CHAPTER 57: TWO MOTIVES AND ONE MISSION
The morning sun cast a radiant glow over the tranquil waters, stretching endlessly before Harry's gaze. The distant pine trees waved their branches in silent salute, framing the serene horizon. It was a beautiful day, one that should bring joy to everyone who beheld it. Harry watched as a wisp of smoke rose and meandered across the surface of the lake, a bittersweet reminder of the events that had unfolded.
He discreetly slid his wand back into his sleeve, a somber smile on his lips. Dobby had selflessly sacrificed himself, but the world outside remained oblivious to his noble act. A surge of frigid anger coursed through Harry's veins, constricting around his heart.
"Goodbye, Dobby," he murmured softly, his eyes fixed on the dwindling wisps of ash. "You died a hero."
Fleur had been right about heroes; they often met tragic fates. With a deep breath, Harry Apparated back to the study in the hidden chamber, determination etched on his face. He had honed the icy pain in his chest into a razor-sharp resolve, holding it close to his heart.
Salazar observed Harry as he paced restlessly past the desk. "You burnt him?"
"I couldn't bear the thought of him trapped underground, slowly decaying," Harry replied, his fingers wrapping around the Polyjuice potion. "Now it's time to give Umbridge a reason to come after me."
Salazar's voice carried an edge of disdain. "I've never understood why Muggles insist on burying themselves. Dispose of this woman, Harry. House-elves are selfless and loyal creatures, and to kill one out of spite alone..."
"She's already gone," Harry interjected, his eyes ablaze with determination. He strode the length of the chamber, his path illuminated by the glinting eyes of the serpent effigies.
In the bathroom, a thick pool of red stained the floor. Moaning Myrtle hovered above it, her ghostly form wringing her pearl-white hands over the crimson pool, circling its edge in a mournful dance.
Harry waved his wand, banishing the blood. "Myrtle."
Myrtle swooped closer, concern etched on her translucent face. "Harry! I thought something terrible had happened to you."
"It's not my blood," Harry assured her.
"Ah, a student?" Myrtle inquired. "Will I have some company then?"
"I don't think so," Harry replied, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "He's free now, and there would be no reason for him to linger here, tied to this world."
Myrtle floated nearer, her curiosity piqued. "It all depends, you know. It only takes a reason to stay."
Harry sighed, his thoughts lingering on Dobby's sacrifice. "I don't think he'd want to stay."
"Any regrets?" Myrtle whispered softly. "No lingering emotions? Nothing left undone?"
"He wanted to be free," Harry reiterated.
"Free," Myrtle breathed, drifting past Harry to the top step leading down into the chamber. "Free to vanish."
"Not moving on to the next great adventure? No well-deserved rest?"
Myrtle's form shivered and flickered as she slid away into the wall. "There's nothing after death, Tom. Once you let go, you fade away, like the dying embers of a fire."
The mention of the name "Tom" sent a chill down Harry's spine, but he brushed it aside. There was no time for such distractions; Umbridge had to go.
Harry stalked silently through the dim corridors beneath his disillusionment charm, his destination in sight: the door to Umbridge's office. Wards of an unfamiliar nature hummed on the doorframe, bearing crude and misshapen runes that had been etched into the wood.
"You'll vanish," Harry whispered to himself, his voice laced with determination. He slid his wand from his sleeve, his grip firm, and his emotions honed to a razor-sharp edge. "I'll eradicate every trace."
With a swift, determined motion, Harry thrust his wand forward, unleashing a torrent of cherry-red fiendfyre into the room. The wards on the door melted away like frost before a blazing sun. The once-lurid, pink carpet erupted into flames, billowing acrid smoke. Harry intensified the fire's heat, scouring every corner of the room until it was left devoid of any trace of Umbridge's presence. With a final, decisive flick of his wand, he extinguished the flames.
The room was now transformed, with the stones glowing orange and wreathed in a shimmering heat haze. Molten mortar oozed from between them, and ashes gently drifted to the floor. A sense of satisfaction welled within Harry as he bent down and etched a message into the scorched floor with purple flame.
