What Cornelius doesn't know won't hurt him
By Order of
The Ministry of Magic
Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore
as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Harry read the new Educational Decree with faint disgust. He knew there was some motive behind Dumbledore abandoning them—likely Voldemort related—but he had done so at the expense of everyone in the school.
The story of what happened in the headmaster’s office had spread, and with Marietta in the hospital wing people wanted the story from Harry. He had asked if he could leave the office, but he supposed he was a convenient witness for Dumbledore.
While his friends were discussing the new state of affairs in unflattering tones, Malfoy appeared with Crabbe and Goyle to take points.
“It’s only teachers that can dock points from houses, Malfoy,” Ernie Macmillan said.
“Yeah, we’re prefects too, remember?” Ron snarled. Indeed, no one had remembered that Ron was a prefect.
“I know prefects can’t dock points, Weasel King, but members of the Inquisitorial Squad can.”
“The what?”
As Malfoy walked haughtily away, they watched the stones in their house hourglasses diminish.
“Who cares about house points?” Harry said. “We get absolutely nothing from having them. The only value they have is what we attach to them.”
“That’s not the point, Harry!”
“It is, Hermione,” he said, turning to her. “Malfoy took points because he knows it will bother you. It gives him power over you. If it doesn’t bother you, he has no power.”
“It completely undermines the prefect system,” Ernie said.
“That system doesn’t exist anymore,” Harry said.
“But it’s not fair,” Ron said.
“It’s biased,” Hermione agreed.
“As if Dumbledore wasn’t. He handed us the house cup in first year for breaking the rules and attacking Neville.”
“Harry—”
“Noticed, have you?” Fred said, popping up next to them.
“Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points,” said Ron, watching as the hourglass lost more stones.
“Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,” George said.
“We shoved him into the Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor,” Fred finished. “We’ve decided we don’t care about getting into trouble anymore.”
Harry smiled.
After listening to Fred and George’s plans of chaos and destruction, Harry was accosted by Filch.
“The headmistress would like to see you, Potter.”
“Has she got her vision checked recently?”
Filch smiled evilly. “You’ll be singing a different tune when I get the thumbscrews out.”
As Filch reminisced about the good old days of torturing children, Harry followed him to Umbridge’s office. Inside, she had got a blocky nameplate that read Headmistress, and he saw his Firebolt as well as the twins’ Cleansweeps propped up as trophies.
“Thank you, Argus,” Umbridge said, not looking up from the pink parchment she was writing on. “Take a seat, Mr. Potter.”
Umbridge looked up with a wide smile as he sat. “What would you like to drink?”
“Could I have a shot of Ogden’s finest?” Harry asked, watching her smile turn sour.
“Such a character, Mr. Potter. So humorous. I can offer you tea, coffee, pumpkin juice…?”
“Tea, thank you. I take it black.”
She ignored him, very obviously adding something to it with her back turned, then bustling around her desk to hand it to him. “There you are, drink it up before it gets cold.”
Harry took a sip. The Veritaserum hit him immediately, a wave of heat that left him sick to his stomach, trying to wrap around his mind. There was nothing there for it to act on.
“Well, now, Mr. Potter…I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night.”
“I agree. It was incredibly distressing.” Harry took another sip.
“Very good. Now, tell me, where is Albus Dumbledore?”
“I don’t know,” Harry said. “I wish I did. I have a lot of questions for him.”
“Now, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where he had gone.”
“I honestly don’t, headmistress. I haven’t spoken to him in months.”
“Very well,” she said, disappointed. “Then will you kindly tell me the whereabouts of Sirius Black?”
“Currently? He might be at home. Could be at the pub.”
“And where is his home?” She pressed.
Harry shrugged. “He hasn’t told me. I live with my aunt and her family.”
“Very well, Mr. Potter…”
Umbridge explained how the floo was being watched, how Malfoy and the Inquisitorial Squad were reading owl post, how Filch was watching all the secret passages. There were solutions to those issues. Filch was especially vulnerable, however distasteful Harry found magically manipulating the man. He could remove all his memories of the secret passages.
