"Shut the door behind you, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge with a girlish giggle.
Harry wrinkled his nose at the inappropriate giggles; did the woman have no decorum? Didn't she have some moral compass to realize that the prospect of carving a sentence into his skin was no reason to giggle? He clenched his hands and then relaxed them again. He looked down at his battered hand, where the text was still etched.
He sighed deeply and thought of his promise to Corvus, and his promise to Snape. He needed to relax, not to be provoked, and do something he later regretted. With a soft click, he let the door fitting slam shut.
He turned and surveyed the office he'd enjoyed coming to in other years. Even last year, when the professor had been a Death Eater in disguise, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office had been a safe haven. Harry grimaced, he would even love to sign Lockhart's self-aggrandizing photos. Anything was better than the pink parody the office is now of the usual Defense Against the Dark Arts' lair.
"What can I do for you tonight?" Harry asked politely as if he didn't know he would be spending the evening in agony.
Professor Umbridge laughed and gestured to the chair at the table opposite her desk. Harry moved automatically towards the chair, he had already made his way to the chair several times, he could find his way through the pink office with his eyes closed. He sat down and crossed his legs casually, as a final taunt for the professor. He watched with pleasure as her face fell and gave way to an ugly frown.
"You know what to do," she said with a fake, broad smile that looked more fragile than usual.
Harry picked up the Blood Quill and put the point on the roll of parchment.
"As long as it takes for the message to sink in, Mr. Potter."
She then resumed reading the piece of parchment in front of her. The document looked official, Harry could recognize the Ministry emblem at the top of the papers. He realized he'd been staring at the pink witch for too long when her bulging eyes looked at him reproachfully. He quickly turned his eyes back to his piece of parchment lying on a lace rug.
Harry put the tip of the feather on the parchment and wrote: I must not tell lies.
He gasped from the pain. The words reappeared in blood-red on the paper, before he saw his existing wound of the Quill reopen. As he looked at the shiny wound, the skin healed, but the spot continued to look aggressively red. Harry realized that the wound would begin to bleed soon and continue to do so until the end of the detention.
Harry looked at Umbridge, he knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't control himself. He felt his upper lip curl into a dangerous-looking grimace. Umbridge looked at him, her head tilted slightly, a renewed broad smile on her toad-like face. "Yes?" she asked Harry sweetly.
"Nothing," Harry growled, clenching his jaws.
He put the feather back on the parchment, wrote "I must not tell lies," and felt the familiar piercing pain in his hand. It went on like this until Harry bled so much that he couldn't read his sentences properly because of the blood on his parchment.
It was getting dark outside. Harry knew better than to ask if he could stop, after all, this question was always answered with the comment that he had to continue for another half hour. He knew that Umbridge had spent the last fifteen minutes staring at him, enjoying the blood spatter that adorned his piece of parchment.
He continued to write grimly until he felt the tip of the sharp Quill scrape against a piece of bone. A groan escaped him and couldn't help but glance at Umbridge in exasperation. The witch looked at him incessantly, smiling sadistically, waiting for Harry to break.
"Finish the sentence, Mr. Potter," she said, then hummed contentedly.
The soft scraping sound was audible in the otherwise quiet pink office. As he tried to write each letter as gently as possible, Harry realized that the scraping sound wasn't just coming from the tip of the feather on the parchment. No, the sound was amplified by the same motion that moved razor-sharp through the bones of Harry's hand.
"Come here," she said, after what seemed like hours.
He stood up. His hand was sore and bleeding profusely. When he looked at his throbbing hand, he saw that the entire sleeve of his otherwise white shirt had turned red. It was wet and hung tight around the skin of Harry's arm.
"Hand," she said.
He held out his hand. She grabbed it and Harry suppressed a shiver as she touched it with her thick, stubby fingers. He whimpered then felt the finger spread the broken skin so the ugly witch could get a better look at her handy-work.
"Tut, tut, looks like you're finally starting to learn from your mistakes," she said with a smile. She looked at Harry and frowned. "But when I see your face you don't seem to repent. Doesn't matter, we'll just try again tomorrow."
Harry felt himself trembling with suppressed anger. His tattoo was seeping dangerously under his skin, and for the first time since he got his mark, he hoped this teacher would see the drawings. For the first time, he wished that she would behold the dangerous lines of Ekrizdis and that she would realize that she was in mortal danger, somewhere in her pea-sized brain. He realized he wanted to see the fear in her eyes before her soul left her body.
"What's the point, Madam?"' he asked in a low voice. "Can't you see that your regime is over?"
Umbridge stopped tearing Harry's skin and looked startled as if surprising her with his question. She blinked her eyes and tilted her head questioningly.
"I thought my aim made sense, Mr. Potter. I'll keep going until you're normal. Until you see that the world is still spinning as usual, that there are no Dark Wizards who want to see the light of life fade from your eyes. I want you to stop spreading lies and start behaving like me."
Harry felt a predatory grin spread across his face and stood up. He did not approach Umbridge and kept a safe distance.
"You want me to act like you?" he asked painfully slow.
He leaned over the tabletop so he could look her straight in the eye and thought of the professor's deeply immoral and malevolent behavior.
Umbridge smiled. "Of course, as the upstanding citizen that I am."
Harry's eyes darkened with dark desire. "I'm looking forward to it already," he said purring, and walked out of the pink office.
***
Despite the late hour, Harry walked to Professor Snape's office. He was sure his Head of House would still be awake, might even be working on a complicated potion. He knocked softly, but firmly, on the heavy wooden door and waited patiently to be called in.
This did not happen, however, but the door was quickly opened after a few seconds, revealing the pale face of his Potion professor.
"Potter? What happened?" he drawled, but his eyes were concerned.
Harry felt tears prick his eyes and wearily raised his wounded hand. "Please...," he moaned, begging for help.
Two large, strong hands pulled him into the office. Harry stumbled with fatigue and ran into Snape's back as he stopped. Only then did Harry realize why the stern professor stopped, they had arrived in Snape's personal quarters. Harry looked up and tried to take in his surroundings, but he couldn't, because of the loss of blood he was overcome by dizziness and blurred vision.
"Lie down, Potter," Snape said with a dark look.
Harry frowned at the bed and felt he had to protest. But he was so light-headed that he didn't have the strength to argue with the lanky-haired man. He moved to the bed and started to lie down, but was stopped by a bony hand.
"Shirt and pants off, Potter. I don't want bloodstains on my mattress."
Harry looked wearily at the professor and began to touch the small buttons of his dress shirt with trembling fingers. "Then be a little clearer in your commands," Harry muttered defensively.
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose angrily and sighed deeply. "Just do as I ask, Potter. The sooner I can take care of you, the sooner this night will be over. Then we can pretend this never happened."
Harry started to gurgle, too much saliva- or was it blood?- was in his mouth. He wiped his mouth with a clean part of his shirt he'd just taken off. He looked at the piece of cloth and saw the red imprint of his mouth. Gently he felt the inside of his mouth with his fingers and felt a sore spot on the tip of his tongue.
Snape grabbed Harry's chin and turned his head to his and opened his mouth with his other hand. He looked into Harry's mouth and nodded quietly. "You bit your tongue, hard too, seeing the size of the wound. However, the skin inside your mouth heals quickly, I have a mouthwash that you can use, it will aid recovery."