"For the Greater Good," the words blazed in fiery defiance. "And for revenge. Because it's people like you that ought to vanish, not ones like Dobby."
"And now I wait," Harry murmured to himself, a fire burning in his eyes.
Returning to the Great Hall, he took a seat, keeping one eye on Umbridge's smug countenance. He couldn't help but relish the anticipation of her impending downfall. You won't be smiling for much longer, he thought, pushing aside his eagerness as he delicately sliced a piece of chicken, ham, and leek pie.
Malfoy slinked into the hall and approached the dais, his boot emitting wisps of smoke from the scorch marks. He leaned in to whisper something in Umbridge's ear, and her face flushed bright red, a pulsing vein visible on her temple.
"Professor Snape!" she spluttered, clutching her handbag tightly. "I want every last drop of veritaserum in my office. Immediately! And bring Potter with you. He's behind this. He and Dumbledore are behind all of it!"
Snape, ever the enigmatic figure, nodded with a smug smile and swirled his black robes as he left.
Harry couldn't help but marvel at Snape's indifference to Filch's cruelty towards first years, a stark reminder of the complex nature of the wizarding world.
"Now, Mr. Potter," Umbridge hissed, her voice dripping with malice.
Harry shot a small, reassuring smile to Katie, who seemed both concerned and conflicted, and then stood. She watched him with a furrowed brow and clenched lips as he gave her a brief wave before heading back towards Umbridge's office.
Malfoy and members of the Inquisitorial Squad flanked him, wands gripped tightly in their hands. Snape loomed by the entrance to the classroom, holding a clear vial. A smirk danced on his lips as he stepped ahead of the group.
"This vial contains enough veritaserum for every student on that list," Snape said with a hint of satisfaction. "There are no children with the strength to resist even a single drop."
"I have to be sure," Umbridge snapped. "Will it be enough?"
"It takes considerable mental strength to combat the effects of veritaserum," Snape explained, glancing at Harry with a knowing look. "It would be a rare student who could withstand it. Three drops should suffice."
"Very well," Umbridge conceded, snatching the vial from Snape and pouring three drops into a pewter goblet.
Harry couldn't help but wonder aloud, "May I ask what's happening?"
Umbridge's eyes gleamed with sinister delight. "Drink up, Mr. Potter. We shall discuss what's happening at length and in great detail."
"I look forward to it," Harry responded with a false eagerness, his lips curving into a deceptive smile. He tipped the clear vial of veritaserum onto his tongue, feeling a burning sensation as if he had pressed his tongue against ice. An odd numbness crept down his throat, enveloping him. But Harry recognized this sensation for what it was – a futile attempt to suppress his resolve.
Emptiness. Harry almost laughed at the pathetic sedation the potion attempted to inflict on him. It had no power over his determination. "It's nothing," he thought, crushing the feeble influence.
"Allow a few seconds for it to take effect," Snape advised, his voice oozing with authority. "A test question is advisable to begin with, something simple."
"What is your name?" Umbridge demanded, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.
A strange sense of trust bubbled up within Harry, an overpowering desire to confess everything. "Harry James Potter," he replied, his voice carrying the truth.
"Where were you this morning?" Umbridge inquired, her gaze flickering towards the blackened, heat-warped remnants of her once-pristine office.
"Hogwarts," Harry said, letting the compulsion guide his tongue.
"Specifically?" Snape added, his voice dripping with insinuation, a sly smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Harry's internal alarm bells rang. Snape suspected something, and he couldn't afford to let the veritaserum reveal his secrets. He squashed the compulsion, his willpower prevailing. "Gryffindor Tower," he replied in an even, unyielding tone.
A broad, self-satisfied grin spread across Umbridge's pallid face. "Where's Dumbledore?"
Harry concealed a quiet sense of triumph. "I have no idea," he responded, his voice steady and unwavering.
"Have you attended any meetings of this Dumbledore's Army organization, since the first?" Umbridge pressed, her curiosity unabated.
"No," Harry droned, maintaining the facade. But he couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Snape's expression, his raised eyebrows betraying his suspicion.
"Not good," Harry thought, realizing that Snape might be onto his potential deception.
