“Crabbe keeps smirking at us,” Parvati said. “Did you two do something?”
“He, uh, hexed me,” Ron said. “Earlier. From behind. Probably still gloating.”
Parvati squinted at him, because that had been a terrible lie and she wasn’t stupid. Ron stuffed more food in his mouth and Jules busied himself staring blankly at the staff table.
“Ooookay,” Parvati said. “I’ll just… go talk to Lav about our homework then.”
She slid a few seats down the bench.
“Good one,” Jules said.
Ron kicked him under the table.
“You seem tense,” Ron said a minute later, as Jules shoveled treacle tart into his mouth.
“Wovuh why,” Jules managed.
“Umbridge keeps looking at us too,” Ron said, quieter.
Jules couldn’t help glancing up at the staff table. Umbridge was facing McGonagall but Jules had the strong impression he’d been staring at Jules a second before. Bitch. He swallowed his food. “Honestly, I’m really glad for the curse on the Defense post, can’t wait for her to get out of here.”
Ron looked around. “Was Dumbledore at the… second meeting?” he said in a near whisper.
“Nope.” The p popped harder than Jules meant it to, like he was spitting rocks. Several people glanced over and he hunched down.
Ron studied him. “…you okay, mate?”
Jules looked over at the Slytherin table at Crabbe, who was really bad at pretending he wasn’t smirking at them. As always, his attention was drawn, after a few seconds, to Harry, smiling slightly while Nott and Parkinson bickered, Zabini and Greengrass laughed. Jules wondered what he’d say to this reckless plan.
Oh, who was he fooling. He knew exactly what Harry would say. Harry had told him to be careful and save himself, that there was no shame in hanging back, but he was a Slytherin and he could never understand why Jules could not let Tonks take this risk. It didn’t matter, anyway. Jules’ responsibilities loomed as large as ever.
“Jules. Oi, wake up.”
“Right, sorry. I’m fine,” Jules said.
“Yeah, you might want to work on your lying skills,” Ron said.
Jules was saved by the end of dinner, and the arrival of four people from the Ministry.
Two of them came straight to the Gryffindor table. “Jules Potter?” Elphias Doge said, trying really hard not to look at the guy next to him.
“Hi,” Jules said, grinning at Elphias. He completely ignored Cassian Yaxley, a member of the DMLE Dad hated and tried to get fired all the time. Yaxley had Malfoy’s support, though, and Dad couldn’t do more than keep him stuck in the low ranks of the Department, especially since the trials about Harry hurt his reputation.
Yaxley being here meant the plan had worked.
“If you could come with us, please, Heir Potter?” Yaxley said smoothly. “We’ll await your temporary guardian in the entrance hall.”
Elphias frowned but didn’t object. “Right, thanks,” Jules said.
The entire Great Hall was staring and badly pretending not to, but people were at least still talking, so it wasn’t as awkward as it could’ve been. Also, Jules was used to having people stare at him. He shrugged it off and followed them out of the Great Hall while the other two Ministry people went up to the staff table.
The silence was really awkward. Yaxley leaned on a wall, Elphias tried to ignore him, and Jules just sat on one of the statues’ pedestals with a sigh.
Harry
Andromeda Tonks and Dedalus Diggle angled towards the Slytherin table instead of the doors once they were done talking to Umbridge, and Harry immediately knew something was going on.
“Theo,” he murmured, and his friend’s head snapped up, eyes training on Diggle and Tonks in a second.
“Order?” Blaise said. His back was to the Great Hall, so he couldn’t see Diggle and Tonks coming their way, just Harry’s minute nod.
Pansy pressed her lips together. “What do you think they want?”
“Guess we’ll find out,” Harry said. Tonks’ attention was pinned on him like a hunter watching a snake in the grass. She was a dangerous predator in her own right but her weapons wouldn’t work on him.
Harry smiled hesitantly as they stopped by him and his friends. “Can we help you?”
“Andromeda Tonks,” Tonks introduced herself brusquely, as if they’d never met. “And I’m sure you remember Dedalus Diggle from the Potter galas.”
“Of course.” Harry made his smile a little warmer and ignored the tiny, subtle ripple of irritation that went through Slytherin at Tonks’ rude introduction. “A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Diggle, and to meet you, Mrs. Tonks. Is…” He hesitated, glanced towards the doors to the Great Hall, wondering suddenly if there was more to this than the Order needing to talk to Jules. If they were taking him somewhere. “Is something wrong with Jules?”
“We need to speak with both of you regarding a legal matter in the Ministry,” Tonks said. “If you’d please come with us?”
“Jules and I were in the middle of dinner.” Harry stared her down, both of them ignoring Diggle and the other Slytherins. “Can it wait?”
A muscle twitched in Tonks’ cheek. “It cannot.”
And Jules was already out there, probably willingly going along with whatever harebrained scheme they’d come up with. Harry flashed back to the conversation in the Astronomy Tower and wanted to facepalm. Jules was going to do something stupid and self-sacrificing, and the Order was getting Harry involved because they thought he was their perfect little spy or some such.
Well, leaving the Hall with Tonks would mean an opportunity to speak to Jules. Maybe Harry could talk him out of this, or talk some sense into him, or otherwise throw a wrench in their plans to keep Jules safe at Hogwarts.
“Right, then,” he said, setting aside napkin and fork. “I’ll see you guys in a bit.”
His friends offered a vague chorus of goodbyes as Harry climbed off the bench and left with Tonks and Diggle. It was made somewhat awkward by the fact that they were on the inside of the Slytherin table and Harry always sat on the outside, back to the wall, so he was effectively just keeping pace with them across the table.
Harry kept his attention on Tonks in his peripheral vision, and could tell by her body language that she was doing the same to him. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him without a wand and, being a Slytherin and a Black, she was in a position to see the truth of him more clearly than anyone else in the Order. It was sort of refreshing, actually, that she didn’t just dismiss him as too young to be a threat, but it also meant he would have a much harder job keeping Jules safe.
Andromeda Tonks was a Slytherin and a Black and that meant she’d do what was necessary in pursuit of her goals. Including use his brother as a martyr, if Harry was wrong about Jules having some kind of prophesied task. And even if he was right, well—Harry knew how Death Eaters fought, and how Aurors fought, and he wasn’t going to trust the Order to get Jules out of there alive.
Jules
Andromeda and Dedalus hurried out of the Great Hall a few minutes later. Jules was relieved for about a half second before he realized they weren’t alone.
“Harry?” he burst out.
His twin did something that looked like a snarl pretending to be a smile. “The one and only.”
“His presence is required at the Ministry,” Andromeda said. “A legal matter.”
Jules looked between them, frowning. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “…okay.”
“If it’s a legal matter, I want my lawyer,” Harry said firmly, crossing his arms. “And shouldn’t Lords Black and Potter be here? The Ministry is obligated to notify Heads of noble Houses if their Heirs are involved in legal trouble.”
“They’ve been notified,” Andromeda said.
Jules looked between them. He was pretty sure they’d never had a conversation that he wasn’t involved in but there was a lot of subtext to this conversation, none of it nice.
“And you need me now?” Harry pressed.
“We already had this conversation.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “We had a ten-second discussion in the Great Hall, and I’m sure you know perfectly well why I didn’t choose to drag it out in the middle of the Slytherin table.”
Andromeda paused. “Yes, it’s urgent. Julian was already coming, but we needed you at the last minute.”
“So you’re going to the Ministry,” Harry said, raising an eyebrow at Jules.
