“Look at this!” Minerva snapped as soon as he opened the door to his quarters in response to an insistent banging at an all-too-early hour.

Considering that she was waving her copy of the Daily Prophet decidedly violently, Severus didn’t attempt to look any closer. He didn’t need to; his own copy sat on the table in front of the couch and the headline, ‘Headmaster losing control at Hogwarts? Ministry forced to step in,’ had him more than slightly incensed as well. “I saw.”

“We all did,” Alastor said gruffly, coming up behind her with his copy of the Prophet tucked under his arm.

Severus stepped back to allow them both to enter his quarters—not that he particularly wanted to, but this was hardly a conversation to have in the corridor.

“They wrapped it up real nice and neat,” Alastor continued. “Did you read it?” He didn’t bother to wait for Severus’ response, snapping open his copy. “‘Insufficient supervision of a new, inexperienced professor led to the use of a proscribed device on a student. While the student wasn’t permanently harmed—’”

Minerva made a disgusted noise, interrupting his reading momentarily.

“‘—this last in a long line of mishaps involving the staff and student body has forced the Ministry to take an active role in the governing of the school.’ And then it goes on in some detail about the ‘series of events’ that led up to this decision.”

Severus had read through that section several times and had to admit that the paper made some good points. Or, rather, truthful points. After all, a werewolf was teaching at one point, Lockhart was so incompetent that he Obliviated himself beyond recovery, and there are certainly ‘countless acts of irresponsible behavior’ being committed on the part of students every day. Though if Fudge thinks a High Inquisitor can prevent children from acting like children he is rather more brainless than he appears. Still, the majority of the article was just rabble-rousing drivel.

“The entire article is focused against Hogwarts,” Albus said, and Severus glared when he realized that the older man had let himself in with his password rather than knocking.

When did I agree to host an early-morning Order meeting? Minus Hagrid, but he’d left for his hut rather quickly when he’d heard that Umbridge was coming back.

“They never even mention what that woman did to Harry,” Minerva said with a quick nod for the headmaster. “In fact, all they say about Umbridge is that she’s taking ‘administrative leave’ from her Ministry duties to take the position at Hogwarts. How can they just ignore what really happened?”

Gryffindors and their all-too-ideal views of the world. Actually Severus thought the fact that there was no mention of Harry, particularly after what it had been printing this past summer, was a good thing. But the fact that all it said was that a ‘proscribed device’ had been used and not even naming the culprit was…ominous. “Fudge can’t have paid them all off.”

“Malfoy and his cronies have had their fingers in the running of the Prophet for years, even if they don’t want to admit it,” Alastor said with disgust. “Too low-class and all that. Besides, the reporters have spent most of the past year supporting Fudge over Albus—you’ve seen the things they’ve been printing, especially since he was removed from the position of Supreme Mugwump. Doesn’t give them much incentive to admit that the Minister—and his senior undersecretary—suddenly screwed up. Makes them look bad.”

“Nothing sudden about it,” Severus muttered. “The man has no business trying to run a sweet stand never mind a government.” Unfortunately, while there were a few other sources of news in the Wizarding world—there had been more than one reporter in the courtroom, after all—the Daily Prophet was the only one that came out…well, daily. By the time that anything else made it to print the shock of the story would likely have worn off. Assuming, of course, that they haven’t been bought off as well.

“I’ll be speaking to several members of the Wizengamot to see if we can’t get at least her recalled, even if the position of High Inquisitor has to stand. Until then, I’m afraid we’ll just have to tolerate her.”

Far easier said than done. And Severus would be getting off easier than his colleagues since she’d have no reason to be observing him. “Any word on when she’ll be arriving?”

“Not yet. I imagine soon, now that the news is out.”

‘Soon’ came sooner than Severus would have liked…all the same, he wasn’t overly surprised to see the doors of the Great Hall swinging open as the food appeared on the tables at dinner. A combination of muttering and groaning from the students followed her as she swept down the aisle—well, Severus assumed she was attempting to sweep, it looked more she was wearing slick-soled shoes and kept losing her footing—and halted in front of the High Table to announce, “I’m here.”

The majority of those seated at the High Table stared, glared, or choked, depending on personality. Albus merely inclined his head slightly. “Won’t you join us for the meal?”

“But…don’t you think I should be introduced?”

“It’s only been a few weeks, Delores,” Minerva said dryly. “I imagine that the students remember you.”

“But I am the High Inquisitor now.”

