Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling.

Devilish Inheritance

Summary: When Harrys name comes out of the Goblet of Fire and an ugly Toad of a woman takes over the position of DADA Professor, Harry's life really gets hellish and that is without even taking into account that Voldemort has already returned and that a dark inheritance is only waiting to finally come into power.

Suddenly his live is in mortal danger and the only one able to save him is his former enemy. Will Voldemort come to his rescue?

(Harry/Voldemort), Semi Dark Harry (Pre-Slash/ Prequel of Devilish Rebirth)

Warnings: Mentioning of incest, mentioning of m-preg.

AN: Hey everybody, the story is finally up again, now with a new name. For all who have read the first version I would advise to re-read at least the parts with Voldemort and the prologue, as well as chapter nine, where I have changed the most. I also added an epilogue.

Your LPB

"Parseltongue"

Prologue:

Voldemort flexed his fingers, examining the result of his new body. His skin was pail with a grayish tint and scaled, like the skin of a snake: He had hoped to avoid this side effect of the ritual, but it was a small price for being finally reborn. He turned to the huge mirror, hanging in his personal bed chamber and looked at his new appearance.

A skull-like head, with gleaming, sanguine eyes and slitted nostrils looked back at him, a face every witch and every wizard would easily fear, even without knowing who he was. He couldn't say if his changed appearance was due to the ritual he had used, or due to his experiments with Horcruxes in the past years. It didn't matter regardless. All that mattered was that his body was still strong and his magic even stronger. He was still tall (about 6 feet 2), his shoulders were still broad and his abs still perfectly defined.

His left hand stretched out in an silent, none verbal spell and his fingers (formerly long, slim and elegant, but now spidery and bony) closed around his beloved Phoenix-Feather-Wand.

Turning around again, he patted Nagini, his huge, black binding-basilisk, who laid exhausted on his bed. His followers would presumably assume, that he would call for their help in a dark magical ritual soon to resurrect himself, but as a true heir of Slytherin, he had known a more convenient method, one, which would not make him dependent on Wormtail, that grovelling, unworthy excuse of an human.

Looking down on his mattress, he picked up the small egg, which still laid there. When he had asked Nagini to help him with his rebirth, she had been breeding and even though she had already named the small serpent in the egg, she had abandoned it to instead assist him.

Now his familia was mourning the loss of her daughter, who was doomed to die, because once abandoned, a basilisk could not adopt their children again. The only chance for Zaida was, to be adopted by a powerful wizard, who she could bind herself to. He himself would have taken on the little basilisk, but he was already bound to Nagini, thus it was impossible and truth to be told, he did not know anybody, who might be willing to adopt a basilisk, still, he put the egg in his pocket, he just could not ignore the anguish of his familiar, after all, his serpents were the only beings he hold dear and Nagini had not only stood by his side since his days in the orphanage, she had also just incubate him for three whole moon circles after he had locked his weak spirit into an unfertilized chickens egg.

"Rest now," he told his snake and left the room for his throne room to call his followers.

Riddle Manor was cold and his breath formed clouds in front of him, as he strode down the empty hallways. It did not bother him, otherwise, he could never have formed an alliance with the dementors during the last war, but as a Serpent Lord, he preferred a warmer surrounding.

Thinking of dementors, he would have to send one of his death eaters to them, to renew their contract, he was sure, that the Ministry was not a good employer.

Opening the huge, nearly black double doors, he stepped into his throne room and took a deep breath. The beautiful scent of spilled blood was nearly gone, but it still lingered a bit and his throne was still there as well. Sitting down, he pressed his bony wand to his left fore arm, where where the dark mark resided by his followers and poured some magic into it, now he only had to wait, who would come.

His thoughts wandered to his plans for the wizarding world as he waited for his followers arive. Britain had already been weak during his last rise to power, but in his absents, no one had stopped the Ministry from weakening their country even further. Once, Great Britain had stood at the very top of all wizarding country, but Muggle-loving Ministers who possessed not the slightest bit of knowledge about the way magic influenced everything in their world, had slowly weakened their society.

Magic was more than a tool wizards and witches could use for their goals. Magic decided who someone was and who he or she would become. It had given him he royal powers of the Dark Lord and and thus the destiny of ruling over every other creature.

But people like Fudge and the old fool Albus Dumbledore would never understand that a mere Halfblood would never be able to rule their world. Their circumstances of birth made it impossible. Many centuries ago, the people had known that only a wizard and a witch could create a powerful offspring. It was due to the simple fact that a baby drew on it's parents magic while growing in it's mothers womb, but when one parent was muggle, it could only inherit the magic of one parent, therefore it never grew as strong as it should have been able to.

Thus, Pureploods stood over Humanoid Creatures, Halfbloods and certainly Muggleborn and Muggles.

Of course, not every Pureblood was as worthy as the other. Even within the elite there were black sheep, but they were still more worthy than those who's blood had been tainted by Muggles. In fact, the marriage with Muggles could weaken a wizarding family so much, that they resembled Muggles more than their own kind. Only sometimes would then appear a stronger offspring, known as a Muggleborn, but still disgracingly weak. Too weak to be handed the privilege to join their superior world.

But he would return their world to it's old and rightful ways, giving Britain it's former glory back, but their world was so far gone in it's delusion that only force would be able to heal it again. Sure, in the old text it was not only a Dark Lord who ruled over their world, but also a Light Queen. The old tales described the Lord and the Queen as soul mates, as two sides of the same coin, unable to exist without the other, but as he did not believe in love and thus, not in soul mates, he would forgo this minute detail. And on a second notion, rulership of the light had been what had weakened Britain in the first place.

Of course, there was another matter he had to take care of before he could focus on their worlds future. Harry Potter was still alive and slowly growing into the bane of his existence. He would need to take care of the boy as soon as possible, before he could grow into an man and a real threat for him. His left hand twitched as he imagined finally killing that cursed boy and a sneer stretched over his lipless mouth.

The first silent pops sounded, announcing the arrival of his Death Eaters and concentrated on the matter at hand. He watched his masked followers appear in front of him and lining up in two half circles, an inner and an outer one, facing him. It were about sixty men. They kneeled down and greeted him with the usual: "My Lord," but he ignored it and concentrated instead on the inner circle, where only his most trusted ones stood.

There were far less, than he would wish, but the Lestranges were still in Azkaban, so was Dolohov, Rookwood, Mulciber and Travers, but the last two had never been members of his inner circles.

Finally he fixed his blood red eyes on all of them and said: "Welcome my friends. 13 years it has been and yet, here you stand before me, as so it were only yesterday. I confess I am... disappointed. Not one of me tried to find me."

During his speech, he felt anger rise in him, they had not betrayed him, but they had not searched for him either. He wanted to punish them, but even though he was ruthless, he had always known when it was the right time for punishment and when not, and today, he would have to be satisfied with scaring them a little. An evils smirk tuck on his lips, but he didn't let it show and in the next moment he stood in front of his inner circle, the men flinching at his sudden closeness and a wave of pleasure over the fear he saw in the eyes went down his spine.

"Yaxley," he said, ripping the mask of the gray haired man in front of him from his face, his claw like fingernails ripping his skin. The man hissed, but otherwise didn't flinch again.

"Avery," he hissed, repeating his action by the next one. "Crouch, Fenrir, Wormetail..." he looked down at the quivering mass of a wizard, who had cowardly hide in a warm wizarding house all those years, while he, Lord Voldemort had been forest to float around as an incorporeal spirit, not even strong enough to possess a human in the first eleven years.

He stepped over Pettigrew and faced the next man: "...Snape and not even you, Lucius."

The blond man fell to his knees. "My Lord, if I had detected any signs, a whisper of your whereabouts..." he started, but Voldemort didn't let him continue his speech, he never have had the patience for excuses, they were always all the same.

"There were signs, my slippery friend and more than whispers," he said calmly, knowing, that his followers had always feared him the most, when he was calm and collected in his fury.

"I assure you, my Lord..."

"Quiet!" He hissed and Lucius instantly went silent. "Be it, as it may," he continued his speech, returning to his throne and a wave of relieve washed through the room, prickling on his skin.

"I will give you one last chance. My power is restored and we can now proceed our old goals. There is much to do and you, will have to earn your place amongst my ranks back."

He could see his followers flinch, as if struck with a powerful cutting hex at his words. They had apparently all thought, they could come back and continue where they had left, but he needed no right-hand man, who was loyal enough to stay true to the Dark Arts and come back to him, but also too lazy and comfortable in his good Ministry job to not search for him.

