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He closed the door behind him with a snap, leaving Harry in a state of worse turmoil than before: Snape had been his very last hope. He looked at Umbridge, who seemed to be feeling the same way; her chest was heaving with rage and frustration.
”Very well,” she said, and she pulled out her wand. “Very well . . . I am left with no alternative. . . This is more than a matter of school discipline. . . . This is an issue of Ministry security. . . . Yes . . . yes . . .”
She seemed to be talking herself into something. She was shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot, staring at Harry, beating her wand against her empty palm and breathing heavily. Harry felt horribly powerless without his own wand as he watched her.
“You are forcing me, Potter. . . . I do not want to,” said Umbridge, still moving restlessly on the spot, “but sometimes circumstances justify the use . . . I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice. . .”
Malfoy was watching her with a hungry expression on his face.
“The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue,” said Umbridge quietly.
“No!” shrieked Hermione. “Professor Umbridge — it’s illegal” — but Umbridge took no notice. There was a nasty, eager, excited look on her face that Harry had never seen before. She raised her wand.
“The Minister wouldn’t want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!” cried Hermione.
“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” said Umbridge, who was now panting slightly as she pointed her wand at different parts of Harry’s body in turn, apparently trying to decide what would hurt the most. “He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given the chance to expel him, all the same. . . .”
“It was you?” gasped Harry. “You sent the dementors after me?”
“Somebody had to act,” breathed Umbridge, as her wand came to rest pointing directly at Harry’s forehead. “They were all bleating about silencing you somehow — discrediting you — but I was the one who actually did something about it. . . . Only you wriggled out of that one, didn’t you, Potter? Not today, though, not now . . .”
And taking a deep breath, she cried, “Cruc –”
“NO!” shouted Hermione in a cracked voice from behind Millicent Bulstrode. “No – Harry – Harry, we’ll have to tell her!”
“No way!” yelled Harry, staring at the little of Hermione he could see.
Before she could reply, Millicent Bulstrode put her hand in front of Hermione's mouth, reducing her to stare painfully at her friend. Umbridge gave the girl an approving look but quickly returned her attention to Harry.
'This is your last chance Potter,' she warned, 'or you will face the consequences of your stubbornness.'
Harry felt his throat tightening at the anticipation of the curse, but did not let his determination waver. He would never give Umbridge what she wanted. Locking his eyes in his teacher's ones, he raised his head fiercely, even through the pounding pain of his scar.
' 'I must not tell lies', right professor?', Umbridge looked interested and waited for him to continue, 'Then, go to hell.'
Ignoring the horrified expressions of his friends, Harry smiled at the shocked look on Umbridge face: her revolted eyes and slightly opened mouth made her look more like a toad than ever. She went red and anger flashed through her eyes, and without even trying to regain her composure, she held her wand steady, aiming to Harry's head.
'Crucio!'
The pain erupted through his body, white-hot knives crushing his bones, his head pounding more than ever. Harry didn't know where he was anymore, screaming like he never screamed before, his body twitching–
And it stopped, leaving him shaking uncontrollably. He try and scrambled to his feet, using the desk to steady himself, facing Umbridge who now had a big smile on her face.
Harry heard muffled sobs and focused his gaze to his friends: Hermione's face was shining with tears, Ron's was red and revolted as well Ginny's, and their captors seemed to have a hard time restraining them from getting free. Luna's ordinarily dreamy expression was now dark, and Neville looked stricken.
'Now Potter, I believe you will kindly answer my question, or will another dose of pain be necessary?'
'You're an old hag,' was the only answer Harry managed to give before being hit by the curse once again.
The pain was inimaginable, his whole body aching more than ever. Time seemed to stretch, the seconds never ending, as his head was splitting, his skull on fire, screaming and screaming again. Harry just wished for the pain to stop, for death to come and get him–
And it just stopped again.
This time it took Harry longer to realise that he was lying on the floor, his face crushed by his glasses. He rolled onto his back, shaking so badly he could hardly sit up. He vaguely heard Ron, Ginny and Neville voices, shouting names at Umbridge, and Hermione pleading through Millicent Bulstrode's hand. When he could finally focus on his surroundings, Harry realised that the Slytherin students were for most uncomfortable, and that their grip had loosened on Harry's friends. Even Malfoy's features exprimed a certain embarrassment.