“Yeah,” Jules said. “They—need to talk to me. To sort out… some legal stuff.”
Harry’s eyes darted to Yaxley and back to Jules, who shook his head a tiny fraction. He wasn’t being forced into this by the Death Eater sympathizer.
“We need to speak with both of you,” Dedalus said.
Jules frowned. This wasn’t the plan he’d been told. He didn’t want Tonks taking risks for him and he definitely didn’t want his brother in danger. It risked Harry’s position as a double agent (if that was even legit) and also it put him in a fight.
A little voice whispered that maybe Jules just didn’t want to know what side Harry would choose. He squashed it. Not going to happen. Not his brother.
Who was, he realized, studying him.
“Yes,” Harry said abruptly, eyes back on Mrs. Tonks. “Fine. I’ll come. But I’m not speaking or signing anything until I have my solicitor there and I’ve seen evidence that Lord Black has been contacted.”
“Of course,” she said, waving her hand. “Just… come on, we’re taking the Floo.”
The six of them headed upstairs, in the direction of the staff room. Harry walked along with his hands relaxed and open, stride easy, eyes set ahead. Yaxley and Elphias lurked at their heels. Dedalus’ few attempts at making nervous conversation flopped. Jules sneaked a lot of sideways looks at his brother, trying to figure out what the hell was going on and why he was here, but Harry only looked back once and it was a half-second unreadable slide of his eyes that gave nothing away.
“Floo address is Ministry of Magic atrium,” Andromeda said briskly, passing around a pot of Floo powder around in front of the staff room fireplace. “Yaxley—”
“I’ll go last, I think,” Yaxley said with a humorless smile.
Andromeda’s eyes narrowed a little. “Fine. Elphias, with me.”
Theo
This was a problem. This was a colossal all-hands-off-deck (as Justin would say) capital-P Problem. They finished their dinner like everything was normal, of course, but the Slytherins didn’t even bother going back to their dorms before congregating in the Chamber. Hermione, Neville, Justin, and for some reason Luna appeared within minutes.
“What do we do?” Justin said immediately.
“The hag,” Daphne said. “She might know what’s going on, and she’s overstayed her welcome.”
“I have a plan,” Blaise said, meaning we, because he and Theo and Harry had discussed this a few times in the privacy of the Chamber long after curfew. “But it’s… unpleasant.”
“So is she,” Hermione spat.
“Might know because she’s Ministry?” Neville said, eyes heavy on Theo. “Or because she’s…”
“She’s not,” he snarled, and then collected himself with a deep breath. He was in charge with Harry gone which meant he had to stay calm. Harry should never have gone to the fucking Ministry. The soft spot for Jules, rearing its head again. No matter Jules had actually put in a visible effort this year, no matter he was Harry’s brother and potentially a decent guy under all the brainwashed arrogance—he was not worth Harry’s life. “Umbridge is not… that.”
Pansy rested a hand on Neville’s arm. “She’s been protected because she serves a purpose,” she said.
“I know,” Neville muttered.
Daphne frowned at Theo. “In any case, it’s both. The Ministry’s got to be complicit in this since it was Ministry people who came for them. The reason, on the other hand, is probably Death Eater.”
“Vincent Crabbe seemed a little off at dinner tonight,” Luna said. Everyone stopped and stared at her. She was prone to spitting out really random comments, but by now they’d all realized her comments were rarely as random as they seemed.
“Off as in we should go see what he knows?” Theo said.
Luna shrugged. “It probably couldn’t hurt.”
“Okay, so Crabbe,” Pansy said. “Meanwhile some of us should go deal with the hag.”
“Do we bring Draco in?” Theo said.
There was another pause, heavier this time. Hermione frowned like she did when she was thinking. Theo wanted to reach out to her but she wouldn’t appreciate it in this moment.
“…no,” Justin said. “He’s… okay, look, Theo and Pansy—if it comes down to it, you’d stand up to someone in those masks for a Viper.”
Theo nodded, slowly. If it was his father under the mask—well, if it was Father under the mask, he’d step aside, and so would Theo. Moot point. Pansy had a similar faith in Eleanor. That didn’t mean it would be easy—but for any of the people in this room, for Harry, he’d do it without hesitation.
“I’m not sure how easy that choice would be for Draco,” Justin said. “So until we know what the hell is happening and what we might have to do, leave him out of it.”
“He’s right,” Blaise said briskly. “Next order of business. Crabbe or the hag.”
“Trigger Curse?” Theo said, pretending he didn’t know the shape of the whole plan.
Hermione stiffened. “That’s… really illegal.”
“And really Dark, I’m aware,” Theo said. “We question her, leave the Trigger Curse so she fucks up later and ruins her entire career and reputation, then we obliviate the whole thing.”
Neville crossed his arms. “I don’t know…”
“Look,” Theo said harshly, “it’s Harry. Jules, too, since we all know Harry doesn’t want Jules hurt. And Umbridge deserves it. We’ve all heard what she’s done this year—the kind of shit she’s pulled—torturing Muggle-born students? Lacing tea with Veritaserum? The fucking blood quill?”
“Do it,” Justin said. Theo blinked at the darkness in his voice. “I want to be there.”
“I can cast it,” Theo said. “Pansy?”
“Coming.” She laced one arm with Justin’s.
“I’ll handle Crabbe, if you draw him out of the dorms,” Daphne said to Blaise. “He’s scared of me.”
“Everyone’s scared of you,” Blaise said fondly. “Let’s go. Meet back here in an hour?”
Hermione nodded. “Neville, let’s go see what we can get out of Ron. Jules didn’t seem at all surprised.”
“Good point.” Neville and Theo’s eyes locked for a second. “Theo…”
For a second, he was sure Neville was going to put up a fight—but he only said “Don’t go too far” and went to catch up with Hermione.
No such thing, Theo thought but did not say.
Blaise and Daphne took the passage back toward the dungeons, while Justin, Theo, and Pansy took the one that came out near the entrance hall. Luna tagged along. “I’ve never seen the Trigger Curse cast before,” she said when Pansy raised an eyebrow at her. Justin snorted.
In front of Umbridge’s door, Theo paused. “Luna, get the wards down, as soon as we’re in,” he said softly. “She won’t pay attention to you. We’ll distract her, then once they’re down, silencing spells and freeze her portraits and the cat plates, I think those things can spy. Justin, get hold of her Veritaserum. Pansy’s in charge of questioning. I’ll curse her and wipe her memory, then we set the office right and leave. She’ll just think she dozed off.”
Heads nodded and hands gripped wands. Theo plastered a polite expression on his face and knocked.
Harry
“What’s going on?” he hissed at Jules as soon as they were alone.
“Long story,” Jules said tersely.
“Not that long.” Harry crossed his arms. “We’re stuck in a waiting room, with Tonks and Yaxley standing guard, until my lawyer and Sirius and your father show up. Explain.”
Jules glared at him. “It’s a long story.”
“So give me the abridged version.”
“Look, I—” Jules broke off with a frustrated noise. “Fine. There’s a plan to draw out Voldemort. Tonks was supposed to swap out for me. I let Crabbe find out so the Death Eaters would step in and keep the swap from happening, because people are keeping secrets and I need to know what’s in the Department of Mysteries—what the prophecy says, if you’re right.”
Harry’s eyebrows were nearly in his hairline by the end of this little speech. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed that you’re thinking for yourself or exercising a little cunning,” he said.
Jules scowled.