"My Lord, you surely mean not every post?" Lucius asked, his voice sounding very disbelieving.

The believe, that his outstanding blood line would gain and ensure him everything, had always been Lucius biggest weakness. But he needed loyal and devoted followers in his inner circle. Power and Bloodpurity was not enough to be worthy of such an elaborate position.

"Lucius, tell me: Do you just dared to challenge an order from me?- Crucio!" He watched Lucius fall to his knees and twitch on the ground. The aristocrat still kneeled upright and no word left his lips, but his body portrait the pain he was in.

Voldemort watched the torture for a moment. He was no man, who prohibited questions generally, but once he had given a clear order, there was no room for doubts and questions for his Death Eaters, but they had apparently forgotten this little rule conveniently in the last years. He had always ruled with carrot and stick, so to speak and he would continue this way.

He ended the curse, Lucius stood back up on shaky legs. Sitting down in his throne again, he once more addressed the whole group in front of him.

"Let us now continue, where we left fourteen years ago," he said and an evil smirk stretched his lips.

A horrible end of a perfect Summer

Harry awoke with a gasp and pressed his palm to his forehead, where his scar throbbed painfully. He had never actually seen Voldemort before, or even a picture of the man, unless you counted the ghost in the chamber of secrets, but the man he had seen in his dream just now, looked nothing like the teenagers from nearly sixty years ago.

Goose bumps formed on his skin, despite the hot weather and he shivered at the memory of the pale figure, but what had shocked him the most, had been the dark wizards face:

It had been like the mask of an monster; snake-like, with gleaming red eyes, grayish skin and only slits where the nose should have been. He had never seen something like it before and he hoped he would never have to again. There had been nothing left of the aristocratic beauty Voldemort had once possessed, back, when he had still been Tom Marvolo Riddle. A shiver ran down his spine as he tried to collect himself again.

He quickly pushed those thought to the side and concentrated back on the matter at hand, because, as frightening the sight had been, it was not the most frightening part of this vision.

Wormtail had been there, he had not thought he would see the rat so soon again, not after the man's flight at the end of last school year. This didn't help Sirius much, but at least they had now an idea, where the animagus was. Maybe, they could somehow lure him out... But this train of thought, as important as it was to him, was not the most important right now either.

Over the last weeks of summer he have often had fuzzy dream and feelings, as if Voldemort was planning something, but this, had been more than a feeling or a fuzzy dream. Voldemort was back, and he was planning something. Harry had no idea what the snake-man was planning, but that Voldemort was planning something he had seen as soon as the wizard had sit down in his throne. Well, it didn't really came as a surprise, the Dark Lord was always planning something, mostly his death.

He rubbed his eyes, before looking around in the common room, where he had fallen asleep about two hours ago. With shaking hands he checked, if all his glamours were still in place, it wouldn't due for anyone, to find out his secrets. They were still in place, hiding the many scars and wrongly mended bones, he had received over the years in the Dursleys care and the fact, that he had neither grown, nor changed even the tiniest bit since his ninth or tenth birthday, he couldn't really say it. It probably was another side effect of his ill nourishment.

Sighing, he pushed the memories to the back of his mind, they were not important right now. Important was, that he was about to be too late for the welcoming feast and that he had to tell Dumbledore about the dream later.

He stood up and quickly made his way up to the boys bathroom to take a quick shower before the welcoming feast. He retrieved his toiletries from his trunk in the 4th year boys dorm, before entering the showers. It was nice to be alone in the shower for once, he didn't mind the other boys, but this had something special. To be able to take a long, hot shower, without anybody chattering in the background, or waiting that it was their term, or aunt petunia deciding that he had wasted enough of their water and turning the heater off.

After he had undressed, he stepped in front of the only full-body mirror and took his glamours off. Even though, his body underneath the charms was everything but a pleasant sight, he still liked to do that once in a while, because the glamours felt always so wrong, as if they forced him into being a being he didn't was.

He looked with fascination as his figure shrank until he stood only 4,6 feet over the ground. He was very undersized for his age, but for the age his body represented, he was average and some voice in the back of his head had always told him, that he didn't need to worry, that this small person was who he was and that it was good and right like this.

His green eyes wandered over his refection. After years of starvation, he was awfully thin and clearly ill-nourished, but what would look like a dangerous illness on others, suited him for some reason very well. His ribs and hipbones were potruding and when he turned around, he could clearly see ever single bone of his spine. But despite his extreme slenderness, his cheeks were slightly round like it was typical for a child. They also had a nice pinkish tint and his green eyes were bright, oval-shaped and huge in his face, shadowed by long, very black lashes.

If only all the scars were gone. There were many smaller and bigger scars scattered all over his body, some were from Dudleys knives, some from Vernons belt. They marked his legs, arms and back with a tiger-pattern and ran criss-cross over his chest and belly. Many of them where smooth and pail against his skin, but some were bulging and from an angry red.

On the left side of his torso, a rib was still peaking out unnaturally and there also was a peace of split bone stretching the skin of his right, upper arm. There were also nails missing on some fingers and toes, courtesy of aunt petunia, when she had cut her nails and noticed, that they had regrown within a day.

But the most horrible scar was probably the one down his spine, engraving the word freak into his skin and the black letters forming the word bitch down the length of his cock. Dudley had given him this little gift the evening before he had returned to Hogwarts last year and even though ink normally could be washed off easily, ink pored into an open would couldn't.

Yes, despite his size, he could have been beautiful, if it weren't for all these scars.

Averting his gaze, he stepped in one of the shower stalls and turned the hot water on and relaxed for a few minutes under the spray, before lathering his hair with his shampoo.

Five minutes later he stepped out again, dried himself off, replaced the glamours and dressed again.

Going back downstairs, he smoothed out his robes and climbed out of the Gryffindor common room, thinking once again over the day, which had lead him to stay at Hogwarts during this summer.

All those years, he had believed, that Dumbledore knew, how his family live looked like, but the summer before his third year had been so bad, that he had taken his chances and had gone up to the headmaster, begging him to let him stay this year.

Flashback:

It was a week after Sirius rescue and one week before he would have to return to Privet Drive. Harry had tried his best to push his fear away and squash the nausea coiling in his stomach, but the memories where just too strong.

Closing his eyes, a picture of himself, being held down by his cousin's friends flashed in front of his eyelids and Dudleys voice echoed in his head, as if the boy stood directly next to him:

"Pierce, do you think some woman would ever want him?"

His cousin's best friend shook his head. "Never, Big D," the boy grinned.

Dudley grinned back and lid a cigarette, before slowly coming over and placing his heavy weight onto his tights, making it even harder for him to move.

Fear was rising in his chest as he watched his cousin take a pull on his cigarette, smiling evilly.

"Let me go Dudley, this is going too far!" he protested weakly, but Dudley's grin only broadened.

"I don't think so. Dad will love this, you know how he hates you, freak!" His cousin spat at him and even the turning of his head didn't help Harry to avoid the spittle. Nausea grew in him, like a wild beast, as he once again started to feel so dirty.

The last five weeks Dudley had beaten him up with his gang and they had been more brutal and ruthless than ever, not caring, if they actually broke a bone or not.

But the worst always was, when his uncle and aunt went out in the evening and his cousin and his friends had hours to literally torture him. Dudley had gotten especially fond of one of his mothers kitchen knifes and the deep cuts it could cut into his flesh.

Neither uncle Vernon, nor aunt Petunia said anything, when they saw the stains of blood on his wooden floor, instead, uncle Vernon liked to take the opportunity to punish Harry further with his favourit belt for dirtying their floor, reopening the wounds and spilling even more blood everywhere.

By now many of those cuts had gotten infected and felt hot beneath his skin, but that all didn't matter right now, because the eager glimpse in Dudley's eyes promised a new pain. The boy only had this particular look, when he had come up with a new way to torture him.

Harry could do nothing as his cousin yanked his trousers down with a rough tuck, making it tear at the side of the waistband.

"Than he will have no need for this," his cousin had grinned, his eyes gleaming maniacly, as he pressed the cigarette onto his penis.

Harry hadn't been able to do anything else than scream, as his sensitive flesh burned and the sickening stench of burned flash rose into the air.

