“Now this.” Ron began with a whisper as he peeked around the corner.

Harry blinked at the extendable ear dangling near the crooked wooden floor.

“This feels right.” Ron said. “I’m all for study groups and thinking of articles, but we haven’t been able to actually spy in ages.”

Was spying on Umbridge pushing her?

Harry knew the answer to that question, but he shoved it to the back of his mind. He almost wished Hermione hadn’t had to run to class, as she might’ve been able to keep Harry and Ron from doing exactly what Snape asked them not to. The thought of leaving such a dangerous conversation to chance didn’t sit well with Harry though.

He far preferred to know exactly how much information Umbridge had on him, and how much of it she shared with Malfoy.

He couldn’t help but worry about whether or not she would question Malfoy about the curse Harry cast, and further, what Lucius Malfoy thought of it? Umbridge and Lucius were close, so it would make sense for her to rely on Draco if she couldn’t get what she needed from Harry. She may ask Draco any number of questions that begged Lucius’s input, potentially including what he knew about Harry’s whereabouts over the summer, and while Draco couldn’t have known about Harry’s time in the Order’s Headquarters, nor Germany, he did know Harry had been six. Harry had no difficulty predicting the two of them enjoying that.

His mum’s necklace hummed to life as a worrying realization came over him. If Umbridge mentioned Harry transforming into a six year old and flooing to Snape, rather than Madam Pomfrey, Draco would likely think it odd and tell Lucius.

If Lucius knew—

A crisp memory flickered in the back of his mind, and he thought of how he and Snape snuck through Spinner’s End on their way to visit Sirius. Snape very specifically said, ‘as far as anyone is aware, you are no longer six’.

Snape hadn’t shared any updates on Harry’s condition with Voldemort.

Harry spent a brief moment debating whether or not Lucius would speak with Snape before bringing it to Voldemort, but was unable to guess at any outcome, as writhing flashes of Bellatrix tore through his thoughts. Voldemort would know Snape lied, again.

“Umbridge doesn’t have her classroom under an alert spell, does she?” Ron asked as he looked around the corner once more. “This would go poorly if she did.”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno, but Lu-Moony said she could be more skilled than she’s letting on.”

“I can’t imagine Umbridge knowing detection spells.” Ron said with his own shrug.

The urge to rush down to the dungeons and warn Snape rushed through him. He couldn’t be sure Umbridge would bring Harry up to Malfoy though, nor could he be sure Snape didn’t already know about it.

“Harry?”

Indecision warred in his thoughts and led him from one horrible outcome to the next. He disliked admitting it, but spying on Umbridge and knowing exactly what she knew was the only option Harry felt comfortable enough pursuing.

He quickly imagined Umbridge’s office and mentally shut his eyes as he passed over the breathtaking anger he’d witnessed during his meeting last night before searching his memory for what skills she’d shown off. She locked the door with a clever enough spell that it took Dumbledore several tries to break it. There was no way of knowing if that were true, but he also had no other answer for the muffled sounds he’d heard during their meeting. She also blocked her floo.

Harry didn’t have a wealth of experience when it came to keeping others out of areas he considered private, much as he wished he did, but he assumed if Dumbledore wanted to go somewhere in Hogwarts, it would take more than a determined effort to keep him from arriving.

“It’s probably warded.” Harry said firmly. “Maybe we ought to go about this in a different way?”

“We aren’t exactly flush with options!”

“Do you know anything that might let us sneak through without being caught?” Harry asked sharply. He worried once more about how angry Snape might be if he discovered Harry spied despite his warning and calmly reminded himself that Snape would only find out if Umbridge caught them, or if they discovered an imminent disaster needing his help.

An imminent disaster could happen regardless of Harry’s spying.

“Flitwick’s been going over eradication charms, hasn’t he?” Ron said slowly. “But I dunno how useful that’s going to be here,” He whispered. “I think it’s only meant for objects, but I haven’t finished the reading, have you?”

Harry shook his head ‘no’. “I saw Ruffles use a detection spell once,” He said beneath his breath. “When I thought Nagini had found a way into the castle, but I never heard the incantation.”

“That’s helpful.” Ron said with an ironic eyebrow.

Harry scoffed and jerked away from Ron. The oddest urge bubbled through him and wished quite suddenly that he’d taken on this task alone.