“But also, you are an idiot to be so motivated by Tonks’ safety,” Harry continued. “She’s an adult, a trained Auror, and a member of the Order. She agreed to take your place well aware of the risks.”
“Still,” Jules muttered. He didn’t look away like he might have when they were younger, meeting Harry’s eyes stubbornly. He’d grown up.
They both had.
“Why am I here, then?” Harry said.
Jules frowned. “Because Andromeda made you come?”
“I could’ve got out of it,” Harry said, rolling his eyes. “It’s several kinds of illegal to drag a minor out of school without written permission of their guardian. Snape would’ve backed me, he’s Head of House and when I’m at school he’s technically responsible for me.”
“Why didn’t you?” Jules said.
Harry grinned unkindly. “To keep an eye on you, little brother. I could tell I couldn’t talk you out of going, not with Yaxley right there limiting what I could say, and I couldn’t let you gallivant off away from the safety of Hogwarts alone. Also, I wanted to know what’s going on as much as you. Sometimes you just have to do things yourself.” A lesson he was glad Jules was finally learning. He might not have said it but it wasn’t hard to guess Dumbledore and James were the ones keeping secrets. If Jules was frustrated enough to upset their plans and find out himself, that was a good sign.
“I don’t need your protection,” Jules said. “I don’t—want you here, getting hurt because of me!”
Harry opened his mouth and no words came out. That was not what he’d expected to hear and it wouldn’t be fair to respond with sarcasm or cruelty, not when Jules had been honest. Vulnerable.
Jules shut his eyes like he wanted to forget he’d said anything.
“If I’m injured, it won’t be your fault,” Harry said slowly. “I came because of my choice, Jules, and not just for you. I was curious. About whatever’s in the Department of Mysteries and why Dumbledore wanted me here too.”
“Yeah, that… makes no sense,” Jules said with a frown, confirming both that Dumbledore was planning this and that Harry wasn’t originally involved. “I don’t know. It wasn’t in the plan they told me.”
“I can guess,” Harry said, because now that he’d learned about the failed swap the picture was a little clearer.
“You can?” Jules blinked at him. “What, then?”
“We’re identical twins. Slap a glamour on my scar and eyes, and bam, walking decoy with no Polyjuice time limit,” Harry said. “If necessary.”
“We don’t look that alike,” Jules muttered. “I’m taller.”
“And I’m smarter,” Harry retorted. Jules made a face at him. “For people who don’t know us? Or who have only met us in a fight? It’s not a bad backup plan.”
“He wouldn’t,” Jules said instantly. “Not without asking you first.”
Harry swallowed several varyingly cruel responses to that idiocy. “Really?”
Jules opened his mouth, closed it, tried again, closed it again with a grimace. “I’m… not… sure,” he admitted, grudgingly.
Well, that was a lot more ground than Harry had expected him to give. The little flame of hope that he and Jules might one day reconcile their differences and have a relationship grew. Harry wouldn’t be able to kill it at this point even if he wanted to.
“I won’t let it happen,” Jules said.
“I will.” Harry shrugged. He was reasonably confident the Death Eaters wouldn’t kill him, but he couldn’t say that in front of Jules. “It’s not the worst plan, and so long as the Order provides an adequate escape route, I would act as a decoy. I’m more irritated that they dragged me along without asking or telling me what was going on.”
“Me too,” Jules muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to… say something, later.”
“Thanks,” Harry forced out.
Silence stretched. Once they heard raised voices outside their dingy waiting room, but no one came in.
“How’d your OWLs go?” Jules blurted.
Harry eyed him for a second. “Pretty well, I think.”
“Of course,” Jules said, grinning a little. “Top of the class and all.”
“Not without work,” Harry said.
“And cheating.”
Harry bristled, until he caught a tiny grin and realized Jules was teasing. “Very funny,” he said, smirking. “How did yours go? Tell me your Patronus attacked Umbridge. What is it, anyway?”
“Uh… they were fine,” Jules said. “Potions was… maybe not so fine, we’ll see. Wish I didn’t need it for Aurors. My Patronus is a Rottweiler; have you… really never seen it before?”
“Because we’re so big on sharing.”
Jules made a face. “Okay, fair point…”
Harry wrapped his mind around that. A Rottweiler. Huh.
“Still set on being an Auror, then,” he said.
“Of course.” Jules frowned. “I—what do you want to do? Be, whatever.”
Harry took a few seconds to edit his answer into something Jules-appropriate. “I’d like to get a Potions Mastery, maybe Runes and Spell Creation too. Eventually take up the Black seat.”
“Huh. You want more school?”
“I like school,” Harry said.
“Weirdo,” Jules muttered, but it was well-intentioned.
This time, they fell into silence that wasn’t horrifyingly awkward. Harry spun his wand around his fingers and tried not to laugh at the irony—the first real conversation he and Jules had had in ages was in the Ministry waiting for some convoluted Dumbledore plan to kick into motion.
Pansy
Anticipation tingled in her fingertips. Or magic—not that there was a difference between the two that mattered.
“Come in!” Umbridge’s sickly sweet voice set her teeth on edge, as usual.
Theo led the way inside.
The simpering smile stayed in place like it had a Sticking Charm, until Luna came in, at which point Umbitch’s pouchy eyes narrowed. Her expression slid all the way into disgust when she saw Justin.
“What can I do for you today?” she said. “Mr. Nott?”
My turn. Pansy eased up at Theo’s side. Her smile matched Umbridge’s for sweetness. “Well, Headmistress, Theo and I were talking this morning and we realized we’d both had a similar question about… OWLs, and our futures after Hogwarts. Mr. Finch-Fletchley overheard, and as he’s been wondering something similar, we decided to come here together.”
“And Miss Lovegood?” If possible, Umbridge looked even unhappier for a second as she glanced at Luna, but she dismissed her just as quickly. Pansy suddenly wished she could’ve eavesdropped on Umbridge teaching Luna’s class. Probably gave the hag nightmares.
“She said she had something to ask you,” Theo said, shrugging. “And she kind of… tagged along. She does that, apparently.”
Loony, Pansy mouthed, as if to herself. Umbridge saw the motion just like Pansy intended, and settled back in her chair with a self-satisfied sort of curl to her wide mouth. “Very well, Miss Parkinson, I know precisely what you mean. Some people just have… rather undesirable habits, no?”
“They do,” Pansy said, dialing up the sweetness a notch.
Umbridge did likewise. “And it falls to the better among us to prune those habits.”
Those people, you mean. “Hasn’t it always?” Pansy said.
One of Umbitch’s fleshy hands twitched. She could probably sense something was a little off here, but she sure as hell wouldn’t get it out of this conversation. Pansy could do this all day.
“Indeed it has,” she said slowly. “You said you had something to ask me?”
“More of a discussion topic, really.” Pansy sat down in one of the visitor’s chairs without asking. The others followed suit but she ignored them, arranged herself into the posture she learned watching her mother, the one that gave off royalty like perfume. “The relevance of OWLs to our future career options, especially when subpar teaching might limit our ability to perform well in the classroom.”
“Not yours, obviously,” Theo drawled, chin cocked up and shoulders loose. “Mr. Strickland’s book and your teaching methods have all been approved by the top experts, so we’ve no doubts there.”
“I do,” Justin muttered, playing his role to the hilt. Pansy swallowed a tiny grin.