He forced his eyes open again, his whole body was shaking and he tried to force the memory back once more, but as long as the prospect of returning to that place hung in front of him, it would be all in vain. During the school year, he had ben able to view his torture as a long passed event, but now it seemed all to current again. The pictures of his uncle's caning with his favourit belt, Dudley's beatings sick tortures with cigarettes and knives and the feeling of being starved for six entire weeks, just kept returning. How he had survived that last one, he still didn't know.

Taking a shaking breath, he made a decision and rose to his feet. His friends were down in the great hall for dinner, but he had not felt like eating, with his stomach constant churning, instead, he would use the time to go up to Dumbledores office and would ask the man to let him stay, he would even beg, if he had to.

Truth to be told, he didn't believe that his chance, of actually being allowed to stay at Hogwarts were low. Dumbledore was the most powerful and the wisest man he knew, there were simply no way, that he didn't knew about his torture at his relatives place, which meant, that the man had decided to just ignore his suffering.

A pang went through Harrys heart at that thought. He had always like the grandfatherly wizard and the thought of having been betrayed like this, hurt nearly even more than the torture itself. Anger rose in his chest and he balled his hands into fists, he wanted to hurt someone, get some kind of revenge for what he had endured, but he knew, that Dumbledore was the wrong person, despite everything, the headmaster was after all the only person, who could give him an alternative for the summer and he would not throw that possibility away, before he had not even asked.

His steps were quick and silent, as he climbed up the staircase and went down the corridor, which lead to the headmasters office. To his surprise the gargoyle guarding the entrance jumped to the side as he approached and let him pass.

Hesitating only a moment, he stepped onto the staircase and climbed up. Dumbledores voice sounded even before he could knock and he entered.

"Ah, my boy. I already wondered, if you would come and visit me before the summer, you look awfully pale these last days. Is everything alright?"

Collecting all his Gryffindor bravery Harry shook his head. He was not affraied of the conversation itself, he was afraid of the outcome. What, if he was right in his assumption and Dumbledore had known all along? How should he behave towards the leader of the light side than? He never would support Voldemort, but could he just continue to continue living like he had, these last three years, knowing, that he would have to work closely together with the man some day, to defeat the Dark Lord?

"Harry, you can trust me with everything," Dumbledore said softly and the sparkle in his eyes had slightly dimmed.

Swallowing again, Harry finally said: "I... I don't want to return to the Dursleys, please." To his horror, he suddenly felt hot tears running down his cheeks and a sob left his throat as he finally broke down.

Dumbledore watched him with worry for a moment, before saying: "Please tell me everything."

Harrys trembling intensified. Telling Dumbledore everything? From where should he ever get the strength to tell him what had been done to him? He never would be able to repeat all the humiliation and torture.

Shaking his head, he instead asked, his voice sounding weak and raspy: "Don't you already know?"

This time it was Dumbledore, who shook his head: "The wards on your relatives house do not hide it from every protection spell, they also make it impossible for wizards and witches to look inside, just in case a death eater would come by accidentally. So what ever happened to you in the Dursleys care, I have no possibility to know, unless you tell me."

Harry blinked in disbelief, but than he saw the truth glistening in those blue eyes, which looked now dull and lifeless, but still, he couldn't. He just couldn't bring out the words.

"Harry, if you are mistreated, I need to know," the headmaster repeated.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Harry took a deep breath. Dumbledore was right, no one could help him, if he didn't say anything, but he couldn't say it. So what could he do?

Coming to an decision, he stood up on shaky legs and went to the middle of the office, where Dumbledore would have a good view of him, before taking off the outer layer of his glamours, only those, which his his scars, not the others, which his his age, or lack there off. He could not tell the headmaster, but he could show him.

Turning his back towards Dumbledore, he slowly pulled of his shirt and he could hear a gasp from behind him, but he didn't stop. The scars on his back were awful, but there were more and Dumbledore would need to see all of them. When he was naked, he gave Dumbledore a moment to examine his body from behind, before turning back around.

Dumbledore gasped again and Harry could see tears gathering in the old mans eyes, for once, he looked every year his age. The headmaster could only bear the sight for a few seconds, before he closed his eyes in visible agony. Harry couldn't blame him for it, he knew, how awful he looked.

When Dumbledore opened his eyes again, they were fierce and blazing in unrestricted anger. "You will never return to those monsters."

End of Flashback.

Harry only knew, that Dumbledore had contacted Amelia Bones, a prominent member of the wizengamont, after his visit. He had been sent to a thorough check up by Madame Pomfrey, who had been as shocked as Dumbledore by his appearance and done his best to remend all bones, which had once been broken, but sadly, there was not much someone could do about old scars, so he had to live with those.

Only three days later, Dumbledore had called him to his office and told him, that the guardianship had been transferred to himself and that he never would have to return to Privet Drive.

Harry had felt relieved beyond words and the nightmares and flashes of memories had finally stopped again and he had been able to finally enjoy the summer hollidays completely.

Of course, it always had been nice, when he had stayed for a week or two with Ron's family, but this time, he have had eight weeks, were he had roamed the castle freely. He had flown every day and laid lazily in the grass near the black lake, enjoying the sun.

Most of the professors had stayed as well, but no one had said anything, when he had gone down to the kitchen past curfew and sometimes, he had joined in on the weakly chess duels between Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flittwick. Naturally, he had lost every single game against them, but it had been fun nonetheless.

Harry never would have imagined, that he would ever view the old headmaster as an father figure. A grandfather maybe, more likely as a mentor, but the eight weeks at Hogwarts had changed a lot and by law, he now was the mans son and heir, he even called him Albus now. He had not done that at first, but Dumbledore had told him, that he had not only adopted him, because there was no other person who could have done it, but also, because he truly meant it.

Sirius had been a bit grumpy at first. Not that the animagus didn't wish for him to finally have a good guardian, but because he had always wished to be that guardian himself. Sadly, Azkaban escapes just hadn't many rights. The sadness had disappeared within an hour, replaced by happiness over the fact, that Harry now had a proper father figure and no one could deny, that Dumbledore was the best guardian someone could wish for.

Dumbledore had also tried to convince the wizarding world, that Voldemort was once again on the move, but with only Harrys words as backing, he had not succeeded. The Ministry strictly refused the possibility of the Dark Lords return, claiming, that he had been defeated by him. The headmasters wise words, that defeated was not the same as dead, didn't help, but they hadn't expected anything else, it was just so much more comfortable for the Ministry to simply continue as usual.

Harry had finally reached the doors to the great hall and pulled his mind back to the present. As he peeked inside, he saw, that the students where already all seated, but the first years had not arrived yet, so he silently slipped inside and went over to the Gryffindor table. The other students were luckily too occupied with greeting their friends and exchange stories about their summer to notice his late arrival, only his two best friends, Ron and Hermione did.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, as soon, as she saw him. "How was your summer? You look so great!" She scooted to the side, so that he could sit down between her and Ron.

His friends new about his stay in the castle and his adoption and he had, of course, written a letter every few days, but that wouldn't stop Hermione from asking again in persona.

With a wide grin he told them: "It was great! I flew every day, enjoined the sun and lost three games of chess every week."

That last statement made Ron look up in interest. "With whom has you played chess? Were they any good?"

Hermione rolled his eyes. "Of course they were, when Harry lost every game."

"Harry is no good player, so that means nothing," Ron winked and Harry had to snicker, the red head was right after all.

"Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick play every week," he explained.

"No wonder you lost, these three have to be good," Hermione mused.

They stopped their conversation, when McGonagall stepped forwards, placed the sorting hat onto a stool, instructed the first years to line up in front of it and the heat began to sing:

In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started

The founder's of our noble school

Thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning

To make the worlds best magic school

And pass along their learning.

"Together we will build and teach!"

The four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they

Might some day be divided

For where there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those

Whoses ancestry is purest."

Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach just those whose

Intelligence is surest."

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name."

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same."

These differences caused little strife

When they first came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin

Took only pure blood-wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet and early end,

What with duelling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When old Syltherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they were once meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses

Because that is what I'm for.

But this year I'll go further

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemmed I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong.

Though I must fulfil my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether sorting

May not bring the end I fear

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

But shall it all bring no good,

if all wizards do not unite...

So I warned you, students and folks,

Now let the sorting begin!

Harry threw his friends a worried look, this only seemed to affirm his suspicion, that Voldemort was once again up to something and he could see the same worry in Ron and Hermione's faces.