"Why did you not attend any meetings?" Umbridge persisted, her tone slightly incredulous. "Surely these students are your sort."
"I wasn't welcome," Harry replied, weaving a half-truth to protect his real reasons. "Not after all the stuff that was written about me. They said it would put people off from joining."
"Did you destroy my office?" Umbridge demanded, her eyes narrowed in anger. "Did you?!"
Harry's internal response was an affirmative yes. He had eradicated every trace of her presence from Hogwarts, leaving only herself. However, he concealed the burning cold fury that welled up within him, determined to keep his emotions in check. "No," he stated calmly.
Umbridge's contemptuous dismissal followed. "You may go, Potter. Mr. Malfoy, if you would be so kind as to fetch... Mr. Smith."
Harry paused briefly outside the door, overhearing the conversation within.
"You want to check Potter's answers against another, more insignificant member?" Snape inquired, a note of curiosity in his voice.
"I want to know what the list really is," Umbridge explained, her heels clicking back and forth beyond the wall. "If Potter wasn't directly involved because the founders thought he was bad for their reputation, then I'll have to ask someone else who was there."
"I can't imagine there's anything more to that piece of paper than the names and a particularly childish jinx to punish anyone who betrays the group," Snape remarked.
Harry seized the opportunity, pulling out the Marauder's Map. Zacharias Smith's name floated at one end of the Hufflepuff table.
"Polyjuice time," Harry muttered to himself, setting off at a brisk pace. "I'll have to go out into the forest as myself. I won't be able to impersonate an auror or something similarly clever."
As he approached the doors to the Great Hall, he enacted the Imperius Curse with a determined focus. His willpower seeped through Zacharias Smith, compelling the Hufflepuff student to obey his unspoken commands.
The Hufflepuff boy rose from his seat, his movements guided by the effects of the Imperius Curse. He followed Harry as they slipped into a nearby broom closet, the door quietly closing behind them. Harry, acting with practiced precision, stunned the boy and cast a Disillusionment Charm over him. The boy's unconscious form slumped against the wall.
With deliberate care, Harry plucked a couple of hairs from the boy's head and dropped them into a vial of Polyjuice Potion. The potion gradually transformed from its clear state to a sludge-like brown. Holding his nose against the impending taste, Harry downed the potion.
A searing heat surged throughout his body, burning just beneath his skin. His bones twisted and shifted, his skin rippled like liquid wax, and muscles melted away from beneath it. Harry gritted his teeth and endured the painful transformation, hoping it wouldn't be as excruciating as Fleur's Metamorphosis.
When the Polyjuice transformation was complete, Harry checked his reflection in the window. Satisfied with the likeness to Zacharias Smith, he charmed his robes to match the Hufflepuff's attire in both size and color.
Malfoy, ever watchful, spotted Harry and approached him, tugging him off the bench before he could place his full weight on it. "The Headmistress wants to speak with you, Smith."
Crabbe and Goyle, at Malfoy's side, each took one of Harry's arms and half-marched, half-carried him down the corridor to Umbridge's office.
"Mr. Smith," Umbridge simpered, pushing a plain china cup filled with steaming tea towards him.
Harry eyed the tea with suspicion, his senses alert. There was no doubt that it contained veritaserum. He observed a thin, clear film of liquid on the surface, untouched and unmixed.
"Have a drink, Mr. Smith," Umbridge encouraged, her tone falsely reassuring. "Relax, you're not in any trouble. I just want to ask you about some of the members of that group you were part of. They've done a great deal of criminal damage to Hogwarts and my own possessions."
Harry carefully picked up the tea cup and took a sip. The hot, sweet tea mixed with the icy sensation of the veritaserum as it slid down his throat.
"What's your full name?" Umbridge inquired, her eyes fixed on him.
Drawing from his knowledge of Zacharias Smith's identity, Harry replied, "It's just Zacharias Smith," taking another cautious sip of the tea.
"So how many meetings of this group did you go to?" Umbridge inquired.
"There was only one meeting," Harry replied, maintaining his facade as Zacharias Smith.
"That's good. What did you plan to do at the meetings?" Umbridge asked, feigning concern.
