"It's called occlumency."
Hermione sat down at their designated table in the library, using up most of the space to place a dauntingly large book in front of them. Ever since Harry had learned about the Tardis, the trio had spent less time in Madam Pince's domain, so it was always nice to return every once in a while. And, as vast as the library inside Matthew's ship was, there were some topics that even it didn't cover. Following Dumbledore's theory about the strange visions that Harry had seen, they'd started looking into mental magic, even if they were supposed to be focusing on school work. From the look on Hermione's face, it seemed that she'd finally gotten some success.
"It revolves around magically closing your mind against potential invaders," she continued, reading from the page. "Otherwise, they could access your thoughts and feelings, even going as far as manipulating and influencing them. In effect, they could make you believe anything, therefore controlling your behaviour, overpowering your sense of free will without you even realising."
"So, what you're trying to say is that I'm incredibly lucky that Voldemort wasn't able to do that," Harry surmised.
By now, he was more than used to discovering things that he was capable of that shouldn't really have been possible. Standing against the Dark Lord so many times and emerging unscathed was only going to serve to make any such achievements duller in comparison. Dumbledore had been amazed at the lucky escape, whilst Harry was viewing it along the same lines as when he'd learnt he could speak parseltongue. With how much stuff life had thrown at him, it was nice to sometimes be gifted a few talents amongst the struggles.
"Precisely. Or he would have gained the entire prophecy. And then he'd be even more determined to kill you."
"Does he really need any more motivation than he's already got?"
"He'd know that you're supposedly the only person who can stop him. It could even make him fear Dumbledore less, exposing Hogwarts to an attack."
"Because it's been so secure up until now," Matthew quipped.
"You're not allowed to joke, mister. You're still in my bad books."
"Is this really because of last night?"
Hermione had been far from impressed when she'd woken up that morning to learn that her boys had gone on a late night stroll through the castle. A late night stroll possibly caused by an unseen attack by Voldemort on one of her friends. Whilst that was reason enough to be alarmed, the fact that she hadn't received an invite to witness the fallout had soured her mood a great deal. So far, it had been a show that was just as interesting as anything Harry could learn about his mental defences, watching how Matthew, a normally domineering person, was cowering before his irate girlfriend.
"You should have come to get me," Hermione said as she folded her arms. "We do everything together. How do you think it makes me feel to know that I missed out?"
"It wasn't exactly interesting," Harry tried to reason, a dangerous move to play in case her anger became directed at him. "Once Dumbledore ran through the basics, he sent us straight back to bed."
"That's not the point."
"I couldn't run up the stairs," Matthew argued. "You know they're magically charmed to prevent boys from getting anywhere near. A, quite frankly, archaic system that treats women as something to be chased and desired, as if they can't actively pursue a relationship themselves."
"Are you trying to win back my favour by making sound, feminist arguments?"
"Is it worth a try?"
"...frustratingly so." A smirk emerged against her will, which was the best he'd gotten since breakfast. "You could have easily used that blue box of yours to appear outside the window and warn me that something was happening."
"I was worried about Harry's wellbeing! You should have seen what sort of state he was in. I was in a hurry. If it had turned out to be something more serious, then I definitely would have run back to get you."
She seemed content with the answer. "You can ease the trouble you're in by telling me how you happened to become a legillimens."
Harry frowned. "A what?"
"When a person can attack another person's mind, like Voldemort was attempting to do, they're called a legillimens. The antithesis of occlumency is legillimency, you see. Now, Matthew hasn't attacked anyone's brain per se, as far as I'm aware, but he's definitely looked into my head before now." She gave him a pointed look. "You made it look startlingly easy when you brought up my memories when we first started our training."
The boy in question shrugged. "Is this really worthy of note after the other things you've seen me do?"
"I'm just curious. The book claims that even the most skilled of legillimens require a wand. You did it with a touch."
"I seem to remember you doing exactly the same, except the touch was a bit more…well, we don't need to go into detail." He sent a subtle wink at Harry, who blanched at the thought.
Hermione had paused, her mouth slightly agape, as she considered that reminder. "You're right…how was I able to do a piece of advanced magic without even knowing what I was doing."