The sorting started and their mood dropped even further, when Slytherin got almost the double amount of new students, than every other house and the memory of his earlier dream once again returned to his mind. Hopefully, it really only had been a dream.

"Somehow," Hermione whispered int his ear "I get a bad feeling about this year."

"Me, too," he agreed, equally silently, worry wrinkling his forehead.

"Something really bad must be going on, when so many first years go to Slytherin," Ron mused darkly.

Thinking for a moment over it, Harry said: "It is almost, as if something is driving them there."

"It is..." Hermione started, but in that moment Dumbledore rose and greeted them all with a warm smile: "To our newcomers- welcome" To our old hands- welcome back. There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

Harry watched Ron grin, as the golden plates appeared in front of them, all worries about the many new Slytherins vanished from the red heads mind. Smiling, Harry shook his head, this was so typically Ron. He started eating as well, but noticed, that in contrast to Ron, the rest of the table seemed somewhat subdued

.

"Did the sorting head ever gave a warning before?" Hermione suddenly asked in an hushed voice, so that they would not be overheard.

Harry shrugged, he didn't know.

"I can't say either. My brothers never told me about a warning," Ron said, his mouth full of food, but he, too, looked anxious now where the topic had been brought back to his mind.

Harry sighed, his friends were already so worried and he hadn't even told them about his dream yet. Looking around and lowering his voice even further, he decided to tell them now: "I had an odd dream this afternoon, just before you came."

Hermione, too, looked worriedly around, before pulling out her want and raising a silencing barrier, so that they could talk more freely.

"What kind of dream?" Ron asked as soon as no one could disturb them anymore, but he didn't truly look, as if he wanted to know.

"About Voldemort," Harry told them. His friends flinched and he rolled his eyes, really, the fear of an name was stupid and time consuming on occasions like these.

"He sat on some kind of scary throne... than he pressed his wand to his forearm and many robed figures appeared. I think it were fifty, or even more, but he only spoke to a few of them."

"That doesn't sound good," Hermione commented and he nodded.

"I think he was fairly angry at them, for not searching for him."

Ron paled: "Did he torture them?"

Shaking his head, Harry said: "No, he told them, that he would give them one last chance and that they had much to do."

"Could you see, who were there? Maybe dad could keep an eye on them," Ron asked.

Harry took another bite from his roasted beef, while trying to remember the names. He had not grown up in the wizarding world, so names of prominent death eaters were new to him, but he thought, that he could luckily remember all. The dream had bean so vivid, it literally had burned into his mind. Swallowing his bite, he finally said: "One he called Avery, another Fenrir..."

Ron flinched. Harry gave him a questioning look and his friend explained: "He is a werewolf, one, who loves to bite little children. Dad once mentioned, that he was the one who bit Lupin."

Hermione gasped and Harry felt his stomach drop, but he forced himself to continue his tale: "Than there was one man named Crouch..."

"That can't be possible!" Hermione exclaimed. "Barty Crouch Jr. died in Azkaban and his father is a high Ministry worker."

Harry gave her an incredulous look, wondering when she finally would stop using such arguments. He was about to voice his thoughts, when Ron took the matter from his hand, saying pointedly: "Something like a Ministry position never stopped those who wanted to join Voldemort."

Hermione looked sheepish for a moment and Ron asked: " Anyone else?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, he really needed to warn Dumbledore, they had a spy of Voldemort teaching at Hogwarts after all. "Snape."

"What!" Shrieked Hermione. "He's a teacher!"

"Mione," Ron said exasperatedly "we just had that conversation. Do you really believe, that a teacher is any better than a Ministry official?"

"But, Dumbledore..." she tried to argue, but Harry shook his head: "I saw him, Hermione. I am not joking, he was really there."

The witch looked onto her plate, looking thoroughly scolded. "Sorry, I didn't want to make the impression, that I don't believe you, because I do, it's just..." she broke off for a moment and than asked: " Have you already spoken to Dumbledore?"

"Not yet, but I will go as soon, as the feast is over," he told her and Ron.

Suddenly the door to the great hall burst open and they all quickly looked around.

Harrys eyes widened, as they fell onto a man standing in the doorway and leaning upon a long staff. He was clad in a black traveling cloak and Harry looked in curious fascination, as he lowered his hood, shook out his long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair and then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. The raises of the sinking sun had caught the strangers face and illuminated it.

Harry gasped.

The man's face was a face unlike any he had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye — and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

Harry could only stare at him, wondering, what a man like this was doing at Hogwarts. He didn't look, as if he should be let loos near any student.

Just when he wanted to asked his friends, if they had any idea, who the man was, Dumbledore rose and said brightly into the shocked silence: "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody!"

Harry nearly choked at his mouth full of mashed potatoes, which was still in his mouth. The professors seemed equally shocked, because they didn't greed the newcomer with applause, like it was common and only continued staring, too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more.

Albus clapped than, joined by Hagrid, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly.

It took the students a few moments to turn back to their plates and continue eating, but once the initial shock was overcome, silent whispering rose into the air, which quickly added up to an loud, curious chatting.

"Who is he? What happened to him?" Harry whispered, his eyes fixed on Ron, who knew the most about criminals and Ministry workers, due to his dads job at the Ministry and this man looked, as if he either was a criminal, or some sort of special agent, who had been horrible wounded. Considering the fact, that Albus had hired him, it was probably the latter.

"Dunno..." Ron whispered back, still watching Moody with fascination, but suddenly his eyes widened and he exclaimed: "Of course! Mad-Eye!"

"Mad-Eye?" Hermione asked, sounding slightly disapprovingly at the insulting name.

"Yes, dad and mom always call him Mad-Eye, that is why I didn't realize... He was a high-class auror, one off the best, but many belief, that he had gone insane over the years, persecution complex and such, you know..."

Harry turned once again around to look at Moody, now even more curious about the man. If he had been an auror, than he had to be a good DADA teacher as well.

The man just reached again his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Harry could see, that his leg ended in a wooden clawed foot.

Moody had just speared another sausages, when the doors burst open a second time, making Harrys head snapp back to the entrance of the Great hall again, but this time his eyes landed on a small witch, clad completely in pink, with a toad like face and an ugly bow, like a huge fly, in her hair.

He blinked in confusion, having expected something more impressive after Moodys arrival . Next to him Ron snorted. "Thats a bad joke, isn't it?"

"It has to be," Harry nodded, eyeing the pink outfit.

"How old does she wants to be? Four, fife?" Ron snickered.

"You better don't laugh," Hermione whispered. "This is Dolores Jane Umbridge, she is a ministry official and runs for the new post of Minister of Magic! She is supposed to be prejudiced..."

"Prejudiced?" Echoed Harry.

"Yes, she doesn't like any kind of creatures or half-creatures," Hermione explained in an whisper.

Harry groaned, he honestly didn't want to know, what other nonsense this woman was believing as well. Turning back to the woman, who was now making her way up to the head table, he frowned. A ministry official at Hogwarts, that couldn't be good, regardless of her believes.

He watched her exchanging a few words with Dumbledore, who's eyes flashed shortly in an unusual display of anger.

"Have you seen that?" Ron asked and leaned a bit closer.

"Yeah," Harry answered, but kept his eyes fixed on that Umbridge woman.

The witch turned to face them and made an odd, coughing noise (hem, hem), before saying: "I fear, there has been a misunderstanding, but let me introduce myself first, I will, after all, teach you all in Defense Against The Dark Arts this year."

Harry groaned, that couldn't be good, he just knew it, only by looking at that ugly woman.

"But she can't do that!" Hermione hissed, sounding personally offended.

"If she has the Ministers backing, she can," Ron grumbled.

Umbridge started speaking again and they quickly concentrated back on her:

"It is lovely, to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see those happy, little faces looking up at me!" She smiled, revealing very pointy and very white teeth.

Harry only raised his eyebrows and glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy at all. On the contrary, they looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

"I am very much looking forwards to getting to know you all and I am sure, we'll be very good friends!"

Now the his fellow students exchanged looks as well; some of them were barely concealing a grin and he could clearly hear Parvati whispering to Lavender "I'll be her friend, as long as I don't have to borrow that bow," before both of them lapsed into silent giggles.

Umbridge cleared her throat again, but when she continued, some of her breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more business like and now, her words had a dull, learned-by-heart sound to them.