Harry took another sip of his tea, unsettled by the direction of his thoughts. If Filch started hurting students... He had hoped that the other professors, that Dumbledore, would handle Umbridge, but they hadn’t, and Dumbledore was gone. That left the students to take action. Sirius had asked him in the past what kinds of magic Harry was willing to use. Harry didn’t know if he liked his answer.
There was an explosion, nearly knocking Umbridge off her desk. She hurried out of her office to see what was happening. Harry finished his tea, curious to see what the leaves would tell him. When he flipped the cup back over, they had formed a ring, an absolutely perfect circle.
He set the cup down and backed away. He had no idea what that could mean.
Harry followed Umbridge out of the office, down to the first floor where Fred and George had let off fireworks. Dragons, Catherine wheels—he was touched they remembered—swear words, crashing and ricocheting off the walls. Filch and Umbridge were watching, dumbstruck.
Harry looked around for witnesses. Everyone was transfixed. He pointed his wand at Filch, thought of some of the secret passages he knew. Taking them all would be suspicious.
“Obliviate.”
Harry stared at the fire in the common room.
Fred and George were being celebrated. Though they had used their entire stock, the daylong display had been epic. Sparking dragons in classrooms, Umbridge and Filch run ragged. Even Hermione congratulated them.
"Are you alright?" asked Ron.
"I think I'm feeling a bit…rebellious," she said.
Harry did not feel rebellious. He felt like a fifteen-year-old whose headmistress had drugged him with a truth serum. A kid who just used magic against a defenseless old man to stop him from torturing children, to ensure they had escape routes out of the castle. He told himself it was to help people, to protect people, to save people. To that end he had done something that, abstracted from its context, he felt was wrong.
"The greater good," he muttered to himself.
"What's that, Harry?"
"Nothing, I'm off to bed."
The fireworks were still going off outside, exploding in prismatic showers of sparks, as he laid in bed.
It had been Grindewald's slogan, used in his pursuit to oppress muggles and install a wizard master race. Harry didn't want that. When he weighed an old man's memories against a first-year being whipped raw, as Filch had put it, Harry knew which won out.
Harry turned over, watching as light broke against the night sky. He could remove Filch's tools, but the man would buy more, possibly worse. He didn't know what the best solution was. He needed to talk to his friends, warn them about the drugging and the physical threats…
He was in the corridor again, racing through the black door. It opened into a circular room with more doors around the perimeter. He crossed the room, choosing a door. It opened to a long, rectangular room echoing with mechanical clicks, dancing lights on the walls. He ignored them, moved to the door at the end. Behind it was a room as tall and wide as a cathedral, lined with rows of shelves. Dusty glass orbs filled the shelves. There was something in here he wanted very much.
An explosion woke him up again. He rubbed his eyes, avoiding his aching scar, and put on his glasses.
“I think one of those Catherine wheels hit a rocket and it’s like they mated," Seamus said, staring eagerly out of the window. "Come and see!”
Harry fell onto his back and closed his eyes, thinking about truth and tea cups.
Cho found him on his way to Snape's office.
"I never dreamed Marietta would tell," she said.
"I did. Not her specifically, but there was always the risk we would be discovered."
"She's a lovely person, really…"
"I'm sure she is."
Harry left her standing there, not interested in assuaging her guilt. He had his own to deal with.
"You're late, Potter," Snape said when he entered. He was placing memories in the Pensieve.
"Umbridge used Veritaserum on me," Harry replied. "Is there an antidote?"
Snape turned around. "It's N.E.W.T. level, something I can assure you that you're incapable of brewing. Now, have you practiced?"
"Of course."
Snape raised his wand. "We'll soon find out, won't we? One, two—"
The door crashed open.
"Professor Snape, sir…oh, sorry."
Malfoy looked at Harry, then Snape, surprised.
"Hey, Draco."
“It’s all right, Draco,” Snape said, lowering his wand. “Potter is here for a little Remedial Potions.”
Draco was delighted by this. "I didn't know."