"The easy answer is that old magic bypasses the normal restrictions when it comes to modern practices. It's untamed and more…potent. Not to mention the fact that our minds were open to the intrusion. In a sense, there was no resistance, as a typical legillimens would find."
"And occlumency is that resistance?" Harry asked.
"Precisely. You've created a shield around your mind. You both have, inadvertently, thanks to our sessions. That's not to say that it's anywhere near perfect. Voldemort was still able to sneak through, even if all he came away with was a distorted version of events. Now we know that he's using your connection to his advantage in such a way, you're going to have to practise even harder to build up those defences." He waited while Harry groaned petulantly at the news. "Not to mention the fact that, now Voldemort knows you've got unexpected walls in place, he might come at you even harder next time."
"You don't think he'll give up now he's failed once?"
"Does he strike you as the sort of person who's perturbed so easily?"
"You might be right about that." Harry slowly nodded his head. "If it means putting any physical training on the backburner, I'll do it. If just to protect you guys."
Hermione cocked her head to one side, scrutinising him. "What are you talking about?"
"You said it yourself. If I hadn't gotten lucky, Voldemort could have twisted my thoughts or put images in my head. He could still do that if I'm not careful. What if he did that and somehow turned me against you? Or Sirius? Or Remus? He could use me like some kind of weapon. The best thing would be to push you all away, so that you're no longer in danger…"
"Harry…"
He held up a hand to stop her complaints prematurely. "...but I know that isn't going to happen. I've learnt that lesson by now, after the number of times I've had to listen to it. So I'm willing to put all my effort into this, as well as using the new group to train everything else."
Matthew gave him an appraising look. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He cracked his knuckles, a gleam in his eyes. "Let's get started."
xxxxxxxxxx
Harry flopped into an armchair in the common room, Hermione not too close behind. The bag carrying the day's classes' books landed heavily on the floor, though he was pleased to see that his friend bit her tongue for a change when it came to their mistreatment. He wasn't in the mood to have an argument about something so inconsequential when something apparently sinister was at work. Under any other circumstances, he would have been overjoyed that there was something else bugging him that wasn't related to Voldemort. Sadly, Delores Umbridge was steadily joining the Dark Lord at the top of the list of the people he hated the most.
"Did you see what she was like in there?"
Hermione's grimace was tight, signalling that she'd already listened to this same sentiment during their walk back to Gryffindor Tower. "Everyone saw, Harry."
Over the past few weeks, Umbridge had seemingly built upon her appearance at Lupin's training group. Instead of just showing her face at that extracurricular session, she had started poking her nose into different classes, appearing when they (including the professors) least expected it. At first, she would simply hover in the corner, keeping out of the way, meaning it was just about bearable. It was when she started asking questions when the problems began to show themselves. Not only were the teachers suitably on edge, it was straining the entire atmosphere of the school, something which she seemed to revel in.
Admittedly, it had been funny when she'd done it to Snape. The Potion's master was probably used to everyone being intimidated by him, always too scared to speak their mind to his face. So it had been glorious when Umbridge had done so without even batting an eyelid. There Snape had been, standing in front of them all, trying to lecture them on the delicate procedure involved in deseeding a certain plant, and there Umbridge had been as well, asking whether his well-known ties to the darker side of magic meant that he was a security risk to Hogwarts. And, if he was willing to betray the school he worked for, how easy would it be for him to turn his allegiances against the Minister?
He'd subsequently taken out his anger on poor Neville once she'd finally left.
It wasn't remotely as entertaining when she'd popped up during one of their Care of Magical Creatures lessons. Initially, Hagrid had been more than happy to accept her presence, since the half-giant was always willing to see the best in people. She'd taken that hospitality and thrown it in his face, asking him personal questions about his lineage. After all, she'd claimed, could Hogwarts rely on someone who wasn't even fully a wizard? What if the giants decided to side with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named in the upcoming conflict? Would Hagrid run to join them or, even worse, provide them safe passage onto school grounds.
It was a series of questions that had caused Matthew to snap.