"The Ministry of Magic had always considered the education of young witches and wizards of vital importance. The rare gift with which you were born may come to nothing, if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we loose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replanished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a bow to the professors, non of whom, bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted sow, that she looked positively hawklike and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout, as Umbridge gave another little "hem hem" and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of govering this historic school and that is as it should be for without progress, there will be stagnation and again, progress for progress's sake must me discouraged for our tried and tested traditions often requires no tinkering. A balance than, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation..."

Harry saw Ron yawning and he had to admit, that the way how Umbridge spoke, really could lull you into sleep, but he also had heard the carefully hidden informations in her speech and he could see, that Hermione had as well. Still, he just wished, the toad would finally shut up.

"...because some changes will be fore the better, while some will come, in the fullness of time, to be reconsidered as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn must be abandoned.

We must also guard the future generations from lies, which threaten to infect your mind."

At this words, her small eyes shortly flickered over to Dumbledore and suddenly Harry knew, why she was there. The Ministry feared Dumbledore and probably himself as well, because they had tried to tell the truth about Voldemort. They feared, the panic of the public, if it would be faced by a war once more.

Umbridge eyes settled on the students again: "But do not worry, the Ministry will protect you. So let us move forwards then, into an new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intend on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting, what needs to be perfected and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She finally sat down and Dumbledore started clapping. The staff followed his least, but Harry saw, that many of them brought their hands together only once or twice and McGonagall was still frowning.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was very illuminating," Dumbledore said.

Ron snorted: "That was not illuminating, it was tiring. That was about the dullest speech I ever heard and I grew up with Percy."

"No it was not," Hermione said pointedly.

Ron gave her a doubtful look and Harry quickly supported her: "Mione is right, Ron."

"Than please explain," Ron huffed and crossed his arms.

"Well, Professor Dumbledore did say illuminating and not enjoyable," Hermione huffed back, but than finally explained: "She just told us, that the Ministry is planning to interfere in Hogwarts. I bet they already work on some law changes."

Knowing, that he had informations, they didn't had, Harry added: "But that's not all. This dream today was not the first one I had. I only received some fuzzy feelings before, but it was enough to know, that Voldemort was planning something, or is planning something. I told Dumbledore, who tried to talk to the Ministry, but they didn't listen."

"I already wondered, what she meant by infecting our minds," Hermione scowled. "But that explains it."

"It does," Ron grumbled and glared down onto his still half full plate. "I am not even hungry anymore. And I have so looked forwards to Moody's classes!" The red head threw his knif onto the table and crossed his arms in annoyance.

"Me to," Harry agreed, throwing another glance at the witch, she really could not be overseen in her pink cardigan and skirt. She stuck out like a sore thumb between the other professors, who still threw her distasteful glances every so often. Looking back at the student body, he could clearly see, that Ron was not the only one, who's hunger had disappeared after the new professor's speech.

Dumbledore, who obviously had sensed the mood of the students stood up and ended the welcoming feast with a few words and a good night.

"Are you coming, too?" Harry asked, his eyes on Dumbledore, who just disappeared through a door behind the head table, he still needed to talk with him.

His friends nodded and Ron said: "Of course we will, mate."

They fought their way through the crowd and once they were past the third floor, they could quicken their pace.

"Do you know the password?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, being Dumbledores adoptive son has his advantages," Harry grinned and said "Lemon cake," with a roll of his eyes to the gargoyle.

"You know," Ron chuckled. "If You-Know-Who really is back, he should start to pick passwords without lemon in it, or the ugly snake-bastard will stand more quickly in his office, than Dumbledore can offer you his blasted candies."

Harry snorted. He had witnessed how far Albuss obsession with lemon candy went and it was positively scary. He knocked shortly on the office door and entered without waiting for an invitation, like he had done ever since his adoption, but when he stepped in, he froze midway.

Albus was there, but so was McGonagall, Flittwick, Snape, Moody and to his horror Umbridge as well.

Moodys magical eye was still fixed on the new professor and he wore an openly loathing expression.

"Are students always allowed to enter without invitation?" Umbridge asked sweetly, but with a certain undertone.

Dumbledore only smiled back: "Of course not, Professor, but Harry is not only a student to me."

"Something, which never should have been allowed," Umbridge retorted, still smiling.

"Than we all can be lucky, that not even the Minister can change certain laws," Dumbledore retorted, equally falsely friendly, before turning to Harry. "How can I help you, my boy?"

Harrys eyes darted from Umbridge to Snape and back to Dumbledore. "I think I will return later." He would not say anything as long as Snape and Umbridge were there.

"Ah, but we were just finished," Dumbledore said and gave Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall a look, who in returned turned their eyes pointedly at Umbridge. When the witch only pursed her lips, Snape sneered: "As long as the new Minister of Education has not yet enforced a law, that she can not be thrown out of the headmasters office, I advice you to follow us."

Umbridge glare was not very impressive, especially in comparison with Snape's and she finally started to leave with a huff.

When the door had closed behind the professors, Dumbledore conjured three chairs and asked: "Lemon drop?"

Harry shook his head, so did his friends and Hermione asked: "Is she really the new Minister of Education?"

Dumbledore sighed: "I fear, she is, but let us not talk about this unfortunate circumstance, I suppose you came here, because you have something to discuss with me?"

He nodded, the man always knew, when something important was going on."I had another dream," he began. "But it was different this time. I actually watched Voldemort." His friends flinched again, but he ignored it. "He had a body and he called his followers."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed, before repeating the same question Ron had asked earlier: "Can you tell me, who was there?"

Nodding, Harry told him: "I saw not every face, but there was Avery, Fenrir, a man named Crouch, Lucius, Peter..."

"Ah, well that is hardly a surprise after last year," Albus mused.

Harry nodded, but his mind was occupied with the last person he had seen in his dream. He made a short pause to brace himself, before saying the last name, it surely would be a shock for the man. "...and the last person was Snape."

To his surprise, Albus didn't seem surprised. "Well, that explained, why Severus had wanted to speak to me. Unfortunately, we were interrupted by your new DADA Professor."

"You are not worried about Snape?" Harry asked, feeling a bit baffled and taken-aback.

"No, Professor Snape was my spy in the last war, I trust him with my life," Dumbledore father explained, but it didn't really convinced Harry, the dark potions master was just too suspicious, a death eater, like you would imagine.

"But he was there," he argued.

"Of course he would be, I think he will take up his prior position within the Dark Lords ranks to once again spy for me."

Harry furrowed his brow, his dislike of the man, joining his seemingly affirmed suspicion, he would not trust the man just because he had once worked as a spy. Fourteen years were a long time and Snape could have had many changes of heart, that was, if he truly had been loyal to the light side in the first place, another thing he doubted.

"If it would reassure you, I could not mention what you have seen, Harry, and if he comes to my office later and reports to me, we know, that he is still on our side," Dumbledore suggested and Harry nodded, relieved, that the man would not trust the other wizard blindly.

"How did he look like?" Dumbledore asked than and Harry didn't need to ask, whom he meant.

Shivering at the memory, he forced Voldemort's face back in front of his inner eye.

"He looked... like a snake," he said finally, not having other words to describe the monster he had seen. "His head looked like a skull, his skin was gray, he had only slits for a nose and red eyes." He shivered a second time and wrapped his arms protectively around himself.

"And, how was his condition?" Albus continued to ask.

"He seemed rather healthy, I guess."

The headmaster frowned. "What ever he used, it was no ordinary dark ritual, or his body would be far more distorted, but as the heir of Slytherin, he might know other methods."

"Even more distorted?" Harry asked disbelievingly and watched as Dumbledore rose and went over to Fawkes to pat his feathers.

"Yes," the man answered. "I fear, for now we can do nothing more than wait."

"But we have to do something!" Hermione exclaimed.

"And what? We don't even know where his hiding place is," Ron scoffed.

"You are right, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore agreed. "I would advice, for now we all go to bed and trie to get some sleep. The new term starts tomorrow and I have the feeling, that we all need nerves made from steal with our newest addition to the staff, and Harry-" he added. "This was certainly not a dream, it was a vision. We should think about teaching you methods to protect your mind."

Harry simply nodded, that certainly sounded like a good idea for the near future, but for now, they only could duck and watch and hope, that Professor Umbridge would not unknowingly help Voldemorts dark forces. They stood up again and said their good bys to Dumbledore, who smiled weakly at them, before going back down to Gryffindor Tower.

Once up in their common room, Ron and Harry wished Hermione a good night, before going up the the fourth year dormitory. Neville, Dean and Seamus were already sleeping, so they didn't unpack their trunks and simply striped down to their boxers before climbing into bed.