Montague had been found in a fourth floor toilet, and Snape swept off after Draco to help. He left Harry with a bowl full of shiny memories. Harry walked up to the Pensieve. If Snape caught him that would be two birds, one scone.
"Another line to cross," he whispered.
Harry dove in.
Harry watched his sixteen-year-old father mess up his hair.
“He really did do that,” he said, eyes wide in fascination. There had been a question on werewolves on the Defense O.W.L. that Pettigrew was anxious about.
“How thick are you, Wormtail?” his father said impatiently. “You run round with a werewolf once a month—”
Harry winced at his tone. Had he treated Pettigrew like that all the time?
They were walking out to the grounds, and he saw Snape trailing behind them, buried in a book.
James pulled out a snitch he said he nicked and started playing with it. Harry saw Snape sit near some bushes to read. Lupin pulled out a book too. Sirius was looking handsomely bored. Pettigrew was fawning over James, which James seemed to thrive off of. It was off-putting, on both sides.
“Put that away, will you?” Sirius said. “Before Wormtail wets himself from excitement.”
Sirius was bored. James pointed out Snape, who was walking across the grass. They stood up to follow.
“Alright, Snivellus?” James called out.
Harry now knew what this was. Sirius had told him about it. And now he was stuck in Snape’s memory of that day.
Snape reached for his wand, but it was too late. James disarmed him, knocking him down. His father and Sirius stood over Snape, mocking him. James used scourgify on his mouth, and Snape gagged and struggled for air.
“Leave him alone!”
Lily Evans stormed up to them. James said he would stop if she went out with him.
“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” said Lily.
Harry desperately wished he had got to know her.
Snape got his wand back, sent a cutting curse at James’ face. In the next moment Snape was in the air, upside down, robes falling so everyone could see the old pair of underpants he had on. People laughed and cheered. Lily demanded Snape be set down. James ended the spell, and Snape crashed to the ground.
“There you go,” he said, as Snape struggled to his feet again, “you’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus—”
“I don’t need help from filthy little mudbloods like her!”
“Having fun?”
Snape grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the memory.
“So,” Snape said, gripping his arm tighter. “So…been enjoying yourself?”
Snape was shaking with rage, white-faced, teeth bared. Harry got his wand in his hand, stared directly at Snape’s livid eyes.
“Let go of me.”
Snape threw him to the ground, and Harry landed hard on his elbow. He scrambled back, furious, scared. Guilty.
“You will not tell anybody what you saw!”
“I already knew what happened that day,” Harry said, standing up, clenching his wand. “I know what my father was like. I knew what you said to her!”
“Get out, get out! I don’t want to see you in this office ever again!”
Harry threw up a shield charm as a jar came hurtling towards him. It exploded, cockroaches falling to the ground. “I am nothing like he was back then. And if you think my mother hated you after that, think of how she would feel now!”
Harry pulled the door open and walked out, closing it just as another jar came flying. Harry started up the corridor, grimly pleased he got at least one thing he wanted out of that. Now he could meet Theo during the times he was meant to have Remedial Potions.
Snape was still traumatized by what happened that day over twenty years ago. How he could have taught Harry for five years and think he went around humiliating people like that was a mystery. Harry had often been the target of gangs of bullies. Dudley. Malfoy. The Ministry. Death Eaters. He knew intimately what Snape had experienced, on a far larger and deadlier scale.
The man had tried to rip the worst of his memories from his mind for the past four months, and still thought he was a replica of his father. He had kept memories in the Pensieve and not given Harry that same luxury, devaluing Harry’s own private shames.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck. He thought Snape was hiding something about Dumbledore or Voldemort in that Pensieve. Maybe he had been, Harry had only seen the one memory. He would never know.
He had learned that Snape’s embarrassment was worth more than Harry’s facility with occlumency, and by extension Harry’s life. He had proof of how little he actually mattered to the man.
Harry paused in the corridor and took out his journal, relaying what had just happened. He smiled at the response, and headed for the seventh floor.
Hermione dropped a study schedule onto his lap. It was nice of her, but incredibly condescending. They’d been in the same electives for two years, and still she…
“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said, smiling up at her. “I’m going to be busy all day tomorrow working on potions, do you think you can shuffle this around?”