Umbridge looked down her nose at him, even though she was technically shorter. “Yes, well, your opinion has been duly noted, Mr. Finch-Fletchley,” she simpered. “Miss Parkinson, Mr. Nott, did you have any specific concerns?”
“It’s done,” Luna announced.
“What’s done?” Umbridge said, eyes flicking between them.
“Excellent, thank you, Luna,” Pansy said. She didn’t take her eyes off Umbridge and savored the cracks that appeared in her self-assurance. Not fear, not yet, but something.
“What’s done?” Umbridge demanded. Sharper this time.
Theo stood like he had all the time in the world. “Luna’s project,” he said.
“Since Loony Lovegood’s hardly worth your notice,” Pansy said. Sugar crusted in the spaces between her words.
Luna drifted in the direction of a stack of lacy doilies. “Your wards weren’t even all that difficult, Daddy has far stronger ones on his study at home…”
“My…” Umbridge turned red with anger and she shot to her feet. “I can have you expelled for this, Lovegood! Tampering with the Headmistress’ office—”
“That claim of Headmistress would mean a lot more if you could get into the office,” Pansy said. “Petrificus totalus.”
Theo frowned at her as Umbridge’s board-stiff body toppled to the floor. “Not stupefy?”
“I want her to hear what we’re doing,” Pansy said. Justin snickered and started digging through Umbridge’s drawers. Luna appeared to be systematically turning Umbridge’s plates to dust and back with the air of someone performing a very delicate and fascinating experiment. “If we’re wiping her afterward I get to enjoy this.”
“I knew we were friends for a reason.”
“Got it!” Justin popped up from the tea service with a vial of clear potion. “She keeps it with the tea leaves. You really shouldn’t do that,” he added to the figure at his feet, tone so patronizing it rivaled Umbridge’s on a bad day. “Way too easy for people to find it. Even stupid worthless Mudbloods like me.”
“Someone’s got a bone to pick,” Theo said.
Justin chucked one of the lace doilies at him. Theo batted it aside, laughing.
“Ready?” Pansy said, wand out.
Justin moved aside, out of Umbridge’s reach. “Yep.”
Pansy canceled her spell.
Umbridge heaved herself to her feet. “You dare—”
“Expelliarmus,” Justin said, and snatched her wand. “This makes twice now.”
Theo snorted. “C’mon, Umbridge, beaten twice by a teenage Mudblood? You really need to up your dueling skills.”
“You can’t do this!” she shrieked. “I’m—I’m… Your father will hear about this! And disapprove, Mr. Nott!”
“What Father doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Theo said flippantly. Something cruel and intent had come to life in his eyes, though, and Pansy winced internally. It was the side of Theo she’d seen only in snippets when they were children. “Glacius.”
It was a child’s jinx, low-powered and short-lived, but Umbridge’s paralysis lasted long enough for Justin to force a few drops of potion down her throat. She slumped immediately into a Veritaserum-induced haze. Justin sat her down in her office chair. Umbridge’s head slumped sideways, vacant eyes fixed somewhere over Pansy’s shoulder.
“Did you know Harry Black and Jules Potter were to be taken to the Ministry tonight?” she said briskly.
“I knew something was happening,” Umbridge said. “I knew… it was to be tonight, and involve Potter. I knew nothing of Black’s involvement.”
“Why was Potter to go to the Ministry?”
“It was… a plan. To draw out the Dark Lord.” Theo nodded. “The information… leaked. Everyone in the higher echelons of the Ministry knew about it… knew Potter would be coming…”
“Did you tell the Death Eaters?” Pansy said.
Drool trailed out of Umbridge’s mouth. “No, my role is… here. I knew it would reach my comrades… Potter will die tonight, and the Dark Lord will have a clear path to cleanse our society… of Mudbloods, half-breeds, Squibs, all the filth…”
“Charming,” Justin muttered.
Pansy glanced at Theo. “I think that’s all we can get out of her on this subject.”
He checked his pocket watch. “Be quick.”
“What do you believe is your role in the Death Eaters?” Pansy said.
Umbridge smiled lazily. “Why, a… vital one. To influence the youth is a key point… and I am here… at Hogwarts, paving the way… for my fellows…”
“You’re a valuable piece, then,” Pansy said.
“Yesss…”
Theo snorted.
Pansy kicked him. “Does Fudge actually not believe the Dark Lord is back?”
“He… is… in denial. I believe, subconsciously, he knows… but he clings to his sinking broom… I used to respect him, you know, used to want nothing more than to be his confidante and successor… but the Dark Lord returned and showed me a better way…”
“Zealotry,” Luna sighed. “So easy to exploit.”
“What do you know of Fudge’s plans?”
“He is focused on… catching Dumbledore, to the point of… obsession. And the media campaign against the Potters… they’ve been… buying reporters, making it harder for the Ministry to dictate what’s said, slowing down the slander campaign… but he’ll prevail. The Ministry owns the Prophet executives. Then there’s… Longbottom, she’s been more vocal than usual on the Wizengamot, opposing Ministry objectives… Fudge means to reduce her influence… and Lucius has been less pliant lately… Fudge suspects he’s making a bid for Minister in the next election, he’d gotten paranoid…”
“Is Malfoy not a Death Eater?” Justin said.
Pansy shot him a look. He shrugged, hands in his pockets, unrepentant.
“I’ve never seen him… in high-level meetings,” Umbridge mumbled. “If he is a Death Eater… he’s trusted with nothing important.”
You absolute moron. “And the Dark Lord’s plans?”
“I… to… kill Dumbledore, take power, and wipe away the filth polluting our world,” she said.
“Nothing useful there,” Theo muttered.
Pansy made a face and stood up, stretching her back. “Clearly they told her what she wanted to hear.”
“Good, ‘cause we’re short on time,” Justin said, moving in with the antidote.
Umbridge swung wildly for him as she came around but he dodged easily and pocketed the antidote again. “You—you—how dare you,” she panted, hair in disarray. “Assaulting a teacher! Possession of a Class B Restricted Substance, forcing it on a Ministry executive—”
“Pity being stupid isn’t a crime, you’d go away for life,” Theo said.
“Somnus,” Justin said, and then caught her body with a silent levitation charm as she slumped into sleep.
“Nice,” Pansy said.
“Thanks.” He deposited her in her chair. “Bam, she’ll think she was just napping. How much of that about the Death Eaters was bullshit?”
Theo glanced at Pansy, saw no disagreement, and kicked Umbridge in the knee. “All of it. I can confirm she’s not a high-level Death Eater. They’ve got her convinced she ranks above Lucius, what the fuck.”
“Right. Have at it,” Justin said.
Theo tapped his wand against his leg a few times, eyes unfocused. Probably doing Occlumency. They only focused a little as he stepped forward and pressed the tip of his wand to Umbridge’s forehead. “Mikinyatfero gis’khira,” he said. The incantation came out in the careful pronunciation of someone who hadn’t cast this spell much before.
Umbridge’s entire body seized briefly. Theo’s left hand jerked into a fist and he trembled a little. “Trigger: you are with Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge at a public event, in full view of plenty of people, including a number who aren’t beholden to you, and also some of the press. Response: you will behave as you normally would until the event is well underway. Then, after five to ten minutes, you will appear to lose your mind and begin screaming at Minister Fudge. You will express to him all your fury that the Ministry does nothing to deal with the filth polluting our society, like Mudbloods, the beastly Muggles, and half-breed abominations. You will also express fury that people think the Death Eaters want to kill or enslave Muggle-borns but it’s a lie spread by Light propaganda. After thirty seconds to a minute of ranting, if no one has stopped you or taken your wand, you will attempt to curse him using fairly mild Dark curses that St. Mungo’s can heal easily, until someone disarms you.”
