Harry, Hermione, Fred, George and Neville, did indeed eat dinner at the Gryffindor table, but the one in the kitchens, not the one in the Great Hall. It was interesting seeing the elves bustle around, sending food along the four house tables and up into the great hall. But the elves seemed happy to see them, and Tippy came up and hugged Harry's knees before bustling away to finish preparing the dinner.
They were joined by Luna, who looked at Harry and said in the way of greeting, "Oh! All the Bumble-zingers stalking are gone, Harry!"
Harry thought a moment, recalling the last time she'd said something similar and said, "yes, I had help shifting them over the break."
"That's good," she said dreamily, looking rather satisfied.
"Luna?" Harry asked carefully, "can you tell me if you see any more Bumble-zingers stalking me? Or any of us? We've been working hard to get rid of them, but I'm worried they'll come back."
She looked at him for a long moment, then beamed and nodded.
They spent an enjoyable meal in the kitchens talking about their holidays, and Luna's plans for the next edition of the Quibbler. With the contract, she had made with Harry, and her subsequent articles, her father was letting her do more and more for the paper; to Luna's delight.
Winky brought over steaming plates piled high with roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. And Harry left the kitchens feeling happy and content, if uncomfortably full some time later.
*
Filius Flitwick cast his gaze intently along his house table, watching his students. Ever since Severus's revelation about his Raven's bullying Ms Lovegood, he'd been keeping a closer eye on them. He'd been horrified to learn how much subtle nastiness was going on. The number of mornings Ms Lovegood for one was missing shoes, items of clothing or books, had astounded him. He'd been spending more time marking papers in the common room recently and was pleased to see that slowly, his presence and former hand was paying off.
He frowned. Ms Lovegood was missing from the feast. He cast a practised eye over the rest of the hall, noticing who else was missing.
Ah, yes, he thought, not surprised and summoned an elf, discretely, to confirm his suspicions.
"They're missing again," Severus said as he sat down next to Filius, "and I know Minerva tried to order them to be at the Gryffindor table for the feast tonight. As if that would go down well with the rest of the red and gold dunderheads."
The elf popped back in, whispered something in Filius's ear then popped away again.
Filius snorted, "they are at the Gryffindor table, but the one down in the kitchens, not the hall like she meant!"
Severus took a sip of wine, to stop himself snickering, and they both turned to Minerva, who was deep in conversation with Albus and didn't look happy. She did not seem to have noticed so many of her students missing.
"she should have been more specific in her orders then," he said to Filius before turning to Minerva.
Intending to gleefully poke a hornet's nest, Severus asked, "you're missing some of your lions, Minerva."
It was fun baiting her, especially when he was treated to that pinched expression as if she's sucked on a lemon as she cast an eye down her house's table.
"Who knows what the twins are up to, but Ms Granger and Mr Longbottom seemed to have picked up Potter's unfortunate habit of seeming to disappear, and break the rules! That boy! You were right Severus! He needs a sterner hand. We've let him get away with far too much."
Severus raised an eyebrow, "really? You don't seem concerned by this absence Minerva?"
"We have not seen them eating at their table for quite some time, Minerva. Maybe they have a reason for not being there" Filius said pointedly.
"Of course not," she dismissed, "he'll be in for more detention for this latest stunt though."
Filius and Severus exchanged worried looks. How could she possibly be that oblivious!
"You are going down to collect some ingredients from Pemonia after the feast, are you not?" Fillips asked Severus after a time.
"Indeed," the dour man said, "we shall be taking care of Minerva's mess then?"
"Yes, it's gone on too long."
"Good" was all he said, "I'll see you for a drink after curfew."
*
Harry reluctantly trudged up to Dumbledore's office after dinner. He'd really rather not. But Odment, one of the headmaster's main elves, had approached him as he was leaving the kitchens, a terribly reluctant look on the elf's face. Harry knew it would be better to get the confrontation over with. He was somewhat unwilling to spoil his post-meal haze of contentment.
