The Rebellion
Harry and Neville made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. To be extra petty today, he had decided to wear one of the infamous shirts he had received from Malfoy. It fitted him like a glove and was so soft against his skin. They barely had time to sit down when a House elf popped next to the table to give him a paper.
“Meet me in my office after breakfast, my boy.
I’m particularly fond of Sugar Quill.”
Harry shook with anxiety and wondered if the Headmaster had chosen the password on purpose or if he was reading too much into it.
His stomach was tied into knots and he just pushed his food around. Ron was not so mysteriously absent from the table.
"Are you going to be alright?" Neville asked with concern.
He shrugged, "Yes, I'm just a bit worried about what the Headmaster is going to say. Ron was right, he could very well confiscate the quill…"
"I don't think he’s allowed to," Neville said. "The gift passed through the castle’s wards, and you cast a detection charm on it. He can’t take it without a very good reason. Professor Flitwick even gave you a book on magical detection."
"Also," Neville continued, "I’m sure Slytherins get dubious gifts from their families all the time, but he can’t just take them away because some may come from dark families. It’s the same for you. Just because you're the 'Boy Who Lived' doesn’t mean he has the right to stop you from accepting gifts from people he doesn’t like. Don’t let him control your life, Harry!"
"When did you get so wise?" Harry laughed at his friend.
"Luna's really helped me with my self esteem. But truely, don’t let them step over you, I know quite a bit about that." Neville smiled ruefully .
"Alright, time for me to go face the music then. Wish me luck."
Neville gave him a thumbs up.
Harry stood in front of the office, debating going inside or simply pretending he forgot about the meeting.
No, he had to be strong. He took a deep breath and told the password to the statue.
There was an unsettling silence when he stepped up the stairs, and he wondered for a minute if he hadn't misread the hour of the meeting.
Entering the Headmaster's office, his doubts were quickly erased when he noticed the man poised in his big chair with an air of solemn consideration. In front of him was an empty seat, ready for questioning.
“Harry, my boy, come in. Sit, will you. I was just waiting for you. Lemon drop?” Dumbledore asked with a grandfatherly smile. Harry wasn't sure he was duped.
“No thank you, Headmaster.” Harry declined, for both the candy and the request to sit. He preferred to stay standing in case he needed to make a quick escape. It was silly. It was not like he was in any danger but sitting on the chair made him feel trapped.
There was a slight pause as Dumbledore waited for him to start talking. When he realized it wasn't going to happen, he put his hands under his chin, as if thinking.
"Harry, your friends have brought me some concerns."
Still, Harry waited. He hadn't been asked a question after all. The little defiance wasn’t much but it made him feel a bit more in control.
“I thought you would have come to me on your own when I first recognised the Thunderbird at breakfast, but it seems I was wrong. It makes me sad that you do not trust me.”
Why did his professors always think he needed to share everything with them? He was allowed his privacy for Merlin’s sake. They certainly didn't pay that much attention to other students.
“It has nothing to do with trust, Professor. It’s just that I didn’t see any reason to tell you about it.”
“Harry,” he started with a disappointed look, “You must be aware that Lucius Malfoy is a dark wizard and that he was at the service of Voldemort. The fact that he would send you something is deeply concerning in itself. I thought you would know more than anyone that you need to stay cautious.”
Harry crossed his arms in annoyance. He felt a bit like an angry child but couldn’t help himself. “Well, he doesn't have a dark mark,” he said petulantly.
He wasn’t sure why he was trying to defend Malfoy. He didn’t really know anything about the man or his potential past as a death eater.
But Lucius Malfoy didn’t seem like the kind of person to bow to someone else. He was too arrogant and narcissist to be someone's lap dog and he had power and money on his own. Would he really follow someone like Voldemort?
“I’m afraid it doesn’t mean a lot, my boy. Lucius Malfoy is a very manipulative man, and his power at the ministry allows him to avoid suspicion. I have no doubt that he was a fervent follower of Voldermort.” Dumbledore said with confidence.
“What about the things I heard during Voldermort’s resurrection though? I don’t see why Voldemort would lie about one of his followers defecting?”