With a choked gasp, he snatched his wand away and staggered backward. Umbridge slumped again. Luna and Justin caught Theo by the arms. “You good?” Justin said, frowning at his face.
“Uhhh,” said Theo.
Pansy flicked her wand. “Aguamenti.”
A jet of cold water hit Theo straight in his pale, clammy face. He sputtered back to life. “Pansy what the hell!”
“It worked,” she said. “And as everyone keeps pointing out, we’re short on time.”
Grumbling, Theo rubbed his robe sleeve over his face. Justin wasn’t even trying to hide his laughter.
Luna blinked owlishly at Theo. “Was it hard?”
“What, the curse?” He frowned. “Not… hard so much as… tiring. Like… whoever designed that thing did a great job, the incantation shaped the magic and I didn’t have to do anything… but it felt like the magic got ripped out of me. I couldn’t have stopped if I tried before I set the trigger and the response.” Theo paused, and added, “That is a lot easier on conjured dogs than people.”
“Big surprise,” Justin said.
“How fascinating,” Luna mused. “I may have to do some experimentation this summer… Shall we go?”
“Good plan,” Justin said. “I’d really rather not get caught cursing the High Inquisitor, thanks.”
Neville
“Fuck.”
“Scared, Weasel?” the older Slytherin sneered. “You should be.”
“Guess it didn’t sink far enough into his head the first time we busted their little club,” the other one said. Her wand stabbed painfully into Neville’s spine. He didn’t recognize either of them.
“This wasn’t a club meeting,” he said. Trying not to let his voice shake, or his stutter come back, or the knot in his throat squeeze tight on his words. It was so much better recently but still, when he got taken by surprise—“We were j-just hanging out.”
Okay, one stutter, fine. He could handle that.
“Nice try,” the first kid, the boy, said. His eyes clung to Neville and Hermione in a way Neville didn’t like. They were friends with Slytherins, unlike Ron and Parvati, so why—“We’ve got the ringleaders this time, and the two jumped-up Gryffindors!”
“Jumped up?” Hermione said furiously.
The Slytherins snorted in unison. “Some of your friends are so far above you it’s not even funny,” the second one said. “Time to put you in your place. All of you. Move. And don’t try anything, Weasel, I know you like to fight Muggle but I’ll curse you if you try.”
Scowling, Ron slouched off down the hallway. Parvati and Hermione hurried after him but Neville lingered. Stared down the Slytherin boy who seemed to be in charge, and whose voice had stolen Neville’s wand. He was average height, average looks, average everything to the point of being creepy. Like he did it on purpose. The only thing that stood out was some really well-hidden malice in his (average) hazelish eyes. Neville could only see it because some of his best friends hid it better.
“Go on,” he said softly. “Follow your friends.”
“Only one’s my friend,” Neville said. It came out a growl. But the Slytherin wasn’t intimidated; he just smiled and pushed a little harder.
Neville went.
Approaching Umbridge’s office, Neville’s heart was in his mouth. If Theo and the others were still in there—if they got caught cursing her into oblivion—they couldn’t just keep Obliviating people all over the place. Eventually someone would go to St. Mungo’s for something else, a mind healer would spot traces of the spell, and because it was a teenager who cast it, they’d probably be able to undo it. And then they’d all be screwed.
His hands clenched into fists as Ron grudgingly opened the door—but there was nothing there.
“Headmistress?” the second Slytherin called, his voice soft. “Er… hello?”
“What’s going on?” the one in charge snapped.
“She looks like she’s sleeping. Get in there, all of you,” the second one said, shoving Parvati. She glared at him and flounced into the office with her chin high.
Neville filed in and lined up at wandpoint with the other three. He had to find a way out of this but he didn’t see one. A glance at Hermione caught her matching panic.
“Headmistress?” the creepy one said, touching her shoulder gently.
“Wha—? Huhhgah—who is it?” she shrieked, launching upright and then almost falling over. Her eyes looked wild and her skin clammy. “Owens? Seaton? What in Merlin’s…”
“Professor, we caught them,” the creepy one said. Neville didn’t know if he was Seaton or Owens. “Having another one of their little meetings.”
“It wasn’t a meeting,” Hermione broke in. “We were just talking! We’re all in the same House, the same year, we’re allowed to have conversations!”
Umbridge looked wildly between them. “No, no—no I know you Gryffindors!” she hissed. Her face was twisted almost past the point of looking human. “You’re conspiring behind our backs, just like Dumbledore! At Potter’s bidding, no doubt—Seaton, get the—no, I need—I need the forms—I’ll be back, do not let them escape!” she snarled, spittle flying, and then she bolted.
“Oookay,” Ron said.
“Jarred…”
“Shut it, Owens,” the creepy one snarled. Guess that solved the question of who they were. “Just shut it. She was sleeping, and I heard Dumbledore’s been spotted.”
Owens nodded. “Got it.”
Seaton’s eyes roved along the line of them. “In the meantime… we can have a little fun.”
“You’ll get in trouble,” Hermione hissed.
Seaton grinned and flicked his little silver I pin. “No, we won’t, Granger. For all those grades you just don’t get some things, do you? Must really rankle how Black went from a scrawny snot-nosed little kid to topping every class. Slytherin work ethic, every time.”
“She works as hard as any of you,” Neville spat.
“Probably harder than most of you,” Parvati said icily.
Owens leered at them. “Goody for her.”
“Who shall we play with first,” Seaton said quietly, eyes dancing from one to the next. “How about… Granger, you’ve been annoying me lately.”
Neville stepped sideways without a thought. Between Seaton and Hermione.
“Move it, Longbottom,” the Slytherin said softly, wand steady at Neville’s chest. “Or I’ll move you.”
“Overt threats?” Neville said. “Tacky.”
The Slytherin sneered. “I’m keeping it simple for your Gryffindor brain.”
“Well, like you said, I have Slytherin friends,” Neville said. “I can handle subtle. And I’m a pureblood, whoever you are, you don’t get to tell me I’m not good enough.”
No one got to tell him that, ever again.
“Pureblood,” the boy scoffed. “I’m not a fucking pureblood, moron. Some of us have the brains not to care about blood, you know? Some of us have the brains to realize what matters is the person, not the parents. You’re a Gryffindor. Reckless, rash, narrow-minded, stupid. If Black and Nott and Parkinson aren’t going to cut you and Granger off themselves I’ll do it for them. You soil Salazar’s legacy and some of our world’s noblest and oldest Houses every day they let you tag along.” He stepped closer, wand jabbing into Neville’s chest now. “It’s pitiful. Granger, the insufferable know-it-all. Just keeping you around for your grades, like everybody else. And then you, Longbottom. Sniveling cowardly piece of shit. All this time you’re just desperate to prove you’re as good as Mummy and Daddy, good enough to have friends, to carry a wand… What, does Black hold your hand and tell you you’re brave?”
“Shut. Up,” Ron growled. Neville barely heard him over the ringing in his ears.
Seaton’s eyes changed. Neville realized, vaguely, that Umbridge’s plates were trembling, setting up a faint constant rattle. “Oh,” Seaton said softly, “look at that. You do have a spine. Maybe you’re not as useless as I thought.”