Afterwards, he wished he hadn't gone.
"I have an appointment," Harry said morosely to the Gargoyle. The Gargoyle rolled it's eyes sympathetically before it patted him on the head (surprisingly gently) and jumped aside. Bemused, Harry went up, but his amusement died at the sight of the open door.
He knocked as he stepped in, but did not sit down. He just kept his face blank and fixed his gaze on a corner of Dumbledore's desk, not meeting anyones eyes.
"Well Met Professors," he said formally.
McGonagall made a 'humph,' noise. Dumbledore considered him for a long moment; the tips of his long fingers pressed together in a steeple under his chin. He said nothing for a long moment, gazing at Harry with a sharp eye. Harry could feel the man's magic swirling, and a small legilimency probe reach towards him.
Biting back panic, Harry tried not to let anything else fill his mind. He didn't want Dumbledore to know he knew occlumency, but he didn't want the man in his head either. He needed the man to see innocuous, harmless surface thoughts.
Shit!
He felt Hogwart's magic flair around him suddenly as he panicked.
Panicking makes it harder to occlude. Bugger!
He forced his thoughts to his detentions, dinner and the unjust irritation.
Fawkes let out a chirrup and glided across to perch on Harry's shoulder, claiming his attention, just as the legilimency probe brushed against the edges of Harry's mind. The bird was a warm, heavy weight on his shoulder, comforting. The Phoenix's warmth dispelled the chill that had been in Harry's bones since winter had set in.
Fawkes let out a warble and started nibbling at Harry's hair, preening it, much like Hedwig liked to. Harry snorted softly, reaching up a hand to scratch Fawkes chin, as he felt the probe vanish. Dumbledore hadn't gotten hold of anything of use, and Harry knew he had Fawkes and Hogwarts to thank for it. He'd have to put in some more Occlumency practice if he was buckling under pressure.
Thank you, he sent out mentally to Fawkes and the castle.
The castle gave him a mental pat on the back, as Fawkes kept pulling gently at his hair.
"I am very disappointed in you, Harry," Dumbledore said finally, looking at Harry with that old sad look that had once made Harry feel like dirt. But now Harry could feel the old man's irritation, hidden behind forced disappointment.
"Mr Potter, sir," Harry said calmly. He wasn't about to let the old man get away with familiarity.
Nor was he going to tell him he'd changed his name, however.
"Is there anything you wish to tell me, Harry?" The man said, ignoring the correction.
"Mr Potter, please, sir," Harry said, still petting Fawkes, who was preening strands of Harry's hair as if it were feathers, pulling strands out of his ponytail.
Harry felt another flash of Dumbledore's irritation, and the man shot Fawkes a disapproving look before turning back to Harry.
"Where were you this Christmas, Harry?" He asked.
"Mr Potter, please, sir," Harry repeated, his eyes hardening, his heart still pounding.
The old man was testing his compulsion, expecting Harry to be the good little puppet. Well, the old fool could go fuck himself. Maybe if Harry repeated it like a broken record, perhaps the idiot might get the point eventually. Stupid fucking fool Harry fumed, only half paying attention to what the old goat was waffling about.
"And speaking again with the Quibbler Harry after I had told you how bad an idea it was?" Dumbledore continued. "When you left my office last I thought we had been in accord, Harry, my boy." He said pointedly, "Imagine my surprise when Sirius sent me the copy you sent him."
Harry felt a stab of betrayal that Sirius was still going straight to Dumbledore with his letter. But he was unsurprised.
"I am very disappointed, Harry, my boy." The old man said, sounding very let down. But the hard undercurrent to the man's magic betrayed the man's anger that he'd kept hidden behind the visage of a kindly old man.
"Mr Potter. I am not your boy," Harry said coldly, his voice hard, "you're very unprofessional, sir."