“Are you? How are your lessons going?”
“Better,” Harry said. “I missed out on a lot of the theory we learned in the past, so I never really understood what I was doing, you know? Snape agreed to supervise me going through potions from our previous exams.”
Hermione took back the schedule she had made to make the adjustments, pleased at the apparent effort he was putting in.
Harry sat back, watching as Hermione hastily reorganized his life for the next week. He thought about, for a moment, what it would be like if he told them everything. If he could trust them as much as he did when he was eleven. He could do it. He could try again.
Then Ron started moaning about how his only evening off was for quidditch practice, and Harry forgot all about it.
Harry stood down the hall from Sir Cadogan, keeping an ear out for any challenges issued. Across from him was a mirror. Marietta had thankfully only spilled the dungeon room they met in. Harry had asked Dobby to clear out the rest of the passage, and he had a good idea where it let out.
Something touched his arm. Smiling, Harry checked the map one last time, then tucked it away. Without hesitation, he walked through the mirror.
When they got to the room the DA practiced in, Theo pulled off the cloak. "Where are you supposed to be today?"
"Practicing potions in the dungeons, you?"
"No one knows."
Harry reached up and kissed him. "Come on, I want to show you something."
It was a nicer walk than the tunnel into Honeydukes, or the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack. They were able to walk upright, for one, and though the corridor narrowed over the hour they traversed it, it never became claustrophobic.
At the end there was a craggy wall. Harry walked up to it and tentatively placed his hand on it. He met no resistance. Smiling, he walked through it and into a cave.
"I knew it," he said, looking around. After a moment Theo stood next to him. "I was wondering how Sirius found out about this cave."
"You knew?"
"Don't be annoyed. I guessed. The passage was blocked by a cave-in until recently. I had it cleared out specifically to bring you."
Harry took Theo's hand and they walked out of the cave, standing at its mouth. Below them was the sparse treeline of the foothills, Hogsmeade spread out, quiet just after dawn. In the near distance stood Hogwarts and its improbable architecture, bounded by the Forbidden Forest, the Black Lake as still as a reflecting pool.
"It's a nice view," Theo said blankly.
"This isn't what I want to show you. Kreacher?"
Kreacher appeared in front of him. "Young Master, Master Theo."
"You never told me how you got a house-elf," Theo said.
"He's part of the family."
"Family?"
"Kreacher?"
Kreacher grinned evilly, bowing. "Kreacher has served the Noble and Ancient House of Black for two centuries."
Theo looked from Kreacher, to Harry. "What?"
"Kreacher, can you take us there?"
"Young Master should be in school!"
"It's Easter break!"
"Harry…"
Kreacher sneered. "Master has unfortunately agreed to this." He glared at Theo, then took their hands and apparated them to an alley before disappearing.
Theo looked around.
"We're in muggle London," Harry said, pulling Theo onto the main street. He knew it wasn't impressive to look at with all the rubbish blowing around, the cracked sidewalks, the broken homes. He took Theo to stand in front of something he couldn't see.
"What are we doing here?" Theo asked, curiously looking around. "I haven't spent much time in the muggle world."
"I'll take you on a date another day," Harry said, blushing. "This is your birthday present." He reached up and tugged Theo down so he could whisper, "The Black Family ancestral home is located at 12 Grimmauld Place, London, United Kingdom."
Theo watched with wide eyes as 12 Grimmauld Place came into existence, in all its gloomy glory.
"You live under Fidelius. You told me the secret." He looked down at Harry. "You're your own Secret-Keeper."
Harry took out a coin he had always carried with him. It had a loon on the back. He slipped it into Theo's hand. "Happy Birthday."
Theo stared at him, speechless, then pulled him into a searing kiss, only stopping when Sirius came out to yell at them.
"Come on," Harry said, leading him across the street, ignoring Sirius' heckles. "I have so much to show you."