"We wanted to practice magic," Harry explained, his tone innocent. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to pass my OWLs otherwise."
"You're right to be concerned; the exams are very important," Umbridge acknowledged, her demeanor almost maternal. "But you must be careful who you listen to."
"Of course, professor," Harry responded, taking another sip of the tea, which had now cooled to a more bearable temperature.
"How was the group organized?" Umbridge continued her questioning.
"The DA was run by Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and Ron Weasley," Harry recounted, "but several different students were going to teach; whoever could help, really. They had a big list with all the names on it."
"What was the list?" Umbridge inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"It had all the names on it and some magic to stop anyone from ratting us out," Harry replied, affecting a thoughtful expression. "But they were very careful with it. I think it was more important than that. I listened in when they were hiding it."
Umbridge leaned forward, her anticipation palpable. "What did they say?"
Harry's mind raced. Snape wouldn't believe any of this, but he had to proceed. "They said it was a map. There was a phrase to reveal it, one Dumbledore gave them."
"Do you know the phrase?" Umbridge pressed, her handbag spewing forth various items, including her wand, the vial of veritaserum, and the list itself.
"I think so," Harry hesitated, his brow furrowing. "It was…"
"Take your time," Umbridge encouraged.
"For the Greater Good," Harry whispered, concealing the dark undertones of his thoughts.
"And for revenge," he added silently.
"For the Greater Good," Umbridge repeated, tapping her wand on the list. But when she flipped the page over, the rough map appeared.
"Oh, yes," she breathed. "Thank you, Mr. Smith. You may go, just remember to be much more careful about who you listen to in the future."
"Oh, I will," Harry thought to himself as he smothered a small, thin smile. He exited the room, disillusioning himself to remain unseen, and then discreetly crept back in. Perhaps you should've done the same, he mused silently, observing Umbridge's carelessness.
Umbridge retrieved the diadem from the floor and placed it upon her head, a triumphant glint in her eyes. She leaned in, her brow furrowing in thought. "Yes, yes…"
In a swift motion, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the nearby fireplace. The flames leaped to life, and she called out, "Dawlish. Come at once and bring a partner." She hesitated for a moment, her expression a mix of urgency and authority. "No, don't bother telling Amelia Bones. There's no time. This is of critical importance to the Minister."
As Harry wandered back toward the Great Hall, the clicking of Umbridge's heels, marking her impatient pacing in the classroom, gradually faded behind him. He couldn't help but smirk to himself. One more step on the road, Umbridge. One more perceived victory. Then ruin.
Harry cautiously prodded the cluttered floor of the broom closet with the tip of his shoe, inadvertently knocking over a rusty bucket and a cluster of forgotten mops. Amidst the chaos, his toes came into contact with something unusually soft and warm. Smith was still sprawled on the closet's floor, unconscious.
Taking a moment to think, Harry contemplated his next steps. He knew that he had to improvise his way out of this predicament, as he always did in times of crisis. With a determined breath, he hoisted Smith's unconscious body onto his shoulder. The weight wasn't insurmountable, but it was enough to make Harry aware of the importance of the mission he was about to embark on.
Carefully, he stepped out of the broom closet, Smith's inert form a constant reminder of the stakes. Harry ventured down the corridor, the shadows casting eerie, elongated figures across the stone walls as he made his way toward the Hufflepuff common room.
A tall and pompous-looking Hufflepuff, known as Zach, crossed paths with Harry. Zach acknowledged him with a curt nod before addressing him. "The whole school's being locked down, we've got to go back to our common rooms and stay there until further notice. What's happening? What did Umbridge want?"
Harry's expression remained enigmatic as he replied, "She gave me a cup of tea and asked me some questions."
Zach raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Oh? What about? I heard she talked to Potter, too."
"Somebody set fire to her office," Harry explained, his voice hushed, as if sharing a well-guarded secret. "Burned the whole thing to the ground."
Zach's friend, who had been eavesdropping, chimed in with a frown. He rapped his knuckles against a nearby barrel in thought. "Saw them come in through the hall a few minutes back. Went right after Umbridge without a word."
