glass debris. She moaned. The chandelier had shattered into many nasty thick and curvy shards, which were now tearing into her backside. Meanwhile, Voldemort's efficient gestures kept tearing into her front, moving downwards in orderly fashion.
Harry swallowed against the dryness in his mouth. He wanted to close his eyes, to think, but of course that was impossible. He was forced to watch as her blood turned into small rivulets down her sides. As she slowly, carefully turned her head to catch his eyes. Hers were starting to droop.
His brains were the only thing he could use now. With a mighty effort he focused on his scar and the sickening feeling of satisfaction that it gave off, warm, sticky, and tried to grab at it somehow. Alright, I will do it, I will kill her. I will kill Umbridge if you stop this!
The last words he screamed in his mind and felt them thunder and echo, connect with something, with Voldemort.
The Dark Lord lowered his wand and the corner of Harry's unmoving eyes met his gleaming gaze. Voldemort gave a jerk of his head. Harry was released and fell forward on slack muscles. His skin was still tingling with adrenaline. He scrambled over to Hermione, then realized he didn't have is wand.
"Heal her!" he shouted.
"No Potter." Voldemort looked down on him, eyes half-lidded. "Not until you've done your part."
Snape was next to him in a beat and stuck out his holly wand.
"I will get you for this," Harry hissed at the Potions Master as he snatched it from his fingers, uncaring of his audience. He didn't wait to see Snape's reaction, stalking up to Umbridge who had sneaked to the farthest corner of the hall during the action.
The hatred that warmed his blood worked to block his deep-rooted aversion of what he was about to do. He managed to keep his thoughts simple and focused, for which he would feel grateful later. Umbridge was heaving great breaths, sweat trickling down the sides of her face. He raised his wand. It felt eager and warm in his fingers, feeling its master's urgency.
Not Avada Kedavra. He was a little too attached to his soul being whole for that, thank you very much. Besides, he couldn't imagine actually meaning it.
"Asphyxias."
Umbridge fell forward with a large exhalation, as if fainting. Considerable power and focus was needed to make the lungs compress completely. Partial suffocation would of course also do the trick; it was actually the curse's intent for the victim to suffer for several minutes in agonizing half-breaths. But he was damned if he was going to give them a show.
Umbridge rolled unto her back then, twisting her head left and right, hands scrabbling at the stones. Her struggles soon became weaker until shortly after, she moved no more.
888
The wards surrounding Hogwarts were in the shape of a dome. It made sense if he thought about it: wards reaching all the way into the outer atmosphere seemed a bit excessive. Somewhere to the east of the castle, there was a point where you couldn't climb any higher. His Firebolt had stayed unmoving for a while when Harry began to realize he wasn't getting anywhere. From that highest point he had spiraled his broom downwards in increasingly wider circles, exploring the limits of his confinement.
The weather was lovely but the grounds were empty. All the castle's inhabitants gathered in the Great Hall for lunch. He didn't feel like eating. His stomach was empty on food but heavy with anxiety.
He also didn't feel like stumbling upon a certain Dark Lord, who might still be somewhere in the castle.
Harry felt a shudder pass over his neck as he watched the giant squid circling slowly along the opposite shore. Voldemort might have even decided to join in for lunch. He hoped McGonagall was annoying the hell out of him, in that case.
Sitting down in the long grass, he smirked. That would be just like her, actually.
Her steady presence made Hogwarts not quite the awful place it could be. Dozens of students had knocked upon her door for council already, sad or frightened. After ten minutes they came back out with a spring in their step and with quiet resolve in their eyes. Hermione had visited McGonagall three times, she said.
Thoughts of Hermione made the soreness in his throat worse and he quickly lifted his aching eyes to search the huge expanse of water. But the lake was undisturbed, its surface reflecting the beautiful light-blue colour of the sky like a giant mirror.