He debated sending Ron on his way and spying without him, but Ron would likely argue against that and Harry couldn't tolerate wasting another second, especially when they may not have another opportunity like this in the future. The timing was too good to pass up. Breakfast recently ended and most students were either in class or having a free period. He doubted anyone in their right mind willingly wandered near Umbridge’s classroom or office without dire need and that gave them ample opportunity to spy.

“Er—” Ron stammered. A brief pinch of confusion tightened in his face before he gave Harry an encouraging nod. “We’re just rusty at this, we can probably enlarge the string.” He said kindly. “Fred and George have done loads of work on their products since this summer too, the ears will probably work no matter how far it stretches.”

“We’d need to get the ear inside.” Harry said, making a determined effort to stamp out his anger.

“I dunno how clever her wards are, but the ear always worked at, er, well you know—” Harry didn’t need to guess to know Ron was referring to Grimmauld Place. “My point is, no one caught us there unless they physically caught us.”

Harry nodded and snatched the ear from Ron as he rushed closer. He grimaced as they ran. The hallway was too wide for comfort and there was nowhere to hide, should things go poorly. “I wish we’d brought the map, we need to start carrying it everywhere.” He hissed over his shoulder.

“That could be a disaster,” Ron hissed back as he caught up with Harry. “What if someone sees it?”

“It’d be better than keeping lookouts and hoping for the best!” Harry said as he waved his wand at the extendable ear and charmed the string to lengthen before whispering a spell he’d seen Snape cast more than once over the summer.

The ear leapt from Harry’s hand before barreling through the sparse Defense classroom and up the small spiral staircase at a blinding speed. Harry very nearly cancelled the spell preemptively when it looked as if it would collide with the door, but he let out a low breath as it shivered to a stop near a wide crack in the door knob.

“Is this close enough?” Harry asked in a tight voice. He couldn’t quite see if the ear could get closer, nor could he tell if it triggered any of Umbridge’s wards.

Ron’s eyes cautiously landed on Harry as he held the receiver to his ear. An uncomfortable look washed over his face and his mouth dropped open before snapping shut as Umbridge’s voice echoed from the receiver with a crackling, tinny sound.

“—Mr Malfoy?”

Harry jolted and tossed a careful look over his shoulder at the hallway, double checking it was truly as empty as it appeared before he flicked his wand and cast a near silent sticking charm on the ear.

“No, Professor,” Malfoy said. “Father was as shocked as you.”

A teacup dropped into its saucer with a high pitched clatter. “I’m terribly sorry.” Umbridge said sweetly. “I can’t imagine the worry your poor mother went through after receiving that letter from the Hospital Wing, goodness.” She clicked her tongue. “I came to Hogwarts to help you poor dears, had I known it was so dire, well.”

“Father’s been saying that for years, Professor.” Malfoy said in a similarly sweet tone. “It’s the state of things, you see. He knows Hogwarts offers the highest education, but given some of its recent choices, well.”

“I want you to know that any concern you have, you can take to me,” Umbridge said before shifting with a muffled sound. “And I want you to inform your father, everything is in hand. I was quite disappointed when I learnt of his abrupt departure from the Hospital Wing. I should’ve liked to speak with him personally.”

Ron made a disgusted sound and whispered, “Imagine that conversation.”

“Father was terribly upset to hear of my,” Malfoy gave a small cough. “Interaction, and said he’d speak with the headmaster. I’m sure he would’ve stayed to chat with you, had he known you intended to speak with him.”

Umbridge hummed a sorrowful note. “You poor dear.”

“I just want to know something being done about it,” Malfoy said. He spoke in a way Harry couldn’t help but admire; somehow managing to sound both helpless yet confident in his demand. “Potter always gets away with these sorts of things.”

Harry swallowed back his simmering anger and tried to calmly continue listening. He could admit that he and Malfoy fought often, but if anyone suffered more repercussions, it was Harry. An unpleasant memory sank bitterly on his tongue as he thought of Malfoy’s ‘POTTER STINKS’ badges and how no one had ever actually reprimanded Malfoy for having created them. No one reprimanded Malfoy for having hexed Hermione with beaver teeth, or for tormenting Ron about his second hand clothing, nor for having spread nasty rumours about Harry’s friends to Rita Skeeter.