Harry added, "Well, if they find whoever did it, he or she's in trouble. I daresay the only things Umbridge has left are in her handbag."
The mention of Umbridge's infamous pink decor elicited a laugh from Zach's friend. "Good riddance to all that bloody pink. Did she actually make you take veritaserum?"
Harry seized the opportunity to sow further confusion. With an air of faux astonishment, he replied, "The tea. It could've been in the tea. It did taste weird."
"That must be illegal," Zach's friend mused aloud, a hint of concern in his tone. He paused in front of a cozy gathering of chairs and sofas. "I'm going to ask Cedric about it."
As the two Hufflepuffs continued their conversation, Harry moved forward with Smith still slung over his shoulder, determined to carry out his mission, which was fueled not just by a desire for justice but mostly for revenge. The stakes were high, and the challenges were mounting, but Harry's determination burned as fiercely as the fire that had consumed Umbridge's office.
"I think I'm going to lie down," Harry announced, his voice a strained murmur. "I'm starting to get a serious headache."
"It's probably because of what that woman made you drink. I'm definitely talking to Cedric about it," Zach's friend responded with determination.
Harry nodded, grateful for their concern. He bided his time, waiting until their eyes moved away from him. Swiftly, he slipped away, making his way upstairs to find Smith's room. He gently placed Smith on the bed beneath the nameplate and dispelled the disillusionment charm, drawing the hangings closed to conceal his unconscious body.
Whispering the incantation, "Obliviate," Harry skillfully altered Smith's memory, inserting an abridged version of the conversation he had with Umbridge after lunch. It was a necessary measure to protect himself and his mission.
Once Smith's memory was modified, Harry cast a disillusionment charm on himself and made his way out of the Hufflepuff common room, navigating through the darkened corridors. As he moved, a surge of magical energy coursed through his body, causing it to contort and twist. Harry clenched his teeth, stumbling into a shadowed corner, where he quickly removed the charms on his robes. He pressed his forehead against the wall, gritting his teeth as his body shifted and realigned. The ordeal was excruciating, but it was a necessary price to pay for maintaining his cover.
"I'm never doing that again," Harry muttered to himself, still recovering from the transformation. "I'd rather transfigure my entire body."
Having regained his composure, he slipped back into Gryffindor Tower, where a small group had gathered around the common room's roaring fire.
"Someone set fire to Umbridge's office," Harry declared as he joined the group.
Nev inquired, "She thought it was you?"
Hermione, her brow furrowed with suspicion, asked directly, "Was it you?"
Harry replied with a weary sigh, "I wish it had been me, but I'm tired and not feeling well. I don't know what's in Umbridge's teabags, but that cup of tea didn't agree with me at all."
Hermione's concern deepened as she realized the implications. "You drank it. It had veritaserum in it, Harry. What did you tell her?"
Harry adopted an air of nonchalance. "I don't remember it too well. She asked me where Dumbledore was, but I've no idea, so we kind of just went in circles. Now I'm going to go sleep."
Nev nodded in understanding. "Veritaserum's powerful stuff. Hope you feel better tomorrow, mate."
Once he was excused, Harry discreetly unfolded the Marauders' Map and traced Umbridge's name, which was moving in the direction of Hagrid's Hut, accompanied by two unfamiliar names, presumably the pair of aurors she had summoned. It was the moment he had been waiting for.
Taking a deep breath, Harry cast a sticking charm on the bed curtains and opened the window. He glanced out, assessing the drop below. Doubts gnawed at him. "This is a terrible idea," he muttered to himself, scanning the wall for handholds, only to find open windows. "My Firebolt..."
He checked the dormitories for Katie and found her name in the common room. Umbridge and the aurors' names drifted to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where the Marauder's Map ended, drawing ever closer to their destination.
With a sense of urgency, Harry edged out onto the narrow ledge. "Accio Firebolt," he whispered fervently. His trusty broom responded immediately, zipping out of a window a few floors above and landing neatly in his outstretched hand. Without hesitation, he swung a leg over it, disillusioned himself, and dived into the cool night air.