The gates, he had found out, were guarded by Dementors. He had been grabbing fistfuls of hair, flooded by horrible visions of dead loved ones, too panicked to figure it out. Awful seconds passed before it dawned on him what was there. He managed to stumble back onto his broom to make a break for it.
Someone was standing behind him. It took three seconds for him to aim his wand– ridiculous, that. The intruder held a hand over his eyes to block the sunlight, but Harry recognized the posture and hair at once.
"Sorry," he mumbled, putting the wand away.
Ron shook his head. He lowered his body against the tree trunk they were sharing and stretching his long limbs in front of him. "Don't be sorry 'bout that. I'm glad you're on top of things."
Harry snorted.
"Yeah, yeah," Ron tossed his head, his tone sharp. "You know what Neville said to me? Focus on the good stuff, it'll keep your mind strong." He proceeded to pull out grass helms with his right hand. He stared at the result for a moment, deep in thought, then threw it away to demolish the next patch of lawn.
"Neville's a surprise," Harry remarked. Neville's quiet presence next to him the other day had been a welcome sort of strength for Harry during the hallucinations. Completely unrelated to this, Neville was also looking out for the lower year students. They often got drawn into fights with the Slytherin gangs roaming the hallways. Because of his efforts all student of third year downwards could now be seen walking in twos or threes (or more) to and from their classes. In just a few days' time the level of harassment had been significantly reduced.
The Slytherins were getting bored though. With all the privileges given to them (when the perpetrator was a Slytherin, many teachers turned a blind eye to whatever rules there were. As a result, the power balance among the student population had changed), they would probably soon be moving on to something else.
"I don't know," Ron mused, "Still waters run deep."
They fell into a pleasant silence. Harry closed his eyes, determined to enjoy the quiet with his friend. He realized that the lousier things were, the more he valued it. This had always been true; it just hadn't been true all of the time.
"I went to give her her schedule, we just got them at lunch. Where were you, actually? Never mind. The doors to the Hospital Wing were locked now." Ron shrugged as if to say, I had to try.
Harry took a moment to study his friend. Rons eyes were red-rimmed. He was tense and he looked like all his energy had been sapped from him. Nevertheless, the fact that he was here, sitting next to him, made Harry's limbs feel strangely light.
It was past two by the time Harry had been released from the Room. He practically ran the whole way down to the hospital wing. The doors were locked though, and knowing there was no way he would get into Gryffindor tower at this hour to talk to Ron, he was forced to wait until morning.
By the time the sunlight filtered through the curtains Harry finally managed to doze a little. When his early alarm went off it felt like he hadn't slept at all. He walked with sleepy detachment up to the seventh floor. There he asked an early riser, a member of his horrible and unauthorized fan club, to fetch Ron. Her wide eyes studied his face for a moment before she turned with a wink, making his cheeks burn.
Ron returned alone, fortunately. He quickly picked up on Harry's serious expression. Harry gave a short explanation of Hermione's predicament on the way to the hospital wing. The doors were unlocked this time. There was one occupied bed at the far end of the hall.
Ron noticed with a frown that Harry had come to a halt some distance away. After a second of hesitation, he softly called her name through the white screen.
"Ron," a tight whisper returned. Ron's eyes found Harry's, then he turned back to ask: "Hermione? Is it alright if we come in?"
Hermione must have whispered her assent. Ron ducked behind the curtains. Like a spectator to his own doom, Harry felt compelled to follow.
"What the hell?" Ron exclaimed. Hermione lifted a finger to her lips, her eyes flickering to the left.
"Hermione….," Ron went on in a pained tone, sitting down in the visitor's chair to clasp her hand in both of his.
Hermione's upper body was completely covered in bandage, it went right up to her elbows and was wrapped tightly around her neck and the sides of her face, which was drawn and tired-looking. She braced one hand against the bedding to slowly pull herself up to a sitting position.
"Ah, that's better," she whispered. Her eyes flickered between Ron's and Harry's. "I'm glad you're here."