Harry hummed non-committally and started working on the buttons on his pants. With a swift movement, he pulled the pants down, too quickly, because he lost his balance and fell with his pants around his ankles on Snape's soft bed.
"Imbecile!" snapped the pale man, and he hastily pulled the pants from Harry's feet. Without any ceremony, he straightened Harry's legs on the bed and left the room.
Harry didn't have to wait long for Snape, the man soon returned with a bowl of water and a washcloth. With practiced hands, Snape washed the blood from Harry's body and dabbed gently on the wound. Harry looked around in surprise but did not see a jar or vial with 'Essence of Dittany' on it.
Snape followed Harry's gaze and gave him a crooked smile. "We must not want this wound to heal too quickly, Mr. Potter. It would be such a shame if the researchers couldn't see these."
Harry twisted his face and looked half-serious at Snape. "It would also mean that I would be in less pain, and that's something you've been looking forward to for years."
Snape sniffed loudly and looked at Harry with amusement. "I started seeing you differently some time ago, Harry. For example, I look forward to tomorrow with a special longing, I hope it will be everything, or more, if it goes as I expect it to."
Harry laughed and pouted a little at the hoarse sound. He then looked at his teacher's busy hands and stared at them in silence for a while.
"You're very good at this, Professor," he said softly as he felt Snape's fingers on the bloodied skin. He looked at the repetitive actions; moistening the washcloth, wringing it out, cleaning the skin, and rinsing again.
"When I was young I had to take care of my mother," Snape said after a moment's hesitation. "My father was a drunk with a short fuse, if he didn't like something, he would use my mother to express his displeasure. I often came away somewhat unscathed, moreover, I was absent for large parts of the year, I could often avoid my father's wrath... My mother was less fortunate."
Harry closed his eyes, both from fatigue and from the penetrating emotion he felt. He imagined a young Snape taking care of his mother in the same way he did Harry now. "I'm sorry," he whispered.
"For what?" Snape asked calmly and slightly surprised.
"I'm sorry you had to go through it. Nobody should have to go through something like that."
Snape stopped his movements and gently stroked Harry's cheek. "My father got what he deserved... he is no longer alive."
He laughed softly and set the bowl of water aside. "We are very similar in that sense, Harry, but I was too biased to see it. We were both deprived of love and affection by people who should have loved us, but we came out strong. People like you and me will withstand any storm, Harry. This pain will eventually pass."
Harry nodded and tried to lie down a bit better. Snape saw this and assisted him in his movements. Harry swallowed slowly. "Why am I so weak?"
Snape gave him another one of his rare smiles, though the smile seemed dark. "You have lost a lot of blood. If you had to write any longer with that quill, you would have been in critical condition."
Harry frowned at him. "Then why are you so pleased?"
Snape took a bottle from his nightstand. "Open your mouth, Harry. Drink it all."
Harry did this obediently and gave the older man a hard look. "Well?"
His professor chuckled. "It's a hypothesis I'm now nurturing, Harry. If this hypothesis is correct, then tomorrow will be a beautiful day."
The professor then took the white roll of bandage from the bedside table, along with some gauze. Harry looked at it calmly but frowned when he saw how many bandages Snape wrapped around his hand.
"This is what... excessive?" he asked uncertainly. He didn't want to offend the man now that he was at the mercy of Snape's medical knowledge.
"Tsk, tsk, Potter. How long have you been in my House?" Snape asked, looking at his work from a distance. "You'd be amazed at what a little bandage does to gain much-needed sympathy."
Harry grinned and looked at the older man with amusement. Snape gave Harry a wink and walked away with the remaining bandage. For a moment he wondered if he'd lost a lot of blood, but decided he'd been through crazier things by now than a wink from Snape.
He settled into the pillow a little deeper and closed his eyes. Unabashedly he smelled the fresh bed linen that smelled slightly of the professor. His eyes grew heavier until Harry didn't have to struggle to keep them closed at all. However, these sprang open when he felt the mattress on the other side of the bed sink under Snape's weight.
"What?" he just managed to say.
Snape just looked at him, his obsidian eyes glittering with amusement. "I need to sleep too, Mr. Potter. Relax, and go to sleep."
Harry sniffed loudly and looked at the professor. "As if I could be relaxed now, everything is tensed."
A black eyebrow shot up and Snape grinned at him. "Everything, Mr. Potter?"
Harry felt himself turn red and quickly looked the other way. Snape seemed to feel sorry for the black-haired boy and added: "I want to be able to watch you tonight, Harry. Although I just gave you a Blood Replenisher, I don't want your wound to bleed again. You could quickly get back into a critical condition."
The younger wizard said nothing to this but tried to relax. However, he continued to feel Snape next to him, even though their bodies didn't touch. Suddenly the situation dawned on him and his eyes widened, staring into the darkness of the night.
"Fuck! Does this mean I'm going to sleep with you? That I will share the bed with you?" he said in a higher voice than usual.
Snape answered immediately and Harry could hear the unspoken "Dunderhead!" hear in the provoked voice of the professor. "Out of the huge pile of misery that has befallen you today, is this what you decide to worry about?"
Harry looked irritated at the man. "I'm sure Rabastan will feel the same way."
There was a low chuckle in his ear and for a moment he felt Snape's warm breath against his skin. "Go to sleep, Potter!"
***
Harry woke up alone. The spot next to him in bed was cold, and nothing in the room around him indicated that Snape had slept next to him at all. Harry rubbed his face with his hand and looked at the clock on the wall. He still had over an hour before his first lesson would start, he even had enough time to shower and have a quiet breakfast.
He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. On a chair near the bed was a pile of clothes. Harry immediately recognized them as his own and picked them up. With his clothes under his arm, he decided to check out Snape's private quarters. The spaces looked sleek, shiny, and spacious. You could describe the rooms as minimalistic, but Harry thought that was not enough for the space around him; it was luxurious. Behind the headboard of the bed was a beautiful wooden partition, but it did not reach the ceiling. Clever lighting had been placed above the wooden wall, bringing out the warm and rich colors of the wood.
Harry didn't see any old-fashioned candles or lamps, the room seemed to be lit by indirect lighting hidden behind the edges of walls or other objects. If Harry hadn't known this was Snape's living space, he would have thought he was in a modern hotel room.
Behind the partition was the bathroom. This shocked Harry somewhat, it was completely open, there was no door for privacy. As Harry walked further into the room, his mouth dropped in surprise. "Of course Snape has the most beautiful bathroom in Hogwarts," he muttered as he ran his hand over the huge bathtub in the middle of the room.
The bath was dark gray, with a snake motif. The inside of the bath, however, was bronze and gleaming seductively, alluring Harry towards it.
He managed to tear himself away from the bath; reluctantly, he would have liked to bathe for an hour in that beautiful bath. He put his clean clothes on a cupboard next to the sink. Harry looked in the bronze mirror and saw that he looked healthy. There was no indication that he had collided with Umbridge the night before.
Only then did a note taped to the mirror caught his attention. "Use me," it said, with an arrow pointing down. Harry looked down and saw a toothbrush and some toothpaste.
Next to the set was a bottle with a transparent drink in it. "Rinse, don't swallow, Dunderhead."