He inhaled slowly and imagined the snitch sailing before him.

After everything Snape had helped Harry with over the summer and last few weeks, helping ensure his safety was truly the least Harry could do.

“I assure you, Mr Malfoy,” Umbridge began as her teacup clattered again. “Mr Potter will be dealt with swiftly and severely.” She said in a haughty tone. “Given my position as your Defense professor, I’ve spoken with Professor Snape on an appropriate response.”

Harry somehow doubted she chose to confer with Snape. Umbridge needed to be in charge, despite what her previous position as the Undersecretary might lead others to believe. Maybe she felt Snape would follow her lead?

“I believe he’ll be able to offer us some valuable insight.” Umbridge said before giving a grating throat cough. “He should be joining us quite—”

“Bollocks—” Ron started before looking upwards and inhaling sharply. His fingers clenched around the receiver and Umbridge’s voice gave a high pitched, tinny whinge before being cut off altogether.

“Spying?” Snape’s soft voice swept around them.

Harry’s eyes narrowed onto a crack in the floorboards beneath the receiver in Ron’s hand. He desperately wished he could move, but felt as if his feet had been cemented to the ground. Given how busy he and Snape had been since the beginning of the school term, and how little their schedules forced them to interact outside of Potions, Harry hadn’t truly dealt with Snape publicly.

Why hadn’t Snape told Harry he’d be meeting with Umbridge? He told Harry he’d handle Umbridge if Dumbledore wouldn’t, but had things come to that?

Should Harry be worried?

“We-we thought,” Ron stammered and snagged Harry’s sleeve as he reached over and gently tugged him closer. “That is, er—”

“You thought what, Weasley?” Snape asked, his voice dripping bitterly over Ron’s name.

Harry worried about appearing suitably angry at having been caught by someone he was meant to openly detest, given how Snape warned him about keeping up appearances, but was at a loss for how to behave. He tried to remain focused on what was happening, but guilt and confusion overwhelmed him. He knew he shouldn’t have spied, especially when Snape asked him to stay away from Umbridge, but at the same time, he felt Snape should’ve mentioned his meeting.

A sharp whistle echoed through the hallway and the string connected to the receiver flew backwards, sending the ear smacking into Ron with a painful-sounding slap.

“Attend what lessons you have today.” Snape said as he stepped closer and dropped a dark shadow over Harry.

Harry swallowed heavily. He hadn’t been able to convince himself to stop staring at the crack in the floor and look at Snape, but he didn’t need to in order to know a steely, cold anger lingered behind his eyes.

“Remain behind after Potions. We’ll discuss this behaviour then.” He said before twisting sharply and storming through the Defense classroom with sharp, resounding footsteps.

“Bloody hell.” Ron whispered in a small voice once they were alone. “Does that include me?”

A thick, sluggish feeling flooded Harry, and he distantly remembered promising to be well behaved this term. Snape’s good opinion of him had depended on it. Harry could confidently say that up until now, his actions had been caused by events that were largely out of his control. He hadn’t provoked Tom and asked for him to break through his thoughts with gruesome memories, nor for Umbridge to discover his aging issue. She never would have found out either, had Harry kept himself from cursing Malfoy.

Harry wasn’t even sure if he had cursed Malfoy, as he knew nothing about the curse, aside from Snape’s description and what he’d recently learnt from Malfoy. He doubted anyone could knowingly perform the correct wand movement and nonverbally cast a spell they didn’t know.

The pendant on his mum’s necklace beat a warm staccato against his chest.

“Harry, come on.”

A quiet urge crept up his spine and he nearly managed to pull himself away from the crack in the floor to find a broom cupboard. Hiding wouldn’t make Snape less angry though, nor would running into Umbridge’s office and apologizing.

The last time Harry felt this worried about breaking the rules and incurring Snape’s wrath, he’d snuck out with Ron and Hermione in search of help after Umbridge cursed him. The only other instance he could think of where he’d broken the rules and searched for help had been long before then, when Harry was terrified of Snape’s response after nearly being kidnapped by Avery.

He almost counted last night’s meltdown, given how horrifying it had been, but Snape already explained that it was less about Harry breaking rules and more about him feeling safe enough to express himself.