"What happened?" The white was clearly visible in Ron's eyes. "You were… Voldemort did this, right?" He turned to Harry, silently demanding an explanation.
"Yes." Harry's mouth suddenly felt bone-dry. He looked from Ron's slack jaw to Hermione's intent gaze. He couldn't read her expression.
He would go for the truth. His friends had done everything to help him, after all. "I- as you know I went to Snape's appointment last night." He explained that what they had thought of as Dumbledore's training sessions were actually Voldemort's; that Snape had cured him.
"I don't know what he wanted," Harry remarked, shaking his head. "One minute he's enjoying my account of all he made me suffer, the next he's scolding me for being undisciplined, telling me that the Dark Lord will grow bored with me. As if he actually cares."
His eyes which were roaming the white sheets were drawn to Hermione again. "Then Voldemort showed up. With Umbridge, she was unconscious. He wanted me to show him what I learned from Snape."
He noticed he was shaking. He found a second chair nearby and sank into it, elbows on knees. He burrowed his hands into his hair and proceeded to explain to the white-tiled floor how he had chosen to use an Imperio on Umbridge, how he made her break her wand.
"I thought that would be enough for him." He shook his head, thinking back to his own gullibility. The Dark Lord enjoyed pain, destruction. How could Harry in any way fail to keep that in the front of his thoughts? He knew what drove the psychopath like he knew the back of his hand. Hermione might not have been called up if he had been a little quicker to think things through to their logical conclusion.
He flinched violently when a hand grasped his shoulder. Ron's arm froze halfway in the gesture. Harry straightened and caught his arm in silent apology. The corner of Ron's mouth lifted. They retook their respective chairs. Hermione hadn't moved from her silent observation. It was beginning to grate on his nerves.
He heaved a great sigh that seemed to travel all the way into the bones of his feet. Just when he opened his mouth to continue, Hermione shushed him with a violent gesture.
The curtains were briskly pushed aside and Madame Pomfrey stepped in with a pinched look on her face. Her gaze softened as she saw them.
"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, I'm afraid these aren't visiting hours."
"Madame Pomfrey please let us have ten minutes," Ron said, hands folded against his chest in emphasis.
"Ten more minutes, you mean," Madame Pomfrey returned, but she went with a smile, closing the screen behind her.
"You were saying," Ron went on with a strain in his voice.
"He said, 'finish her'. Umbridge. I had to, he wanted me to– and I hesitated." His mouth strained into a horrible resemblance of a smile. "As if I could do anything about it. That's just me, wanting to rescue everyone, even if it's her."
Ron was looking at him with awful pity in his eyes. Harry lowered his head into his hands again. "I'm so sorry Hermione."
The silence that followed strained against his ears. She had tears in her eyes. They hadn't been there when she was being tortured.
"You couldn't have known," Hermione whispered.
"Your voice," Harry wanted to know. "Will you be able to…" He didn't have the courage to finish the sentence.
"In a little while," she breathed. His shoulders sagged at this. He closed his eyes.
"Harry," Ron snapped behind him. "Go on, I want to hear it."
Harry turned to him, somehow bolstered to continue. "He summoned Dobby, made him fetch Hermione to the Room. He said he knew I wouldn't be able to do it."
Harry chewed his lip, hard after explaining the spell Voldemort had used. "I… don't know how deep it went, but I saw the blood. I was restrained by Snape. I couldn't help her." He left it at that.
He kept his head bowed, his knuckles pressing into the sheets.
"But he stopped at some point, right?" Ron said.
"Yes," he sneered at himself. "When I managed to get at the connection between us, between our minds. I told him, or projected actually, that I would do it if he'd stop."
The result was obvious, the evidence in front of them.
Hermione held out her arm, which he took. She mouthed: It's ok.
He had sunken onto the bed, he realized the next moment, her hand trapped against his cheek as his head pressed into the bedding. He became aware of the homely flowery scent of the Hogwarts linen, which never failed to relax him.
