Portended Prophecies by WiCeBa

Harry frowned at his shrunken top. He was glad Snape lent him pyjamas, as sleeping in a shrunken version of his school uniform would’ve been particularly uncomfortable, to say nothing of how he felt wandering around in it. It reminded him of the horrendous commemorative bears Dudley’d received after finishing the school year when he’d been younger. How Aunt Petunia always found the time to purchase and sew a miniature school uniform onto a stuffed animal, Harry would never know.

He did know Dudley hadn’t cared about the bears, as they littered the bookshelves in what would become Harry’s room for years afterwards.

“You were quite sick all evening, going by these memories.” Snape said as he dropped Harry’s silvery memory into a glass phial.

Harry looked up and watched as the watery blue glow emanating from the Pensieve washed over Snape. He’d been quite nervous to show Snape the meeting, but after convincing himself of Snape’s inability to hear how unsure his thoughts had been at the time, he decided it would be alright. He had never heard anyone’s thoughts in the memory he’d accidentally fallen into last year, so he couldn’t imagine his own memories would be different. There were only two to speak of anyway. One featured Colin delivering the note and the other was of Harry and Umbridge.

“You haven’t managed to keep anything down since after breakfast then?”

Harry nodded and turned back to his top. “I had a few chocolates on the train, but the nausea came on around then.”

“I suppose we should find you something to eat before you go to sleep, then.” Snape hummed and tucked Ms Eileen’s blanket tighter around Harry before hefting him off of the counter and onto his feet. Harry trailed lazily behind as they made their way through Snape’s chambers, in search of what Harry assumed would be the kitchen. He looked idly around, though nothing held his interest for longer than a moment. His usual curiosity dulled in the face of his too young age and Umbridge’s meeting.

“Why can’t I take the antidote now?” He asked as the question sizzled in the back of his mind.

Snape had already explained the answer to this question once, but Harry couldn’t seem to let it go. The anger he’d felt earlier had mellowed, though it was replaced by a needling, irritating voice, begging again and again to ask until he received the antidote. A corner in his mind worried if he could truly whinge like this, as Aunt Petunia had crushed any urge to whinge before.

“If you take the antidote tomorrow morning, you’ll be fifteen for longer than if you took it now. Prolonging the effects will allow you ample time to retake the antidote when you next require it.” Snape answered calmly.

Harry huffed and fought the urge to ask again.

“Well, what did you think of Umbridge’s meeting then?” He asked instead. Snape had to have noticed something peculiar from Harry’s meeting.

They came to a sparse kitchenette, similar to the one in his mum’s flat. Harry climbed atop a stool and wondered how often Snape spent time here, because from what he could see in the glass cabinets, it looked as if he only had a few mugs and the bare essentials. He supposed that made sense, as Snape took a lot of his meals in the Great Hall.

“I have several thoughts, though I am unsure of what any of them could lead to.” Snape said. He turned quite suddenly and leant down, looking Harry firmly in the eye. “What I’m about to say is not a suggestion to invite yourself to tea with Umbridge, but without a sample of that tea, it’s unlikely I’ll be able to uncover its nature in a short amount of time. Your blood results will be useful. They may not yield much information though, given how quickly you expelled whatever may have been present. Contrarily, they may be quite useful, as some potions work from the moment they touch your lips.” Snape said with a quick flick of his wand. “What I find I am most alarmed by, is her phrasing.”

A banana sliced itself into pieces and dropped onto a plate, quickly followed by a small bowl of yoghurt and toast with cold cuts. A glass of water appeared and joined them seconds later.

Harry tucked in quickly, finding himself far more hungry than he’d realized at the sight of food.

“She stated that the Ministry ‘saw fit to check up on you’.” Snape said as he peeled a banana and ate as well. “As if the ministry had in fact checked on you. Tuney never mentioned it and if they had knocked on her door, we’d have known.”

Harry swung his feet back and forth as he debated Aunt Petunia speaking with the Ministry. She wouldn’t have bothered with lying about Harry’s whereabouts to officials, or he didn’t think she would, not if it meant getting a chance to hurt Harry or Dumbledore somehow. Snape had made a deal with her though, one that kept her silence in exchange for the fake of Lily’s necklace. She wouldn’t have gone back on their deal afterwards, would she?