Harry breezed through the rest of Easter break, still aglow with the day he had spent showing Theo his home. Sirius was thankfully calm about it, for the most part. He was thrilled to finally meet Theo, and did spend some time following them around as Padfoot. Theo looked ready to faint when he saw the library. And he had a place to go if he had to leave his family home, house-elves he could call for aid, a skilled adult wizard to protect him.
Harry didn't know what the future would bring, but he wanted to make sure they stayed alive to get there.
Ginny brought him a chocolate egg and tried to talk to him about Cho for some reason, getting him ejected from the library. Snape destroyed his sample potion, and Hermione had vanished the rest of his cauldron before he could bottle another. These minor irritants quickly faded into the background.
On Monday he had to meet with McGonagall for career counseling. He vaguely recalled Hermione and Ron going through pamphlets. Harry thought if careers needed certain O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, someone should have said so when they picked their electives at the end of second year instead of letting them go in blind.
Harry walked into McGonagall's office and saw Umbridge perched on a stool with a clipboard, sniffing at him.
“Sit down, Potter,” McGonagall said. The chair placed him with his back to Umbridge, and he could hear the scratching of her quill. “Have you had any thoughts about what you’d like to do after you leave Hogwarts?”
“Yes, actually,” Harry said. “I’d like to be the Minister for Magic.”
The scratching stopped.
“That’s very ambitious, Mr. Potter." McGonagall sorted through her leaflets, amazingly finding one. “Typically people work their way through the Ministry to reach higher level positions. However, Minister for Magic is an elected office, and there are many paths to that. It isn’t something one can do immediately out of Hogwarts.”
“I could start campaigning in school,” Harry said. “On a platform of wand rights for all beings. I would include centaurs and merfolk in that definition, though they’ve rejected the Ministry’s classification.”
Umbridge started coughing.
“I’ve also considered becoming an Unspeakable,” Harry said. McGonagall went back to sorting through her pamphlets.
“You will need top grades for that,” she said, passing one over. Harry took it.
“I do have top grades, professor.”
“Twelve N.E.W.T.s would be ideal,” McGonagall said, “though there’s little need for—”
Umbridge coughed again.
“Little need for Muggle Studies, as far as I’m aware the department rarely liaises with the muggle world.”
“I could sit that N.E.W.T. right now,” Harry said.
“You’ll need Os in the five core subjects,” McGonagall said. “Professor Snape absolutely refuses to take students who get anything other than Outstanding in their O.W.L.s, so—”
Umbridge started hacking.
“May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?”
Amused, Harry watched McGonagall and Umbridge go back and forth, bringing up everything from his old Defense grades to his supposed criminal record.
“Potter has no chance whatsoever of becoming the Minister for Magic!”
“Potter,” McGonagall said in ringing tones, “I will assist you in becoming the Minister for Magic if it is the last thing I do!”
“The Ministry of Magic will never employ Harry Potter!”
“He may very well be the new Minister for Magic when he’s eighteen!”
Harry got his things, including the pamphlets, and left the two professors shouting at each other.
He thought his day had peaked with the career meeting, only to later find Fred and George had turned one of the corridors into a swamp. He watched them—surrounded by professors, ghosts, students, the Inquisitorial Squad, Umbridge, Filch waving his papers enabling him to whip students—summon their brooms from Umbridge’s office and fly off to their new business location in Diagon Alley.
“Give her hell from us, Peeves!”
As Peeves saluted the twins, Harry said to himself, “I guess product testing is over? Accio Firebolt.”
Harry snatched his broom out of the air and carried it to his room.
In the twins' absence, the school became more chaotic. No one was willing to deal with the swamp, so Filch was given a boat to take students across. A niffler was set loose in Umbridge’s office. Bubble-head charms were required due to the smell in the hallways. Filch prowled around with a horsewhip, which Harry summoned from his hand and burned. The Inquisitorial Squad became new targets, hexed, poisoned, growing antlers. Skiving Snackboxes resulted in a river of nosebleeds and vomit, mass fainting spells, dangerous fevers. Peeves was on a rampage.