Severus gave a pointed glance at one of the large pieces of parchment now adorning the walls. “Despite what the quality of their homework might indicate, the majority of our students can read.” They’d been speaking quietly—neither he nor any of the other professors would condone an argument or discussion in front of the students that could undermine their authority—but the snickering from the student tables at that statement made him wonder if he’d been a bit louder than he’d intended. Well, that, or…. He scanned the floor but saw no evidence of any of the Weasley twins’ eavesdropping devices that had driven Molly half-mad this summer. At least the reaction had prompted Umbridge to take her seat without further discussion.

A staff meeting was held immediately after dinner, where a smug High Inquisitor got to demand class schedules and curriculum guides from each of the professors in order to ‘make the best use of her time.’ Severus was rather glad that he wasn’t teaching just now, actually, because he’d probably have given in to the desire to throttle her. Well, maybe. That or invite her to come observe on a day my seventh years are working on something particularly volatile. She looked to be focusing on Sybil—who was, wonder of wonders, a truly incompetent professor—and she asked after Hagrid. As expected he hadn’t come up to the castle for the meal, but Albus insisted that he’d pass along her requests. Offhand Severus suspected that Devon would come under scrutiny also—the look on her face when she’d said ‘Muggle Studies’ hadn’t been particularly encouraging—and possibly Minerva as well. If Umbridge could find the courage to face her. Severus rather doubted that she would, however much the two obviously disliked each other.

“And when will I be observing you?” Umbridge asked him with a snide glance.

He raised an eyebrow. “As I’m on medical sabbatical, the only thing you could possibly observe would be myself napping. I’m sure you’ll understand if I decline.”

“But you were working with Mr. Potter on an individual basis, were you not? If you’re doing individualized tutoring, that’s certainly something to report.”

Damn. They should have said that he’d discovered the scars while Harry had detention with him or something. He technically still should after following me into the Forbidden Forest. If—more like when, even Umbridge wasn’t that unobservant—she discovered that Harry was the only one he was giving private tutoring to it was going to lead to some questions he had no desire to answer.

“I asked him to help the boy when they were both here while Hogwarts was closed,” Minerva cut in. “There was very little else going on then, and as it’s one of the few subjects where Harry struggles….” She shrugged slightly.

“We hadn’t finished the curriculum I set out when I was injured,” Severus took over, “and I saw no reason not to continue the lessons once I had healed enough. In addition he does some work for me—he still has a few of my detentions to finish off as well.” Which was, if she checked with the other students, no doubt what they would say Harry was doing coming down to his quarters. All is clear in hindsight, I suppose, but we really should have said detention as opposed to tutoring.

“Then I’m sure we can arrange a time for me to observe.”

“We’ll be starting illusion charms tomorrow with my second years,” a new cut in before Severus could do more than open his mouth. “It’s a new section, so you might be interested in starting there.

Filius. Always the peacemaker. Probably just as well; Severus hadn’t been too certain just what had been going to come out of his mouth in response to that condescending tone. Most probably a hex of some sort. But the distraction had worked on Umbridge, at least.

///////////

Severus got to dinner early—in the week since Umbridge had gotten back to the school almost all of the other professors had gotten into the habit just so they could select seats away from her—and dropped into the chair beside Alastor with much less disgust than he would have seven days go. Lunacy is more tolerable than idiocy. Besides which, Alastor wouldn’t expect him to carry on a conversation or lecture him at great length about subjects that he knew nothing about. Or pester me for an ‘observation’ time. Students began to file in as well, and he caught Draco looking in his direction with an unidentifiable expression. He didn’t spend much time in the halls since he wasn’t teaching—he wasn’t particularly interested in giving anyone a free opportunity to curse him—but more than once during meals and such he’d caught the same expression in the boy’s eyes. He’d tried Legilimency, but someone had given the boy an Occlumency lesson or two over the summer…it wouldn’t take much to break his shields, but if he did that Draco would know immediately. Severus wasn’t quite that curious. Yet. Much more of this, and….

A glance at the Gryffindor table showed Harry deep in conversation with the other two members of the trio and a few of the other older Gryffindors. Something was on the table in front of them…a paper, it looked like. It was probably the Quibbler; it had come out this morning and unlike the Prophet had printed a factual accounting of what had happened in that courtroom a week ago. Sandwiched between an article about a wizard who supposedly flew to the moon on a broom and an advertisement for charms to protect their wearers from crumple-horned snorkacks—whatever they are—but that’s the Quibbler for you. And it does have some readership. Now if a few more publications would follow that lead, there might be enough public outcry to get rid of her.