"Why don't you keep his name out of your filthy mouth?" he'd snapped before Hermione could control him.
Harry doubted he'd seen someone as angry as Umbridge when she'd turned to face him, her nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge at a teasing matador. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me. What is this really trying to achieve? Who are you actually helping? Because Hagrid is the most loyal person in the school, bar none. He'd do anything to help us. And certainly a great deal more than any support you'd give."
"I'll remind you to talk to me with a lot more respect, young man."
"Bore off, you old hag. Why are you even here? What does the Ministry want? You're supposed to be a liaison. That's what Dumbledore said. That's what the papers claimed. Nothing was mentioned about you overseeing classes or sticking your pudgy nose into things that really don't concern you. And you do it under the pretence of 'protecting' the school, instead using your privilege to launch personal attacks against the character of good people."
"That's it! You'll be serving a month's worth of detentions."
Matthew had simply placed his hands on his hips in response. "Last time I checked, you need to actually work for the school to hand out punishments. Come back to me when you've got a proper job."
"We'll see about that," Umbridge had snapped, storming away from the pumpkin patch before another word could be said.
People had surrounded Matthew after that, patting him on the back and congratulating him. Students who barely ever gave him the time of the day, mainly because he preferred it that way. A point that could be seen written across his entire face, due to the uncomfortable expression he'd been sporting. Hagrid had elected to end the class early, allowing the assembled kids to avoid the blast-ended skrewts for once. Hermione had gnawed at her lip in concern, whilst Harry joined the celebrations. And Umbridge's investigations had come to a juddering halt.
Until she weasled her way into a transfiguration lesson a few days later, acting as if nothing had happened. Hermione had tensed up upon her unexpected arrival, seemingly believing that Matthew's punishment was about to be doled out, but the Ministry employee ignored that particular student. Her attention was aimed on McGonagall instead, scrutinising how useful learning how to turn a cat into a teapot truly was in the face of a potential war. The old Scot wasn't usually one to be rendered speechless but the onslaught was so unrelenting that she was never given a chance to argue her case.
Lupin's second exposure to Umbridge was probably the strangest of the lot. After already failing to properly deal with her once before, his efforts to charm her again failed. Whilst he was perfectly polite for the entire duration of her stay, her insults became less thinly veiled with each one she threw at him. What was most concerning for the trio was that, upon reflection, some of her comments were dangerously close to alluding to his true lupine identity, suggesting that she'd somehow cottoned onto his affliction. If Harry knew anything, it was that Umbridge was exactly the type of person to expose and use that against him, the one fear that had plagued the professor since he'd arrived at Hogwarts.
The latest victim had been the diminutive Professor Flitwick. Whilst his skills in a duel were whispered about as legends, his ability to combat the poisonous remarks was less than sparkling. Umbridge seemed to have gotten it into her head that there was no way that he would be of any use in a 'proper' fight, as she referred to it as, because of his short stature. The teacher's cheeks had turned crimson and he'd fumbled some of the most basic incantations, only serving to add fuel to the fire. He hadn't been able to run out of there quickly enough once the lesson was over with, whilst Harry had watched Umbridge saunter away with a spring in her step, his rage burning incandescently.
"I'll be surprised if Flitwick can show his face after that stunt," Harry muttered as he messed with a loose flake of wood on the table's surface.
"I certainly wouldn't be able to," Hermione agreed. "But he is an adult. They're better placed to deal with criticism."
"That was more than just criticism. That was evil. It wasn't even about his teaching methods."
"Which he would have earned a glowing review from, I'm sure."
"When she got that tape measure out to get an accurate measurement of his height…I don't think I've ever been that angry, at least when I've been in school. I was ready to slap it out of her hands and…well, I don't know what I would have done. That's how angry I was on Flitwick's behalf."
"If it descended into a wizarding duel, she wouldn't last five seconds against him. He's won trophies for his skills, or so people say."
"It's not just Flitwick. It's all the other professors. They don't deserve to be questioned like this. Even Snape. He at least knows what he's doing when it comes to potions, to give him some credit. The way Umbridge was talking, he was being made to look like a fool."