Montague was still suffering from the effects of being in a broken Vanishing Cabinet. Harry sent an anonymous note to Madam Pomfrey about it. In Charms, watching his teacup dance on its new porcelain legs, he listened to Ron saying Montague deserved it for taking points away. He smiled when Ron’s teacup broke.
Settled in the stands for another terrible quidditch match, watching as a giant eagle flapped from atop Luna’s head, Harry was startled to hear Hagrid speak directly into his ear.
“Listen, can you come with me?”
Faced between watching Ron lose another game and joining Hagrid on a mysterious adventure, Harry said, “Sure.”
Harry and Hermione followed him into the forest, Hermione peppering Hagrid with questions along the way. Harry warily eyed the large crossbow Hagrid was carrying and got out his wand. He was saddened to hear Firenze had been kicked out of his herd—literally kicked, nearly beaten to death—but unsurprised given Bane’s attitude towards him.
They moved deeper and deeper into the forest, following no discernible path. Harry tried to memorize where they were going so he could find his way out. Hagrid marched through it all, but Harry and Hermione kept getting caught on brambles or slapped in the face with branches. When it got nearly too dark to see, Hagrid brought them to a halt.
“There’s a good chance I’m going to be getting the sack any day now.”
Harry nodded, wondering why it had taken so long.
“It’s not the end of the world, I’ll be able to help Dumbledore…” Hagrid mopped his eyes with a handkerchief the size of a tablecloth. “I’ll…I’ll need you two to help me. And Ron, if he’s willing.”
“Help with what?” Harry asked.
The forest was dead silent around them.
Hagrid led them on, to an area where all the plants and trees had been torn out and tossed around. In the center lay a young giant.
Hagrid had kidnapped his half brother Grawp. Harry saw the kid had been tied down with ropes.
Hagrid used a branch to jab Grawp awake to meet Harry and Hermione.
Grawp made a grab for Hermione and Harry barely pulled her back in time. Then he broke Hagrid’s nose and went to play with some trees.
“He needs to go back home,” Harry said. Hagrid would hear none of it, though Hermione seemed to agree.
On the way out, they were found by a group of centaurs who refrained from killing Hagrid only because Harry and Hermione were there. Foals had immunity.
The biggest surprise that day was that Gryffindor won.
In the lead up to their O.W.L.s, Harry spent virtually all of his time sequestered in the Room of Requirement studying with Theo. Hermione had forsaken all sanity, Ron complained incessantly, and his other year mates were engaged in bizarre study practices. It was too loud and distracting, and he knew his own disappearance wouldn't be commented on. He and Theo also complemented each other's weaknesses, excelling in different areas, and understood how the other best learned.
Harry was looking forward to it being over. Two weeks of daily testing was stressful.
During his Astronomy practical, which he needed an O in lest he be burned from the family tapestry, Harry was busily mapping Orion when there was a commotion on the grounds. Something was going on at Hagrid's hut. Harry ignored it, feeling that Umbridge's choice to sack him during their exam was deliberate.
Harry's focus was shattered when the stunners started flying. Someone took Fang down, and Hagrid started picking people up and tossing them around. McGonagall ran out to put a stop to it, and several stunners hit her. Harry stood up at that, terrified for his elderly professor. Hagrid grabbed Fang's limp body and bolted for the forest. McGonagall laid unconscious on the ground.
The next day was their last exam, History of Magic, and he just wanted to get this nightmare of a year over with. As he was writing about the issues surrounding the appointment of the first Supreme Mugwump, he felt something nagging at the back of his head. Harry pushed his glasses up and dug his palms into his eyes.
He was in the room with all the orbs. Aisle 97. Someone was on the floor. He held a pale wand, casting crucio on the person, laughing as he tortured an already battered Sirius. Voldemort cackled as he said the torture would go on for hours, until Sirius retrieved was he wanted.
Harry closed his mind off before his scar burned a hole through his head. He swayed a little in his seat, nauseated, eyes watering.
Voldemort must have thought that was the ultimate lure, but Harry knew where Sirius was. He was at home, under Fidelius, waiting for Harry's exam to be over so they could talk.