He wasn’t sure if she’d actually found the necklace, he realized after a moment. Harry’d tossed it on the linoleum and ran without a second thought.

He’d been trying to escape Dumbledore though and had more pressing concerns to worry about.

“I’ll owl her and ask.” Snape said. “I’m not surprised she knew Tuney’s name, as the list of legal guardians is easily attainable for professors. I am left wondering who performed this welfare check and why you weren’t summoned with Tuney directly, if they had such good faith concerns.”

“Maybe they didn’t want to make a scandal?” Harry asked.

“Given your current defamation of character via the Daily Prophet, a scandal wouldn’t be unwelcome to them.” Snape said with a grimace.

Harry frowned and picked at his toast. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been the subject of multiple, vicious Daily Prophet scandals, but he wished all the same they left him alone. Why anyone would be interested in his life was beyond him. They snooped and snitched on anything they could, despite Harry feeling as if he led a fairly uninteresting life. He could admit some of his experiences were newsworthy, but usually those weren’t the adventures reported on.

Sirius’s innocence for one, Harry felt should’ve made the front page. As well as his and Cedric’s experience in the graveyard. Cedric deserved to have the truth of his death blasted into every news source available.

He’d been violently murdered.

If Harry’d been murdered, he’d want everyone alive to know who’d done it and how to best defend themselves if they were attacked. Cedric didn’t deserve to be sidelined as a ‘sorry accident’. There’d been nothing accidental about his murder.

“Harry,” Snape’s soft voice broke through his thoughts. “I know yoghurt isn’t your favourite, but please try a few bites.”

Harry blinked upwards and spotted Snape holding a spoon out to him.

In truth, Harry rarely ate yoghurt. He hadn’t ever considered it to be something he either liked or disliked.

“Let’s turn our attention to a related issue.” Snape added as Harry took the spoon. “You’re attending a Defense lesson tomorrow, if I’m not mistaken, and we need a plan to ensure you are safe before, during and afterwards.”

Harry nodded. “I can stick close to Ron and Hermione and hopefully avoid attention?”

“Umbridge will likely attempt to coerce you into staying behind after class, as she may not have completed her goals with the last meeting.” Snape said with a raised eyebrow. “Your friends may be roped in.”

That stopped Harry cold. He despised the thought of Umbridge potentially drugging Ron and Hermione. They shouldn’t have to go through the same trapped, uncomfortable feeling Harry had experienced.

He imagined the phantom ribbons slipping around Ron and Hermione and shuddered.

“She may say any number of things to keep you after class. It may be a plea to assist her by collecting class materials or pass a note to another Professor. As it stands, she holds far more power over you than we can contend with currently.” Snape said. “Even if she retains you, we have no knowledge of her goals and therefore cannot begin to guess at what she will do afterwards.”

Harry nodded.

“What if you gave me a note, one that said I needed to do something directly after class?”

“She will negate it if she finds her own needs more pressing and she will find her needs more pressing.” Snape said.

“How’s that fair?” Harry asked, frustrated with the petty injustice.

“It isn’t. She’s shown herself as someone willing to use any means necessary to achieve her goal though.”

The Sorting Hat’s comments echoed in Harry’s ears. He supposed it made sense for Snape to be more skilled when handling the sort of ruthless person Umbridge was turning out to be, but Harry had these qualities as well, didn’t he? Why else would the hat have wanted to place him in Slytherin?

“What should I do then? Skip class?” Harry asked with a shrug.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea either, as she would have a reason to call you to another individual meeting.” Snape said as his eyes slipped upward and searched silently in thought.

Harry dropped his head onto the counter and lamented his life. He had a feeling nothing would work and it looked more and more like he’d be sitting in on another horrible meeting sometime soon. At least this time he’d know better than to drink the tea. He felt very much like wallowing in pity at the moment and quite possibly crying about it.

Snape carded a hand through his hair.

“Your Godfather addressed this issue rather succinctly, the last time we came to it.” He sighed. “I believe he said something to the effect of, ‘it is difficult to keep you safe, though that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try’.” Snape whispered before sweeping an arm beneath Harry and tugging him carefully up against chest.

“It feels impossible.” Harry said in a small voice. He pushed his face into the fabric at Snape’s neck.

They lingered in the kitchenette, letting the quiet space surround them.