Despite the difference in events, Snape had been proud of Harry for finding and trusting an adult each time. No matter how Harry looked at behaviour today though, spying on Umbridge had nothing to do with finding help, and far more to do with him, placing himself within reach of Umbridge, who was proven to have no qualms about hurting him.

Harry tried to dredge up older experiences where he’d put himself in harm's way to guess Snape’s reaction, and wound up thinking of Aunt Petunia. Snape allowed Harry to return to her twice, despite knowing she may hurt him. She rarely hit Harry though.

Dudley however, hit Harry often.

Snape hadn’t mentioned anything specific about Dudley hurting him. He tried to remember how angry Snape had been after Dudley gave him a black eye and he portkeyed into his mum’s flat, but he could only think of the sharp scent of peppermint.

Harry shook his head at himself. Snape didn’t smell of peppermint; the balm he used had.

It didn’t matter either way. Harry hadn’t chosen to be hit by Dudley, but he had chosen to spy on Umbridge.

He wished he hadn’t spied, but he also wished he’d argued about why he’d spied when Snape caught them. He wanted Snape to be safe, and if Harry could help, why shouldn’t he?

If Snape promised to always help him, shouldn’t Harry do the same in return?

The crack in the floor seemed to widen and Harry tipped head over heels as he fell in.

Flashes of Snape’s kindness whorled around him and he grasped desperately for them, but each time his fingertips brushed over a memory, it slipped away and exploded in discordant scatter. He could no longer remember if he was six or not, or if he visited Snape the first night of term, or if he visited Dumbledore instead. He wondered if he could hear Padfoot whinging, but no matter where he turned, Harry couldn’t find any sign of him.

A tall streetlamp from Magnolia Crescent flickered into view, barely illuminating a foggy, ill-lit street. Harry tilted his head in confusion as he stared at it before bristling with anger when he spied Dumbledore standing beneath it.

A soft, velvety voice echoed through the street before a bright halo bright light erupted from behind Dumbledore, leaving Harry squinting at him from within Dumbledore’s shadow.

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched prickled up Harry’s neck and he spun around as he searched the dark street for whoever it might be. Each house was as empty and lifeless as the next though. It reminded Harry far too much of when Snape collected him from Privet Drive.

Avery had been hiding in the dark.

Harry panicked and twisted in place as he furiously tried to find him. He could hear Avery’s sickly cooing, but no matter how many blurry shadows he searched, he couldn’t seem to find him.

The velvety voice whispered again, this time guiding him toward a thin, crooked crack in the pavement and idly wondering aloud if Avery was hiding inside.

It looked much too small for someone to hide inside of, and far darker than anywhere else on the street, but Harry couldn’t think of a good reason for why Avery wouldn’t have hidden there, had he somehow found a way in. No matter how hard Harry tried though, he couldn’t see inside.

It was just too dark.

Bitterness washed over him after realizing he’d probably need to go back and borrow Dumbledore’s light if he was going to find anyone down there. He turned back around to look at Dumbledore, but inhaled sharply after spying Snape in his place instead.

Sirius’s warm voice hummed in Harry’s ear, reminding him that Snape knew Avery was here, but intentionally kept it from Harry. He probably also knew where Avery was hiding.

Snape knew about his meeting with Umbridge today too, but kept that from Harry as well.

His earlier guilt rushed around him once more, and he somehow doubted Snape would freely loan him the streetlamp. Maybe he’d help Harry if he apologized though? That wasn’t so odd to consider, not when Snape helped him after Harry apologized this morning. It’d need to be a real apology however, not something that sounded half-baked and as if he was only doing it for the streetlamp.

An apology like that would likely take real work, and Harry wasn’t entirely positive of how he felt concerning his own guilt. Did he feel guilty for disobeying Snape, or for not having trusted Snape to handle Umbridge?

He twisted away from the crooked crack and stared at Snape. He might be able to ask which apology mattered more, though Harry couldn't be sure Snape would answer.

Snape’s steely eyes followed him as he carefully crept closer.

Harry knew he trusted Snape to handle Umbridge, he just wasn’t as sure about him handling Voldemort. He hadn’t spied on Umbridge out of a burning need to break the rules either, rather, it had been to help ensure Snape’s safety.