As Harry bitterly churned out another short essay, one hand gripping his forehead, he wondered if he should take the bait.
Later that evening, when his headache had finally retreated, Harry walked down to the second floor to meet Theo in the secret passage. After Dobby tried to hurt himself while disobeying Umbridge's orders, he no longer wanted to risk the elf as a go-between. If he was breaking into the Department of Mysteries, he needed his cloak. Harry had everything else he needed. His second wand, his glamored glasses, a nondescript robe. He ran through spells in his head, not knowing what he should be prepared for. He was debating on whether he should tell Sirius where he was going when he was seized from behind.
“Did you think,” Umbridge hissed, “that after two nifflers I was going to leave my office unprotected? I had stealth sensors placed outside of my doorway, you foolish boy. Take his wand!”
“I was walking down to the kitchens,” Harry protested.
“You were walking in the wrong direction, you little liar! Lurking outside of my door, trying to get in…”
Umbridge dragged him into her office, followed by a smirking Malfoy, tossing Harry’s wand in the air. Harry glanced at the fire, hoping to calm down. If he could get to his other wand…
Umbridge saw him looking at the fire and smiled viciously. “Were you trying to use my floo? To flee? To contact Dumbledore? The half-breed, Hagrid?”
“I was not trying to get into your office.”
“Lies! You’ve broken into it before!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your Firebolt!” she shrieked.
“Fred and George probably took it,” Harry snapped. He needed to get out of this situation. He closed his eyes, trying to calm down.
“Very well,” Umbridge said in a low, dangerous tone. “Very well, Mr. Potter. I offered you a chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative. Draco, fetch Professor Snape.”
Draco put Harry’s wand into his robes and left, still smirking. He wasn’t counting on any help from Snape’s quarter, not after the Pensieve incident. He looked back at the fire, not really caring what she thought of that.
“Are you waiting for a message, then?”
Harry stayed silent.
Snape came in, looked at Harry indifferently, and said, “You wanted to see me, headmistress?”
Umbridge wanted more Veritaserum. Harry had told Snape he had been drugged, and as it turned out Snape already knew and didn’t care. He’d given Umbridge the potion himself, and it seemed she dumped the whole vial into Harry’s tea that day.
“I wish to interrogate him!”
“I have no more ready. Unless you wish to poison him…”
Harry grit his teeth. How, how could his mother have been friends with this man?
“You are on probation!”
Snape bowed and turned to leave.
“They made it through the door,” Harry said suddenly. He realized, too late, that if Harry was being intentionally lured there today, someone would be waiting for him at the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort, or more likely his Death Eaters, would have infiltrated the Ministry somehow, either inside the Department itself or waiting to take Harry in to do whatever it was they wanted.
“Door?” Umbridge looked from Harry to Snape. “What door? What is he talking about?”
“I have no idea,” Snape said, leaving. The door shut firmly behind him.
Umbridge was outraged. She paced back and forth, Malfoy watching it all with vindictive glee.
“You are forcing me, Potter…I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice. The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue.”
“That’s illegal,” Harry said, appalled. “You think the Minister would condone you using that against a student?”
“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she said, panting as she pointed her wand at various parts of Harry’s body. “He never knew I sent the dementors after you, but he was delighted to get a chance to expel you all the same…”
“My cousin nearly died!” Harry shouted.
“Somebody had to act! They all wanted to silence you, discredit you—”
“The Prophet made that readily apparent, you didn’t need to have my soul sucked out!”
“—but I was the one who acted! Only you wriggled out of that one, Potter…”
She took a deep breath. “Crucio.”
Harry clenched his teeth together to stop from biting his tongue. Pain lanced through his entire body like a lightning strike. It wasn’t as bad as Voldemort’s, nowhere close, she didn’t hate him in the same way, but it was a different shade of agony.
When it finally stopped, Harry found himself on the floor. He reached around to find where his glasses had fallen.
“Fine,” he said, taking a shuddering breath. “I'll talk. Hagrid left something. Something I had to finish for Dumbledore. I needed to tell him that…that it’s ready.”
Umbridge grabbed him again and hauled him back into the seat.