Every mess Harry’d gone through today seemed to compound on top of each other and sink into his bones, leaving him more exhausted by the second. He wished fervently to return to Germany again, though he realized he couldn’t continue wishing to escape back there at every ounce of trouble. That mindset wouldn’t help him find solutions. If anything, it might hide solutions by holding him in more pleasant memories, rather than pushing him to solve the problem.

He desperately wanted the problem with Umbridge to disappear on its own though.

Why had the Ministry chosen to intervene now? Why hadn’t they checked on him in the ten years before he’d received his Hogwarts letter?

The necklace warmed, though it didn’t help.

Harry scoffed internally and answered his own question in a bitter voice. His childhood had not been worth Ministry intervention because Harry wasn’t a problem at the time. Now that he was a problem, and a loud one at that, they’d found the time to check in on him. It made for a ridiculous double standard.

He had the sudden urge to scream at Umbridge or threaten to tie her to a tombstone. She wouldn’t be denying his story if she’d experienced even half of it.

He only sank further into Snape at that thought and tried to tell himself she wasn’t worth this level of anger. He didn’t like Umbridge, but no one should have to go through what Harry had last spring.

A cold voice argued at the back of his mind, whispering contrarily.

She had trapped him in a false meeting. That was obvious, even more so with the unpleasant feeling of ribbons slipping persistently over his lips. She deserved to pay for that, didn’t she?

Harry shook his accusations off and forcibly reminded himself that, aside from potentially drugging him, something they still had no proof of, all she’d really done was sit him down for an incredibly uncomfortable meeting.

If he’d suffered any dangerous after effects, they hadn’t appeared. Harry assumed after effects were the sort of thing to appear quite quickly as well and was sure he’d been largely fine. He seemed fine at least.

“Even if it feels impossible, it may not actually be so. You’ve performed several previously entitled impossible feats.” Snape said softly. “Thereby proving that the impossible, is not always so.” His hand curled over the back of Harry’s head. “I believe a convenient distraction will be useful enough for our immediate needs, in this case.” He gently nudged Harry from his hiding place. “You may thank the elder two Weasley’s, for their synonymous relation to the word ‘difficult’.” He added, pulling a small purple fire-cracker from his pocket.

Harry blinked dumbly at it before swinging his head to look up at Snape.

“You’re giving me permission to throw a fire-cracker?” He asked in shock.

“I’m allowing you to return it to the elder two Weasley’s.” Snape said. “You’ve already been targeted and don’t need a second investigation. Instruct them to throw it just before the bell rings and to aim for a window in the hallway near the Defense classroom.”

Harry shook his head as the urge to laugh bubbled in him.

“I thought you hated this sort of thing!”

“During a potion’s lesson, yes,” Snape said as his eyes darkened warningly causing Harry to quickly swallow his laughter. “It can cause cauldrons to explode and dangerous fumes to erupt, fumes which will corrode anything they come in contact with.” He said. “Whether that is the precious throats of those present or the expensive ingredients they’re using, it destroys indiscriminately.

“I—I haven’t—”

“I’m not in a position to be punishing previously dangerous behaviour. If it happens again, there will be consequences.” Snape said silkily. “However,” He held up the fire-cracker again. “In a hallway with no potentially reactive substances, aside from your dim-witted classmates, this is not deadly. It serves to both distance you and allow the perpetrators to slip into the crowd that will no doubt be summoned by the sound. You in turn, must flee the instant the fire-cracker goes off. Umbridge may attempt to retain you regardless, and you mustn’t let her.”

Harry supposed he could see the logic in this idea, though he also wondered if it was more in line with Sirius’s style of thinking rather than Snape’s.

There was something inherently childish about tossing fire-crackers as a distraction, but Harry guessed that only helped strengthen their argument. No one would track it back to Snape and none of the students within Umbridge’s classroom could be accused.

“You stole this from Fred and George?” Harry asked as he took it from Snape.

“I confiscated it from them this afternoon.” Snape replied. “Along with several other contraband items. You’d think they’d never experienced a raid on their person with how they carried on.” He added before taking Harry down a hallway.

Harry took a brief moment to silently apologize to Fred and George for Snape’s raid, but realized they’d already exacted their revenge by giving Snape his nickname.

He couldn’t take ‘Ruffles’ from them now.

“What if they don’t want to throw it? What if they do throw it and get in trouble?”