Now they knew. From this day onwards, he was no longer Harry Potter. He was Harry Potter who had murdered someone.
The sound of something smashing violently into the wall reached his ears. A clatter of wood on tiles followed. He chanced a look. There was a spray of debris, the remains of a chair, spread out in a wide area. Ron's eyes were sharp as they studied him, his fists balled.
"Hermione's right. We have to know what he's up to. Why he's doing this, playing with you, like he wants you to become some kind of Death Eater."
"I've also been thinking about that," Hermione whispered. "I would like to discuss it, but later, alright?" They all agreed it was better to reconvene in a more private setting, when Hermione had been discharged.
They heard Finally Madame Pomfrey's brisk strides and quickly vanished the pieces of chair that lay strewn everywhere. She had had enough. "She needs to sleep," she scolded them.
Ron had to clearly force himself to stand. Hermione whispered to Madame Pomfrey, who drew close to the bed to hear. Whatever was discussed made the woman think for a moment, before she nodded.
"Understandable." She turned and said: "Ms. Granger would ask if one of you would stay with her during her napping."
Ron promptly sat down again. When Pomfrey was out of sight Harry grinned at Hermione, which she weakly returned. Things still didn't feel quite right between them, like an invisible screen had been put up, but he didn't know how to fix it.
Standing in the hallway and feeling decidedly unsociable, he considered that what he needed was the quiet exhilaration of a fast ride on his broom, and the wind roaring in his ears.
A few hours later and the first cloud was yet to be spotted.
"What classes did she get?"
Ron appeared very intent on the blades of grass in his palm. "I don't know. I can't read it but she probably nailed it, right? Mine could be better. There're just four classes in my schedule. Whatever. I'm not really feeling my 'ambitions' these days anyway." He gave a depreciating laugh.
Harry thought of summer class, and Lucius Malfoy explaining that Muggle-borns would be allowed to attend some classes that they were good at – but others they were never allowed to attend, like Dark Arts and Elementary Magic. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he imagined that Hermione's class schedule might be rather empty. Ron was a pureblood though, so how did that figure?
"And mine?"
Ron had just been waiting for this cue it seemed, as his left hand held out a letter the next instant, gaze lingering on the ground.
"Thanks." The moment Ron let go, ink appeared on the slip of paper, spreading out to form the lines of a table for the seven days of the week.
His was chockfull.
He blinked a few times. He had Wednesday and Friday evening off, and Sunday.
"We have classes on Saturday."
"You got classes? I've got something called 'ground maintenance work'. Just an excuse for free labour, is how I see it. So, what do you have?"
Harry looked at the schedule on Saturday, but got distracted by a small box in the evening. Below the rather vague description of "Junior Meeting" there was drawn a tiny symbol of some kind. Peering more closely, he saw what it was. He threw the schedule away in a fit of anger. It floated back to land pathetically at his feet.
"What?" Ron said, picking it up to stare at the little figure. His arms lowered after a few seconds. He looked to be deep in thought.
The symbol was a skull with a snake hanging from its teeth.
Last night, after Hermione and Umbridge had been carted off by House Elfs in ghastly similar ways, something that made nausea jump up Harry's throat, Voldemort still wasn't done with him.
The horrible red eyes took in Harry's disheveled state. His scar pulsed with pleased contentment, in bizarre contrast with his own state of mind. He swallowed before the acid in his throat got any further, aware of the greedy stare that missed nothing.
Gliding into his personal space, Voldemort took Harry's tightly balled wand-hand in his, turning it over, all the while ignoring the weapon pointed his way. Harry blinked, noticing the bruises and cuts that marred his forearms for the first time, which were the result of Snape's tying spell. Voldemort's wand glided with supple elegance over his wrist and arm, healing the marks until the skin was completely unblemished. Voldemort repeated this with the other arm.
The man was laying it on thick, Harry thought. The audacity to think that Harry could be mollified after this. If anything drove him these days, it was the burning desire for the destruction of this monster. Or was that the point: that there was no point?