“What’s ready? What?”
“A weapon. They’ve been working on it all year.”
“What kind of weapon?”
Harry shook his head. “I don’t understand the magic, I’m not good at enchantments. I just followed his orders.” His fingers were twitching. He didn’t know if he could hold a wand.
Umbridge straightened, smiling triumphantly. “Lead me to the weapon.”
Getting shakily to his feet, Harry let himself be herded out of the room, down the corridor, and out into the grounds.
“It’s hidden in Hagrid’s hut?”
“No, headmistress. They kept it in the forest. Hagrid…isn’t the brightest. And it would be too dangerous to keep it close to the school.”
“Yes, of course, the great half-breed oaf.”
Harry’s head was killing him. The Cruciatus, the constant ache in his scar, like some wretched beacon.
Harry had considered going to Grawp, but he had only met the juvenile giant once and knew Grawp was rather indiscriminate in his grabbing of people. But he knew one group in the forest that wouldn’t outright kill him.
“How much further?” Umbridge demanded.
“I’m sorry, headmistress, I have poor vision, it’s hard to navigate. We should be there shortly.”
An arrow flew by and struck a tree right above Umbridge’s head. Umbridge grabbed him and shoved him in front of her like a shield. Malfoy made a strange squeaking sound. The forest trembled around them as a herd of fifty centaur emerged wielding bows, encircling them.
“Who are you?” a voice asked. A centaur Harry recognized from their run-in after meeting Grawp, Magorian, stepped forward.
“I asked who you are, human,” Magorian said.
“I am Dolores Umbridge!”
Harry watched, amazed, as Umbridge dug her own grave. She started off strong by calling the centaurs half-breeds, followed up with near-human intelligence, and finished them off by claiming the Ministry owned their forest.
Bane let the arrows fly.
“Whose forest is it now?”
“Filthy half-breeds! Beasts! Uncontrolled animals!”
Umbridge screamed an incarcerous at Magorian and he fell in a tangle of rope. The centaurs broke, racing for her, and she let more spells fly. He heard Malfoy whimpering somewhere nearby, having forgotten he was a wizard who also hated these half-breeds. Bane had seized Umbridge and lifted her into the air, kicking and screaming. Harry watched, thinking this was a neat solution to the Umbridge problem. He hadn’t wanted to attack her himself, he had no idea where that would have landed him, and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t have made next year a living hell as well.
Harry found himself being picked up by another centaur, and saw that Malfoy was as well.
“And these?”
“They are young, we do not attack foals.”
“They brought her here…”
“It was unwilling,” Harry interjected. “She tortured me and demanded I take her to what Hagrid had left in the forest.”
There was a loud crash in the woods and, to Harry’s astonishment, Grawp arrived.
“Hagger.”
Harry and Malfoy were forgotten as the centaurs drove Grawp off. Harry stood and brushed himself off. Malfoy’s eyes were wild, and he was shaking, arms wrapped around himself.
“Well,” Harry said, looking at the swathe of destruction Grawp left behind. “That was strange.”
Malfoy turned to look at him. “Potter, did you—”
“Stupefy.”
Malfoy fell over, unconscious. Harry looked up and saw Theo stepping out from between the trees, carrying his invisibility cloak.
“I was worried about you,” Theo said simply, walking up to him. He looked down at Malfoy, frowning slightly. “Are we taking him back to the castle?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. He knelt down and searched Malfoy’s robes for his wand. “I was going to take the Knight Bus, but the floo in Umbridge’s office will be faster.”
“Where are we going?”
“We?” Harry asked, standing up with his recovered wand. He used it to levitate Malfoy, who hung limply in the air.
"Yes, we."
Harry hesitated. "I would have to tell you things that would put your life at risk. You'd be acting directly against your father."
"I'm perfectly aware of who I'm dating," Theo said, unimpressed.
Harry rubbed his face. He felt like he had the first time he had really spoken to Theo, back in the library in third year. Like Theo was waiting for him to finally catch up.
"Fine," Harry said. "You win. We're going to get a prophecy."