“I’ll request their services for any potential detention. Umbridge will likely grant it.”

“Why?” Harry asked as they came to a small bedroom. “Why don’t you just come and distract Umbridge? Or Dumbledore, since he knows about it.”

He recognized Snape’s dressing gown as well as the stack of books he often kept by his bedside. His bedroom was a fair bit neater than the sitting room, but seemed less lived in. Harry wondered if house elves cleaned private chambers or if professors thought of that as an invasion of privacy?

“Umbridge believes I will be a great source of assistance in the future and I, in turn, aspire to be so.” Snape said with a sneer before slowly setting Harry on the bed. “I would rather she think of me as useful, as that may encourage her to listen when I speak.” He added quickly at Harry’s shock.

Harry shook his head on principle. He didn’t enjoy the thought of Umbridge liking Snape’s company.

“I cannot distract her without raising her suspicions. Should I appear at the end of your first class and request you, she may surmise that I have been informed of her actions, specifically as the Professor who would most likely be able to identify what potions she used. Equally so with Dumbledore. We don’t have much room to maneuver against the Ministry at the moment. With evidence, we will have something substantial.”

Harry huffed and threw himself into the pillow.

The urge to cry hit him again when he realized his word wouldn’t be taken seriously on the basis of his recent ‘lies’ about Voldemort. He just couldn’t avoid being deemed a liar, could he?

“These problems, while important, are not world ending. They will be here in the morning, as will you. Now, help me clear my mind.” Snape whispered and pulled Ms Eileen’s knit up around Harry’s shoulders. The urge to complain and remind Snape of how much better he was at Occlumency than Harry was washed over him, but he inhaled slowly and forced himself to relax.

This had been routine in Germany and it was easy for Harry to fall into the steps.

“You have to lay down first.” Harry grumbled from where he’d shoved his face into the pillow. “And then shut your eyes, it doesn’t work unless you’ve done those.”

Snape hummed. “Yes, and then?”

“Picture yourself flying,” Harry said as he imagined himself on his firebolt almost against his will. “Through calm skies. Nothing else should matter.” He added. He could feel himself sinking into the mattress. He hadn’t ever considered falling asleep in the dungeon’s before, but he found it wasn’t so different from the tower.

There were no stars to see, but it felt safe and warm, in spite of its location.

——

“Harry!” Hermione’s voice echoed excitedly as she hurried closer to where he sat. A dreadful looking Ron followed behind at a far more sleepy pace.

The Great Hall bustled happily, if quietly around them. Only the truly early risers were awake yet, which normally wouldn’t have included Harry, or Ron for that matter, but Snape hadn’t wanted Harry caught wandering the dungeons by any roaming Slytherins. He woken, been returned to his proper age and sent to the Great Hall in a prompt way that reminded Harry almost of how Aunt Petunia used to prepare Dudley for primary school when they’d been younger.

“There you are,” Hermione said with a smile before sitting and tugging Ron into a seat next to her and throwing up the privacy spell they’d learnt. “We were so worried, Ron and I. What happened after we left last night? Ron says you never made it back to the dormitory. I checked all over for you this morning as well, which may have alarmed Neville, though I did apologize.” She said very quickly. “Do you have time to visit the library before class? I wanted the three of us to check out some books after we had a bit of breakfast, so we’re well informed of any unpleasant reactions from Umbridge’s tea.” She said, miming for Harry to pass her some milk. “Of course, without anything to go off of it’ll be rather like a needle and haystack I presume, but at least it’s something.”

Harry smiled and passed her the cream. Several yawning Ravenclaws filed in and gave them a wide berth and a dirty look.

“Sure,” He said as he leant over a tepid mug of tea. “You don’t have any idea of what you’re looking for?”

“Well, I had thought to ask Ruffles, seeing as it's their area of expertise, but I hadn’t composed a list at the time and I know how they hate disorganized questioning. I have one now though, if you think they’re available.” She said, looking longingly at the doorway before turning back to Harry. “Speaking of, did you find anything out last night?”

Harry nodded and grimaced. Hermione grimaced sympathetically and Ron slumped forwards with a groan.

“The antidote I took over the summer failed.” Harry whispered, feeling he wanted to get that over and done with quickly.

Hermione coughed around her coffee and waved at her burnt tongue.