"Night Ron," Harry said, before drawing his curtains shut and sealing them closed.

"Good night Harry," his friend answered.

Closing his eyes, Harry listened to the soft sound of breathing. He felt so exhausted. The dream about Voldemort had left him somewhat shaky still and his head had only stopped pounding half an hour ago. He wished he could look forwards to the new school year, but with Voldemort's return and the Ministry at Hogwarts, the outlook wasn't all that bright. Sighing, he turned on his side and ended his many glamours, he just felt better without them and at least at night he wanted the comfort of his real body.

He closed his eyes, drowsiness already creeping up on him, only to feel something nudge at his mind just before he fell asleep.

The next morning, Harry awoke rather late, but that was typical for his first day of term, he just wasn't used to getting up early, again. Ron was still sound asleep and so he went over to shake his friend awake, after he had casted his glamours again.

"Leme' sleep, mom," the read head grumbled and turned his back towards him. Sighing, Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and cast an freezing cold aquamenti, with Ron, you needed to be brutal.

His friend nearly jumped out of bed and glared at him, but he merely said: "Hurry up, we only have twenty five minutes left until classes start."

"What?!" Ron screeched and hurried over to his trunk.

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry quickly dressed into his school uniform, before going into the bathroom. It really was a hassle. Even though, for everyone else it looked, as if he was about 5,7 feet tall and looking direct into his refection to brush his teeth, he in fact didn't, he was too small. So every morning was kind of a blind flight for him.

Ron joined him a moment later, his white button down buttoned wrongly and his tie still loose.

"You really should check in the mirror before you leave," he advised his friend with a snort and went downstair, where Hermione was already waiting impatiently.

"Finally! I already feared you two would miss class. Where is Ron?" she asked and her question was answered, when Ron stumbled down the staircase.

Harry snorted and turned to the portrait hole. "We wouldn't think about sleeping on a day where we maybe have the luck to become friends with our new DADA Professor."

They hurried down to the great hall and when they arrived, their new time tables laid already on their plates.

"Great," Ron complained. "Double History of Magic, double DADA with that toad and to our great luck, double Potions."

Harry groaned, that had to be a joke, so bad could no time table be, even Hermione was wincing and that meant a lot.

"Did you see or timetable?" Seamus asked, leaning over to them.

"Yeah," Ron muttered and paled eggs onto his plate.

Dean joined their conversation as well and looked mock-accusingly at Harry: "Couldn't you have done something, being Dumbledores son, I mean?"

"If I had known, I would have done something," Harry said honestly. "It really is a shame, that Lupin wasn't allowed to return."

"It would have made no difference," Hermione said wisely and he had to agree with that. He concentrated back on his plate to eat a bit more before they would have to leave for Binns, but all to soon Hermione announced: "Hurry up, or we will be late for class."

Resigning himself to two hours of boredom, Harry grabbed his school back and followed his friends up to the ghost's classroom.

It was only 2 hours and 10 minutes later, that he wished to be back in Binns class, when Umbridge started their first DADA lesson of the year. She once again wore her pink cardigan and that horrible bow, which still looked like an huge, ugly fly, unwisely perched on top of an even uglier to toad.

He exchanged a look with Ron, and Hermione, but they didn't dare to make any comment, this woman would surely take points as easily as Snape did.

"Well, good forenoon," she said, when finally the whole class had sat down.

A few people mumbled "Good afternoon," in reply.

"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," they chanted back at her.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Many of the class exchanged gloomy looks; the order wands away had never yet been followed by a lesson they had found interesting. Harry shoved his wand back inside his bag and pulled out quill, ink, and parchment. Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own wand, which was an unusually short one, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it, where words appeared on the board at once:

Defense Against the Dark Arts A Return to Basic Principles.

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your year.

You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory- centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by:

Course aims:

Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic

can legally be used.

Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for

practical use.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratch- ing quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she said, "As it was the Ministries fault to not have notified you earlier about the change in teacher, we have sponsored the school books you will need for this year. Please come forwards and take a copy each." She flicked her short wand and a stack of plain looking books appeared.

Sighing Harry stood up, but waited for his friends to do the same, before making his way to the front. Umbridge gave him a all to sweet smile, when he grabbed a copy. Back at his desk, he looked at the cover, reading the title: Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard. This book sounded as boring as it looked and the word theory, didn't bode well for a class, which needed to be based on practice to teach the students anything.

"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Professor Umbridge asked, as soon as every students had sat down again.

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, she just needed to look at their desks, or at the empty space where the stack of book had been to know the answer, but that would probably be asked to much of that woman.

A dull murmur of assent sounded throughout the class and Harry could see, that Umbridge wasn't in the least impressed.

"I think we'll try that again," said Professor Umbridge. "When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply 'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' or 'No, Professor Umbridge.' So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," rang through the room.

"Good," said Professor Umbridge. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."

Professor Umbridge left the blackboard and settled herself in the chair behind the teacher's desk, observing them all with those pouchy toad's eyes. Harry turned to page five of his copy of Defensive Magical Theory and started to read.

It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. He felt his concentration sliding away from him; he had soon read the same line half a dozen times without taking in more than the first few words. Several silent minutes passed. Next to him, Ron was absentmindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page. Harry looked right and received a surprise to shake him out of his torpor. Hermione had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.

Harry could not remember Hermione ever neglecting to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. He looked at her questioningly, but she merely shook her head slightly to indicate that she was not about to answer questions, and continued to stare at Professor Umbridge, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction.

After several more minutes had passed, however, Harry was not the only one watching Hermione. The chapter they had been instructed to read was so tedious that more and more people were choosing to watch Hermione's mute attempt to catch Professor Umbridge's eye than to struggle on with Basics for Beginners.

When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than at their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing her small, pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. "And your name is — ?" "Hermione Granger," said Hermione.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly and Harry had the feeling, that he knew what was coming. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard, but Harry only smirked, he just new his brainy friend.

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron ejaculated loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. — ?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Harry and Hermione immediately raised their hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before she addressed Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but —"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —"

"What use is that?" said Harry loudly, deciding that he had heard enough of that rubbish. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a —"

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" sang Professor Umbridge.

Harry thrust his fist in the air. Professor Umbridge promptly turned away from him again, but now several other people had their hands up too.

"And your name is?" Professor Umbridge said to Dean.

"Dean Thomas." "Well, Mr. Thomas?" "Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it?" said Dean. "If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free —" "I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?" "No, but —" Professor Umbridge talked over him. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, "but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh, "extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean Thomas angrily, "he was the best we ever —"

"Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —"

"No we haven't," Hermione said, "we just —" "Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Hermione put up her hand; Professor Umbridge turned away from her. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against The Dark Arts exams and in our O.W.L. next year? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

"Without ever practicing them before?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough —"

Harry really couldn't believe the rubbish he was hearing. "And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" he asked loudly, his fist in the air again.

Professor Umbridge looked up. "This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter," Umbridge retorted.

"Oh yeah?" Harry said mockingly. His temper, which seemed to have been bubbling just beneath the surface since he had entered this class, was reaching boiling point.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Hmm, let's think . . ." said Harry in a mock thoughtful voice, "maybe Lord Voldemort?"

Ron gasped; Lavender Brown uttered a little scream; Neville slipped sideways off his stool. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter."

The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or him.

"Now, let me make a few things quite plain."

Professor Umbridge stood up and leaned toward them, her stubby-fingered hands splayed on her desk.

"I know, that a certain headmaster, has somewhere gotten the unbelievable idea, that a certain dark wizard is on the move again, but I can reassure you, that isn't true. And seeing all your confused view of the truth, it is good, that I am now here to correct them."

"Well, even if You-Know-Who is dead, there are still Death Eaters out there," Dean argued.

"Voldemort was never dead," Harry spoke up again, "but yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself, and more importantly, where should you have gotten that knowledge from, if not from an already mentioned, rapidly getting senile, headmaster?" said Professor Umbridge in one breath without looking at him.

Harrys anger boiled even harder at the insult of the man, who had saved him from certain torture and who was risking his name and supposed insanity by trying to save their world. "As I was saying, everything you hear about this one dark wizard, is a lie."

"It is NOT a lie!" Harry growled. "I saw him!"

"Where did you see him, Mister Potter?" Umbridge asked sweetly and Harry could do nothing more than to grid his teeth, there was no way he could tell everybody, that he had had a vision.