Later, out of curiosity, he had looked it up, and he had been furious with himself: a blasting curse from such close range was lethal in 98% of cases. It would have meant one less Horcrux to hunt, at the least.
A tight smile flitted over the snake-like features, as if he'd read Harry's turmoil. Voldemort's thumb gave one slow stroke over the back of his left hand, making his insides crawl, before he released him.
"You see Severus, with the right incentive…," Voldemort drawled.
Snape, standing a respectful distance away, nodded – more like a small bow – and said: "I draw much inspiration from your method, my Lord."
"See that you do," Voldemort said distractedly. Harry briefly met his gaze and hastily looked away.
"Don't worry, little one," the Dark Lord hissed in Parseltongue. "I've already seen everything there is to see. Remember our exchange in my summer house?"
Harry felt his face heat up with rage and shame. Voldemort had been fishing Harry's mind for information on Dumbledore that day. The Legilimency spell had never hurt so much as it had then. All his memories ripped open… It seemed impossible that Voldemort would have seen everything. Harry bit the inside of his cheek. Voldemort was just messing with him again.
"Now, I have a new assignment for you," the Dark Lord had whispered eagerly, obviously enjoying himself. "Another special class, let us say. You will find it in your schedule."
Ron's casual changing of the subject drew Harry from his grim recollection and back to the sunny day.
"Malfoy was looking constipated again at lunch."
"The little spy," Harry breathed. "Waiting to see when I'll slip up. What do they think, I'm going to join the resistance from out here? Great idea with this brand on my forehead." He held up the schedule. "He's probably got a copy of this. My personal little stalker."
"Try to see it as having a bodyguard for free," Ron said thoughtfully. "Now when you're in a tight situation, you can just throw him in."
Harry grinned. "Good idea. Though I think he'd rather watch me get beaten up. Then he would tell me off to the teachers for something completely unrelated."
Thinking of Draco made him wonder when the other shoe would drop. The blond still hadn't let on, saving the juicy story of his father's work for later, undoubtedly, when Harry had landed himself at the bottom of the social pecking order. At the speed things were going, that would be about next week.
Ron shrugged. Harry felt a surge of camaraderie: he couldn't care less about school dynamics at the moment. He stole another sideways glance. Ron had closed his eyes, hands behind his head as he drank in the warmth of the sun. There had been no mention of Umbridge yet, or anything else about that morning. Harry had braced himself for a confrontation with Ron's latent fury from the moment he'd come to sit down beside him. He imagined that Ron, watching over a severely injured Hermione for half the morning, would be filled with a righteous anger. It would only be natural.
Ron was quite the actor in that case.
"Ron."
"Hm."
"About yesterday… what I did."
Ron interrupted, eyes still closed: "You did what you had to do. I would have done the same. And I wouldn't have been able to connect with that monster. You saved her, man." His jaw clenched for a moment.
"Ron, you're being very rational about this."
Ron's eyes snapped open to give him a level look. "I have to. We all have to. I'm not saying I don't get the shivers from what you- what he made you do. All I'm saying is we shouldn't let them get to us. So what if you killed Umbridge. Good for you. We still got each other, that's what it's all about."
Harry wrapped his arms around his knees and stared numbly at the patches of earth exposed by Ron's digging. He felt just as exposed, his throat constricted.
888
By silent agreement they had, quite gratifyingly, missed their first classes of the year. It was Charms. Flitwick would understand. Harry marveled for a moment that in a Voldemort-ruled world, he could still take classes together with Ron. Ron was just surprised he got in at all.
After that it was Herbology for the both of them, which meant they just had to walk fifty meters to the greenhouses. As he had suspected, Ms. Terrence was a very kind teacher. She had left off her orange-striped hat for now, probably to keep it from getting dirty in the mess of students and uprooted earth. She had him pair with Neville again, to some covert looks of jealousy from his classmates (they were pared with Ravenclaw).