“Merlin’s balls.” Ron moaned as his head hit the table. “What’s that make it then, three things to watch out for? Four? We’re gonna need a bloody list before the day is out.”

“But you’re alright now, aren’t you?” Hermione asked as her eyes flashed over Harry’s face.

“I’m fine, just frustrated.” Harry said, waving off her concerned look. “Dumbledore knows as well, though he said it had a temporary fix. That’s what all the nausea was.” He added before pulling the fire-cracker from his pocket. Ron perked up at the sight and looked curiously at Harry. “And I showed Ruffles the memory, but they weren’t sure of anything concrete that happened. They’re looking into it.”

“So, what’s that got to do with the fire-cracker?” Ron asked. “Are we celebrating something good having happened?”

Harry shook his head ‘no’. “Ruffles said we’d need a distraction before the end of Defense in case she tries to keep me after class. They said to give it to Fred and George and ask them to throw it at a window just as the bell rings.”

“Wicked.” Ron said before snatching it up.

“Is that,” Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. “Is that wise?”

“Don’t second guess the man Hermione, he knows what he’s on about.” Ron said as he pocketed the fire-cracker. “I’m on it, aim it at a window you say?”

Harry nodded.

“But they said Fred and George should be the ones to do it, probably on account of you being in the classroom with me.”

Ron frowned, but nodded and turned toward a pile of pancakes.

“Do you suppose we should begin investigating now, rather than later?” Hermione asked with a worried look. “Seeing as we have a few more pressing things that have been added to our growing list of concerns for this term?”

“You—” Ron paused around a mouthful. “You said we could eat breakfast first.”

“Well yes, but,” Hermione glanced at Harry before her shoulders dropped and she grabbed a bowl of oatmeal. “I guess you’re right. We should eat first.”

Owls soared in overhead and dropped packages and bundled newspapers to students throughout the Great Hall. Hermione tossed a look at them, seeming to wait for her own copy of the Daily Prophet, though Harry dearly wished she’d end her subscription. He didn’t want to see whatever they saw fit to print for the day, as it only stressed him out. He didn’t even like the news near him, as he knew he’d end up peeking over to read what was written.

He supposed Hermione liked to keep Rita Skeeter on her toes though.

A fluffy grey owl with a wrapped package clutched in its claws, sailed toward them and dropped a box just beneath Harry’s nose as a larger barn owl threw the Prophet at Hermione.

He watched Hermione quickly set to work untying the news and shaking it out before turning and staring dumbly at the package before him.

Harry realized with a sudden jerk that he’d yet to write Sirius about everything that’d happened. He didn’t think Snape would have written Sirius, nor did he think Aunt Petunia would have received Snape’s owl or mailed anything to Harry in the short time that occurred between yesterday and this morning. He untied the butchers paper with nervous fingers and found a small box with mini treacle tarts stacked one on top of the other inside. A note accompanied it, which Harry snatched quickly.

H,

The first day back can be tough. Things might look a little sweeter with these.

The unofficial Gobstones Champion of 1995.

Harry stared at the note as a warmed feeling stole through him. He wondered if Snape had owled Ms Eileen and explained what’d happened, but he didn’t know how she could’ve prepared this in the time it would’ve taken for Snape’s owl to arrive and her’s to depart.

To say nothing of the late hour everything had happened at.

“Who are these from?” Hermione asked after lowering the paper and blinking curiously at the tarts. “I hope not some admirer, I worry about people sending you—”

“They’re from Ms Eileen.” Harry answered softly.

Hermione paused before brightening. “That’s lovely of her, I wonder if she’s made them herself?”

Harry shrugged and plucked one out. “She didn’t say, do you want to share one with me?”

The three of them cut into the tart and slowly made their way through the rest of breakfast. Despite Hermione’s persistent urging, they hadn’t managed to make it to the library before their first lesson began. McGonagall came around with their schedules and hummed ‘good mornings’ up and down the long tables.

She gave a rare smile to Hermione, though Harry wasn’t sure why that was until he saw her crammed timetable.

They collected their bags and made for where Fred and George lolled near the far end of the Great Hall. The two groused a ‘hello’ as Harry quickly relayed the instructions Snape had asked of them, to which Harry was at once both shocked but unsurprised to discover how seriously they took their appointed task. They looked delighted at the prospect of detention with Snape in the event it occurred, though Harry half worried their excitement was directly related to how much they could torment him with his new nickname.