Harry grinned widely and began brushing his teeth. After brushing, he used the liquid in the bottle and immediately felt his tongue begin to heal. Harry thought back to the conversation with the professor and realized he'd remembered to heal the bite mark on his tongue.
After an invigorating shower, which in Harry's opinion was far too short, he dressed and walked into the living room. This room was just as chicly decorated as the bedroom and bathroom. Harry saw a small kitchen in the corner, with a dining table. However, this was only a small part of the living space, it was dominated by a huge wall full of books. A beautiful coffee table made of colonial wood was surrounded by comfortable sofas. Harry's eyes widened as he took in the sofas; the sofas were maroon colored, close to dark red.
"Not a word, Potter." Suddenly sounded behind him.
Harry turned and was greeted by Snape, dressed in black pants and a white shirt. The sight short-circuited his mind, he had never seen the man so relaxed.
"Can you be more specific about that, sir?" Harry asked innocently, though his eyes had taken on a mischievous gleam.
A large hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and directed him toward the large desk, which Harry hadn't noticed before. He was forced to sit by Snape's hand. He ran his eyes over the dark wood and fell on a piece of parchment with multiple red stripes in the text. He narrowed his eyes to focus on the text, after reading a few lines, he saw that this was his homework for Potion class. He looked up carefully at Snape's stern face.
"Improve," was all he said before walking away.
Sighing loudly Harry began to improve his text. He let out a surprised cry when he saw the red stripe disappear when he had written down the correct information. "Hmm, that's handy," he muttered softly and continued his essay with renewed energy.
After fifteen minutes the novelty of the trick wore off and Harry started to get hungry. A glance at the clock told him that if he went to the Great Hall now, he would have over half an hour to eat breakfast. Hesitantly, he began to gather his things to go to breakfast, but was, again, stopped by a hand that gently squeezed his neck.
"Improve," Snape drawled in his ear again.
Harry sighed and resumed his essay. He realized he was almost done, just under half an hour, and his report would be perfect. "It would be nice if I could start my day with a meal," he complained softly as he reworded an entire paragraph to better describe the use of Snake Fangs.
He was startled when, with a loud thump, a plate was placed next to him that smelled delicious. Surprised, he looked beside him and was greeted with two pieces of toast, scrambled eggs, and delicious-smelling bacon. He quickly took a bite of the bacon and moaned appreciatively. "Hmmm bacon..." he sniffed.
Harry took a closer look at the bacon and took another bite, this time not like a starving caveman. "Bacon with some sweetness... Maple syrup?" he asked softly.
There was a soft chuckle next to him, and he looked up in surprise when Snape was standing next to him. "Merlin! How and where did you learn to move so quietly? Damn, you look like a vampire."
This earned him a half-smile, which Harry counted as a broad smile since the man was amused.
Snape set a glass of tea next to Harry's breakfast and tapped his work impatiently. "Now if you focused as much attention on your work as you do with your breakfast, it could be possible for you to do exceptional work in my classes."
Harry wrinkled his nose and looked at his work. Suddenly he grinned and looked at Snape. "Do you mean that I am doing acceptable work now? Aww, Snape... sir... I knew you cared," Harry teased.
Snape, however, pulled his well-known robes over his white shirt and showed his stern, unapproachable face again. "Finish your work and eat your breakfast, Harry. I want to see you on time for my class, brat."
The stern words lost their force, however, at the sight of the corner of his mouth curling up slightly.
"Deny whatever you want, Professor, but I know what you're doing. You're protecting me this morning so I can't get any extra attention from Professor Umbridge," Harry said with a fond smile on his face.
"You are insufferable, Potter," Snape said with a grim twitch around his mouth and walked away.
"That's a lie," sing-songed Harry.
"I find you as insufferable as Draco," Snape said as he opened the door.
"Pfff, now you've really lost your insulting touch. He is your godson, he is very dear to you," Harry corrected him.
"Exactly," Snape said with a straight face, then closed the door behind him.
***
The only indications of the presence of the Hogwarts Board of Governor's envoys were that students were regularly taken out of the classroom during Harry's classes, who then returned to class after fifteen to thirty minutes. The first time it happened was during Snape's class. Harry had just started explaining to his friends where he'd spent the night, and had just passed the first round of laughter- Draco, in particular, saw great humor in Harry's predicament and insisted on being there when Harry reported the incident to Rabastan- when Draco was taken out of class.
His friend returned after fifteen minutes and continued with the lesson as if nothing had happened. Harry's repeated attempts to get Draco's attention resulted in a reprimand from Snape and a corporal punishment: Harry had to squeeze the swellings of a Bubotuber plant on the spot and collect the pus in a jar. He also had to explain to the class which potions the pus could be used for. It was only at the end of the lesson that the remnants of the pus, which had also ended up on his clothes, were removed by Professor Snape.
The second time was during History of Magic, which the Slytherins had along with Hufflepuff. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were taken out of class, Professor Binns didn't even notice, and continued to talk about a Goblin War in a toneless tone. The two girls stayed away considerably longer than Draco, only after half an hour, and visibly excited, they returned to class.
Susan Bones found Harry after class and took him by the arm. "My aunt is there too," she said softly. "They have now spoken to almost everyone who has been in detention with Professor Umbridge. My aunt told me they saved you for last, apparently, Professor Snape had presented some compelling evidence."
Harry nodded and showed her his hand, which was still bandaged. By now, ominous red spots had appeared on top, making his injury look even worse. Though his injuries were... bad, Harry just couldn't bring himself to worry about this, his tattoo itched to go to work. Harry could feel this.
"I had detention yesterday with Madam Umbridge. Professor Snape dealt with this personally and saw what she did to me."
Susan looked at the hand with concern and looked at Harry. "You know there's talk about you, Harry. Negative talk. For example, I recently heard a rumor that you have allied with You-Know-Who... Be careful, an investigator from the Board will be present at your lesson from Umbridge. I heard from Hermione that there are people from Gryffindor who want to use this moment to pressure you."
Harry's face twisted at Hermione's name. Susan's soft hand closed around his and squeezed gently. "Hermione is concerned about you, Harry. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but she's still your friend."
She smiled briefly and began to walk slowly the other way. "Take it from me, what reason would I have to lie to you?"
Harry watched the girl until she was completely out of sight. He'd had neutral contact with Susan in previous years but didn't know her beyond that. In that sense, he was more familiar with her aunt, who had also been present at his hearing. Amelia Bones was a formidable woman, able, stern, and just. Harry was therefore glad that she was present, by her presence Harry was assured that Umbridge would be punished.
He walked slowly to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. These were the last two lessons of the day, but also the most terrible. Though he knew he was, most likely, being taken out of class for an interview; he also knew that like a dying tiger, Umbridge would claw out to make her last kill.
Sighing, he walked down the hallway where he'd been attacked by the Gryffindors earlier this year. He wasn't traumatized, but he still feared another attack. He looked back on the attack with a mixture of sadness, anger, betrayal, and shame. He had said and done things he regretted. For example, he had told Ron to be careful not to end up like the Longbottoms. While he had his doubts about their involvement in the attack on Salomé Lestrange, the comment had been highly inappropriate. He still looked for a good time to talk to Neville, but these moments never seemed to present themselves.
However, he was still angry with his attackers. Ron had by now apologized, making Harry a little less irritated with his old friend, but the rest had shown no remorse. As far as Harry was concerned, they should be suspended for a long time, if they did regret what they did to him, they knew where to find him.