Neither Hagrid nor Sybil came to dinner, but that wasn’t a surprise. He’d seen the half-giant at the castle exactly once since Umbridge had arrived…it was possible that he was simply spending more time with his giant-friend, but Severus wouldn’t have cared to bet on it. Sybil was definitely avoiding Umbridge; something about probation. The constant sniffling they last time he’d been within earshot of her complaints had gotten on his nerves so he’d tuned her out fairly quickly.

Poppy was sitting on his opposite side, but Devon had apparently gotten yet another letter about his niece and was holding her forcibly in conversation. It served Severus well enough, and with Devon’s chattering he almost couldn’t hear Umbridge’s near-constant clearing of throat as she listened to the conversation between Minerva and Rolanda towards the other end of the table. The first time he’d heard her doing it he’d assumed she had some sort of allergy, but he’d come to realize that it was just a part of her oh-so-charming personality. He’d certainly never wished for a simple ‘excuse me’ before.

“Severus, a moment,” Poppy said, standing as well when he got up to leave the table.

“Yes?”

She indicated for him to walk with her, waiting until they were clear of the Great Hall before beginning to speak again. “I’ve been in contact with the healers at St. Mungos, and they all agree that at this stage your arm should be healed enough by the week after next to get you one of the pros-thesees if you’re still interested.”

“I am,” he confirmed immediately. “But I thought—”

“I didn’t say you would be healed,” she said firmly. “You certainly don’t need to go gallivanting off all over the Wizarding world, which I believe I’ve mentioned before. I said your arm would be healed enough. Have you given any more thought to which one you would like?”

“The clamp seems the most useful.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said with a firm nod. “Now, we’ll be getting one from the muggle world, so—”

“You aren’t planning to use their medical…techniques…correct?” Severus interrupted quickly.

“Of course not! Cutting open your arm, stititches—what a repulsive idea! We’ll be using magic to attach it and establish the connections to your muscles, although it may take a few tries to get it to work correctly. I also understand that there will be a period of adjustment when your muscles learn to adapt to their new function so I wouldn’t make any major plans for a fortnight or so after we do the work.”

“Will you be doing it here, or…?”

“St. Mungos, since they have a healer who has actually performed similar procedures.”

He nodded slightly.

“Well, then, I’ll go floo call them and tell them to order the part. Have a good night.”

Severus gave another nod but was still slightly in shock. He’d planned to get a prosthetic for his arm, of course, but it had always been ‘in the future.’ Now the future was in approximately two weeks, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt.

He took a short nap before Harry’s Occlumency lesson, awakening just before the boy was to arrive.

“Hello, Professor.”

“Hello, Harry,” he returned. “Have you been practicing?”

The boy shifted slightly. “I’ve been trying, but I don’t think it’s been working.”

“Explain.”

Harry took his usual seat. “I have been practicing Occlumency, but I can’t make anything move even when I try.”

To be fair, practicing wasn’t quite the same thing as using it when your mind was being invaded. Not that that made Severus feel any better. “I suppose we’ll see, then.” He frowned for a moment and then hovered a blanket onto the floor and indicated for the boy to take a seat.

“Professor?”

“It’s a much shorter distance for me to fall.” He lowered himself to sit on the opposite side of the blanket, ignoring the twinge in his muscles as he did so. Still not quite recovered. He also cast several cushioning charms behind him before returning his attention to Harry. “Clear your mind.”

“Ready.”

Attic, attic, attic, small and cramped space with something overhead making an awful din…. He had time to identify the closet Harry had been kept in before his back impacted the bookshelf. A few volumes clattered to the floor around him. I suppose I should be thankful that the whole thing didn’t fall on my head.

“Sorry, Professor.”

“At least you managed an Occlumency shield. Trade places with me.” He’d rather not give the shelves a second chance to fall.

An hour—and four more technically-successful-but-unpleasant-for-the-recipient Occlumency shields later—Severus called a halt to the lesson. “Enough. Ignoring the physical aspect of your…technique…you’re doing quite well. Tell me, you mentioned back in the jungle that you could sometimes feel how the Dark Lord was feeling, and you obviously saw what happened to me; has anything similar happened recently?”

Harry shook his head. “Sometimes I feel weird things at night, but nothing clear. I don’t know if he just hasn’t been angry lately or I’m getting better at clearing my mind.”

Severus strongly suspected the latter, but contented himself with simply nodding. “Continue to do so before you sleep, then. And obviously if you do see something, let someone know.”

“Yes, sir. Have a good night.”

