Seventh Horcrux

Harry Potter vs. Dolores Umbridge (Pt. 2)

"Right, the crucioing," I said with a knowing nod. "Sorry about that. I had a flash of sudden and inexplicable rage."

He frowned. Really, I expected him to be more cheerful since I'd gotten that Hair-Growth Potion. I shrugged off his ungratefulness. "I had the weirdest dream yesterday."

Lucius dully asked, clearly struggling to hide his curiosity, "Was that during the nap you took after crucioing me?"

I beamed. "Yes, that's the one! I was in History of Magic, and you were there. And a Weasley. And then we started dueling in the back of the classroom, but Binns didn't stop us because he didn't notice. It angered me greatly. Do you know why?"

Lucius frowned, smoothing down his hair with a shaking hand. "Because you didn't get to crucio anyone?"

I laughed. "No, no. I just can't stop thinking: Why didn't I do that when I was still a student? Binns probably wouldn't have noticed. Oh, before I forget. One of your peacocks was being insubordinate, so I killed it. Dobby promised to have it ready for dinner I'm not actually certain if people eat peacocks, but I imagine the taste of victory will override any unpleasant flavor."

Hermione nibbled on the tip of her quill, looking at her newly-purchased planner. "This would be a lot easier if we didn't have to work around your detentions with Umbridge."

"I consider it recreation at this point," I said, "and we're making real progress. She's finally acknowledged that she has no idea how to deal with boggarts."

Hermione pinched her lips. "Why?"

"She can't even get the one out from under her bed."

She jotted something down in the margin. "Do I even want to know how you got it under there?"

"Lemon drops," I said. "I'm thinking I'll work on werewolves next."

"You can't put Professor Lupin under Umbridge's bed," she sighed.

"I was thinking Snape, though I suppose Lupin would be the better choice. He can deal with the boggart."

"Harry James Po–"

A loud boom echoed through the Room of Requirement, and we watched, stunned, as a dummy slammed into the wall and fell into pieces. Its head landed in my batch of Felix Felicis with a sickly hiss and a string of black smoke.

Finally, Hermione said, "Ron? What type of spell was that?"

"A stunner," Ron said.

"Oh," she said. "You, um, you might want to put a little less energy into it next time."

I said, "Or…you could not do that."

Meow! Mew! Rrrowr! Purrrr…

This was completely ridiculous. Kitten plates covered Umbridge's wall, constantly mewling and fighting with each other. I usually took my detentions in the DADA classroom, but it hadn't yet recovered from my last detention.

I turned away from my parchment and a quill that used actual ink and towards Umbridge, who was pretending to grade papers but primarily watching me fail to write lines. I said, "It doesn't matter how many kittens you put on your wall. No one will ever believe you have a soul."

That might have seemed a bit harsh. Still, I'd been fighting a strange urge to crucio someone all day (preferably Malfoy), and I needed to vent.

She raised an arm, pink sleeve swinging perilously close to my inkwell. "Well, I hardly think –"

"And the pink!" I cried. "Wait, of course. You're still using the methods that allowed you to appear normal during your childhood. Unfortunately, the kittens and pink and crooning voice only further alienate you from your current peers. You're sixty-seven, and it's creepy now…which reminds me: Happy birthday."