Arriving at the classroom, he was surprised most of the students were already seated at their usual tables. He looked carefully into the room, but could not find Professor Umbridge. He did see a man about the same age as Rodolphus sitting at a table next to Umbridge's. The man had blond hair and high cheekbones, he had an aristocratic appearance. What struck him most was how relaxed he was, his whole posture was nonchalant and balanced. In fact, the man had a small smile on his lips, as if he was enjoying something that no one else knew about.
The man shifted his gaze and looked straight at Harry. Harry recognized the man immediately, although he had only seen him for a moment at that time. Curious, he walked over to the man and nodded politely in greeting.
"Mr. Avery, what a surprise to find you here. Are you, by any chance, the Hogwarts Board of Governor's delegate?"
The man's eyes gleamed intelligently and he stood up to shake Harry's hand. "Mr. Potter, I've heard so many... good things about you. Obviously, also disturbing things, but we'll talk about that later. Your Head of House, Professor Snape, used to be a good friend of mine, he offered to attend your interview. Madam Bones will also join the conversation as a representative of the Ministry."
The man closed his hand tightly around Harry's and pulled Harry closer. "I had an interesting conversation about you with another good friend of mine, Rodolphus. In addition, I have a message from a common acquaintance for you. Once this nasty business is over I'll be happy to talk to you in person, Professor Snape can of course join as a like-minded person," he said to Harry in a hushed tone.
Harry nodded and took a step back. "A good friend of Dolf's is a friend of mine. It will be my pleasure to speak with you. If you'll excuse me, I must take a seat, class will begin shortly."
Avery sat up and picked up a clipboard, which reminded Harry a lot of the clipboard Professor Umbridge herself used to check the teachers. He sat down, next to Draco, but continued to look with interest at the interaction- or rather, the lack of interaction- between Umbridge and Avery.
"Good afternoon!" she said when everyone looked at her.
Everyone just looked at her. No one said anything, a few squinted at Avery, who looked interested at the woman, quill at the ready.
"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That could be much better. I know you can do this much better. So please, once more. Good afternoon boys and girls!"
"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they said in unison.
"Well," Umbridge said with a smug smile. "This is much better. Please let's show the nice gentleman here how well and politely you listen to me."
Avery looked at her with raised eyebrows, made a note on his clipboard, and muttered loudly. "Must.. take... refuge.. to.. primitive...and...childish... language."
Professor Umbridge turned sharply, stung by Avery's comment. "Excuse me?" she asked haughtily.
Avery smiled broadly and looked at her with a chuckle. "Please continue with the lesson. Don't worry about me, do what you normally would do." He looked back at his clipboard after this, quill ready to write.
"Right," said Professor Umbridge doubtfully. "Then we move on to the material." She twirled around awkwardly, then picked up a copy of Defensive Magical Theory , by Wilbert Slinkhard.
"Today we will read from chapter twenty-eight, 'The Cases that Withdrawing is the Wisest Way to Proceed,' - that is, the WWWP - open your books to page three hundred and twenty-one."
The class let out a collective sigh but began to read. The class hadn't been reading for five minutes when Avery cleared his throat.
"Professor Umbridge, if you can spare a moment?"
Umbridge looked up from her copy and looked at Avery with disdain, but answered sweetly, "Of course, I always have time for a member of Hogwarts Board of Governors."
Avery grinned and tilted his head inquiringly. "Do you have a lesson plan I could see? I must confess that I haven't been able to find one yet."
Umbridge smiled triumphantly and held up her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. "This year I'm taking a carefully crafted, theory-based, Ministry-approved course on Defensive Magic. I don't need a lesson plan, this book is all I need."
Avery nodded and hummed blankly. When the tip of his feather touched his clipboard, he muttered so loudly for everyone to hear: "Has... apparently... no... knowledge... of... the... subject... Needs... childish.... and... flawed... textbook... to... be... guided."
Draco couldn't stop smiling and tried to hide a laugh by coughing. He wasn't the only one having trouble holding back the laughter. Ron was now flushed, not with anger this time, but with pleasure. Even Hermione watched with approval what unfolded before her.
"No, stop writing, sir!" said Umbridge shrilly. "I work with an approved method from the Ministry! Surely you have written that down, too?" she asked almost desperately.
Avery nodded, "I've got it here: 'Madam Umbridge lacks any capacity' - that means substance or content- 'to think for herself. Needs clear guidelines from the Ministry to function."
Harry's lip now began to quiver involuntarily and violently from his suppressed laugh. A loud snort escaped him, causing Umbridge angrily to draw her attention to him.
"YOU!!" she snapped at Harry. "You are the instigator of this problem! If only you were normal, and not such a freak, I shouldn't have supervised those stupid kids!"
Harry blinked in surprise and looked around. Everyone looked at him, waiting for an explosion or a discussion.
"I have no idea what you're referring to, Madame. I can assure you that I try to be as... normal as possible."
Umbridge sniffed disdainfully but managed to pull herself together. She tucked a few loose strands of hair back into shape and looked back at the class with a broad smile.
"Well then, let's get back to reading, kids," she said in a gooey voice.
The class was silent for several minutes, all that could be heard was the turning of pages. 'And you can hear the shriveling of the brain,' Harry thought, once again unable to keep his attention on the text.
His eye fell on Avery, who was still relaxed in his chair. The only thing that betrayed that the man was busy with a job was the excessive writing on his clipboard. The man stopped his movements and turned his head to face Harry. The man gave him a wink and cleared his throat again.
Harry dropped his head on his hands, flat against the desk. That man gave him a fuckin' wink, what in Merlin's name is he up to!
Professor Umbridge tried to look up casually but failed because of the thick, throbbing vein on her forehead, which betrayed that she was anything but relaxed. "Yes?" she said measuredly.
"While you... continue teaching, I'll talk to the students," Avery said in a charming tone. He stopped Umbridge when she started to get up. "Madam! Don't be silly, I can find my way around this classroom just fine. Just pretend I'm not there."
He then walked confidently through the classroom and chatted with the students present. Harry watched as he stopped next to Dean, who immediately told about Seamus. Harry had to quietly compliment Avery on how he listened to Dean and even listened with interest to the conspiracy theories the Gryffindors had come up with. He wasn't surprised when the conversation ended with Harry as the subject and saw Avery dutifully taking notes.
Avery then walked over to Hermione and stood beside her. "You are Miss. Granger, isn't it?" he asked in a polite tone.
Hermione looked at him frostily. "Yes, that's right," she said in a clipped tone.
"You're a Muggleborn, aren't you? Do you feel like you are taken seriously by Madam Umbridge? Has she ever spoken about Muggleborns or Muggles?"
Hermione's gaze darted to Harry for a moment, then quickly returned to Avery. "I don't feel taken seriously by Professor Umbridge. I asked the professor at the beginning of the school year if we would also have hands-on lessons to master spells, as is part of our OWLs. She laughed at me and said that the Ministry had decided that this was not necessary." She paused and then added, upset, "I won't be able to maintain my perfect average because of her!"
Avery placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and offered her his handkerchief. "She doesn't take the wishes of her students into account at all, isn't she?"
Hermione shook her head, blew her nose loudly into the handkerchief, then offered it back to Avery to take.