He almost asked them not to tease Snape too much, as he wasn’t sure how much Snape would put up with for Harry’s sake.

Harry loved Fred and George and it wasn’t a stretch for him to easily accept their joking nature. Snape had never mentioned having any fondness toward them though, unlike Dumbledore, who’d previously alluded to having a soft spot for their antics.

This line of thinking only led to confusion over Dumbledore’s true alliances though and Harry had more immediate worries to think on.

They navigated the castle and attended their early morning classes, splitting with Hermione whenever her electives required. Harry and Ron were distraught to discover that their usual pastime of exploring the castle or visiting Hagrid on their downtime was quickly nipped in the bud by the steadily amassing amount of homework. They nearly managed to make a break for the Quidditch Pitch, but Flitwick spotted them and questioned their upcoming essay topics just before Trelawney remarked about dream journals coming due and they realized, with a horrible feeling, that their fifth year at Hogwarts was going to be far more involved than their previous years.

It wasn’t until they met back with Hermione that they’d found the time to discuss Umbridge once more.

“I really wish you would’ve let me throw the fire-cracker.” Ron said as they made their way toward the Defense classroom. He shouldered through waves of rushing students and cut a narrow path for Hermione and Harry to trail. “It’s unfair, that is. Teacher sanctioned misbehaviour and I’m not allowed in. That could’ve been a bloody dream come true.”

“It isn’t unfair. I think it’s much safer for you to avoid the trouble.” Hermione reasoned. “I’m not sure we should be encouraging Fred and George to get involved either.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Ron said. “We’re only a day in and look at what Umbridge has already accomplished. I reckon she deserves to have a bit of trouble and I want to cause her some.”

Hermione shook her head as Harry nodded a silent agreement with Ron. He didn’t fancy landing a second meeting with Umbridge in the event he was caught, but a quiet voice asked if it might be useful to their investigation. Snape had told Harry quite specifically not to invite himself to tea, but the opportunity to collect whatever she might’ve used to drug him was almost too good to pass up.

He didn’t want to directly disobey Snape though. He needed to remember Snape’s good opinion of Harry was on the line in any potentially troublesome situation, so Harry would endeavor to be as well behaved as he could.

They turned right and entered the Defense classroom and Harry almost did a double take at the state of the room. While there were no taffy-pink ribbons or fluffy rugs to be seen, it somehow managed to shout that Umbridge had been and gone and taken absolute control of the classroom. The walls lay bare around them and the desks sat in rigid, impossibly neat rows, each looking picture perfect and as if they’d just been built. Only the ornate desk at the head of the classroom and on a short platform, held any signs of life, though Harry couldn’t tell what all she’d displayed.

He clearly spied two neat stacks of the textbook they’d been assigned. Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard, an author who Hermione had railed against on the train ride yesterday.

He swallowed heavily and made his way toward one of the perfect rows of desks.

It wasn’t that all of Hogwarts’s desks were damaged or shabby, but there had always been an element of who had come before carved into the worn wood. Old signatures or burn marks peppered the desks, as had hearts with the initials of students in love, or scratched out lists of nasty insults. Harry’d searched religiously for signs of James and Sirius in many of the desks he’d sat in. He’d even searched for Lily, though he doubted she’d have defaced furniture.

Ron’s favourite desk had been one with several exam answers carved into the frame, though if Harry remembered rightly, the false Mad-Eye Moody blasted those off just before they’d sat an exam.

“You don’t suppose she’ll tailor the classroom to what she’s teaching, do you?” Hermione whispered. “I’m just—there’s hardly anything in here. We’re in the right classroom, right?” She rifled through her book bag and drew out her schedule to make sure.

Ron didn’t bother checking, he pointed toward the stack of books on the desk with raised eyebrows.

Their initial reactions were echoed by most everyone else who entered, though some of them managed to keep their confusion quiet. Whispers broke out and guesses were made about what sort of person Umbridge would be. A sense of dread washed over Harry as the school bell rang and the door behind them slid shut. Despite no evidence of anything having happened at the meeting he’d attended yesterday evening, he wasn’t keen to be trapped in another room with Umbridge.

He wondered if the classroom door locked.

Umbridge appeared shortly after from a small connected doorway and gave a small smile to the whispering class.