Harry's body was contracting over waves of pain, his throat was harsh from screaming and his scar was pounding more and more. Sirius was still out there, held captive by Voldemort and Harry wasn't there to save him. Before he could think of anything else, his scar split and a vision of his godfather engraved on his mind.
'I am losing patience.'
Sirius' form was facing Voldemort. He was twitching on the floor, breathing hard, but was able to mutter, 'You'll get nothing from me.'
'Very well then...'
Voldemort's wand rose, his thin lips moving to cast a curse...
Harry snapped out of the terrifying vision with a jolt, only to find another one in front of him.
Just a few seconds must have passed for Umbridge was still right before him, her wand aimed to him. Shivering and quivering from the waves of pain going through his sweating body, his face covered in tears, Harry mastered his strength to look to his professor dead in the eyes.
'Ah, yes, it hurts, doesn't it ? Are you finally ready to answer to me, Potter ?'
Harry swallowed and stuttered, 'N-never, you... toad.'
And the pain returned, as though as flowing directly from his veins. His body was burning, he was losing his head, surly he was screaming but the pain was so unbearable Harry couldn't tell whether he was still alive or not.
And the pain lasted and lasted and lasted, never ending. Every conscious thoughts had disappeared, leaving a sole sentence spiralling in his mind: 'Make it stop, please let it end.'
And finally, the flow of pain came to an end, but Harry didn't realised it right away, to dazed to feel anything at all but his aching body laying motionlessly on the floor.
Barely conscious, Harry could not tell what was exactly happening around him, but loud bangs, cries and exclamations were ringing in his ears. The young man could not recall what just happened, and for a moment, Harry wondered why he was on the floor. But soon, the pain reminded him the events of the evening, and he was so tired he couldn't even think of whimpering.
After what could have been just a few seconds or a long hour later, hands were on his, squeezing them strongly. Voices filled his head, but Harry couldn't make out a single word, his mind confused and his body still shaking with agony. His throat was hoarse from screaming and all his limbs were shaking uncontrollably.
A word finally made it to his brain, inciting him to open his eyes. When he did so, it took another moment before he was able to focus on anything, and the effort made him shudder.
'Harry!'
Ron's face was in front of him, frowning anxiously, his lips still red with his blood, but otherwise very pale under his freckles.
'Harry, mate, d'you hear me?'
Harry grunted, his vision faltering for a moment.
New voices came to him through the fog in which he was, but he could only catch glimpses of their sentences.
'–go – help–'
'–move – hospital wing–'
Someone turned Harry's body on its side and he couldn't help groaning as the pain spread through his limbs again. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing, without much success: he was panting as if he'd run from Privet Drive to Hogwarts without stopping, and his shaking seemed to never cease.
'I'm so sorry Harry, but you'll have to move one way or another...'
Hermione's voice ringed in his ears and made Harry open his eyes, trying to understand his friend's sentence.
'I'm... I'm fine...' he grumbled in response.
Hermione's face lighten for a moment, a little smile lifting her lips before her look of concern returned.
'You're an idiot Harry,' she laughed faintly, her face still wet with tears.
Harry's vision was now more stable than before and he moved to sit up, even though his body was shaking painfully. The hands on his disappeared to help him steady himself against the desk. The effort made Harry wince, his face contracting into a throbbing expression. He blinked several times, trying to clear the black spots from his field of vision, his glasses askew on his face. When he finally could see clearly, the scene before him made him frown in incomprehension.
Umbridge was lying on the floor, apparently unconscious, her body deformed by the various hexes she had received. Not far from her, lying all over the room, were the Slytherin students, apparently stunned. Ron and Hermione were at Harry's side, while Neville, Luna and Ginny looked on worriedly while talking - much to Harry's surprise - to the Hufflepuff students Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, as well as Colin Creevey. Their conversation came to Harry.
'–the old hag didn't even think to cast a muffliato at her door, so when we heard Harry yelling, we just rushed in and.... well, you know the rest,' Colin said with a funny look on his usually cheerful face. 'She's awful... I already hated her, but this... this is too much.'
Harry, without 'knowing the rest ', had a pretty good idea of what had happened, if Umbridge's condition was anything to go by.
Hermione turned her head to Harry once again, 'We have to get you to the hospital wing Harry, do you think you can stand?'
Harry first nodded, before a thought made him stop: the hospital wing meant loosing time to go save... 'Sirius !'
Harry had tried to shout, but his throat was too scratchy, and a hoarse growl came out instead. Panic overcame him as he recalled how he had come to be in this situation. Sirius was still Voldemort's prisoner and no one knew!