"No, Miss Granger, you may keep the handkerchief. This is truly a tragic case... And the statements about Muggleborns?" Avery urged softly.
Hermione rolled her eyes and glared at Umbridge. "She had a discussion with Harry about this a while ago. She admitted that she sees Muggles and therefore Muggleborns the same as Half-Breeds, like Werewolves. She even went so far as to say that she finds the 'mating' between a witch or wizard with a Muggle harmful!"
"Ah," said Avery, eyeing Harry sideways. "Looks like Mr. Potter always manages to put his finger on the sore spot."
Hermione seemed to doubt this but decided to nod anyway. "Yes, sir," she said almost in a whisper.
Avery nodded in satisfaction, thanked Hermione, and continued on his way. Professor Umbridge was now roaring with anger. She had acquired an ugly red blush that reached deep into her cleavage. She stood, trembling, watching Avery approach Theo. Harry watched with concern as she moved slowly and inelegantly through the rows of students.
"That's it!" she screamed in the midst of them all. "I have to thank you, Mr. Avery, you opened my eyes and showed me that everything can be traced back to the manipulations of Mr. potter! His reach is so great that today I had a second-year Slytherin student raise his voice at me... During class! That is unworthy of a Slytherin, as you may well know. Of course, I had to punish him, however much it goes against my principles. When the student cried, I thought I had freed him from Potter's influences, but he kept screaming and-"
"What have you done!" Harry growled as he stood up. "Which Slytherin student?"
Umbridge made a smug face. "Graham Pritchard and I can assure you that he will receive the same treatment as you tonight, Mr. Potter!"
"What have you done with Graham?"
Umbridge looked at Avery with her bulging eyes and began to laugh out of tune. "Nothing more than Mr. Avery himself would have done."
Avery's casual expression caught on with this implication. "Where is Mr. Prichard now?"
Umbridge made a dismissive gesture. "I took him to Madame Pomfrey, I'm not the bad guy here. I act according to the code of the Ministry."
Avery pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right."
He walked over to the desk and gathered his things. "I would like to ask Mr. Potter to come with me. This conversation was very enlightening."
Professor Umbridge laughed smugly at this, and in all her madness seemed oblivious to the magnitude of her problems. "So you've seen who the real culprit is? Can you finally see what I've been through? These gloves, as lovely and fashionable they are, are not my own choice to wear! Punish the real culprit, Mr. Avery."
Avery nodded and headed for the door. He turned and motioned for Harry to follow. "Come on, Mr. Potter, we have much to discuss."
Harry gave Draco one more worried look and paused to think. He wasn't sure if Umbridge was stable enough to finish this lesson. Draco, however, squeezed his hand gently and moved his head toward the door.
"Go, Harry. We'll be fine here. We have another wonderful lesson, for about fifteen minutes, which we fill with theory. Go and make sure that hag is punished for her actions," Draco said softly to Harry.
Harry nodded and followed Avery with his bag over his shoulder. They hadn't even left the hall together when Avery stopped and pushed Harry into an alcove.
"I have one question before we go to Mrs. Bones, she is waiting for us in Professor Snape's office. We thought that would be nice, so he can easily join us when his class is over."
Harry nodded. "What is your question?"
Avery's eyes darted back and forth for a moment. "Do you know what she meant by those gloves? I must confess that I was deliberately stirring her on, but I never thought she would break so spectacularly. She comes across as insane."
Harry shook his head and looked at Avery thoughtfully. "I was just thinking the same thing. Even though I don't like the woman, today she seemed... more unstable than usual. As if she had received a hard blow to her head."
"So she's not normally like that?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't think the systematic use of a Blood Quill is exactly the epitome of stable behavior, but her sadistic tendencies weren't insane until today."
"And the gloves?"
Harry thought deeply and frowned. "I think she started wearing them before the Yuletide. Maybe already in November?" He shook his head in frustration. "I'm not an expert on the subject, I mean, I let my house elf pick out most of my clothes."
Avery laughed and patted Harry gently on the shoulder. "Never thought I'd say it, Potter, but I like you. Any boy who admits that his house-elf defines his fashion sense is a friend in my book."
The pair then trotted down the many stairs, heading for Snape's office. Avery didn't knock but went straight into the office. When Harry followed him, he already saw Mrs. Bones sitting there. She rose to greet Harry and motioned for him to sit down.
"Mr. Potter, we meet again. Again for unpleasant circumstances. Any idea how this happened?" Mrs. Bones asked in a stern tone.
Harry looked timid and smiled gently. "I have no idea, Madam. When you find out, let me know as I can change it. Until then, I'll play with the cards I am dealt."
Mrs. Bones nodded and gave Avery a stern look. "You got here earlier than I expected, did something happen?"
Avery nodded, but sat quietly and motioned for Mrs. Bones to do the same. "Let's wait for Master Snape. I think he would also like to see the specific memory I want to share. Let's just say it will be very... enlightening."
Snape took a long time, after half an hour after the end of classes, the man entered his office. His obsidian eyes looked at Harry for a moment, but when he saw no obvious injuries, he looked at Avery.
"I heard Mr. Potter was taken out of class early, I hope you had a good reason for this, or is this your idea of a tea party?"
Harry chuckled softly and looked at his hands, if he's not asked a sarcastic question, he's not going to answer it.
"I think it would be better if I answer that question by showing my memory. You have a Pensive, right?"
Snape nodded and walked over to the imposing closet leaning against the far wall. "Mr. Potter, will you review the memory with us?" Snape asked as he prepared the Pensive for use.
Harry shook his head. "Sometimes it's better not to relive something. I'm waiting here."
Harry watched as the three adults bent over the Pensive and stood there. It almost looked comical. When you 'dived' into a memory, it was as if you were being sucked into the Pensive, body and all. However, that is not the case, only your mind is carried away in the memories.
Harry got bored after half an hour and was almost relieved when Snape walked over to Harry, irritated. "Potter," he said menacingly.
Harry blinked and then gave Snap an incredible look. "Harry, sir."
"Harry," Snape drawled. "Didn't we agree to avoid Madam Umbridge? Then why did you stand up, ready to attack her, when you heard she had hurt Graham?"
Harry glared at his teacher. "What should I have done then?" Harry hissed to Snape. "I thought my control was sublime."
Snape looked at him again, then turned to face the fire. Mrs. Bones and Avery also returned from the Pensive, arguing busily.
Mrs. Bones went straight to Harry and took his bandaged hand. She did this harder than she intended and looked at Harry apologetically as his face twisted.
"Sorry, Mr. Potter, but I need to see your injuries now. I want to know exactly what I am dealing with."
Harry nodded, looking to Snape for confirmation. He got this in the form of a bob of the head, and he started unwinding the bandage. The three adults quietly watched as the black-haired boy showed more and more of the skin of his hand. As Harry removed the last of the gauzes, he wrinkled his nose in disgust.
The back of his hand was broken. You could no longer read the words carved into it, they were no longer recognizable due to the abundance of blood and loose skin. The loose patches of skin were white, still damp, but white and dead. As you looked deeper into the wound, the blood darkened until it stood out against something white. That was his bone, Harry realized as he felt his stomach turn.