"As I said, another lie, detention, Mr. Potter!" said Professor Umbridge triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, 'Basics for Beginners.' "

Professor Umbridge sat down behind her desk again. Harry, however, stood up. Everyone was staring at him; Seamus looked half- scared, half-fascinated.

"Harry, no!" Hermione whispered in a warning voice, tugging at his sleeve, but Harry jerked his arm out of her reach.

"Just wait and see what you will get from your stupid ignorance, but I guess it is easy to ignore the signs, as long you have a child to throw on the battlefield if needed?" He asked, his voice shaking with anger, even his magic was rising and crackling in the air.

Professor Umbridge's face was quite blank. For a moment he thought she was going to scream at him. Then she said, in her softest, most sweetly girlish voice, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."

Glaring, he kicked his chair aside, strode around Ron and Hermione and up to the teacher's desk. He could feel the rest of the class holding its breath. He felt so angry he did not care what happened next, he would not even care, if his magic decided to lash out to that ugly bitch.

Professor Umbridge pulled a small roll of pink parchment out of her handbag, stretched it out on the desk, dipped her quill into a bottle of ink, and started scribbling, hunched over so that Harry could not see what she was writing. Nobody spoke. After a minute or so she rolled up the parchment and tapped it with her wand; it sealed itself seamlessly so that he could not open it.

"Take this to you father, dear," said Umbridge, audible disdain lacing the word father, holding out the note to him.

Harry took it from her without saying a word and left the room, not even looking back at Ron and Hermione, and slamming the classroom door shut behind him.

Still seething with anger, he stamped up the stairs to Dumbledores office and snapped the password at the gargoyle as soon as he was within hearing range. Albus actually startled a bit, as he flung his door open, making it bang against the next wall.

"By Merlin, my boy!" Dumbledore exclaimed and shut the door with a flick of his wand. "What happened?"

"Umbridge happened," he growled and slammed the scrowl in front of Dumbledore, who picked the now, flattened and crumpled, piece of parchment up, before unrolling and reading it.

Harry decided to sit down as long as he was waiting and conjured a chair, his eyes fixed on Albus, who's expression was still very calm.

Finally the man said: "You have detention for one week, starting tomorrow, even at the weekend."

"What? Only because I pointed out, that the Ministry's policy is stupid and dangerous for our world?" He exclaimed in outrage, even though, he should have expected something like this.

"Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, but he could here at his toone of voice that he would be serious with whatever came next. "Right now Dolores has not yet very much power, but if she wins the election and you have upset her too much, she can make your llife more complicated than any of us can probably imagine."

Harry lowered his had, feeling like a scolded child. Dumbledore was right, he had to be more careful, Umbridge had the potential, to become a huge problem for him and neither he, nor Albus needed that.

Dumbledore looked at the clock, hanging to his left and said: "I think you should go down to the dungeons now."

Nodding, Harry stood up and hesitating a moment, before saying: "I am sorry, Albus, I just got so angry, when I saw, how the Ministry will force the minority to stay blind and none the wiser. The war will creep up on them and then they will be unprepared."

"I know, Harry, I know," Dumbledore said sadly and without a smile.

Sighing, Harry turned to the door and left the office again. He was still angry, but Dumbledore had helped to get his magic and range back under control again, now he only had to hope, that Snape would not tick him off within minutes of his potions class again.

The last class had just ended and he had to fight his way to the lower level. When he reached the door of the potions classroom, Ron and Hermione were already waiting for him.

"Here," Hermione said and gave him his school bag.

"Thanks guys."

"What did Dumbledore say?" Ron asked.

"That I should be careful, because, if she realy becomes the new Minister of Magic, I could get in a load of trouble otherwise."

"He is right," Hermione frowned. "But that doesn't mean, that she is wrong. Still, you should be more careful."

Ron scoffed. "I really hate her."

"Me too," Harry agreed.

"Her teaching method is really the worst I have ever seen," Hermione said, but was cut off, when the door to their class room opened.

The Slytherins took the front row, as usual, not that neither Harry, nor Ron would complain. Even Hermione had stopped after their first year with the snarky professor. They chose a spot as far away from the front as possible, but unfortunately, the lst three rows were already occupied, so the had to settle with seats in the middle of the room.

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and staring around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that you are coming closer to the year of OWL's and ay potions we will discuss this year, will form the basicc for potions next year. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' for this year and in your OWL, or suffer my . . . displeasure." His gaze lingered this time upon Neville, who gulped.

"After these two years, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye." His eyes rested on Harry and his lip curled. Harry glared back, not needing the badly hidden insults after this morning.

"But we have another two years to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students. Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level as one of those mentioned basics,: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."

On Harry's left, Hermione sat up a little straighter, her expression one of the utmost attentiveness.

"The ingredients and method" — Snape flicked his wand — "are on the blackboard" — (they appeared there) — "you will find everything you need" — he flicked his wand again — "in the store cupboard" — (the door of the said cupboard sprang open) — "you have an hour and a half. . . . Start."

Harry had the slight feeling, that Snape could hardly have set them a more difficult, fiddly potion and he would be proven to be right. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added. All in all it definitively didn't help with his mood.

"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Harry, who was sweating profusely, looked desperately around the dungeon. His own cauldron was issuing copious amounts of dark gray steam; Ron's was spitting green sparks. Seamus was feverishly prod- ding the flames at the base of his cauldron with the tip of his wand, as they had gone out. The surface of Hermione's potion, however, was a shimmering mist of silver vapor, and as Snape swept by he looked down his hooked nose at it without comment, which meant that he could find nothing to criticize. At Harry's cauldron, however, Snape stopped, looking down at Harry with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

The Slytherins at the front of the class all looked up eagerly; they loved hearing Snape taunt him.

"The Draught of Peace," said Harry tensely. "Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?" Draco Malfoy laughed. "Yes, I can," said Harry, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand. "Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter." Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instructions through the haze of multicolored steam now filling the dungeon.

Scowling, he started to read out loud: "'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, al-low to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.' " His heart sank. He had not added syrup of hellebore, but had proceeded straight to the fourth line of the instructions after allowing his potion to simmer for seven minutes.

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?" "No," said Harry very quietly. "I beg your pardon?" "No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore. . . ." "I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco." The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. "Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."

While everyone around him filled their flagons, Harry cleared away his things, seething. His potion had been no worse than Ron's, which was now giving off a foul odor of bad eggs, or Neville's, which had achieved the consistency of just-mixed cement and which Neville was now having to gouge out of his cauldron, yet it was he, Harry, who would be receiving zero marks for the day's work. He stuffed his wand back into his bag and slumped down onto his seat, watching everyone else march up to Snape's desk with filled and corked flagons. When at long last the bell rang, Harry was first out of the dungeon and back in their common room, deciding, that he would rather skip dinner, than seeing Umbridge once more.

He stormed up to the dormitory and flung his school bag in a corner next to his bed, before going down again and slumping down into an armchair. This day really had ben shitty. Umbridge was even more horrible than he had expected and Snape was the same git as ever, though, that hardly came as a surprise.

How could a perfect summer change in to such an nightmare of an new school year? It really was frustrating, he had hoped for a peaceful year for once, but it seemed, this year he would not only have to fight at the end of it, but also along the line, only, against an other opponent. He really preferred The black robes of Voldemorts followers against Umbridge blinding pink.

Forty minutes later Ron and Hermione entered the common room as well and joined him.

"Wanna play a game of chess?" Ron asked, already pulling out his wand to conjure it.

"I would prefer Exploding Snap today," he grumbled.

Ron only shrugged and summoned the game. "That is fine with me."

They played for the next three hours and somewhere in-between Neville, Dean and Seamus joined them, but at last Hermione shooed them up to bed.

Harry noticed, that he still had to unpack his trunk, but shrugged it off for the day and simply pulled out a t-shirt for the night and once again stripped down to his boxers. Ron was still in the bathroom, so he simply drew his curtain close and laid back, closing his eyes.

Sleep didn't come as quickly as the night before, he was still slightly seething, even though the games of Exploding Snap had helped a lot. He tossed and turned for about another hour, before drowsiness finally claimed him. Just before he fell asleep, something nudged at his mind again and he bolted up once more.

What was this feeling? Yesterday, he had thought, it was only a thought, who tried to enter his mind, but this time it had felt stronger and definitively different, somewhat curious, if he had to describe it and it certainly did not come from himself. It felt too foreign for that, but not threatening or uncomfortable at the same time.