"I'm at least relieved that Matthew held it together a bit better today," Hermione said. "Like you said, Flitwick's treatment was vindictive and plain mean. I was fully expecting him to do something stupid."
"Where is he anyway?" Harry asked, turning his head to look around the surprisingly empty common room.
"He said that Dumbledore wanted to speak to him about something. Urgently."
Harry pulled a face. "That doesn't sound ominous at all."
"Tell me about it. Matthew instructed me not to worry, but when have I ever listened to a word he says?"
"You know how close he is with Dumbledore. They're probably just having a chat. The headmaster loves to be mysterious at the best of times. A suspicious summons is right in his wheelhouse."
"Possibly…or Umbridge could have said something about what he did. As much as Matthew might believe it, he's not above punishment. Speaking that way to an adult, let alone someone who's a high ranking member of the Ministry, could be costly."
"That's something else that's bothering me though. Why isn't Dumbledore intervening? He must know that this is happening. So why is he apparently okay with that? I wouldn't want anyone to wander in and bring my place of work into disrepute, especially when I'm in charge. He's supposed to be the most powerful man on the planet, and yet he's letting Umbridge walk all over him."
"You've got to remember that he's having to work side by side with the Ministry now," Hermione reasoned. "That'll come with some caveats, I'm sure. I doubt he'll have wanted Umbridge here in the first place, but that was a compromise he had to make to keep the peace."
"Fighting Voldemort should be enough to keep the peace," Harry argued. "We need to be one unit to stand a chance, but we're still focused on petty quarrels and personal glory. If Fudge wants to use this as a chance to boost his approval rating, then he's not the right man for the job."
"Be careful, Harry. You're a popular person at the moment and have a lot of good will. One word of discouragement towards the Minister and he could struggle to cling onto the job. I can see the headlines in the Prophet already. Potter Takes Potshot at Fudge . The Chosen One Doesn't Choose Fudge . The Boy Who Lived Kills Fudge's Career. "
"Did you just come up with those?"
"Yeah."
"You're very good at that."
"You sound surprised."
"No! You're good at everything, obviously. It's just…maybe you should be looking into journalism as a career once you're done with Hogwarts. You love writing, judging by how long your essays usually are. And you could finally lend the Prophet some credibility. Or you could even start a newspaper of your own!"
"As long as you give us a glowing review so that everyone wants to read what we have to say."
"Five stars, without a doubt."
"I guess I've got to make use of your star power every now and again."
Harry smirked. "It's what I'm here for, after all."
Hermione's eyes were already gleaming, her head no doubt filled to the brim with ideas. "Oh, I could use the paper to preach about certain social issues. I've been meaning to bring up the treatment of house elves for quite some time…"
The portrait hole swung open, which wasn't the thing that stopped their conversation from progressing. It was, in fact, the sight of a dishevelled Neville standing in the doorway that caught their attention. He must have ran all the way to Gryffindor Tower, judging by the way the boy was panting, though they didn't know where he'd come from. His face was sickly pale and, although that may have been down to the extreme exercise, the two of them got the awful feeling that there was another reason.
"Um…guys," he began meekly. "I think you're going to want to see this."
Harry was already standing up. "What is it?"
"It's Matthew…"
That was all the information they needed, leaving their spots behind without a second thought. They rushed through the exit and charged through the awaiting corridor, growing annoyed when they had to wait for Neville to catch up. If the situation had been under other circumstances, they might not have begrudged giving him a slight breather after he'd gone to the effort of telling them. But, when it came to the wellbeing of their friend, any sort of pleasantness played second fiddle next to their desire to make sure everything was alright. Which was why they frantically asked Neville for the destination they needed before leaving him in their dust.
Ultimately, they didn't need telling where they needed to go. The excited flow of other students was enough of a hint, although they still tried their best to shove past them. As always, the prospect of scandalous entertainment was enough of an excuse to distract everyone in the castle, the entire populace congregating towards one place. With their hasty arrival, that seemed to only increase the intrigue, excited chatter following them as they cut a path through the crowd, eventually stumbling into the courtyard.