Snape sprang into action, pushing an empty bowl into Harry's hands just in time. Harry instantly leaned over and vomited into the bowl. He felt Avery hold his hair as he emptied his stomach into the bowl. Snape had gone to his overflowing potion cabinet and returned with two vials.
"Harry, take this one first," Snape said, pressing the vial to Harry's lips.
Harry quickly swallowed the viscous liquid, trying not to think too much about the bitter liquid. After a few seconds, his stomach settled down and Snape was able to clear the contents of the bowl. A damp cloth was shoved in Harry's face, removing the last remnants of his vomit.
"Are you okay, Harry?" Snape asked distantly. However, Harry could see in his eyes that it was hurting him, so he smiled gently.
"Yes, this is better. Thank you, Professor."
Snape nodded firmly and grabbed the second vial. "Take this one now, Harry. It will cause a protective layer to grow over the wound. It is artificial, we will approach Poppy tomorrow to cure it."
Mrs. Bones looked at Harry with a pale face. She opened her mouth several times and then closed it again. The woman appeared almost in shock at Harry's injury and continued to watch in horror at the now healing wound from Snape's potion.
"Is this wound inflicted by Madam Umbridge, Mr. Potter?" asked Avery.
Harry nodded. "Yes, I had to repeatedly write the sentence, ' I must not tell lies' . In last night's detention, I felt the tip of the Blood Quill go deeper than ever before. I felt it scrape the bones in my hand. The tip went through tendons and muscles, and.... and it hurt so much."
Harry's voice faltered and he looked at Snape, who nodded at him. "I believe this is sufficient, is it not, Mrs. Bones?"
Amelia Bones could finally free herself from the hideous wound on the back of Harry's hand. She looked at Harry and nodded firmly. "I have seen and heard enough. I believe it is time to escort Madam Umbridge to Azkaban. From there she will await her trial. We have followed the necessary procedures to avoid needing further testimonials from the students, but should it be necessary, may we call on you, Mr. Potter?"
Harry nodded and then stood up. He shook with his good hand Mrs. Bones's. "Let me know, and I'll come," he said firmly.
Avery then stood up too and shook Harry's hand. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Potter. Perhaps I'll see you soon, and otherwise, fare you well."
Harry smiled and nodded. He let Snape's gentle but compelling hand lead him toward the entrance to the Slytherin common room.
Snape hadn't spoken on the way to the common room, his mouth contorted into a thin line. The dark professor didn't look like his Aunt Petunia because of this but looked even more determined, if not more dangerous.
"What are you thinking, Professor?" Harry asked softly.
Snape looked down with a slanted eye. "I am thinking of the punishment that Madam Umbridge will receive...but I am thinking mainly of Mr. Pritchard."
Harry looked at his teacher- since when did that title feel inadequate for what the man meant to him?- and looked at him with concern. "What happened to him? Umbridge did say something about him, but continued to speak in vague terms."
Snape stopped walking and looked at Harry with eyes smoldering with rage. "Mr. Pritchard stood up for you in class, or at least that's what his friends told me earlier today. Madam Umbridge had let it slip during her lesson on Pixies that you couldn't handle those creatures and then began listing the benefits of her curriculum. This didn't sit well with Mr. Pritchard, he said, and I quote: "Harry Potter has more magic in his little finger than could ever be possible in your much too short wand. Moreover, he would never be told what to think or what to do like a mindless pink toad, because leaders think for themselves, they lead."
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Has Graham made such a statement in a lesson before? I had the impression that he was a shy boy. When I help him with his DADA homework, he is always very timid."
Snape's mouth curled into a friendly smile, Harry could almost taste the affection in the air. "You have Mr. Pritchard inspired in such a way that you have his full loyalty. Anyone with eyes can see, since your resorting in September, you've been fully committed to the well-being of Slytherin's students. I confess, reluctantly, that I see what Dumbledore was muttered about you in your first and second year; you are indeed a child of your mother."
Harry felt flushed at Snape's praise and looked quickly at his feet. "Do you know what Umbridge did to him? She told Avery that she hadn't done anything he wouldn't do himself."
Snape's face immediately clouded, his eyes were murderous again. "A Nightmare Curse," he said softly. "She cursed a 12-year-old boy with nightmares."
Harry didn't know what to say for a moment. Could he say anything to make the situation better? "How is he doing?"
"I picked him up from Madam Pomfrey this afternoon before I joined you. He didn't want to spend the night there, he said if he had a nightmare he would rather have his friends around him. It promises to be a long night."
"How long does the curse last?" whispered Harry.
"Untreated, two weeks. But with a Potion Master by your side, a week."
Harry looked calmly at his teacher. "Then it's a good thing we have you."
Snape started walking again and looked at Harry with affection. "Can I ask you to watch out for Mr. Pritchard? I have a hunch that you two can take care of each other."
Harry nodded and gave Snape a sardonic smile. "As long as you take good care of Madam Umbridge."
Snape's eyes glowed with sadistic promises. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."
***
Harry was met upon entry by Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy. He even saw Millicent and Daphne standing at a distance, looking curiously at Harry. Harry looked around his friends, looking for Graham.
"Have you seen Graham?" Harry asked Draco, grabbing his arm.
Draco nodded and gestured to the group of students standing around a bench. "He is lying there on the couch. He fell asleep half an hour ago. Madam Pomfrey had explained to me, the other Prefect, and Professor Snape that he will be sleeping a lot, but in short moments each time. The nightmares will cause a poor quality of sleep, so he will wake up a lot, only to fall back asleep later."
Harry saw that Draco's gray eyes were stormy, brimming with emotion. If someone had told him a year ago that Slytherin's students care about each other so much, he would have thought they were crazy. But now, after spending nearly a year at Slytherin House, he knew better; Slytherins received almost no attention or support from other Houses, so they fell back on their own House and the mutual contacts between other years were very strong. For example, during the school year, Harry gave extra lessons in DADA, which were much needed due to the bad classes by Umbridge. Draco taught Potions and Theo taught History of Magic and Transfiguration.
Draco pushed Harry to the rest of the group and looked at him intently. "Do you know what will happen to Umbridge?"
He didn't have to say anything more. Harry knew that everyone craved to bring Umbridge down, either with magic or with justice on their side. "Professor Snape is going to Madam Umbridge with Avery and Mrs. Bones, as we speak. They saw the incident with Umbridge through Avery's memories. Mrs. Bones saw the injuries that Umbridge caused with the Blood Quill. She will be transferred to Azkaban tonight."
Blaise looked darkly at Harry but seemed pleased with the result. "I almost wish they didn't have enough evidence yet."
Harry looked at him in surprise. "Why would you say that, Blaise? She gets what she deserves."
Blaise looked furious and began gesturing vigorously to back up his words. "The woman is disturbed Harry, when you were gone she started talking to herself. At first, we thought she was talking to us, but after five minutes it turned out that she was talking into thin air. She kept repeating herself, she kept saying: "He did it, not me, it was him. I know better, it was him."
Blaise shook his head agitated. "I think she was referring to you, Harry. Should she serve- or escape her sentence, she will come after you. She is deranged." He grabbed Harry by his shoulders. "I would like to give my memories to show everyone that Madam Umbridge is crazy, she needs to be locked up somewhere and the key should be thrown away."
Harry frowned, trying to figure out what the mad witch was referring to. "I have no idea what the woman was referring to, I didn't do anything to her. But I appreciate your concern Blaise, we'll have to look out for it together and provide additional evidence if necessary."