Neville didn’t know what he’d have done then if Umbridge hadn’t waddled back in and broken the tension. Or—well, redirected it, mostly. “No forms,” she panted. “No forms, but I’ll have to do it myself. Get Weasley up here, he always knows Potter’s plans.”
“What—” Parvati started.
“Silencio!” Umbridge half-shrieked. The spell hit Parvati’s shoulder and her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. “That’s better. Weasley!”
Owens grabbed Ron by the shoulder and yanked him forward. Seaton retreated to a safe distance and covered the other three, wand at the ready.
“Tell me,” Umbridge hissed at Ron, wand in his face, “where’s Potter gone? Why did his father have the Ministry pull him out tonight? What is going on?”
“I… I dunno,” Ron said.
“Yes, you do.” Spit was really flying now. Neville looked at Hermione again, wondering just what the hell curse Theo used on her. What they did. “This is Potter’s doing, Potter and Dumbledore! I know you can get in touch with him, I know you know how to contact your little vigilante club, and you will tell me!”
“I won’t,” Ron said stubbornly. “I don’t know anything.”
His hands were fists.
“Fine.” Umbridge was panting, eyes bright and knuckles white on her wand. “Fine—you leave me with no alternative… This is a matter of government security now… I do not want to… but sometimes circumstances justify the use… yes.” She looked at Ron with a disturbingly hungry look on her face. Neville’s heart rate jacked up even more. Whatever Theo did seemed to have let the sick and twisted side of Umbridge loose. “The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue.”
“No!” Hermione shrieked. “It’s illegal!”
Umbridge took no notice. Raised her wand.
“The Minister wouldn’t want you to!” Hermione shouted.
“What Cornelius doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Umbridge panted, “and besides, I have more important loyalties…”
Seaton blinked and Owens frowned. Did they not know?
“But—”
“Silencio.” Umbridge stared at Hermione’s face with a sick, demented smile. “Yes… yes, this will do…” She aimed her wand right between Ron’s eyes. He braced himself, screwing them shut.
If Neville had to watch this he was going to be sick.
“Crucio.”
Ron screamed. Neville’s stomach heaved and only the thought of how humiliated he’d be if he vomited in front of Umbridge kept it down. Ron didn’t collapse instantly but it only took about a second before he gave in and slumped to the ground. Where he twitched and spasmed and screamed and Neville’s ears echoed with other screams, other figures writhing, other hands leveling wands, and he ached for his own wand back.
He’d cast crucio on her.
Umbridge ended the spell, breathing heavily. “Now, Weasley… tell me. What is the Order of the Phoenix planning?”
“Fuck,” Ron panted, then paused. He got one shaking elbow under his body and glared up at Umbridge. “You.”
“Well then.” Hermione flinched violently and Neville tore his eyes away, glanced at her, registered her pleading, desperate, determined expression. The way her mouth was working helplessly. She had something to say.
Fuck. Wandless, silent spells—Neville wasn’t sure he could pull that off… but Harry always said it was intention.
Neville closed his eyes and focused and wanted.
“Last opportunity,” Umbridge breathed, like she was hoping Ron would keep defying her. “Tell me, Weasley, or we go another round.”
It was like his magic wouldn’t go anywhere, wouldn’t do anything, wouldn’t react or respond but—Neville had spent years forcing his magic through a wand that didn’t choose him. This wasn’t too different. He didn’t have a wand, but he did have years more experience, and he knew never to take his magic for granted.
“I’ll tell… you… jack… shit,” Ron said, and spat on Umbridge’s robes.
She opened her mouth.
Something snapped and magic left Neville in a wild surge.
“NO!” Hermione shrieked, and he almost collapsed in relief. “No, Ron, enough… we have to… we have to tell her!”
“What?” he said, almost angrily. Neville knew that feeling—when you were bracing yourself for the worst, and then something put it off, dragged out the sick anticipation and dread—
“There’s no use,” Hermione said. “We’ve got to tell her, she’ll force it out of you anyway…”
Parvati began sobbing quietly into her hands. Neville wrapped an arm around her without a thought. “I—d-didn’t—want to,” she sniffed. “I t-told you it was too d-dangerous…”
Neville had no idea what was going on but the girls seemed to have a plan, so he’d go with it.
“Well!” said Umbridge, focus now on Hermione. “It appears little miss Question-All is going to give us some answers! Come on, girl, come on!”
“Hermione, no!” Neville said, glaring at her over Parvati’s shoulder because it seemed right.
“I’m s-sorry,” she whimpered. “I c-can’t watch him get tortured…”
“You, girl, what do you know?” Umbridge said, rounding on Parvati.
Seaton flicked his wand and murmured the counter for silencio.
Parvati shot a frightened look at Hermione. “I… just that… it wasn’t me, I was just a lookout, she’s in charge!” She dissolved into more tears and pointed a shaking hand at Hermione.
“What is the plan!” Umbridge howled, right in Hermione’s face.
Hermione shrank back. “We—we’re trying to g-get in touch with P-Professor Dumbledore,” she whispered, loud enough to fill the room. “He—he needed Jules tonight for the… plan, but we—we needed to tell him it’s ready—we were just talking about how to—to get to the Floo or something…”
“What’s ready?” Umbridge demanded.
“The… weapon,” Hermione said, eyes closed.
Oh. Okay. That was pretty good bait. Neville still didn’t know where she was going with this but it was a damn good lie, one Umbridge was deranged enough to believe. And Ron and Parvati would be safe.
Owens’ attention was pinned on Hermione but Seaton was watching Neville—he was the smart one, the dangerous one. Neville scowled at him and thought about himself at twelve years old, shrinking back into his chair while Jules and Ron mocked the firsties. His face burned with shame and Seaton smirked at him and looked back at Umbridge.
“Weapon! To use against the Ministry, the Dark Lord?” Umbridge said. “You’re building a weapon? On Dumbledore’s orders?”
“Y-yes,” Hermione sniffed. “But he had t-to leave before it was f-finished and he said he—said he needed it for the final plan and this is it but we c-can’t find him to t-tell him!”
“What kind of weapon is it?” Umbridge said harshly, clamping her hands onto Hermione’s shoulders and shaking her a little.
“We don’t really underst-stand it,” Hermione said. “We j-just followed P-Professor Dumbledore’s orders…”
Umbridge straightened. “Lead me to it.”
“I’m not showing them,” Hermione said shrilly, looking at the Slytherins through her fingers.
“It is not for you to set conditions,” Umbridge snarled.
“Fine!” Parvati suddenly shrieked. “Fine, take them, let them see! I hope they use it on you—oh, I hope the whole school finds out, and how to use it, and then if you annoy any of them they c-can sort you out!”
She collapsed into Neville again but her words clearly had a powerful impact on Umbridge. The hag glanced swiftly and suspiciously over her two Inquisitorial Squad members; Owens in particular was too slow to hide the greed on his face.
“All right, then, dear,” Umbridge said softly, speaking in what she clearly thought was a motherly tone, “let’s just make it you and me, then, shall we? And Weasley for good measure… since you two seem to be the little ringleaders.”
She looked right over Neville. Just like everyone else. Always.
“Seaton, Owens, keep those two contained until I get back,” she said, nodding at Parvati and Neville.
“Yes, Professor,” Seaton said promptly.
“You two, go ahead of me,” Umbridge said sharply, jabbing her wand in Ron’s back as he stood. “Lead on…”
Theo
“Where are they?” Daphne said, pacing.
“They should be back by now,” Justin muttered.