The wind rushed past him as he corkscrewed over the Hogwarts greenhouses and courtyards, a ghostly figure on his Firebolt. He expertly navigated the broom to Hagrid's pumpkin patch, tucking it out of sight between two massive pumpkins before hurrying into the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
Underfoot, the forest floor was a mosaic of dead pine needles and branches, each one crunching noisily under Umbridge's short, loud stomps. The sounds echoed eerily beneath the thick canopy of branches. Twigs snapped under the heavy boots of her aurors as they crept along the forest path, their wands casting beams of light through the gloom.
Dawlish's face emerged between the trees, and Umbridge's unmistakable pink cardigan bobbed a short distance behind him. Harry's heart pounded with anticipation.
Harry knew that he had no need to engage with the aurors directly. His mission was clear: ensure that they got separated from Umbridge.
As he tracked the trio through the woods, the pine trees grew thicker, their trunks more imposing, and arching roots rose up to his waist. He moved silently, his every step calculated.
"I'm telling you this is a bad idea," Dawlish's partner voiced his concerns.
"We're aurors, King," Dawlish muttered with an air of solemn duty. "We follow our orders to keep people safe. If we don't follow orders, everything falls apart."
King, skeptical of their mission, replied, "This isn't keeping anyone safe as far as I can see. We've been sent into an area well-known for being inhabited by some of the most dangerous magical creatures in Britain, and she hasn't even told us why."
Dawlish tried to reassure him, "I'm sure Dolores has a good reason, King. I hope she has a good reason."
"What do you think we're doing out here, then?"
"If Dolores is risking herself to come out here, then it must be important," Dawlish said.
"Important to her and Fudge," King retorted.
Dawlish hinted at King's hidden loyalties, "I'm sure you would see it that way."
"What do you mean?" King inquired as they briefly split up to walk around a massive tree.
Harry seized the moment, checking Umbridge's line of sight, and then moved a bit closer to eavesdrop on their conversation.
"We've been working together for the best part of a decade, King," Dawlish said in a confidential tone. "I know whose ideals you follow. Don't think I haven't noticed you disappearing off at odd times."
"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," King replied, trying to deflect the accusation.
"Dont worry, King, you're an excellent auror. I don't care if you're a member of Dumbledore's covert little group. Anything to get Fudge out before Madam Bones decides to start a military coup just to be rid of his incompetence."
Harry bit his lip to suppress a curse. It was becoming increasingly evident that King was indeed a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He knew he had to continue onward, but he couldn't afford to arouse suspicion.
"Time to improvise," he murmured to himself as he hurried along, the weight of his mission pressing upon him.
Harry carefully navigated his way through the dense trees, glancing back occasionally at the beams of light flashing over his shoulder. He moved with a sense of purpose, determined to reach the first span of spider webbing. As he approached, he used his magic to disillusion it and all the webbing within sight, skillfully following the path that Hagrid had taken, leading him all the way to Aragog's hollow. The looming shadows of acromantula crawled up and down the massive trunks above him, creating an eerie atmosphere.
He couldn't help but acknowledge the potential danger he was placing himself in, especially given the precarious relationship between humans and these giant arachnids. A small smile crept across his lips. "Fleur may end up melting my face."
Taking a deep breath, Harry revealed himself. The forest echoed with furious clicking, and gargantuan arachnids descended from all sides to surround him.
'So, friend of Hagrid, you've returned,' the ancient, milk-eyed acromantula patriarch, Aragog, said as he stalked out from the roots of the largest pine. 'I remember your last visit well.'
Harry nodded in acknowledgment, remembering the chaotic escape from the forest and the horde of man-eating spiders in pursuit. 'Let's hope it goes a bit better this time.'
'Are you going to try and eat me again?' he asked.
'My children are always hungry,' Aragog murmured. 'But no. My family owes you a great debt, slayer-of-the-creature-we-do-not-speak-of. Hagrid told me of your deed, you freed my old friend from his prison with your actions and saved my children from the creature's hunger.'
'A debt,' Harry mused.
'Yes,' Aragog whispered. 'A debt. However, you did not know of it until now. Why have you come?'
'I have a deal for you and your children,' Harry said.
'A deal…' Aragog clicked his pincers and stalked closer, looming over Harry.