“Perhaps it was a ploy to keep a spy at the ministry in case you managed to escape. Or perhaps with all the stress, you simply misremembered what he said. It can happen to the best of us, Harry.” The man suggested with a smile that bordered on condescending .
Harry struggled to keep his frustration in check. He hadn’t misheard. The events of that dreadful day were etched in his mind, vivid and unshakable. All it took was closing his eyes to relive them. The old coot had only seen his memory of the event, but acted as if he had been there himself, as if he understood it better than Harry did. It was infuriating."
Harry let out a noncommittal grunt, steering the conversation back on track..
“Still, it's just clothes and quills, what harm can it really do?”
"Lucius Malfoy's actions may seem harmless, but I know his intentions are anything but noble. Keeping this gift wouldn't be wise, who knows what schemes lurk in his twisted mind? You are a beacon of the Light, the Boy Who Lived," Dumbledore said, his voice light with warmth as he gestured animatedly.
Harry cringed at the title.
"I fear he seeks to avenge his master through some elaborate plot. For your own safety, Harry, it would be best to part with whatever he sent you."
Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing himself to recall the sentences he had rehearsed with Neville. His nerves were on edge. It was one thing to criticize his professors in his head, but standing up to the Headmaster was an entirely different challenge. He hated speaking his mind, especially to someone with so much authority over him. But, as Neville had reminded him, if he didn’t start setting boundaries now, he would always be walked over by others.
"I don’t think I will, Professor. It’s not my intention to undermine your authority, but the packages I receive are perfectly safe. I even had Professor Flitwick cast Detection spells on them, and he found nothing," he recited, masking his nerves with forced confidence.
Harry could tell the Headmaster wasn’t pleased. His eyes creased ever so slightly, and his smile faded just a fraction.
“As much as I have total trust in Professor Flitwick’s ability to cast the adequate spells, there are a lot of curses he is not familiar with, like I am. Would you at least allow an old man to check a second time, my boy? I would like to have a look at those clothes he sent you.” he said with renewed confidence.
Harry couldn’t really deny him without a good reason, but he still tried to find a way out of it.
"I’m sorry but I don’t have them with me. I left them in the dorm.” Harry tried, hoping it would deter the man.
“Well it’s not a problem, I'm sure a house elf wouldn't mind retrieving it for us. Bumbly?”
A scrawny elf appeared next to the Headmaster.
"Go to Mr. Potter’s dorm and bring us a black box containing a quill, along with the clothes and note signed by Lucius Malfoy."
Harry was stunned by the man's audacity. Dumbledore hadn’t even bothered to ask his permission before sending the elf. It was a blatant invasion of privacy. Who knew what else the Headmaster did with the help of the Hogwarts elves? He could retrieve anything he wanted from students’ rooms, and no one would be the wiser.
The elf appeared once again and put the quill and clothes in the Headmaster’s hand.
Harry felt disheartened. It was going to be much more difficult to get his things back, now that the headmaster had them. It had all been for nothing.
Dumbledore eyed the gifts with clear disapproval. "Don’t you see, Harry? These extravagant gifts are in poor taste. Lucius is flaunting his wealth without a thought for those less fortunate." He hummed into his beard, then began casting a series of spells over the items.
Harry remained perfectly still, holding his breath and silently praying that the Headmaster wouldn’t find anything. The glow from Dumbledore’s wand wasn’t exactly reassuring, and a sudden worry crept in: what if he accidentally damaged the clothes?
"Well, it seems there’s nothing on them. Peculiar." Dumbledore’s brow furrowed in confusion. "I wonder what Lucius Malfoy’s true intentions are," he mused.
"Perhaps he just wanted to be nice?" Harry suggested, though even to his own ears, it sounded ridiculous. "Or maybe, since I’m getting older and will soon take up the mantle of the Potter family, he’s simply trying to foster a good relationship between our families?" He repeated the reasoning Neville had given him, hoping it sounded convincing.
The Headmaster stared at him in surprise.
"What do you mean, my boy?"
Harry looked up, puzzled. "Well, as I said, I’ll be of age soon. And I’m the heir to the Potter family, right? So, I’ll have to take on the responsibilities of the family and play a more active role in the Wizengamot. Or am I wrong?"