She wore the same fluffy pink cardigan as she had the evening before. Harry almost felt nauseous at the sight. He wondered what she thought of him and what she’d taken away from their meeting. She hadn’t tried to keep Harry after he’d been sick in her office and Harry now wondered if that meant she’d somehow succeeded with what she’d tried to do.

“Hem hem.” Umbridge coughed, seeming to expect the class to silence their hissed conversations, though that was unlikely. She didn’t have the same sternness McGonagall carried herself with, nor the terror Snape instilled. She folded her hands around her stubby wand and stepped neatly toward the black board. “Hem hem.” She coughed again.

This time the whispers faded, though Harry couldn’t guess if it was out of curiosity or annoyance.

“I must say, it is quite pleasant you’re all so prompt. I have found myself more and more delighted at this student body’s etiquette today.” She said as she tapped the board with her wand and made several bullet points appear. “We shall address some of our course aims for this next term today as well as begin our lesson, but I would be remiss if I didn’t introduce myself first.”

Ron tossed Harry a miserable look as Umbridge strolled around to the front of her desk and gave them the same small smile she had when she entered. Harry wondered uncomfortably if she had pins in her cheeks that held the expression in place, as it looked at once both highly forced but as if it was constantly present.

He couldn’t guess why she’d want to have that look on her face all the time. It didn’t seem to offer any comfort to those around her.

“I am Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. You may call my Professor Umbridge. I have walked the same halls as you, when I was a student. I experienced both an enjoyable and very orderly education and am delighted to be a shining example of what a well rounded individual can achieve, when they are properly educated and safely monitored.”

She waved her wand in a short, aborted movement and sent the textbooks sailing from her desk.

“I want to stress this aspect of safety, as I am aware that your education in this subject has been, shall we say, tumultuous?” She asked and stepped nearer to them as she made her way down the middle aisle.

Harry watched the book as it landed on his desk. It didn’t look dangerous, nor did it look very inviting though. It reminded him of the cheap catalogues he’d seen in Diagon Alley. The ones professing to teach readers with no previous experience, how to become dueling champions in a short 30 to 40 pages.

This one looked no different, though it had a smiling wizard on the cover who appeared to be deeply embroiled in his reading.

“Now, who would like to read our first course aim written on the board?” She asked.

Most of Harry’s classmates stared blankly, as if they wondered if she truly wanted them to parrot the bullet points, but Umbridge only asked again.

“Come now, someone amongst you should have a bit of courage to speak up on your first day.”

Hermione’s hand slipped into the air.

“Ah,” Umbridge gave her the small smile. “And you are, dear?”

“Hermione Granger, Professor. I have a question actually, if you don’t mind—”

“We’re reading from our course aims at the moment Miss Granger, you will have time to ask questions later. Now, since you so kindly raised your hand, why don’t you read our first goal here.”

Ron’s eyes met Harry’s again.

Hermione’s jaw clicked audibly, but she put her nose in the air and said in a clear voice. “Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.”

“Well done, Miss Granger, I think that display of courage is worth five points to Gryffindor, don’t you.”

Hermione coloured in embarrassment and Harry felt a distinct urge to defend her. If he thought she’d appreciate it, he likely would have.

By the look Ron gave her, he’d thought of that well.

“Now, why don’t you describe to me what you think these principles might be.” Umbridge said as her pink heels cracked across the floor and she made her way toward the desk once more.

“According to Mr Slinkhard?” Hermione asked.

“Why, who else would we concern ourselves with?” Umbridge asked. She climbed the small step onto the platform and stood over them before giving Hermione an expectant look.

Hermione inhaled deeply and looked to have compartmentalized several things at once. “According to Slinkhard, there’s never an instance when one should be forced to enact potential harm on another when an Auror can be summoned.”

“Well done Miss Granger, now—”

“Wait, does this mean we won’t be practicing defensive spells?” Dean asked suddenly. “Is this a law class, or a defense class?”

Professor Umbridge turned toward Dean and gave him a sweet look. “Please raise your hand when you’d like to speak and don’t forget to give me your name, we will be studying defensive magic this term, never fear—”

“But will we be practicing it?” Lavender asked with a suspicious look.

Her eyes flashed to meet Parvati’s and they shared a look of horror.

“We have O.W.L’s at the end of the school year! Not everyone here can get it all from the book!” Parvati hissed with a sour look at Hermione.