'Fulfilment of your debt, if you like.'
'What would you have from my family, friend of spiders?'
'There was a wizard who was once known as Tom Riddle—'
'I know of Tom Riddle,' Aragog hissed. 'He expelled me from my home, destroyed the future Hagrid had planned.'
Harry seized upon the acromantula's evident animosity toward Tom Riddle. 'He unleashed the basilisk I slew, and he goes by a new name now. He calls himself Voldemort and seeks to dominate Britain.'
'You would have us fight him,' Aragog murmured. 'We are hunters and ambushers. We live amongst webs and shadows. Outside our forest we'll be little more than a shield against spells. I will not condemn my children to such a fate.'
'I ask you and your family to guard the forest against him, to agree never to aid or join with him, no matter what he offers, or how long he lives,' Harry proposed, his wand tucked away. 'If you agree, then I will hold your oath fulfilled… and as a gesture of friendship, I will hunt with you.'
'I agree,' Aragog clicked his pincers. 'You ask for little in return for the freedom you have gifted us. When will you hunt with us?'
Harry smiled, revealing his cunning plan. 'We already are.'
'Where is our prey?'
'Walking toward us, lured into the middle of your web, into this very clearing. A trio whom I can offer one of to you and your children.'
'Only one?' Aragog's pincers trembled. 'Why only one?'
'The other two must live. They are unknowing allies,' Harry explained as he watched the acromantula ascend back into the trees, his mission to manipulate these formidable creatures into an alliance near its critical stage.
'I have told my children that you are one of our family, just as Hagrid is,' Aragog said. 'I accept your hunt.'
Harry stepped forward, positioning himself under the massive arachnid's belly, taking shelter in the shadows within the hollow beneath the largest pine. 'The female in pink is your prey. Scare the others off, and I will ensure she is trapped here.'
Aragog responded with a display of approval, rising onto his rear legs and waving his forelimbs and pincers in the air, creating a rapid clicking sound that resembled gunfire. 'My children will chase the others away, we will deal with the one in pink.'
The anticipation within Harry was palpable as footsteps drew nearer through the trees. With Umbridge now within their reach, his heart raced in excitement.
He peered out around the roots, realizing that with the elimination of Umbridge, he would be free to pursue the prophecy. His eyes never wavered from the unfolding scene.
The two aurors, Dawlish and King, spread out, cautiously pacing the edge of the clearing, their wands poised and ready for any threat. Umbridge stumbled to the clearing's center, clutching the Marauder's Map in one hand. She cried out, 'For the Greater Good.'
Harry watched with a small, thin smile as the acromantula descended from above. 'Yes. But mostly for revenge.'
King swore loudly, urging his companion to action. 'Run! Dawlish! Umbridge!'
Dawlish conjured a shining shield of magic, while King threw up a gleaming barrier beside him. The acromantula, in a frenzied attempt to reach its prey, bounced off these magical defenses and rolled across the ground. Umbridge, screaming in terror, sprinted for the safety of the silver light.
'Ossasula,' Harry whispered.
The dark purple curse hissed through the air and struck Umbridge on the ankle, causing a sharp snap to echo through the clearing. She dropped with a cry, and the swarm of acromantula descended upon her. Dawlish and King exchanged a knowing look before turning and running, the colossal arachnids thundering after them.
'Filthy spiders,' Umbridge screeched, her voice laced with fear as she pressed her glowing wand tip to her leg and fired red curses into the shadows around her, desperately clutching at her injured ankle. 'Disgusting creatures!'
Harry calmly strolled out from the hollow, revealing himself fully. 'I see you followed the map I made.'
'Dumbledore,' she spat, her eyes seething with anger. 'You'll suffer for this, for consorting with such things.'
'Dumbledore?' Harry echoed, his curiosity piqued. The revelation of Umbridge's connection to Dumbledore had the potential to unearth vital information, and he was determined to exploit this unexpected twist in their encounter.
'Potter,' she breathed, her voice trembling. 'I am the headmistress of Hogwarts, undersecretary to the Minister for Magic. You will be expelled, your wand snapped, and then you'll be sent to Azkaban for the rest of your life. It will only take a word from me, and you will be destroyed.'