Hermione seemed to grasp Harry's thoughts, but just shook her head. She opened her mouth to reply, but Ron's voice cut her off.
'There's no bloody way we're going to the Ministry, have you seen your face? You look like hell! You wouldn't be of any use there, so stop being a git!'
Harry looked helplessly at his friends, but his still badly shaking and aching body refused to answer to him. Desperate, he looked down and he agreed to Ron's plea.
There was a commotion that Harry didn't fully understand, but the next thing he knew, Ron and Neville were pulling him to his feet. As soon as he was up, he was overcome by nausea and the world began to spin around him. Pain was taking its toll and his legs gave way quickly, forcing his friends to support him almost completely.
As the procession passed through the door, it was greeted by a crowd of excited pupils. Their gasps and murmurs filled the corridor as soon as they saw Harry held up by his friends, but they quickly turned into exclamations of joy when they caught sight of Umbridge's office.
The journey through the castle was an ordeal. Harry didn't really know where he was, doing his best not to faint as his legs kicked uselessly against the floor. He couldn't even see anymore, the pain blotting out everything else. Every now and then Harry thought he heard a word of encouragement from Ron or Neville, but he couldn't work out exactly what. He was in agony, experiencing hell as he had never experienced it before. As he passed the Great Hall, the smell of food made him even more nauseous, and in order not to give back the content of his stomach and escape the terrible pain that was gripping him, Harry finally let go, allowing himself to be swept away into the darkness of unconsciousness.
When Ron felt Harry's body slump against his shoulder, he met Neville's gaze before saying his best friend's name urgently. It had no effect, Harry's head just bouncing to the rhythm of their footsteps. By mutual agreement, they quickened their pace, finally entering the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey shrieked when she saw them.
‘What's happened? Get him into bed, quick!'
Afterwards, the two boys explained the situation to the angry Matron, before being chased out of the room. Ron and Neville waited anxiously outside, exchanging quick glances from time to time, when at last Hermione, Ginny and Luna joined them. Hermione, visibly shaken, spoke first.
'We've just come from Professor Flitwick's office. Just as you went into the hospital wing, he arrived and we had to tell him what was going on, so he tied up Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Brigade and told us to stay in the hospital wing from now on.' She paused for a moment, swallowed hard, then asked anxiously, 'How was Harry when you got here? Is he all right?'
Ron and Neville look at each other for a moment before Ron grunted, 'He... well the bitch–' 'Ron!' '–didn't miss him... He was able to stay awake most of the way, but he – he passed out before we got here.'
Hermione's face was now ghost white, while Ginny's one grew redder and redder. Luna seemed unconcerned by their conversation, contemplating a window stoically. Ron's inner turmoil prevented him from concentrating on Hermione's words. His ears seemed to be ringing with the echo of his best friend's screams, painful to the core. He could still see Harry's face, contorted and panting, in a state of pain he didn't believe could exist. Ron couldn't help imagining his friend in front of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, tortured over and over again, only to return to Hogwarts and undergo the same treatment, all at the hands of a teacher! Then, he remembered something that make him feel sick.
'Do... do you think he'll still be...' Ron looked uneasily at Neville, who seemed to understand precisely his thought.
'Sane?' the round-faced boy provided shakilly.
At these words, Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth and Ginny's eyes grew wide. The silence was heavy, full of dreaded possibilities. It stretched, only to be broken by a dreamy voice, 'I think he will be.' They all looked at Luna, who was still staring out of the window.
'He's stronger than that woman, and won't let himself be infested by Wrackspruts,' she finished.
What started out as a positive thought was tainted by an aura of mild madness and did little to reassure Ron. The silence overtook them once again, and they tried to settle comfortably, ready to wait as long as they would have to.
Time passed, each minute longer than the previous one, but none of them spoke, too busy with their own thoughts to want to communicate with anyone. At one point, Professor Flitwick arrived, bringing a trolley of food, and tried to persuade the little group to eat, without much success. As night fell, he returned, this time to send them back to their common rooms, if not to get them to sleep. Reluctantly, the four Gryffindors headed for their tower, separating from Luna in the middle of the trip and agreeing to meet her in the same place the next day.
Thoughts were spiralling in Ron's head. Will Harry be okay? Will he still be their Harry? Could have they tried something against Umbridge? Hermione and Ginny seemed to be sharing these anxieties, their faces concerned. They walk silently to the Gryffindor tower but came to a stop right before the Fat Lady portrait.