For a moment, Harry wondered if Neville had been mistaken about his future role as the Potter heir. He had to admit he was quite clueless about the whole matter.
"No, you're right, Harry. I’m just surprised you know about it. You’ve never shown an interest in politics before. I must warn you, though, the political world is complicated and unforgiving. It’s perfectly fine if you’d prefer to step back and let someone else take the reins. Your father didn’t care much about politics, so I took care of his seat at the Wizengamot. If you want, we can continue that arrangement."
Harry didn't like the idea of handing over so much power to the Headmaster. He didn't trust Dumbledore to act on his behalf without interfering. He had no doubt the old man would overrule his decisions if he thought Harry was making a mistake, all under the guise of him being too young and inexperienced.
"It's very generous of you, Headmaster, but I think I'd prefer to handle it myself. I can't stay ignorant forever. As the 'Boy Who Lived,' people will expect me to take a more prominent role in pureblood society. I need to learn how to navigate it. I’m sure you understand."
Harry couldn’t care less about the political scene, and the thought of learning the complex laws of the magical world filled him with dread. But for now, there was no other option if he didn’t want people like the Headmaster meddling in his life. He could always hire a professional later to represent him and cast votes on his behalf if he chose.
"Of course, of course. Well, if you change your mind, don’t hesitate to let me know," Dumbledore said, offering what was meant to be a reassuring smile. "Now, back to the issue at hand. I think I should keep these," he added, placing his long fingers on top of the box as if to shield it from view.
Harry’s body jerked forward in shock. "What? Why? You just said you didn’t find anything!" he exclaimed, frustration rising in his voice.
The Headmaster peered at him over the top of his glasses, disappointment evident in his gaze.
“Harry, I admire your spirit but surely you understand that keeping mail you got from someone like Lucius Malfoy might not be a good idea. Even if these are not dangerous on their own, accepting gifts from a man like Lucius could be seen as a form of allegiance or indebtedness, even unintentionally. It might send the wrong message to others and potentially put you in a vulnerable position. What would people think about this, my boy? They’ll believe their hero has fallen on the wrong side of society, keeping relations with a dark wizard. It could tarnish your reputation.”
Harry didn’t care about his reputation, and had never wanted to be in the spotlight in the first place. It was hard to believe Dumbledore truly cared about it either, especially considering he had done nothing to help when everyone believed Harry had cheated to enter the Triwizard Tournament the year before.
“I’m only looking out for you, Harry. You’re still so young, and there are a lot of things you don't understand yet. I don’t want you to have trouble later on because of a mistake of youth. People can be vicious, like our little friend Rita Skeeter. It’s better if you forget about these,“ he said, starting to put the quill and clothes away inside his desk.
Harry felt panic rise inside of him. There was no turning back now, he had to put his foot down.
"I’m sorry, Professor, but I can’t agree with you. And with all due respect, I don’t think it’s your place to decide who I can and can’t interact with. I’ve faced Voldemort and Death Eaters, I think I can handle a simple gift without falling under Malfoy’s spell. It’s just a quill and some clothes, and I could genuinely use them."
The Headmaster frowned but reluctantly set the items back on the table. He had probably never encountered a Gryffindor who dared to speak back to him, and certainly hadn’t expected it from his “golden boy.” Most students, and people in general, saw him as the wisest man alive and wouldn’t dream of questioning his decisions. But Harry wasn’t going to be a puppet for the rest of his life.
“You are brave my boy, and I don't doubt your strength. But sometimes, the greatest dangers come in seemingly harmless packages. Accepting this gift could be playing right into his hands.” Dumbledore warned again with a troubled face, trying to scare him.
But Harry met his gaze with resolve, trying to project confidence despite the panic he had felt earlier.
“I can't live my life being scared of every little thing. It's just a gift, and I'll make sure it doesn't affect me or my decisions,” he said with an air of finality, holding out his hand for his things and trying to stop it from trembling.
The Headmaster shook his head with chagrin. “Harry, I had hoped you would heed my advice. However, I respect your decision, as ultimately, it is your choice to make. Just remember that every decision has consequences, and the path we choose can influence our future. I hope you do not stray far from the right path my boy, we see how it turned out for our dear friend Tom. I'll be here if you need guidance or if you ever wish to discuss this further.”