A small, cold, thin smile curved Harry's lips, his determination unwavering. 'You seem to be under the delusion you're leaving this forest.'
A crazed, desperate gleam rose in her eyes, and she hastily retrieved the tiara from her handbag, placing it onto her head. 'Yes,' she muttered, dropping the bag onto the forest floor. 'Yes.'
Harry glanced at the discarded handbag, considering the potential evidence it might provide. 'I'll leave it. Hagrid might find it to prove she was eaten here.'
But Umbridge wasn't ready to concede defeat. A white curse shot past him and carved deep gashes into the trunk of a tree. Harry expertly deflected a second curse, sending it harmlessly into the ground, and continued to approach her.
'Crucio,' she hissed.
Harry's response was a mere whisper. A single butterfly emerged from the tip of his wand and absorbed the red light, bursting into a wisp of dark vapor. It was a powerful demonstration of his control over the situation.
'Lacero,' he murmured, casting the dark spell. 'Lacero.'
The first purple curse ripped through her cardigan as Umbridge rolled away. The second struck, tearing a line across her forearm and spattering blood across the pine needles. In her pain, her short wand slipped from her stubby fingers.
'No,' she shrieked, grabbing her wand and attempting to drag herself away through the needles.
But Harry was relentless. 'Ossasula.' His curse echoed through the forest and fractured her pelvis with a loud snap.
Her hoarse scream tore through the trees as Umbridge clawed her way through the dirt toward the path, sobbing and muttering beneath her breath. Her soiled pink cardigan and skirt dragged countless dead needles in their weave. A loud crack echoed through the trees, and she reappeared a few meters away.
Apparition. A chill lanced through Harry. He had expected her to attempt an escape, but the suddenness of her Apparition left him momentarily unsettled.
Nevertheless, he quickly regrouped and strode after her, crushing her wand beneath his heel. He flipped her over with his foot, and her tears streamed down her pale, mud-smeared, flabby face. Harry knew that she was now utterly at his mercy, her threats and authority powerless in the face of his resolve.
'Please,' she whispered, desperation in her eyes as she clutched the tiara with both hands, smearing blood from her wrist over her right cheek. 'Please, help me.'
Harry, unmoved by her pleas, responded coldly. 'There's no help coming.' He pried the Marauder's Map from her trembling hands and tapped it for emphasis. 'Sometimes, when something seems too good to be true, it's because it is.'
Umbridge's eyes widened in realization, and then her face turned ashen as the truth of her situation sank in.
From the depths of the hollow, Aragog emerged, seeking confirmation. 'This is our prey?'
Harry nodded, showing no mercy. 'She's yours now.' He glanced back over his shoulder, addressing Aragog. 'Kill her.'
'We spiders don't kill our prey so quickly.' Aragog's hoarse laugh echoed through the clearing. 'We keep them still, warm, and breathing, feasting for as long as they last.'
Umbridge whimpered, and the sour smell of urine filled the hollow. The other acromantula returned, scuttling from the shadows.
'I thank you for your gift,' Aragog whispered. A brief flurry of clicking echoed from the trees around the hollow. 'My children say the other two have fled the forest unharmed. Our hunt is successful, friend of spiders. I and my children will defend the forest from Tom Riddle and those who follow him.' He lunged past Harry and seized Umbridge in his pincers.
She gurgled, then flopped to the floor, as limp as a drowned worm, and the tiara slipped from her head, rolling to Harry's feet.
'Curious…' Harry bent down and retrieved it, brushing away the dirt and pine needles. He examined the tiara and found writing etched in a ring around the sapphire. "Wit beyond measure is Man's greatest treasure."
He considered the circlet thoughtfully, running his fingers over its intricate design, and it shuddered slightly in response, letting out a soft chitter.
'Silver and sapphire.' Fleur's bright blue eyes and her shimmering Yule dress flashed through his mind, and the tiara seemed to resonate with his thoughts. 'I think I'll keep you.' Harry decided, claiming the tiara for himself, its warmth soaking into his hand as a unique and powerful addition to his growing collection.
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