He reached a small hand upwards toward Snape and idly realized he’d shrunken to the size of a six year old at some point, but he couldn’t remember when. He was tucked into Snape’s cloak as well and nearly tripped over the heavy fabric when it caught around his feet.

Harry wondered if Snape already knew of the dangers lurking behind Umbridge’s actions, and if that was why he agreed to meet with her?

What would Umbridge have done if she’d caught them spying while Snape was present? He hadn’t considered what might’ve happened if she left her office in the middle of her meeting. That wouldn’t have gone well for Harry.

Snape may have had more planned for his meeting than Harry realized as well.

It was just as well, he could hardly help Snape while wrapped in his cloak. He couldn’t even lift it high enough to walk without it trailing behind him.

The light behind him drifted gently over Harry as Snape crouched down and gently re-knotted the cloak around Harry’s shoulders. He took a small pause to survey his work before tugging Harry up against his chest.

“I think Avery’s in there.” Harry whispered as he looked up at Snape and pointed to the pavement.

“That’s not Avery.” Snape whispered back.

Harry inhaled sharply as he shot upwards and collided with a head of curly hair.

“Ouch!” Hermione hissed as rubbed her forehead and backed away. “Sorry, I only meant to wake you up, I didn’t intend for it to be so abrupt.”

Scarlet bed curtains bled across Harry’s vision and he blinked through the throbbing ache in his head until Hermione and Neville came into focus.

“Alright, Harry?” Neville asked wrung his fingers together.

Harry nodded slowly. He tried to find the crack in the floor, or Snape or Ron, but came up empty on all three. He twisted his wrist over to check his watch and bit back a groan after realizing he’d missed his early morning lessons.

“You’re, er, are you sure?” Neville asked. “You didn’t seem particularly—”

“No, I’m fine,” Harry said with a sluggish wave. “Did I sleep?”

Hermione pinched her lips between her teeth and nodded as she sat across from Harry. “Ron managed to get you to Divination, but you were really,” She paused and gave Harry a concerned look. “Struggling.”

Harry rocked forward and dropped his heavy head into his palms. He dreaded what that interaction looked like. He hoped no one noticed him, but doubted he would be so lucky.

“Trelawney said it was probably just stress, and that you aren’t in trouble for missing class!” Hermione said as she sat a bit straighter. “She even gave you a note, apparently she told Ron she’d seen it coming.” She said, wiggling her fingers much like Trelawney did in class. “She said this happens with our course load. You’re not the only one to miss class because of it either, see, Hannah Abbot is in my Ancient Runes course and just last week—”

Harry held a hand up, stopping her midflow as he inhaled slowly. “Thanks, that’s—erm, that’s great.” He said slowly. “Just give me a minute to, erm,” He rubbed his eyes and tried to string a complete sentence together. “I’ll meet you in the Common Room in a minute, we’ll go to Defense then.”

Hermione blinked between him and Neville before pinching her lips between her teeth once more. “You’re sure?”

Harry nodded.

He wondered if Ron neglected to tell her about their spying this morning, but doubted feigning ignorance would’ve kept Hermione in the dark for long. She would’ve guessed something happened solely by Harry’s state.

“It’s just as well,” Neville said in a weak voice. “I bet Umbridge only honours sick notes when you’re dying.”

“That’s ridiculous and unprofessional.” Hermione mumbled before following Neville through the doorway.

Harry shoved his blankets off and shivered as he stumbled around the dormitory in search of his book bag. He tried to throw off his strange dream and shake some life into his limbs, but he gave up when it became apparent that none of his attempts would work.

He clutched his mum’s necklace close and sighed as it warmed. Though he couldn’t be sure, he wondered if Dreamless Sleep had been invented for someone who had similarly strange dreams as Harry?

“You didn’t see him when he just stopped reacting,” He heard Ron whisper as he stepped down the stairs. “Hermione it was awful—”

“You should’ve taken him to the Hospital Wing!”

“That would’ve only made things worse!”

“It would’ve been better than just assuming it’ll go away on its own! It’s pure luck that it went away this time! Don’t you remember what happened last time?” Hermione hissed. “Ruffles was angry enough to kill!”