///////////

Albus nodded, and Severus stood to go. Albus had made some time this morning to talk about Harry’s Occlumency lessons—there was another one tonight—and Severus had been hoping the older man would have some ideas about how to work through the wandless magic problem. The boy was technically progressing, but Severus would much prefer not to find himself sprawled out on the floor every ten minutes. Unfortunately, Albus had never encountered anything of the sort and just didn’t have the time to take a try with the boy himself, which meant…well, Severus would keep doing the best he could.

Things at the Ministry weren’t going as well as they might have hoped—while another paper published yesterday had reported the same series of events as the Quibbler had the day before the public wasn’t as outraged as they could have been. Part of it might have had to do with the sources of the information—neither paper was the most reputable—but Albus had summed it up best when the topic had come up: ‘They’re all too old.’ Neatly ignoring his own advanced years, but unfortunately it seemed to be true. Blood quills hadn’t been dark devices for quite as long as Severus had thought; it had only been five years before he’d started at Hogwarts that they’d been given that assignation. Which meant that a large majority of the adult Wizarding population—and wizards could live quite long lives—had known them as acceptable punishment devices at some point in their lives. This meant that the general consensus, particularly among purebloods, seemed to be, ‘They were used on me when I was a child and I turned out all right so there’s no reason to make such a fuss.’ Idiots. Especially since for many of them ‘all right’ was entirely relative in Severus’ opinion. The muggle-born parents and many of those who’d attended Hogwarts after the declaration had been made weren’t quite as sanguine about having Umbridge assigned to the school—in fact several Howlers on the subject had been received by the Ministry—but they weren’t as numerous as those who accepted what had happened, and so far Fudge didn’t seem to be paying them a great deal of attention. Of course, the majority of those parents aren’t particularly rich, either, Severus couldn’t help noticing.

He was two steps from the door when it burst open suddenly and Umbridge stalked in. “You have to do something about him!”

Severus exchanged glances with Albus, and both shifted to regard her evenly.

“Well?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry, Delores, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And somehow Albus actually managed to sound regretful. Severus knew he couldn’t have done it.

“That man!”

Well, that rules out Harry and the Weasley twins. They’d been his primary suspects, and he considered of who else she might have been speaking. If it had been one of the ghosts—say, Peeves—she’d have said ‘ghost’ not ‘man.’ I’m not sure Filius could get someone that upset if he tried, and as I’m standing right here it’s unlikely that she’s referring to me. Hagrid? Possible but unlikely considering the extents he’s going to in order to avoid her. Devon’s pictures are driving me insane, but it’s hardly something to go complaining to the headmaster about. And she and Filch seem to be two of a kind. Which leaves…ah. Alastor. Yes. Severus had no doubt that Albus had run through a similar process of elimination, but his expression didn’t shift.

“We have several male professors on staff,” Albus said. “I’m not sure—”

“Moody! He keeps watching me with that eye of his, and he lurks in the corridors outside my rooms!”

“Delores, his rooms are just down the hall from yours, and he watches everyone. It’s just his personality.”

His paranoia, more accurately, but true enough. Considering that it was already known that she’d used a dark device—and was an officious Ministry toad—he had no doubt that Alastor was keeping a close eye on her. Albus must have been even more annoyed about the situation at the Ministry than he let on to put their quarters so close together.

“Well, then, I insist that you move my rooms!”

“Certainly,” Albus said after a moment. “Why don’t we go see what the house elves can make available?”

If you even think about putting her anywhere near my dungeons you will regret it, Severus thought, half-glaring at Albus as he held the door for the two of them to pass him.

He didn’t think a great deal more about the incident until dinner, when he walked in to see Umbridge very deliberately taking the furthest seat possible from Alastor. Hm. The situation had…possibilities. And he was getting rather bored, neither teaching nor being capable of experimenting. The meal passed quickly, and he caught up with her as she exited the Hall. “You mentioned—” repeatedly and obnoxiously—“that you wish to observe one of Mr. Potter’s tutoring sessions. We will be meeting at 8:30 this evening.”

“That’s not particularly convenient f—”

“That is when we meet,” Severus interrupted. “In the potions’ classroom. If you choose not to attend, that is, of course, your decision.” There was certainly no need for her to be there, but since he planned to make it an actual potions lesson it would hopefully satisfy her curiosity. Now he just needed to stop by the classroom and make sure that everything was in stock….

Harry was waiting inside his quarters when he returned—he never had gotten around to revoking the boy’s temporary password—and he nodded a greeting. The Schisandra in the potions classroom hadn’t been well dried and in fact had showed signs of mold, and he’d had to spend quite a bit of time digging through his stores to find a better jar. Not an ingredient that gets a lot of use, I suppose.