He conveyed this to Neville, who just said: "I'm glad that I can give you a break here at least, Harry." When he looked up there was no pity in Neville's eyes, just an intense look that seemed to be making an expensive sort of promise. Harry ducked his head at that, eyes burning.
His seesawing emotions frustrated him – ever since last night he seemed to be on the brink of something. Whatever it was, he hoped it would keep for just a little while longer until it was surrounded by the privacy of his bed curtains.
He was beginning to think Neville and Luna would hit it off splendidly. Actually, playing matchmaker would be just the frivolous distraction he needed to take his mind off things. He resolved to do a little subtle scheming and see what came of it. Come to think, he'd better check with Hermione first. She always seemed to know what was going on before anything actually happened.
When she was being tortured, she had bent her head towards him, he mused, but what was that look she had send him?
"Harry!" someone said sharply, shaking him back to his surroundings.
"What?" Harry looked down, startled. Two of their specimen were making a break for it, and he quickly grabbed onto both their roots just before they slipped from the table's edge. "Sorry."
Neville grinned. "Don't worry. My talent will get us through."
Harry laughed, shaking his head. "You've changed."
"In what way?"
Harry smiled. "In a good way."
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The evening owls brought with them the usual tension. Harry realized that all of Gryffindor had been conditioned to equal owls to bad omens.
Hermione had been released from the Hospital Wing on the condition that she would start with half days this week and rest for the remainder of the day. The bandages had uncovered nothing but undamaged skin. She spread out the Evening Prophet in front of her, Ron's arm around her shoulder. The three of them tensed as they all read the headline:
Albus Dumbledore breaks into Ministry holding cells, escapes with convicted werewolf
By Zemlas Lorrobor
Albus Dumbledore, wanted criminal and former Chief of the Wizengamot, showed up last night at the Ministry surprising friend and foe alike, proceeding to the Ministry holding cells where he managed to overpower the guards and break out the notorious werewolf Remus Lupin unchallenged, who was proven guilty for the crime of homicide and unanimously convicted by the Wizengamot earlier that day.
No trace of the lawbreakers has been found thus far by the Auror forces. The break-out was precisely timed, as the werewolf was on schedule to be Kissed the next morning. Lupin refused the Lord's Clemency, as it is informally called: this verdict of the rogue werewolf trial allows werewolves convicted for turning and murder the merciful chance to join the Dark Lord's army.
Dumbledore, whose lengthy absence has led to a nation-wide search on his whereabouts, was last seen in
Harry stopped there to look at his friends, fighting a grin. Ron was biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling. Hermione's expression wasn't quite as shadowed as before.
"Some good news, finally," Ron muttered.
"Let's hope they manage to stay undercover," Hermione said.
"But it's great, right?" Harry prodded. She nodded, not looking at him. His hands clenched under the table. His apology was hopelessly inadequate, he understood that, but when would things be back to normal? Or was he just being paranoid, seeing a reaction where there wasn't one?
He had to get Ron alone. He would know. Hermione napping that morning was bollocks; they probably had been talking about him. He comforted himself with the thought that all would be resolved this very evening at eight. He was glad now that today was a Wednesday, and he was free in the evening. They would ward a random unused classroom up to the nines (the Room of Requirement couldn't be trusted any longer) to discuss Voldemort's possible motives and how Harry fit into them.
He stood, excess energy making it impossible to sit. "Ron, would you like to get a bit of training in before Sunday?"
All houses had held to an unspoken agreement – which surprisingly included Slytherin as well – to continue with Quidditch, Snape's abolishment of House points be damned. There was a Quidditch field, there was equipment, so the game could continue; it was as simple as that. And it wasn't like the Hogwarts Houses had a reckoning going on for the last few decades, or anything.
"I'll join you later, alright mate?"
Harry stared as Ron's arm gave a comforting stroke down Hermione's back. "Right, later," he managed with a sharp nod, before turning briskly on his heels. After five minutes he came back up the steps, his Firebolt slung over his back. A voice made him freeze in his tracks halfway up the dungeons.