"Oh for heaven's sake, Albus," Professor McGonagall said, "this is getting you nowhere! You may as well call him by his surname! Lord knows, Severus is right, you've coddled him enough and look where it's got you!" She said, with a huff.
Dumbledore sighed, sounding old and tired and sad.
None of which he actually felt, Harry knew. The old man was fuming. Fuming and plotting. It made Harry nervous.
"Well, Mr Potter," McGonagall said pointedly, "what do you have to say for yourself."
"Well, in regards to the Quibbler, there is nothing wrong with what I did and no rules against it. I spoke to Ms Lovegood as I know her. And after the rubbish, Ms Skeeter printed last time, I felt Ms Lovegood was a safer bet. It's not as if I had any adults to protect me from the media, as was the case with the tournament. So I worked out a contract with Ms Lovegood. It's beneficial for both of us to work together," Harry explained coldly, still stroking Fawkes' feathers, "I was not about to let the rubbish Ms Skeeter wrote go uncontested. Ms Lovegood and the Quibbler offered me a way to protect myself, that worked out well for both of us. So really sir, I don't understand the issue?"
"You have made a great deal of trouble for Hogwarts, with your rumours of it's safety. Hogwarts is the only stronghold children may have if he does return. Really, my boy, you should have trusted that I was handling Rita." Dumbledore said.
"Like you handled my Godfathers trial?" Harry retorted, "you promised you'd help him when you told us to help him escape back in third year. You said you'd do everything you could to help him get the freedom he deserves and he's still on the run."
"Harry, my boy! I have already banned Rita from the grounds. You are safe here, as you know." Dumbledore said.
"So safe," Harry spat sarcastically, "and it's Mr Potter, sir. I'm not your boy."
"As for Sirius," Dumbledore said, ignoring him, "you should have trusted that I was handling it. It will make it all the harder to get him a trial now, Harry. And without Peter, he can't have one anyway, my boy."
Harry's blood boiled, "then you should have said that when you told us to use the time-turner to help him escape instead of making empty promises!"
"Albus!" McGonagall said clapping a hand over her mouth, "a time turner, to save Sirius Black? With 13-year-olds! You didn't! You know the danger of-"
But Dumbledore continued, ignoring her completely, "I'm most disappointed in you Harry. You're not the boy I thought you would be. Your parents would be so ashamed, as would your aunt. This is not the sweet boy she's raised you to be," he said sighing sadly, "which brings us back to the reason you're here. You should not have run away over Christmas."
"They didn't raise me, as you well know!" Harry spat out, "you know they treat me like dirt! You've seen the scars!"
"Then why were you so eager to leave the confines of the castle then?" Dumbledore asked persistently as McGonagall snapped, "Albus is that true?"
Harry could feel her magic shifting and Dumbledore's rising in alarm.
Interesting, but Harry didn't really care just then.
He laughed hollowly at them, as Fawkes kept preening his hair, persistently.
"Don't pretend you care professor. You never have before, and it's rather unbecoming." Harry said frostily before turning back to the headmaster who was looking at him disapprovingly, clearly still waiting for an answer.
"Stay for the holidays against their wishes and run the risk of their displeasure over the summer?" Harry asked, "I know you think I'm stupid sir," he said, ignoring Dumbledore's pretend protest, "but I'm not that stupid. There would have been hell to pay. And her idea of punishment always hurts much more than it does here."
There was no point hiding it. Not any more. Not when McGonagall didn't care and never listened. Not when Dumbledore knew how bad it was, and didn't care. Not when Harry had shown the man all the scars in a desperate bid to prove he couldn't go back. Those first two years of school, he'd pleaded on his knees, sobbing, as he had begged not to be sent back.
But every year Dumbledore had just said, "I'm sure it's not that bad, they love you. It is your home. You must return Harry, my boy."
Harry had begged after his first and second year, but hadn't even bothered asking at the end of third year.
What was the point? And why bother hiding it? Those that knew and didn't care.