'What if Harry's vision was true?' asked Ginny, worry filling her voice, 'What if Snuffles was really in danger?'
'We cannot reasonably do anything Ginny, not when Harry is in this state and when Snuffles is supposedly in the Ministry of Magic.' Hermione's tone indicating her trouble, but also a certain annoyance. 'Beside, I've thought about it and it is more likely that this is an attempt to lure Harry wherever Voldemort wants to.'
'But what if–'
'Whatever is really happening, we can't do anything, we should just wait for Harry to get better and see what happens then,' interrupted Hermione in a firm voice.
Ginny's face began to redden and Ron, sensing great danger, decided to stop the two girls before their conversation turned into an argument, 'Come on, let's get some sleep, I wanna get up early tomorrow.'
The fact that Ron wanted to get up early would normally have made the girls and Neville laugh, but the seriousness of the situation prevented them to do so. Hermione said the password and the portrait pivoted, letting in the four of them. At this hour, the common room was usually almost empty, but not that evening: all the Gryffindor members of the DA had heard that something had happened to Harry and they were still gathered inside. When they saw the four students enter, they stood up and bombarded them with questions, their eyebrows furrowed and their eyes worried.
After at least half an hour of answering questions like 'Is he okay?' or 'Is Umbitch going to be sacked?', Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny were finally able to escape the common room and go to their dormitory, swearing to get up as early as possible –'Right Ron?'– to avoid the usual crowd heading for breakfast.
Ron tossed and turned in his bed, his concern for Harry keeping him awake for long hours, but when it was time to get up, he was out of bed in no time.
In the common room, Ginny, Neville and Hermione were already waiting for him, the latter a letter clutched in her hands. She caught his quizzical look and shook her head, dismissing his questions, and walked out of the room, quickly followed by her pairs. Skipping breakfast, they headed for the hospital wing, only to be told by a very grumpy and not very awake Madam Pomfrey that Harry was not yet conscious.
So they waited, and as the end of the year had finally arrived and the weather was appealing, most of the students were outside and nobody came to bother them. After a little while, Luna arrived, as dreamy as usual, and filled the heavy silence with a babble to which Ron paid no attention. The hours passed, and they waited, thinking they would do it for as long as it took.
The first thing Harry noticed was the light breeze caressing his skin. The sensation was pleasant and he enjoyed it for a moment, before he heard the voices, warm and familiar. He knew them, but could not quite replace. Something was off. His mind jerked awake as Harry recalled the events that had brought him to the bed where he lay. With a jolt, he opened his eyes and sat up abruptly, causing his head to spin.
'Calm down, Potter, stay put.'
Madam Pomfrey hurried to his side, pushing a trolley full of vials in front of her. Before Harry was able to move, she shoved a potion in his hand, accompanied by the words, 'Drink this.'
Her tone suffered no contradiction and Harry knew the matron to well from his previous incidents to think he could escape it. Without any complain, he did what he was told, only to regret it bitterly. The potion was a subtle mix between what could be moisture and old cheese. Awful. Letting out a cough, he choked, 'Ugh, what was that?'
'Something you will appreciate for its effects,' said Madam Pomfrey while putting another potion in Harry's hand. 'This one too.' Harry was then forced to drink what seemed a hundred of her vials, leaving behind a nasty taste in his mouth.
'I believe you are not against a little company?' she then asked in a flat tone. At his vigorous ascent, she sighted, opened the door and said loud enough for everyone to hear, 'No more than half an hour!'
In a hurry Ron, Hermione and Ginny were in front of her bed, quickly joined by Neville and Luna, but she looked so dreamy she could have arrived by mistake.
'How do you feel?'
Ginny was the first of them to speak, her eyes searching him in a way that reminded him of his mother. Suddenly aware of his exhaustion, Harry closed his eyes for a moment before answering.
'I'm fine I guess...'
He only met annoyed eyes.
'Hey, really, I'm okay, Madam Pomfrey took care of that !' he added.
Hermione sighted and shared a knowing look with Ron. He slightly nodded and Hermione stirred uncomfortably. Harry wondered what was going on, but before he was able to ask, Ginny spoke, 'About yesterday–'
'How's Sirius!?!' cut Harry, dread filling him at once.
'He is fine, Harry, that's the point...' she continued, 'The fact is that he never was at the Ministry.'
'So... You mean Voldemort really did try to trick me,' he muttered, his anger growing. He looked at Hermione, 'Don't give me that 'I told you so' crap, I get it,' he said bitterly.