"Ah, there he is. My nest-brother. Where have you been?"
He turned to see Nagini nestled in the windowsill, eyes half-closed as she enjoyed the evening rays that played in orange tones over her scales, making them look lighter than their usual dark green.
"Nagini," Harry hissed in acknowledgement. "I could ask the same of you."
"I wasn't the one who suddenly had to leave, human," she spat back.
Harry drew closer, carefully placing his broom on a nearby ledge. "Awww, did someone miss me?" he teased.
"There is no fire around anywhere," she sulked by way of reply.
Harry looked around. The hallway was deserted. "When will your master be back, do you know?"
"When the warmth has left," she answered, and after a moment Harry realised she meant sundown, which was at least two hours from now.
"Shall we go looking for a fire? Will your master expect you to stay here?"
"Of course not, I'm not a mouse in a box!" Nagini sputtered. "He finds me wherever I am."
"I know just the thing, then. Will you allow me to carry you?"
"If you must." She unwound her beautiful body from the ledge, rising up to reach onto Harry's shoulders. By now Harry was used to the feeling of a small person's weight in deadly predator pressing down on him. It took only a moment to balance his Firebolt accordingly.
"Be nice, alright? We don't want to draw attention."
"We don't?"
Harry gave a tiny shake of his head, thinking he was going to regret this later.
His destination was just one up from the Entrance Hall. With any luck they would make it without being seen, since he had left dinner quite early. Bracing his hands on the weight bungling from his shoulders, he sped the last few steps and quickly turned for the small stairs behind the grand staircase.
Luck, of course, had left some months ago.
"Potter!? What the- what are you doing?" Draco Malfoy hissed the last bit, though not in Parseltongue.
"Taking a walk," Harry deadpanned, keeping pace. "You might want to consider trying it yourself. She's quickly annoyed, you see."
He heard Malfoy follow close on his heels, to his immense annoyance. Nagini picked up on this apparently, as she turned her head to hiss: "Get rid of the boy. He smells awful."
Harry chuckled. Malfoy managed to catch up with him at the door to the kitchens, which opened to Harry scratching the painted pear.
"What is she saying?" he panted. "What did she- ahrgggg!"
Malfoy broke off with a frightened yell as Nagini lunged, grazing his cheek in what Harry thought was a fairly playful gesture on her part, but Malfoy unfortunately didn't take it that way. Brandishing his wand he shrieked over his bruised ego:
"You're coming with me Potter, right now. I mean it! You illegally took the Dark Lord's familiar, of all things, and I am under oath to report it." He jerked his wand for emphasis. "We're going to the Headmasters office."
Harry stood still, not daring to move and risk Nagini being hit with a stray spell. He felt her discontent prickle against his skin.
"Would you just relax, Malfoy?" he implored, exasperated. "There's nothing going on. Nagini just wants to have a place in front of a fire to warm up." He gestured behind him, where a couple of House Elfs were standing, their work forgotten, around large, steaming pots hung above the fireplace.
Malfoy jerked his head as if Harry's words were contagious. "I don't care what lies you're spewing, Potter. Now, leave the snake."
Malfoy was actually convinced that he was out to hurt her, Harry realised with a sharp intake of breath. His gaze slid over the kitchen knives on the wall next to the hearth.
"Alright tell you what Malfoy, I'm just going to walk over to that fire and sit down. You do what you need to do, alright?"
Malfoys' face twisted in anger and fear, and for a moment Harry felt sorry for him.
"Common Nagini, we have to prove to the boy that I'm not out to hurt you."
"Hurt me? What is this?" Nagini hissed in a dangerous tone, reminding him of Voldemort. Harry's hands were becoming slippery with sweat and he had to adjust is grip on her scales.
"Ehm. Well, he thinks I'm going to chop you into pieces. What do you think?"