Harry and Hermione skidded to an abrupt stop. Around the open area, students and faculty members were watching the scene unfold. Upon the cobbled square, Matthew stood in all his glory. His walking stick was out and his cloak was billowing in the slight breeze cutting through. Directly in front of him was Umbridge, dressed, as ever, in pink head to foot. It was a horrendous clash against the neutral tones of Matthew's outfit. She appeared to be enjoying the moment and the accompanying attention, judging from the unwavering smile that refused to disappear, even at the sight of the pair entering the field of play.
Matthew picked up on their presence at the same time as her, using an unreadable expression to greet them. A small gesture with his arm was enough of an instruction to keep them in place, as much as they wanted to join him. If Harry were to describe the look on his face, he might have branded it as defeated. The number of times he'd seen his friend in such a state could have been counted on the fingers of one hand. Harry held onto Hermione, only because that seemed to be Matthew's wish, that he faced whatever was coming on his own.
The crowd parted. Harry half expected it to be Dumbledore, arriving in the nick of time to save the day, if that needed doing. But it wasn't the headmaster. Instead, his deputy marched into view, the head of Gryffindor wearing a look of fury as she hurriedly approached. Harry shouldn't have been surprised. McGonagall was always on hand to protect her lion cubs, even one that usually claimed didn't need looking after such as Matthew. But the lack of Dumbledore's presence continued to irk Harry, who was still clinging onto hope that whatever crisis this was could be averted.
"What's the meaning of this?" McGonagall snapped.
"It doesn't concern you, Minerva," Umbridge calmly replied.
" I am a professor at this school, Delores . If anyone has any authority right now, it's me. So, you'll explain yourself, no matter if you're standing here by the grace of the Minister of Magic."
"It seems that I'm doing your job for you. For too long, one of your students has been allowed to run amok, disobeying every rule that's in place for everyone's safety. Given the worrying times we're living through, I don't see how that can be allowed to continue unchecked."
"You don't have any right to hand out punishments…"
Umbridge unfurled a scroll. "And yet…it appears that I do ." She handed it to the professor and, whilst McGonagall read whatever was on it, the Ministry official pressed on with her speech. "It turns out that we've been lied to, the Ministry. A student has been allowed to receive education here under false pretences. Matthew Mormont…if that is his real name…isn't truly a wizard."
Harry felt Hermione tense next to him. Whatever they'd been expecting to happen, it wasn't this. It immediately raised a number of questions that they simply didn't have the answer to. How had Umbridge discovered this when it had been a closely kept secret for so long? Why did that mean Matthew was in so much trouble? And, most importantly, why wasn't he fighting any of this? They always expected him to resist opponents with the utmost defiance. But all he was doing now was hanging his head, remaining still, unable to look at them.
"Balderdash!" McGonagall exclaimed.
"It's only because of the headmaster's irritating intervention that we've been blocked from finding out the entire truth of this student's identity. We can call it good will on Minister Fudge's part that we're not unearthing those secrets, which Albus Dumbledore seems to believe are important. But that doesn't mean that this can be overlooked. Hogwarts is a target, whether we wish to ignore that reality or not. It simply cannot survive if it is filled with disloyal, untrustworthy miscreants."
"I think you've gone far enough in this little show of yours. Get to the point."
"Please, don't mince your words, professor."
"Oh, there are plenty of things I'd like to say to you."
"I look forward to hearing them. Almost as much I'm going to enjoy saying this next part. By the decree of the Ministry, Matthew Mormont is hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, effective immediately. He's politely asked to leave by the end of the day, otherwise force will be used if necessary."
"No," McGonagall breathed.
Hermione might have collapsed if it hadn't been for Harry's support, who was feeling light headed himself. All around them, the crowd exploded into a cacophony of disbelieving chatter, trying to make sense of what was happening before their very eyes. All Harry could do was zone in on his friend, the friend who was still refusing to fight the events unfolding. It was clear to see from the way he was holding onto his cane that he was furious, and yet he did nothing as Umbridge snatched back the scroll from a frozen McGonagall and triumphantly left the mess she'd made behind.