Blaise seemed to calm down because of this, his concern for Harry's well-being seemed to be fading away. The whole group around Harry began to relax again when a loud cry rose from the couch on the other side of the common room.
Draco walked like a worried mother to the group of younger Slytherins. Cautiously, he placed his hand on the forehead of the smaller boy who was spinning wildly on the couch. A whimper rolled over the dark blond boy's lips. Moments later, the boy began to moan loudly, which went through the marrow. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine at the sounds in agony.
Draco began to whisper sweet words to the now violently trembling boy. One of the second years looked concerned at Draco. "Shouldn't we wake him up?"
"No," said Draco firmly. "Madam Pomfrey has told me emphatically that he should sleep as long as possible, whether he has nightmares or not. It is far more harmful to the human body not to sleep than dealing with psychological torments."
A girl started to cry and looked at Draco angrily. "But he's in pain! There is no other way!"
Pansy put an arm around the girl and pulled the girl to her. "Graham is strong, otherwise he would never have defied Umbridge. He will get through this."
The group around Graham watched uncomfortably as the boy twisted and jerked, now and then it seemed as though the boy would wake up to his own screams, only to whimper and quiet down again.
As each minute passed, Harry felt the cold hatred he cherished for Umbridge multiply. By now, the hatred for Umbridge was so strong that he was sure he would kill her the moment she walked into the common room. He could barely hear the worried words of the students around him because of the loud ringing in his ears.
"The first night is the hardest," he heard Draco say to a freshman. "After this night it will get easier."
Harry looked at Graham with a deadly look. However, the intense emotion was not directed at Graham, but at the pink toad that had caused it. He felt his tattoo stir under his skin, like a serpent preparing to strike. He strode over to Graham and sat down next to him, on the edge of the couch. He wasn't surprised to see Jormy lying on the boy's neck, he knew the snake was very caring and would certainly care about the fate of a boy so loyal to Harry.
Harry placed a hand on the boy's forehead, who was making violent, jerking movements. He closed his eyes and welcomed the icy feeling that ran through his veins. He felt his tattoo come to life and writhe more violently against his skin.
The boy suddenly fell silent and took a deep breath. Graham's whole face, which at first had gone into a painful-looking grimace, relaxed and seemed otherwise unconcerned. Harry, however, felt convulsions run through his body. His head moved abruptly to the side and he felt his hands tremble.
He opened his eyes and could suddenly see all kinds of energy flows. It felt somewhat familiar, he'd been through this before with Draco and Voldemort, though this time it felt familiar, more under his control. He chose to make it happen. He saw the golden life energy flowing around his fellow students. They were their souls, he realized. Harry saw another stream of energy gliding towards him and finally connecting him at the sign meaning Sulfur. This energy flow was red, with smoky black in it. It felt sickly and disgusting, but Harry knew he had to pull on this energy to parse his strength. He had to do this to empower Graham.
As the minutes passed, the lines on Harry's body became more visible, eventually allowing every student to see. The lines in the hand that lay on top of Graham's forehead were thick, black, and seemed to be doing some sort of swallowing motion. The peristaltic movements picked up Graham's ailment and passed it on to Harry.
Graham stirred suddenly and blinked. The boy looked at Harry very cutely, like a young kitten being woken up. Harry smiled tenderly at the boy. "Stay down Graham, I'm afraid I'll have to keep touching you for a while. Let me help you."
The boy relaxed and nodded, a gentle smile graced his face. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, looked up, and saw Draco's smiling face. "Your eyes light up, Potter. They are bright green, my father would say like the Killing Curse."
Harry laughed scornfully and followed the red energy flow that fed him. "I think your father would be right about that."
***
Somewhere else in the castle...
"Please walk with me, Madam Umbridge, let's handle this like civilized people," said Mrs. Bones, looking sternly at Umbridge.
Umbridge looked terrible. Her pink suit was wrinkled and even had a rip in the skirt. Her hair was disheveled as if the woman had just pulled it on either side of her head, and tucked... hard. Her make-up was smeared, her eyes were crazy.
"I'm not going! I'M NOT GOING! I'm Dolores Umbridge, I'm here in the name of the Ministry, you can't hurt me!"
Mrs. Bones sighed and said in a tone as if she had already been repeating the same sentence several times: "Madam Umbridge, you know me from the Ministry, I am here at the personal request of the Minister of Magic, Mr. Fudge. Please cooperate, I will not hesitate to bring in the Aurors."
However, Umbridge ran off and right into Dumbledore's arms. "Albus, tell them! Tell them what you told me, that Harry Potter poses a great threat. Tell them what he did to me!"
Dumbledore, however, looked at her calmly and smiled. "Dolores, calm down, control yourself! Don't let your emotions guide you, but try to pick yourself up again."
"But- but Albus, that boy..." Umbridge whimpered loudly, her eyes rolling in her sockets.
"I will personally keep an eye on Mr. Potter, let's focus on your recovery first," Dumbledore said quietly.
"NO!!" yelled Umbridge and ran to Avery. "You're an ex-Death Eater, aren't you?" she said with an almost gurgling sound after each word.
Avery raised his top lip. "You don't know what you're talking about, woman!" he hissed in disgust.
But Umbridge took no notice of him and began to laugh madly. "I know better, Avery, but don't think I'm judging you! No, I would help Him ! If I could just show you how dangerous Potter is..."
Her eyes began to roll again and darted back and forth. Suddenly she started laughing and giggling madly. She tugged at her pink gloves to take them off. She cried out in pain but continued to laugh abnormally as if entranced. She also kept pulling on the pink satin glove, which made a horrible sucking sound.
Snape looked at Umbridge with morbid fascination and saw red skin appear as the pink glove slipped further and further from her arm. Only it wasn't skin, no, the skin was peeled off her flesh along with the glove. Her tendons, muscles, and veins were exposed, like a kind of bloody pasta or spaghetti on the end of her arm.
Umbridge continued to laugh and cry at the same time, tearing the satin glove from her fingers. Blood dripped from her fingers, red drops fell on the cold and gray ground of the castle.
"Do you see it now? Do you see what Potter did to me! My beautiful skin is rotting more and more every day, like the most beautiful white rose after a hard frost... withered and perished, what a sin!" yelled Umbridge, showing her arm to Avery and Snape.
Snape exchanged a glance with Avery, then looked back at Umbridge. "Why didn't you go to St. Mungo's, Madam! This is not healthy!"
Umbridge just looked at him scornfully. "St. Mungos! As if they can help me. No! When I saw the words appear in my skin, I knew it was Potter. I could disguise it, put on the most beautiful gloves, enriched my beauty with the most beautiful satin. No, Snape! I don't let him get to me! I had to deal with Potter myself, and I was already so close to succeeding."
"What words appeared on your skin?" Dumbledore asked suddenly in a compelling tone, looking at her intently. "Speak, woman!"
Umbridge wrinkled her nose. "I must not tell lies! The words I made Potter write with my Quill, appeared etched into my skin. But my skin wouldn't heal anymore, it became a festering wound, ugly to look at and smelly."
"Did you have Harry Potter write those words?" Dumbledore asked softly, staring thoughtfully at a lamp flame.