Besides, Harry thought he felt a satisfying stab of guilt from Dumbledore and shocked horror from McGonagall. If he could use his truth as a weapon against people that seemed determined to either use him or abuse him... then he would.
"It's Mr Potter, sir. And like I said before break," Harry went on reining in his temper, "Petunia had an important Christmas party with Vernon's clients. She wanted me to do up the house and cook for her. She hate's doing housework when she can make me do it" Harry said matter of factly, "and why should it matter? I thought you'd be pleased with me voluntarily going back? You always insist I must stay there for the summer."
"And as I said my boy," Dumbledore started, "you were instructed to stay for the ball. You had duties here. A poor example you have set to our foreign guests. You were sorely missed over the break, Harry."
Harry could not hold back a snort of disbelief at the idea that he had been missed. Yes, he had been so missed that his house had kicked him out and students routinely insulted him and hexed him in the corridors, he thought sarcastically.
"Like I said, sir," he said bitterly, absently reaching up to derail Fawkes before the bird pulled his hair tie out completely, "I was needed at Petunia's over the break. I'm not exactly a real champion. No one wanted me in this to start with, so it was not as if my absence would cause a real issue, sir. I have neither broken the tournament contract, nor any school rules."
You old fuckwit, he thought snidely.
"You have set a horrible example to your peers Harry," the man went on, "you have let Hogwarts down immensely, my boy."
Harry clenched his jaw at the attempted guilt trip, as Dumbledore went on, relentlessly, "as I said before the break, my boy, when we had our little chat, you were needed here. Your childish anger and this rebellious streak is most un-becoming Harry, my boy," he went on.
Harry could feel the mans magic flair domineeringly. He forced his own magic back, not letting it flair up in defiant defence, like it wanted to. He could not afford to give away his magic's freedom.
But the old goat was still talking, "your fit of temper is rather ungrateful, don't you think my boy?"
Harry just tuned the man out; it was all the same. It was rather tedious, especially when Harry could sense that Dumbledore was trying to manipulate his compliance.
Besides it was much nicer to focus on Fawkes' magic pulsing warmly against his own as the bird continued to messing with his hair attempting to pull harry's hair tie out, again, to Harry's grateful amusement.
"You have greatly disappointed and let Hogwarts down Harry," Dumbledore went on, "you will be serving your detentions with Mr Filch every evening until the second task."
Harry gaped at the man.
That was a lot more detention than what McGonagall had given. Filch was well known for keeping students well past midnight in their detentions, and every night until the task would leave him little to no time for homework, let alone the tournament, or sleep if he didn't have the time time-turner.
If Dumbledore was trying to make him so tired and overworked that he fell into line, he should know it wouldn't work. It hadn't worked at the Dursley's, and it wouldn't work with here either.
"What about my homework, sir?" He asked, biting back irritation. He hadn't done anything wrong! And even if he had, detention every night for over a month, was insane!
"You should have thought about that before you ran off!" McGonagall snapped.
"I see," Harry said coldly, "is that all then? I should go and get some studying done tonight then to make up for everything I won't get done this term."
"Return Fawkes to his perch first though, Harry my boy," Dumbledore said.
Harry looked a the bird, who seemed to have no intention of stopping his ministrations. The bird just let out a trill before going back to nibbling at Harry's hair tie, finally succeeded in getting the pesky thing free.
Harry let out an amused huff as his hair fell around his shoulders and in his face. The bird chirruped and passed Harry the tie.
"Thanks, buddy," Harry said, taking the tie from the bird with a sardonic look. The bird looked far too satisfied with himself. If a Phoenix could smirk, Fawkes would be.
"What did you do to your hair Potter?" McGonagall asked suddenly.
Harry brushed a strand back behind his ear and gave the bird a disapproving look. The bird just trilled and rubbed his head against Harry's cheek filling Harry with a magical warmth.