To his utter relief, Nagini gave a large snort –unrecognised by Malfoy.
With difficulty he forced himself to turn his back on Malfoy's brandished wand. He walked steadily over to the fireplace, where he sunk down into a lotus position. The hairs in his neck made him shiver as he idly stroked her scales. Malfoy slowly drew closer, passing into Harry's field of vision in the same way one would corner a dangerous criminal.
Everything was fine by him as long as Draco didn't go for his Dark Mark. But Malfoy just studied the unlikely pair thoughtfully.
Then he said: "If you do kill her, I wasn't here." And he left.
A strange light-headedness made him want to burst into full-out laughter. Unable to contain it any longer he did so with abandon, annoying Nagini who had to shift her body to accommodate, which in turn made him laugh even harder.
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As he drew level with the right door, he could feel something different about it and realised it was the thick wards that were pushing against his senses. Pleased with this observation, he opened the door and found Hermione and Ron seated in a broken-down bench by the windows. They smiled when they saw him, beckoning to a severely scarred chair nearby. Harry sat, clasping his hands in front of him
"So, did you see your schedule yet, Hermione?" Harry said just to say something. It was the wrong thing to say apparently: Hermione looked ready to burst into tears all of a sudden.
"They gave me three classes. Three!"
Harry frowned. "But then what are you doing the rest of the time?"
Hermione raised her arms, incredulous. "Muggle-born administration, of course!" She collapsed in the next moment, burrowing her head in her hands. Ron and Harry both froze but when she withdrew there were no tears.
"But…" Harry scratched his head, thinking back hard. "But you did excellent in- "
"Oh shut it, Harry. You know how these things work!" she snapped, quite hatefully to Harry's ears. Harry closed his mouth with a snap, stunned into silence. Ron was looking nonplussed as well, making him feel a little less left out.
Harry wringed his hands anxiously. No one said anything. Their breaths sounded too loud in the silence.
"Which did you get, then?" Harry tried, fearing her reply.
"I got Transfiguration, Potions and Study of Ancient Runes."
"Well, that's a better score than me getting Charms, Herbology and Dark Arts," Ron proclaimed, a bit too hastily in Harry's opinion. "We've got Potions together, at least."
"Better, you say hm?" Hermione's eyes gleamed like a viper ready to strike. Ron hastily backed off.
Harry was thinking that he was actually starting to prefer Nagini's company over this.
"What about my Astronomy education, my plans to take Alchemy for 7th year? All down the drain." Her laughter had a hysterical edge. "To say nothing of the standard classes we are all supposed to get, that we deserve, Charms, History of Magic. And Elementary Magic, can't miss that one, I heard about it and- and I was so excited…."
Harry had drawn closer to kneel in front of her. He hastily clasped her hands to get her attention. "Hermione, forget about all that for a moment. We can work around it, don't you see? Whoever is attending those classes can trade notes with you."
"Oh but I don't have the time, Harry, or did you forget? The administration took me at least three days a week this summer." Hermione said bitterly. "And besides, I can't take the tests so it would all be for nought." She withdrew her hands from his.
A cold feeling squeezed his chest. "Ron," he said softly, not moving from the cold ground. "Can you… wait outside for a moment?"
Ron started. He had wisely decided not to interfere in the sudden quicksand that the conversation had turned into. "Sure," he nodded briskly. "I'll come back in when you knock." He stalked out and softly closed the door behind him.
"I know that there's something else bothering you, something to do with yesterday."
Hermione seemed to draw into herself at these words. She stared out the window. She was clenching her jaw, hard.
"'Mione, you're my best friend, I need you out there," Harry said plaintively. "I really do. I need to know how to fix this."
Silence cut between them. They both listened to Ron's pacing in the hallway.
Gradually Hermione's jawline softened. She bowed her head, then shook it slowly back and forth.
"Right now, I just don't know, Harry. I just don't know."
Thank you for reading. I'm curious what you all think of the last scene. Please review!