Theo shook his head. “They’re probably stuck with the lions and waiting for an excuse.”
“Probably,” Justin said. “But Filch could’ve gotten to them, or Umbridge, or the other Gryffindors pitched a hissy fit and got them all caught for dueling in the halls. And they haven’t responded to the journals. We should at least check.”
“We’d have to find them,” Daphne snapped.
“Crabbe won’t tell anyone, right?” Theo said.
She glared at him and he couldn’t quite hide his wince. “No, he won’t fucking tell anyone, I scared him so badly he wet himself.”
“Oookay,” Justin said. “Congratulations, I’ll bake you a cake. Friends. Finding. Preferably now.”
“We never should’ve taught him sarcasm,” Pansy muttered.
Justin whacked her shoulder. “I knew sarcasm just fine before I fell in with you hooligans.”
“Hooligans?” Pansy drew herself up like an offended cat. “I am far too classy to be a hooligan! Theo, maybe.”
“Let’s go now,” Blaise said, pacing. “We can split up into pairs, communicate with the journals. Maybe rope Ginny into this, or some of the younger Vipers as scouts. We have to find them.”
“Pairs, fine, but we are not getting the kids out,” Justin said. “It’s like fifteen minutes to curfew and if they get caught Umbridge is going to lose it.”
“She’ll be particularly unstable after the curse,” Luna noted, staring at the ceiling.
“Oh. Great. Just what we needed, an even-more-psychotic-than-usual headmistress running around, what could possibly go wrong,” Theo snarled. How did Harry fucking do this?
“You cast it!” Daphne said.
“Yeah, and I’ve never used it on a person before, I knew it was disorienting, not that it’d leave her… unstable!”
Justin threw up his hands. “All the more reason to leave now! Before she gets involved.”
“Fine.” Blaise shot to his feet. “Luna, pair with me?”
“Of course,” she said. No one even made suggestive eyebrows at him, which probably should’ve concerned Theo, but he was already at his concern limit.
Pansy latched onto Justin’s elbow. “Will you protect me, Justin?”
“No,” he said. “I’m sniping from behind while I use you as a human shield.”
“See, this is why you get along with Slytherins. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Theo’s head snapped up and he stared at one of the carved snakes near the Slytherin statue’s feet.
“We don’t have time to wait,” Justin snapped.
Theo shook his head. “No, it’s—did Harry take Eriss with him?”
Hermione
Thank Circe Ronald had the sense to stay behind her and not try to talk. It would’ve been awful if he appeared not to know where they were going.
Especially since Umbridge was following so closely behind that Hermione could hear her ragged breathing.
She marched straight out the front doors and down the steps. Ronald nearly tripped. Hermione hauled him upright without even looking at him.
“It’s hidden in Hagrid’s hut, isn’t it?” Umbridge hissed, pressing close.
Swallowing revulsion, Hermione channeled Daphne and said scathingly, “No, of course not. Hagrid might have set it off on accident.”
If she’d been facing the Headmistress her face probably would have given her away, but she wasn’t. Umbridge laughed nastily. Her excitement seemed to be mounting. “Yes, he would have done, of course, the great half-breed oaf…”
And just like that, any lingering second thoughts about the Trigger Curse died violent deaths. Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she had to keep herself from swinging around and clocking Umbridge in the face. Magic was great but sometimes a solid punch was just so much more satisfying.
Later, she told herself, and kept right on marching toward the forest.
“Is it… in the forest?” Umbridge said, when it became obvious they could be going nowhere else on the grounds.
“Well, yes,” Hermione said, still without turning around. She was getting better but this much hatred was impossible to keep off her face. “It had to be somewhere students wouldn’t just stumble over it…”
“Right… of course,” Umbridge said. “Well, then. You two go first.”
Ronald made a squeaking noise. Hermione glanced at him sideways; he’d gone dead white. Spiders, right, she’d forgotten that. He’d have to get over it.
“What’s wrong with him?” Umbridge said suddenly. “Haven’t you been in here before, boy?”
“He doesn’t come much,” Hermione said. “Doesn’t like the acromantulas even though it’s nowhere near their territory… Ronald, get over yourself… or…” She glanced fearfully over her shoulder at Umbridge. A quick glance, she could get away with that…
Ronald followed suit, and paled further. “Ok-okay…”
When Hermione was little, her parents loved going camping in the Forest of Dean. The last time they went was the summer after first year—she shoved various assorted emotions aside to deal with later thank you very much—but she still remembered bolting through the woods while Dad pretended to be too slow to catch her. There was a certain trick to ploughing along with brambles and bushes and tree roots in the way, especially when it was dark out, something you could really only learn with practice. It came back to her now and she latched onto Ronald’s arm and half-dragged him into the dark. Moving as fast as she dared.
“Is it very far in?” Umbridge said, tripping.
“Oh yes,” Hermione said. Her lips curled into a smile she’d learned from Pansy. “Yes, it’s very well hidden.”
“Be quiet,” Ronald hissed.
Hermione winked at him.
Umbridge tripped again, over a sapling this time, and crashed to the ground. Neither of them stopped to help. “It’s just a bit farther in!” Hermione said loudly.
“Keep it down,” Ronald hissed, glaring around. “This is… Hermione, this is near the spiders!”
“They’re called acromantulas, Ronald, and I told you they’re much farther in,” Hermione said, even louder. “You can calm down!”
“There’s other stuff in here!” he whispered furiously.
“Yes. That’s the point.”
He blinked several times. “Merlin’s balls, you’ve gone mad.”
“Oh get over it, Ronald.”
Umbridge caught up to them, panting angrily. “How much further?”
“Not far now!” Hermione half-shouted. “Just a little bit—”
An arrow whistled over their heads and thudded into a tree.
“—farther,” she whispered. The Pansy smile grew wider.
Thundering hoofbeats shattered the forest’s stillness. The ground trembled—Umbridge grabbed Ronald and swung him around as a shield—
He wrenched himself free just as Hermione shoved her hair out of her face and met the eyes of a tall chestnut centaur. Fifty or so others lined the clearing, with intricate tattoos covering their torsos and bows aimed steadily at the humans.
Hermione’s hands shook and she balled them into fists, stuffed them behind her back. Ronald looked terrified but he stood firm and jutted out his chin. Umbridge, on the other hand, backed into the middle of the small clearing, making odd little whimpers of complete fear.
“Who are you?” the chestnut centaur said roughly.
“Students at the school,” Hermione said, fighting to steady her voice. She was mostly successful. “We—”
“Stay back!” Umbridge shrieked, wand trembling violently but aimed right at another centaur. This one’s horse body was a darker brown, with human skin the color of an oak tree. “I am Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress and High Inquisitor of Hogwarts!”
The centaurs shifted restlessly. Ronald’s arms twitched and Hermione latched onto his wrist, willing him to be silent.
“You are from the Ministry?” the chestnut said.
“That’s right!” Umbridge said in an even higher voice. “So be very careful! By the laws laid down by the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, any attack by half-breeds on a witch or wizard—”
“What did you call us?” shouted a wild-looking centaur. This one’s horse body was black with human skin like a birch tree. His tattoos stood out stark in the faint moonlight.
“Don’t call them that,” Hermione snapped, but no one heard her.
The centaurs were all angry; an unhappy rustle went around the clearing. Bowstrings tightened. Most of them were aimed at Umbridge now but Hermione’s heart still felt like it was trying to climb up her esophagus.