“Hello, Professor,” Harry said. “I was starting to think you might have cancelled lessons today and I just didn’t get the message.”

“I had an errand to complete that took a bit longer than expected.” It was still a full half-hour before he’d told Umbridge the lesson was to start; he had a bit of time to explain what was going to happen. “Come, we’ll be having our session in the potions’ classroom today.”

“What? Why?”

“Umbridge wishes to observe my tutoring abilities; therefore for the next hour we will be having a remedial potions lesson.”

Harry made a face. “Great.”

Severus smirked at his tone, although he did become serious again fairly quickly. “Have there been any other…incidents…between the two of you?”

Harry shrugged. “I only really see her when she’s observing my classes, and it’s not like she can give me detentions for ignoring her then. The rest of the time I avoid her—the Fat Lady won’t let her into the Gryffindor common room, and there are a couple other places she doesn’t know about.”

Severus wondered for a moment if one of the other places was the Chamber of Secrets and then decided abruptly that he would rather not know. It wasn’t as if there was anything left down there to hurt the boy, and it was one place where that woman certainly wouldn’t find him.

“Do you have anything planned for me to make?” Harry asked. “We’re working on the Draught of Peace in class.”

Severus’ jaw tightened a bit as he remembered his last attempt to brew that particular potion, but he simply shook his head. “I have something a bit different in mind.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain in more detail as soon as Umbridge joins us, however I must caution you that however useful—and simple—this potion may seem to be, I do not want you to attempt it on your own. There are some…unfortunate…side effects. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if you feel the urge to talk about this lesson with your little friends, make sure to pass that information on to Miss Granger specifically.” She would certainly be the one to try it.

“I…okay,” Harry agreed after a moment, looking a bit nonplussed. “But why are we making it, then?”

“Because you need the practice with potions, and it’s of a particular family that should you make a mistake in the brewing it’s unlikely to kill us even if I can’t intervene in time.” And I need another hand to make it myself, thanks to the timing required. Whatever work it took to become accustomed to the clamp attachment, it would be well worth it. He could hold off on the brewing, of course, but he didn’t particularly want to wait. Not to mention that after this that woman shouldn’t have cause to bother me about observing.

‘That woman’ barged in as Severus finished writing out the ingredients and instructions on the board and seemed more than slightly nonplussed to find Harry already there. No doubt she’d been hoping he’d turn up late. “I’m here to observe.”

“I did assume that, thank you. Now, Mr. Potter, today we will be working on the Memory Magnification draught. As the name indicates, it was designed to increase a person’s mental capacity.”

“Hm-hm.”

He raised an eyebrow as Umbridge cleared her throat.

“I don’t recall reading about this potion in—”

“No, I don’t imagine you did.” He doubted she’d done more than page through the index for any of the subjects taught.

“Perhaps you should remain on the set curriculum that—”

“As you once pointed out, professors are free to choose their curriculum.” If he chose for Harry to brew something that had been one of his personal experiments back when he’d been worried about OWLs, he was perfectly free to do so. “I believe it was mentioned that this is a remedial potions class? It stands to reason that selecting particular assignments outside the normal scope of the class to emphasize certain skills is a reasonable approach.” Of course, Umbridge wasn’t precisely a reasonable person, but…. “Mr. Potter, if you would begin collecting your ingredients?”

The time passed relatively easily. Harry refrained from making any particularly egregious errors in the potion, and every time Umbridge cleared her throat he started drilling the boy about particular potions and their components until she gave up. She was an interesting shade of red by the time Harry made the last counter-clockwise stir.

“It’s done, Professor.”

“You know the procedure; bottle a sample.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry looked at him for a moment and then selected the largest vial available—once again being not quite as dense as he acted—and filled it neatly before cleaning out the cauldron.

Severus considered the liquid. Milky-pink, a bit more opaque than he’d have made it, but it would serve. “Hm. You added the shredded sage a bit too quickly, but I suppose it is acceptable. You may go.” Umbridge seemed torn between staying to question Severus and going after Harry…by the time she decided and stepped out the door Severus had no doubt that the boy was long gone. He checked one last time that all of the ingredient jars had been returned to their proper locations and tucked the vial of potion into his robes. People remembered the pranks the Marauders had played, remembered that he’d often been a target, but they generally forgot that he’d very nearly matched them prank for prank and curse for curse despite it being four on one. Well… three and a half on one, Pettigrew never really counted for much.