Dumbledore's idea of the “right path” was probably vastly different from his own, but he held his tongue.
He forced a grateful smile. “I appreciate that, Professor, I really do. But I’ve made up my mind. I’ll be careful, I promise. I won’t hesitate to come to you if something happens. I doubt I’ll receive any other mail from Lucius Malfoy anyway. It was probably just a one-time thing to confuse me.” Harry said.
“You're welcome, Harry. Now, if there's nothing else you wish to discuss, I think it is time for you to regain your class.” the Headmaster sighed.
Harry didn’t waste another moment before taking back his belongings and getting out of the Headmaster’s office. Standing outside the office, he felt he could finally breathe and a rush of pride swelled inside of him.
Of course, he was ambushed by Hermione and Ron as soon as he arrived in front of the classroom. Those little traitors.
“So?”
“So, what?” he snapped.
“What did the Headmaster say?” Hermione bombarded while Ron looked at him with a little satisfied expression that pissed him off.
“Nothing.”
Their eyebrows frowned in confusion. “What do you mean nothing? Surely he has explained to you why it’s all a bad idea?”
“We talked for a bit. He tried different spells on my stuff and concluded that there was nothing harmful. He happily agreed to let me keep the items.” He was probably stretching the truth a bit, but Hermione didn’t need to know that.
“And that’s all?” she asked in disappointment.
“Yes!” He was feeling quite cheerful and cocky after his meeting with the Headmaster. He felt like he could tackle anything.
“I can’t believe you would be so stubborn. Why don’t you want to listen to us and the Headmaster? We’re only trying to protect you.” she said in frustration.
His gaze hardened as he turned to her.
“Because I’m tired of people ruling my life and making decisions for me, Hermione. You are not my mother and I would never presume to tell you what you can and can’t do, as if you’re unable to think for yourself. How would you feel if I ordered you to stop writing to Viktor Krum and to throw away all the things he sent you, just because he studied at Durmstrang and their Headmaster was a death eater?”
Ron redden in anger at hearing the name of Viktor Krum. Since the triwizard tournament, Hermione and Krum had kept a correspondence that had soon blossomed into a tentative courtship. They wrote each other letters and Krum often sent small gifts from his country.
She never failed to blush at breakfast which annoyed Ron to no end. His friend obviously had a crush on Hermione but couldn't admit it to himself, which made his jealousy even worse than usual.
“It’s not the same!” Hermione stammered. It seemed Ron wasn't the only one blinded by their own hypocrisy.
“Isn’t it?”
“Yeah, he’s right, it’s totally the same! I told you that bloke wasn’t trustworthy. You need to stop seeing him.” Ron muttered angrily.
"Oh, stop it, Ron! You’ve told me a million times already. I’m sick of hearing about it!" she snapped in frustration.
Harry shot her a pointed look.
"See how annoying it is?"
Hermione glanced at him, her face softening into a frown.
"Alright, I guess I see what you mean," she admitted, albeit reluctantly.
Finally, he was getting his point across.
"Listen, Hermione. I know you’re worried. I understand. But for once, I want you to trust me, okay? I know what I’m doing, and I’m being careful." In truth, he had no idea what he was doing.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Harry could see it was very difficult for her to put her trust in someone else. She was so used to being in control.
“Alright, I'll try.”
“Thanks. That’s really all I’m asking.” She gave him a small smile. Harry turned toward Ron, ready to ask him the same despite already knowing the answer. The boy leveled him with a scowl.
"Don’t even bother. I don’t trust that slimy snake Malfoy for a second. I know he’s going to do something bad, and when he does, you’ll see I was right. You’ll wish you had listened to me."
It seemed the other boy was a lost cause.
Harry rolled his eyes in frustration. "Fine. We’ll see." Just before entering the classroom, he paused and placed a hand on Ron’s shoulder. "One more thing, Ron. Don’t ever try to steal from me again, understood?"
Ron’s eyes went wide in surprise, and he stammered, unable to form a response.