“Law Fifteen B states clearly that ‘Any attack by a magical creature that is deemed to have near-human intelligence, and therefore responsible for its actions—’”
“Near-human?” the chestnut roared. “Near-human?”
“We consider that a great insult, human!” the black-and-birch one snarled. “Our intelligence, thankfully, far outstrips your own—”
“What are you doing here?” bellowed a hard-faced gray centaur with skin of ash. “Why are you in our forest?”
“Your forest?” Umbridge said. “I would remind you that you live here only because the Ministry of Magic permits you certain areas of land—”
An arrow flew so close to her head that it tore off her horrid pink bow. She screamed and threw her hands over her head. The centaurs laughed, stamping raucously, shifting in and out of the shadows of the trees. Hermione’s skin crawled but—this honestly was going pretty much how she’d hoped.
If only they could get out of here alive. Hannah had better be right that centaurs liked the young of any species, even witches and wizards.
“Whose forest is it now, human?” bellowed the black-and-birch centaur.
“Filthy half-breeds!” Umbridge screamed, hands over her head and hysteria thick in her voice. “Beasts! Uncontrollable animals! Incarcerous!”
Oh shit. Ropes shot out of the end of her wand and lashed around the wild centaur. He bellowed and thrashed. The others shouted their anger and charged.
Ronald latched onto Hermione and dragged her to the forest floor. She clamped her hands over her head like Umbridge, tasted her wild terrified heartbeat—but the centaurs thundered over and around them, screaming their rage.
“No!” Umbridge shrieked. “Noooo… I am Senior Undersecretary—you cannot—unhand me, you animals—noooo!”
There was a bang and a flash of red light. A centaur collapsed. The chestnut one grabbed Umbridge around the waist and lifted her high off the ground. Her wand fell from her hand, and Hermione stretched out and snatched it—
“NOW!” someone roared, and hands dragged Hermione upright. She quelled the urge to hex them and shoved the wand up her sleeve. Over the plunging multihued centaurs, she saw Umbridge being borne away through the trees by the chestnut, in the middle of a whole herd of them.
Serves you right.
Her screaming voice grew fainter and fainter until they could no longer hear it with human ears.
“And these?”
Hermione flinched and spun. The gray-and-ash centaur, the wild black-and-birch one, and a few others were still crowded around, tall and menacing. Plus the one on the forest floor, hopefully only Stunned.
“They are young,” a slow, doleful voice said. “We do not attack foals.”
“They are not so young,” the wild one snarled. He was still bound by enchanted ropes and obviously furious about it. “They are nearing adulthood.”
Ronald shrank back, and Hermione started to before she caught herself.
Careful, careful. Hermione was a Gryffindor but that didn’t mean she couldn’t think before she spoke. Don’t offend the prickly terrifying centaurs. “We… she’s been tormenting us all year,” she whispered. “The… Muggle-borns, especially, and Hagrid…”
That was clearly the wrong thing to say—they stamped and shifted restlessly, and the wild one looked angrier—and here Hagrid had always told her he got on well with the centaurs—
“Please,” she said, talking faster to outrace her fear. “We—we aren’t Ministry, we couldn’t do anything about her, but we—led her in here because we thought—I can’t do anything about her but you should get to. Since she hates you, too. I—couldn’t get justice but…”
“What, you thought us pretty talking horses to do your bidding?” the wild one roared, to approval from his fellows. “We are an ancient people who will not stand for wizard invasion!”
“This wasn’t invasion!” Hermione said. “It—look, I have a wand!”
Instantly, their bows were all trained on her.
She opened her trembling, empty hands. “And I haven’t used it. I d-don’t want to fight or—or make enemies.”
“That’s right,” Ronald said. His voice was shaking nearly as bad as hers. “We’re—just—trying to help our friends. We don’t—like her. Or—think like her.”
You create more goodwill by offering help freely than bargaining it away, Justin whispered in her memory. A long-ago argument about business ethics, and the lessons his parents taught him as a kid about hard work bringing them both up from nothing, and how trust but verify was practically engraved on their walls.
“I can help you,” Hermione blurted.
Okay, so she maybe could’ve phrased that better, but whatever. There was nothing wrong with being direct.
“You?” the gray sneered. “Help us?”
“She used magic on you,” Hermione said, scrambling for the words that would fit. “She—that wasn’t our intention tonight—but I stole her wand, I can undo it. The ropes, and the spell on—him.” She nodded at the unconscious centaur.
“How do we know you won’t curse us?” one of them growled.
“Because you’ve got about twenty arrows aimed at me, and my friend hasn’t got—got a wand,” Hermione said. “I could t-try something but you’d kill both of us. I’m not—stupid.”
The wild one snorted. “Fine. Remove these restraints, and if you harm me, human, I will trample you into mulch no matter your youth.”
Gulping, Hermione let Umbridge’s wand fall into her hand. It was steady when she raised it and clearly spoke the counter to incarcerous.
Her magic was sluggish and weak, forced through a wand that was not her own. It seemed to shy away from Umbridge’s wand with all the revulsion Hermione felt around the woman herself. Couldn’t be Dark magic taint, since Hermione had done magic considered Dark in Viper meetings. She was really just this absolutely awful.
Sluggish and weak, yes, but it still worked. The ropes fell away and disintegrated against the ground.
The wild one flexed his arms. Eyed Hermione with slightly decreased anger. “Wake Vergonis.”
“Renervate,” she said, aiming the stolen wand at the fallen centaur.
He blinked, stirred, and then scrambled to his feet with a horselike noise of shock. “Have ease, Vergonis,” the gray one said. “It is under control.”
“You are well, Bane?” another one said.
“I am.” The wild one—Bane—stamped one hind leg. “She… did as she said.”
Hermione took a deep breath. She did not want to do this—Umbridge’s wand was better than no wand—but she needed to convince them to go away.
She had never been this afraid in her life.
Slowly, she flipped it around so she was holding it at the tip, and offered the wand to Bane.
Every centaur in the clearing froze. And Hermione knew perfectly well why. She knew the magical creature laws; she’d read all about this in the height of what Theo laughingly called her house-elf crusade. Which had been waylaid by her friends, partially, but she had not given up on the mistreatment of centaurs, merpeople, giants, werewolves, vampires, house-elves, and more. She knew perfectly well the penalties for a centaur caught with a wand, or for the witch or wizard who gave one of them a wand.
They were unpleasant.
“Hermione,” Ronald said quietly. Of course he’d have an idea, with a Ministry father, growing up in a pureblood household.
Hermione ignored him.
Bane took the wand, examined it for a second, and handed it over to the gray. “Ronan,” he said.
Ronan accepted it, studied it, and then snapped it easily in half. “That woman’s magic is vile,” he growled.
“Agreed,” Hermione said before she thought about it. Then she clamped her hands over her mouth.
Impossibly, Ronan’s face twitched toward a smile. “What is your name, witch-foal?”
“Her… Hermione,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“A strong name,” he said. “Accept my advice, witch-foal. The forest is not safe and my people are not kind to yours. Avoid us in the future, if you can.”
She’d be back, and she’d be bringing Harry with her, but that wasn’t a conversation to be held in front of Ronald. “Thank you,” she said.
“Thanks,” Ronald croaked, bowing jerkily.
Bane gave some kind of signal. Hooves thundered for two disorienting seconds and then Hermione and Ronald were alone again.
“Well,” Ronald said, and then turned and threw up.
Hermione felt kind of like doing the same thing, but she swallowed it down. “Come on, we have to get back to school.”