Harry snorted, scratched the bird under his chin and said to the professor, "Petunia hates my hair. Say's it's a horrible birds nest, this one seems to agree," he said with a soft smile to the bird, "I figured my aunt might beat less if I finally managed to get it under control."
That wasn't true. That was not why he had done it, but that did not matter and it was something she would have done. Either way, it got a reaction. McGonagall looked white and appalled. Harry felt a twist of savage satisfaction at the expression as he said, "it was idea. Pity it didn't work. She still hates my guts."
"Now Harry-" Dumbledore started.
But Harry ignored him and continued, "Bill suggested I grow it longer to get it to behave, so I brewed a potion for it, as it won't grow by itself."
"What do you mean it doesn't grow?" McGonagall asked, and Harry could feel her magic shifting and Dumbledore's rising in alarm again.
Now wasn't that interesting, he thought.
She turned to Dumbledore "Could he be a-"
"I'm sure it's not that," Dumbledore cut her off sharply, alarm leaking out of him, "I'm sure its nothing to worry about Minerva," he said, and Harry narrowed his eyes.
So Dumbledore knew and wanted it hidden. Just as well he had a ready made excuse to hide his Metamorphmagic from the man. But McGonagall was maybe starting to suspect.
Interesting.
What would she do with that information? Would she step up?
"Your detentions will start tonight after dinner." Dumbledore said, ending the subject. "You may leave Harry, but your new attitude has to go, my boy. You're not a baby anymore, stop acting like one."
"My name is Mr Potter," Harry said coldly, "and I am not your boy."
"Your parents would be so disappointed in you."
"Well as they died when I was a baby I wouldn't know," he said harshly, "but as my mother literally died to save me, I think she'd just be happy I've managed to stay alive, no thanks to you." He said, ignoring McGonagall's gasp.
Harry gave Fawkes one last stroke before returning the bird to his porch. He did not see McGonagall frowning at Dumbledore.
Harry felt awful. He knew Dumbledore was just trying to manipulate him into doing what he was told. The man was just trying to guilt him into following his orders. But he still felt like a failure and a disappointment. Like he'd let the man down. And that should not have mattered! What did he care if the old moron was disappointed in him!
He remembered the sharp brush of the man's legilimacy and the threatening swell of the man's magic, and he hardened his heart. He'd done nothing wrong, and he would not let the man walk him to his death.
He would not be serving those detentions, and they would not be getting away with it.
He was almost at the door when the fire flared green. Harry jumped spinning around, then sighed in irritation when he saw Rita Skeeta.
Balls, he swore mentally.
"Running away, Harry?" She asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, "I see you've had a change in hair style, trying to impress anyone?"
"Running away ma'am?" He said politely, "I was just dismissed. And no, it's easer to keep neat this way."
She gave him a look of mock disappointment at the denial of impressing anyone but said, "the headmaster has promised me an interview with you!" She turned to Dumbledore accusingly.
Before Dumbledore could reply, Harry jumped on the opportunity, "I'm sorry if he gave you that impression ma'am, but I have a binding magical contract with Ms Lovegood and the Quibbler. I am only able to give an interview to her, as you well know. Only she can use my name."
"Ah but as your magical guardian Harry, Dumbledore can dissolve the silly little contract," she said.
Harry felt Dumbledore's magic swell again, and Harry felt his heart pound, and his adrenaline rush, "I'm not sure what you mean ma'am." Harry said, choosing his words with an artists care, hoping to paint the man into a grave of his own digging.
"He's mentioned something about a magical guardian before, but I don't understand why that would help? He's made it clear after my name came out of the goblet that I had no choice. No-one could break a binding magical contract. If no-one was able to break that binding magical contract, why would someone now be able to break this one?" Harry said with careful naivety, neatly backing Dumbledore into a corner.
He fought to keep the savage smile off his face as Rita's eyes lit up and Dumbledore's magic spiked angrily again. Thankfully, Hogwarts magic rose up around him protectively like a cat with claws.