_So Hermione has been right._ Voldemort knew Harry would do anything to save his godfather, he and almost trapped him. And I would have gone if Umbridge had not stopped me...
Harry suddenly felt sick. Was he so easy to manipulate? What would have happened at the Ministry if he had been able to go? Harry would have played Voldemort's game, would have endangered his friends as they would probably have gone with him, would have endangered the Wizarding community... All because of a 'savior tendency'...
With a sigh, Harry touched the scar on his forehead, his connection to Voldemort, wishing it had not been there. Hermione's voice brought him back to reality.
'I would not have said that to you, Harry, not after yesterday's mess... But you cannot continue to believe everything Voldemort tries to put in your head blindly.' Her voice was not unkind, but the harsh truth left Harry at loss for words.
His eyes were on Hermione's, his face still pale from his recent ordeal, his expression numb.
Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, as if concerned at the lack of shouts they were obviously waiting for. But Harry stayed mute, reliving the scenes that had played in his head, hearing every cries, every threats all over again.
'It felt so real...'
His murmur was weak, earning him a sympathetic look from his friends. Then, a thought hit his mind.
'How do you know whether Sirius was at the Ministry or not?'
Without a word, as if she'd been waiting for him to ask, Hermione stretched out her arm to hand him a letter. 'I received it early this morning.'
Harry unfolded the paper, and upon seeing a familiar handwriting, his heart began to stump in his ears. His hands were almost twitching with excitement as Harry began to read.
Dear Ron and Hermione,
Dumbledore just came at my lovely place with different pieces of news. Some I like more than others. He told me the three of you could probably find them as interesting as I did, hence this letter.
But first and foremost, Harry better be okay. I am definitely going to kill the old hag that calls herself a teacher. And I promise you, after I'm done with her, there won't be much left for the other people she most probably angered. And I won't regret it. Remus is perking over my shoulder as I write this, so, of course, my statement was one big beautiful joke. It's not.
The last sentence was almost illegible, scribbled like Sirius was trying to prevent Remus to understand what he was actually writing down. Harry sniggered at the thought, portraying his godfather bent over the letter, Remus monitoring him with a slight frown, stopping himself from smiling at Sirius' antics.
Anyway, the first news you will probably appreciate as much as I did: this idiot of a bowler hat wearer that is Fudge is going to be 'discharged' from his post for being an incompetent power lover. The official heading is more likely to say that he was blinded by his willingness to keep the world steady, but I like my formulation better.
The second news is that the Ministry finally recognises You-Know-Who's return. I mean, they'd look like a bunch of ravaged goblins if they tried to deny this any more. Must have been an awkward face to face last night. Between Fudge, this dear Lord and his followers all rounded up because of Dumbledore, I don't know which of them was the most displeased.
Once more, Harry chortled, albeit somewhat uneasily. Voldemort's return was finally acknowledged, but its cost would have been worse had he ran to the Ministry.
And finally, my name is going to get cleared. It better be, or I'd be sent back to Azkaban for real murder this time. But, of course, it's just a joke, right Remus? I can't wait for all of you to come back for the summer, they'll see what it is to let a man walk free after 14 years as one of the most wanted man in Britain. Mind you, I probably always was the most wanted man in Britain, some girls could testify.
At this, Harry all but exploded. He couldn't remember the last time he laughed that much, but jeez, what a liberation!
The others had guessed that he had reached the part concerning 'the most wanted man in Britain' and were also laughing with Harry, their mind freer than they had been ever since the beginning of the school year. The only one who seemed quite unphased by the sudden agitation was Luna, who was still at the edge of the group, humming a tune that sounded funnily like Weasley is our king.
The letter was ending.
Anyway, wish my best to Harry, all of you stay out of trouble (Remus insisted), and we'll see you soon enough. Give the old hag hell like never before.
Snuffles.
With a sigh of relief, Harry let go of the letter, finally allowing himself to relax. Suddenly, his head felt foggier, his limbs heavier than before. Surely he could close his eyes for a moment, right? A hand on his made him start. But it was just Ginny, looking at him with a small smile on her lips.
'You can rest now, we're all safe.'
And they truly were.
No more trying to fight back sleep, Harry let go, content and confident in the future, trusting that whatever there would be to face, he wouldn't be alone to do so. The last image that finally took him to sleep was Sirius' face, laughing and careless, mentally and physically free, finally walking around at will.