Umbridge stopped answering and looked toward a spot behind Dumbledore. Her eyes widened and she began to tremble all over her body. "YOU!! You come here to gloat!" she screamed.
Dumbledore turned, startled, but was greeted by nothing but emptiness. Snape looked at Avery and nodded. Mrs. Bones looked at everything from a distance, trying to look at the events with a critical eye.
"Harry Potter, what are you doing here! Unnatural child!" Umbridge shrieked in a high-pitched voice. "Do you want to see what you did to me? Wanna see what you've wrought in my skin? What are you doing here!"
"She's insane," whispered Mrs. Bones with a puzzled look. "She's beyond saving."
"What are you doing here, Potter!" shouted Umbridge with tears in her eyes. "I see your scornful smile, freak! I see your tattoo shine on your skin, how could I have missed that. And your eyes- your eyes are of death, shining like the Killing Curse! You're a nightmare, Potter!"
She dropped to the stone floor and began to scratch her face with her nails. "If I remove my eyes, I can't see him anymore. Yes, yes, I must! Then he's gone. He is nothing more than a nightmare!"
(...) "-do something, Albus! Do you know what's wrong with her?" asked Mrs. Bones in a stern tone, looking warily at Umbridge's bloody form. "We need to bring in a Healer!"
Snape then stepped forward and said, "I just had a house-elf get Madam Pomfrey, she'll be here soon."
"This isn't healthy, Albus," Mrs. Bones muttered.
Avery watched the scene with an amused look on his face. Nothing betrayed any discomfort or horror, no, he seemed to see some sort of sadistic humor in Madam Umbridge's downfall. He saw a wonderful example of irony in the gurgling noises Umbridge made and knew he was going to share this event with the Dark Lord. This was the purest form of Dark Magic he had ever seen. It was Blood Magic, Soul Magic, and Necromancy all in one and it was fascinating. If it were up to him, he'd spend weeks investigating the "dilemma" Umbridge was grappling with. And what a delightful dilemma it was!
However, Avery had to agree with Umbridge on one thing, Harry Potter was the reason for her deplorable health. He withdrew her vitality, there was no doubt about it. Avery just didn't know how he did it, but knew he wanted to stay in Potter's grace. He would turn out to be a friend of his, a mentor when the Lestrange brothers fell short. Potter just might become the next Dark Lord, one even more powerful than Voldemort. Yes, he had to keep an eye on Harry Potter.
Umbridge was still screeching at an imaginary Harry, who followed closely behind and sat down next to her on the floor, amid the gory pool of blood that grew bigger and bigger. "Would you like to see it?" Umbridge asked softly, rubbing the still-covered hand.
Nightmare Harry nodded and smiled sweetly at Umbridge. He ran a finger over her self-inflicted wounds, swooped up a hefty finger with blood, and put it in his mouth. "You're right," he said to Umbridge. " You are indeed like the most beautiful white rose, you even taste sweet."
Umbridge blushed like a virgin and giggled at Harry's words. "I'll show you, Potter," she said, stripping off her satin glove.
Snape, meanwhile, watched Umbridge's deranged behavior from a short distance. She was like a raving lunatic, muttering to herself, or rather to Potter, who wasn't there. He watched with sheer fascination as she blushed like a little girl and tugged wildly at her last satin glove.
Vaguely it dawned on Snape, watching Umbridge's movements, that Madam Pomfrey had entered the room and joined him. He said nothing and continued to watch Umbridge take off the glove with great difficulty.
"No!" said Madam Pomfrey suddenly. "She can't remove that glove!"
She ran over to Umbridge, who seemed angry at Pomfrey's meddling. She got up quickly, faster than anyone would expect from a badly injured, fat woman. Umbridge looked uncertainly at Harry, who was still sitting innocently in the pool of blood. He looked disapprovingly at her pink glove, which seemed to be clinging to her.
"I'll show you all!" she shouted. She jerked the glove off her hand. The force with which she pulled, not only made the skin slide with the fabric, but made her tendons and veins tear. The glove fell heavily to the ground, with chunks of skin and tissue left behind in the shiny fabric. Blood spurted and Umbridge screamed like a madwoman.
After a few seconds, she fell to the ground. Madam Pomfrey ran up to her, firing all kinds of healing spells at her. When her arsenal of spells didn't work and the blood didn't stop flowing, she tried to stop the bleeding with a cloth. However, this proved to be of no avail, and after a few minutes, the screaming stopped.
***
Harry sat with his eyes closed next to Graham, who was breathing quietly but now wiggling boredom. "Harry?" the boy asked him.
Harry blinked in surprise and frowned at Graham. "Graham? Is something wrong, has it come back?"
The little boy shook his head. "No, I think it's gone. I don't know what you did, but it's gone."
Harry looked at his tattoo still alive under his skin, the magic still swirling, thumping in his veins, begging for more. "Let's sit down, and wait to be sure, Graham."
The boy looked around bored, looking at his friends who were still worried about him. "Harry? Could you maybe tell a story?"
Harry laughed loudly. "Really, Graham? Do you want a story? Merlin! I don't know stories, I was never read to as a child, so I don't know..."
Graham looked at Harry with a pout. "It doesn't have to be long. Maybe you know something that means a lot to you that we can talk about together. After all, I can't go anywhere as long as you hold my forehead."
Harry grinned broadly, a grin that showed too many white teeth. Graham didn't feel threatened by Harry's predatory grin, he felt safe and secure in the dark-haired boy's arms.
"I know a rhyme," Harry began hesitantly. "I made it up in my second year when I was lonely."
Graham looked at him questioningly. "Why were you lonely?"
"Because I was left alone by my friends, no one dared to speak to me. It had just been revealed that I could speak to snakes, many of my old friends were afraid of me. Afraid of the unknown. I wasn't normal enough."
Graham made an irritated face. "Then they weren't good friends."
A sad smile appeared on Harry's face. "Maybe not."
Graham settled himself a little deeper into the soft sofa and looked at Harry imperiously. "Let's hear it, your rhyme, I mean."
Harry ran his free hand through Graham's dark blond locks. "You still need to work on your manipulation skills, but you look so cute, I'm tempted to give you what you want."
Some of Slytherin's young students made encouraging noises, and when Harry was gently nudged by Draco, he began to recite his rhyme.
"There was a Flobberworm with many scars
who always looked at the stars,
and whispered: 'How beautiful, how divine!'
Mother said, 'Stay plain, don't grow a spine,
look down to the ground,
that's normal, don't sit there spellbound,
look down, just like me.'
And then? Then the Potion Master came!
The worm that stared at the stars with mirth
saw him in time and crept into the earth,
but the mother who looked down,
she ended up in a potion and was dead,
(before she even had time to drown.)
So never do what another says and follow your dreams,
because being normal isn't always as good as it seems."
The smallest Slytherin of the bunch looked at Harry questioningly. "Why did the Flobberworm have so many scars?"
Harry just smiled and didn't notice that everyone was holding their breath at the sight of his almost neon green eyes slowly fading. When Harry answered, his eyes were back to normal.
"Because having scars doesn't mean you're broken. It just shows strength and perseverance."
He ruffled Graham's hair absently and felt his tattoo finally settle. "Scars don't always have to be visible, by the way. Setbacks and other trials could also scar you, keep believing in yourself and you will be more powerful than ever before."