"But Harry-" she started with the voice of a cat who had caught the canary.
"Now Harry," Dumbledore cut in, "you really should talk to Rita, my boy,"
And Harry could feel the magic behind those trigger words, but they washed passed him ineffectively.
"I can't, sir, ma'am," Harry said simply, "I can not talk to any other journalists and cannot be forced into any interviews. No-one else can use my name other than the Quibbler. It's in a binding magical contract. And as you said, sir, no-one can break those. So I really cannot speak to Ms Skeeter."
"But Harry, surely you're not saying minors can make binding magical contracts without their guardian's permission, that's absurd." Skeeter said, "of course, Dumbledore as your guardian can brea-"
Harry was disappointed when Dumbledore cut Skeeter off from the hole she was trying to dig him into. He would have enjoyed the show.
"Harry, what have you done?" The man asked almost sharply now.
"Nothing, sir." Harry said calmly, "after the articles she wrote, I went to Luna and her dad drew up a contact, to protect me from the media. I signed it. I figured that since someone else could enter me into the tournament contract against my will with just my name alone, and no-one could break it. I figured I could make one to protect me as well. If no-one could break the tournament contract, no-one could break this one.
Harry smirked inwardly, at the gleam in Skeeter's eyes, and hoped it would spell a lot of trouble for Dumbledore, not him. Things had been unfortunately quiet in regards to the response Harry had hoped for after the Quibbler's articles about the man.
Harry held back a wicked grin and instead put on a politely apologetic smile, "I'm sorry if you were brought here under false pretences Ms Skeeter. I was not aware a meeting had been scheduled, or I would have reminded you about the contact and the clauses in it, as you well know." He added pointedly.
That contract had been automatically sent out to every news organisation in Britain. She knew this. She knew he could not and would not talk to her. She knew he was safe from the clutches of her poison quill. And yet, she still tried; at Dumbledores behest?
"Now if you don't mind, sir, ma'am I have detentions to plan for," he said frostily glaring at Dumbledore and turned and left.
Fawkes, let out a sad trill as he left.
My lady? Harry asked, mentally reaching out to the castle as the anger that he'd held back that whole meeting threatened to spill forth and choke him.
That man would pay. Dumbledore would burn, even if it took Harry years. The man would pay.
Harry felt more than heard, Hogwarts attention turn to him, curious, wrapping herself comfortingly, soothingly, around him.
My lady, your headmaster has been dishonourable. He has put the children under his care at risk; he has put me at risk. He will burn because of it.
He felt her stir, magic rising and prickling, swelling like a king tide. Hogwarts was stirring again, angry now. She may not be able to do anything directly, but she could help her heir. And she would. She protected her own.
Beneath him, he could feel magic shifting, and he thought he could almost sense the house-elves in the kitchens begin to whisper, and the ghosts begin to stir.
In the headmaster's office, the portraits shifted uneasily in their sleep, and the Sorting Hat's mouth twitched for a moment as if in a smile.
Hogwarts was waking up again; now her heir was here. And she was angry. One of her own had been hurt, her students had been hurt, and her head had betrayed his sacred duty.
They will pay.
And Harry wasn't sure if it was Hogwarts speaking or him. But it was true. Even if it took him an age, they would pay for the pain they had caused.
Where might I find Peeves, my lady? He asked without actually saying a word aloud.
He felt a surge of vindictive glee from the castle and saw a picture of one of the disused runes classrooms near the astronomy tower and Peeves manically writing rude things on the blackboard.
Harry grinned, thank you, my lady, he thought before setting off. He had a poltergeist to bargain with.
END NOTES:
I don't know if king tides are an auzzy thing or not but it Australia in march and April, the tide are stronger, bigger, and more dangerous. We call them king tides. It has something to do I think with the moon being closer to us or something. It makes the water stronger and more dangerouse if you don't respect her.