Harry grimaced as he thought of how concerned Snape had been when Harry came out of his thoughts at his mum’s house.

“They’re always angry enough to kill!” Ron said in a harsh whisper.

“No, they’re not!” Hermione’s fingers clenched into a tight fist. “You know that’s not true! They’re only angry like that when grown adults willfully endanger children, or we wilfully endanger ourselves!”

Ron must’ve told her the truth then.

Harry paused at the foot of the stairs and gave them both a weak smile. To his surprise, they gave up arguing long enough to climb through the portrait hole and maneuver down several flights of stairs before Hermione began speaking again.

“Neville quite likes the idea of a study group, in case you were curious.” She said as they curved around a wave of students. “Seamus though, thinks it's useless.”

“I can’t believe you even bothered to tell him.” Ron mumbled.

“He was sitting right next to us, what did you want me to say?” Hermione asked with a shrug. “Oh sorry Seamus, no prats allowed?”

Ron snickered. “That’d have worked.”

“What did you agree on then?” Harry asked as they trudged into Umbridge’s bleak classroom. He inhaled slowly and preemptively pictured the snitch when his eyes landed on the taffy pink ribbons surrounding her desk. He didn’t fancy enduring a reappearance from Tom.

He might not have much of a choice though, especially if Tom was still upset about being called ‘repugnant’.

“We’re going to meet every Friday during our free period.” Hermione said quietly as she slid into a desk to Harry’s right.

“It’s the only time most of us have off.” Ron added with a nod. “You’d be surprised how many people seemed interested, Fred, George, Dean, that one insufferable bloke, Justin Finch-Fletchley,” He ticked names off as he counted them on his fingers. “Luna brought some friends over too, even Cho looked curious.”

The snitch in Harry’s head swerved right and dropped out of his thoughts entirely. “Cho’s coming?”

“I think it’ll still be small enough to manage.” Hermione said.

Harry couldn’t be bothered to care much about the size of their group, though he did wonder how long Madam Pince would tolerate a large group of students loitering together in the library; he was far more interested in who attended.

Umbridge swept through the room with a small smug smile. Her cloying perfume sailed around the room and was far more pungent than usual.

Harry blinked against his dry eyes and wished he could go back to sleep. His head felt as if it’d been stuffed full of wool.

In the back of his mind, he could hear the word ‘repugnant’ being repeated in a soft voice and worried about what could happen If Tom made an untimely reappearance. Harry didn’t know what he’d do. He didn’t have a plan with Snape, nor Ron and Hermione. He knew better than to interact with Tom now, but that didn’t leave him with very many options for shutting him out.

“Hem, Hem.” Umbridge coughed before twisting on her heel. “Good afternoon, class.”

Harry dully parroted the greeting back with the rest of the class and scratched his nails over his wrists as focused on the snitch in his imagination.

“It’s come to my attention that despite my presence as your Defense professor, some students have taken it upon themselves to learn and practice dangerous, and potentially even deadly spells.” Umbridge said with pursed lips.

Several pairs of eyes landed on Harry, making him wish to slink lower into his chair, but he kept still instead, stoutly refusing to give Umbridge the benefit of seeing him embarrassed.

“I believe I made myself quite clear at the beginning of term when I explained the reason behind our focus on the underlying principles within defensive magic?” Umbridge said, lacing her fingers together. “I have since been informed that, while this behaviour is repugnant—”

Harry narrowed in on the snitch in his thoughts.

The anger he often felt when attending Umbridge’s lessons simmered unpleasantly in his chest, but it felt nothing like what he’d experienced last night.

“It will likely continue to be a menace upon our student body.” Umbridge twisted on her heel and made the short journey toward her desk. “For that reason, I want each and every one of you to write an essay, on top of our usual readings.”

More than one nasty look landed on Harry as the classroom gave a shiver and everyone swallowed back their annoyance. Moaning about extra work with Umbridge had never ended well, despite how good it felt.

Umbridge brought the attention back to her with another sickly sweet throat cough. “I want three rolls of parchment on the importance of recognizing situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.” Umbridge said before waving her wand at the board and spelling out the prompt in chalk. “And don’t forget, I am a resource, one who’s door is always open. I want it on my desk before class begins Friday. Failure will result in a detention.”

Harry wished he’d stayed in bed.