“Hem hem.” Umbridge coughed and pulled the class attention back to her. “Now, I do not answer questions without raised hands. I thought this year had better manners, but I am finding myself very disappointed in you. You girls, your names?”

“Brown and Patil.” Lavender groused as she pointed toward herself and Parvati as she said their last names.

“Well, Misses Brown and Patil, we will be studying defense. This wouldn’t be much of a class without that all important word, would it?” Umbridge asked. “Now, who would like to read our second course aim?”

“I disagree with your first aim, Professor.” Hermione said with a determined look.

“You disagree with Mr Slinkhard’s foundational principles?” Umbridge asked as her eyes flashed toward Hermione and a small glint of steel seemed to appear behind them. “You disagree with summoning an Auror when someone has committed a crime?

“I didn’t say that.” Hermione said. “Rather, I meant that there are plenty of Aurors who are unable to be obtained at a reasonable time—”

“Have you ever summoned an Auror, Miss Granger?” Umbridge asked with a determined sweetness. “They have an unparalleled arrival time. In fact, the Ministry keeps a tight standard of—”

“Yes I have, Professor.” Hermione said firmly, speaking over Umbridge. “I have summoned Aurors before, unfortunately the one I summoned happened to be a De—”

Umbridge laughed a clear, sharp note, silencing Hermione. Harry didn’t need to hear her thoughts to know Hermione was discussing the false Mad-Eye Moody, or Barty Crouch Jr. He wasn’t sure when Hermione had attempted to get him, but he was all the more worried about what had happened with it now.

“You must be referring to the mix up that occurred last term, dear girl.”

“Mix up? I don’t think there was a mix up,” Ron said with a dark look. “Professor.” He added belatedly.

Umbridge’s eyes flashed toward him. “And you are?”

“Weasley.” Ron said as he stuffed his clenched fists into his pockets. His ears burned a bright red and his back went rigid the longer Umbridge cast her small smile to him.

“Well Mr Weasley, do you think you’re more informed than a Ministry official?” She asked. “Do you have official credentials? Do you receive official updates?”

“I don’t need an official update to know a De—”

“Ah, but you do.” Umbridge said as she swept nearer to Ron and leant over his desk. “If you don’t know all of the facts—”

“Ask me then,” Harry snapped. “I’m pretty well aware of all of the facts.”

His heart dropped out as his mouth ran ahead of him. The necklace flared to life and felt nearly as if it could burn a hole through Harry’s uniform. He wasn’t meant to make waves in this class. Snape had made that fairly obvious by all of their planning the night before and Harry’d gone and ruined it in a split second with his mouth.

“Ah, Mr Potter, I do believe we have discussed this, haven’t we?” Umbridge asked. “You informed me quite clearly, though I can’t remember how you phrased it, help me out, dear. From what you told me, there’s nothing to fear.”

Exhaustion blanketed over Harry’s body, coming out of nowhere. The ribbons he’d felt before slipped over his jaw and fought to push past his lips. They rushed over his skin, steadily growing hotter and moving quicker the longer he kept his mouth shut.

“I just—” He whispered as the classroom went hazy for a brief second. He tried to deny what she said and shake his head ‘no’, but his head lolled on his shoulders.

Hermione’s eyes widened and she looked terrifiedly between Harry and Umbridge.

“I—”

“Yes, dear?” Umbridge asked from atop the platform.

Harry rocked forward and finally managed to shake his head ‘no’ as sweat ran down his neck.

“Oh come now, no need to be shy.” Umbridge said as she turned her horrible small smile on him. “Do tell the class.”

“I shouldn’t have spoken out, I just haven’t, haven’t f-found—”

Harry’s jaw was forced open and the ribbons careened inside. They slid into every available space and Harry worried he wouldn’t be able to breathe if he didn’t get them out. He knew innately what he needed to say in order to be able to breathe again, though he didn’t know how he knew that and he tried to swallow the words down instead. He pushed himself to pass out before he said another word, but the longer he waited, the more he realized the ribbons let up every few seconds, allowing in a small amount of air to ensure he wouldn’t faint.

“I just haven’t found my feet.” He croaked.

Umbridge gave a joyous wiggle and giggled. “You see?” She asked the class. “There is nothing to fear and no facts to worry about, because nothing happened last term.”