Frowning, he decided to think more about it tomorrow, he was too tired right now and he had not even the slightest idea about how a feeling, which was clearly not Voldemorts, could enter his mind and it could not be the Dark Lord, or his head would hurt like hell.

Sighing, he lay down again and this time, he fell asleep within seconds.

The Triwizarding Tournament:

Voldemort sat once again on his throne, but this time, he was merely thinking. He had noticed something and he wasn't sure what that something was, which in return, made him quickly irritable. He was not used to not knowing something, he knew everything after all and he surely was no patient man, but after an initial wave of annoyance, which had earned some of his followers a round of crucio, he had decided, to examine whatever it was in his mind further.

Closing his eyes, he withdrew into his mind and looked around in that library like space, until he saw it. When he had first seen it, he had instantly known what it was at first sight and his first impulse had been to simply close it in his anger about finding some kind of connection to someone or something in his mind, when he had felt the pulse of power and stopped, suddenly intrigued.

Now, he again could feel the pulsing power. It was far weaker than his, of course, but it certainly was over average and there was something else as well: It was growing. Only slowly, but with every heart-beat like pulse he could feel it and even though the power seemed very pure currently, he also could see a darkness at the edges. Earlier, he had felt rage coming from it as well and rage was always a good foundation to work on. He could also sense that the power was still young, which explained it's growing and for a power this young, the strength truly was remarkable.

Concentrating even even more, he examined the magic further and noticed something else. The magic moved in an complicated, intertwined pattern, unlike anything a human should possess, but after a while it changed back to the more straight pattern of human magic. These child clearly would receive an inheritance soon.

Grinning evilly, he decided to leave the link open, maybe it could bring him a new, strong follower in due time, he would keep an eye on it.

Pausing a second, he tried to once again find out more about the source of that power, it had to come from somewhere after all and more informations about it could only help to find whatever was on the other end, when he decided to collect it. He would have to wait for a while longer until the child had come into it's creature inheritance, before would be able to sense it's magical signature. Right now the flowing magic was far too unstable to decipher a clear signature and it would most likely change even more in the upcoming weeks. Unfortunately, he could not see through the beings eyes (it would have helped him immensely in his search) or tell, how this connection had come into being. He could not even say, how long it resided in his mind. It was quite possible, that the connection had been there for years and that he had not noticed it until today, because the power leaking through it had still been too weak. This of course would still not explain why this link had formed in the first place.

This all was frustrating and he could do nothing else but being patient and wait for his opportunity to strike. Maybe, he could start to communicate with the other being, if he put enough magic behind his will and lure it to his manor one day, but for this plan to have any chance of success, he needed something he could offer it.

Frowning, he wondered, why he was beginning to feel so intoxicated by it. But maybe it was only the fact, that this mysterious being at the other end of the mind-link was his first real challenge in decades. Since he had left Hogwarts at age 17 to be precise and that was almost 53 years ago. A sudden, possessive feeling rose inside of him and blinded him momentarily. When the sensation had ended, he frowned at a spot of dust on the floor in front of him. This feeling was by now so known to him, but typically he only felt it in connection with Potter, when he once again indulged himself in daydreams about the Gryffindor-boys brutal death. But the boy's death was now closer than ever before.

He had set his plan in motion and at the end of his fourth school year, Harry Potter would die, leaving him finally able to conquer the wizarding world without another interference and to leading their society back to it's former glory. But until then, it still were a few months and with the current plans of that ugly woman of a Minister of Education, he would need to keep an eye on the boy, if he wished to kill him himself.

And yes, he wished so, because Potter was his. From the very beginning. The boy always had been his. His to overpower, to break and to kill. His property in a way.

He had not needed the prophecy to know it, because he had felt it as soon, as Potter had been born. The boy's magic had already been so powerful for a child his age and a strange feeling had told him, that indeed he could have magic, powerful enough to challenge him. Oh, how he hated that boy. How he hated to know, that there was another wizard on earth, who could become as powerful as he was. But he was still more powerful now and that was the reason why Harry Potter would die sooner than later, before he could reach his 17th birthday and grow into a real threat, ad even without growing into a threat, he at the very least would become an enormous hindrance on his own way to power. In fact, the boy already was.

Voldemort tightened his grip around his wand as the possessiveness threatened to overpower him once more.

The possessive feelings he hold towards Potter had even grown with the years. First, directly after his defeat and the second time at the end of the boy-hero's second school year. Both times had been times, after Potter had taken something very special away from him: A piece of his soul.

So it only was natural, that the boy was his to kill in return, that his death would be in his hands. No one else would have this pleasure, but to make sure of it, he needed to protect the boy this year, or he would be dead long before his plans could fully unfold.

To have Lucius back in his rank really came in handy, otherwise he would not have known that the Ministry was planning to hold the Triwizarding Tournament at Hogwarts to use the occasion to get rid of Harry Potter themselves, or rather, Dolores Umbridge was planning on getting rid of the boy. National glory was, of course, another reason to reinstall the tournament, which, truth to be told, had been stopped with good reasons. It just didn't do to sacrifice the best students of a generation every five years.

But still, the main reason for inviting France and Bulgaria was obviously Harry Potter, that at least had been Lucius informations and Lucius never brought false or incomplete informations.

Why she would be so stupid to try to kill the only person, who had been predicted to be born with a power, able to rival his, he did not fathom, or maybe, this power was the reason, why the Ministry feared the boy so much. Now he was still a child, but soon enough he would be an adult, able to ensure his own powerful place in the Ministry and as far as he knew, the young hero's opinion on some matters were quite different to those of the current Minister's. Not as different as his own, but different enough. Potter apparently was a supporter for equal rights for werewolves and other creatures, something, no one at the Ministry wished to see to come to pass.

But at least, this whole intrigue of the Ministry's Minister of Education gave him the foundation to an plan to get his hands on Harry Potter.

This only had left him with the question, of how to ensure the young hero's survival until the final task, but of course, he had already taken care of it.

The accusation, of Barty not being devoted enough, had been unfounded, he had to admit as much, after all the man had ben locked away by his father, freed from Azkaban, but kept under the imperio in their family's cellar for nearly one and a half decade, because the young man had actually tried to find him. Unfortunately he had been captured by aurors.

Barty was surprisingly sane, considering the overly abusive use of the forbidden mind-curse, and had quickly acted on his order to ensure Potters safety at any cost and had gone to Hogwarts, in the disguise of the ex- auror Mad-Eye Moody.

There was no better disguise, unless, he would have managed to capture Dumbledore or the boy-who-lived himself, but than again, the latter would have made their whole plan would have become unnecessary by now.

So his plans were set into motion and for now the only thing left to do was being patient, something he truly hated with a passion. He always could go on raids, of course. He also should infiltrate the Ministry further, having only Lucius and a few more followers there would not suffice in the length of time and then there still was the issue with his locked-away followers, especially his most-trusted.

He missed Bellatrix, or rather, he missed the screams she could force from a victim, so he really needed to plan their deliverance.

And lastly, there was the issue of his immortality. He was (of course) closer to this goale than anybody else in the wizarding world, but unbreakable immortality he had yet to reach.

When he had started to experience with Horcruxes about twenty years ago, he had not realized how soon a situation could arose where he needed those dark artifacts to save his life when his killing curse rebounded on that brat. But Potter had taught him in an most inconvenient way how quick even his life could end. Back than he had only possessed two Horcruxes, but as soon as his spiritual body had been strong enough, he had created more, until he possessed seven.

Seven, the number had not been chosen randomly. Seven was the most powerful number in the magical world and he had been sure that it would give his Horcruxes even more power and protection.

To his displeasure, a second Horcrux had been destroyed by Potter (again) in his second year.

This cursed child. He should have become his third Horcrux, but his attempt had obviously failed and he had been forced to create the other Horcruxes whilst only having the bodiless form of a spirit. It had been an exhausting task and he had needed years instead of weeks to split his soul in the seven pieces.

With the help of wizards he had possessed, he had hid his Horcruxes at places where neither Harry Potter nor Albus Dumbledore would ever find them and even if they would stumble one day over a part of his soul, the dark magic he had used to protect each one of them was even terrific for his standards.

But since the incident with Potter he had also become aware of the weaknesses of an Horcrux. The number of seven had indeed given them more resilience, but they were not completely indestructible, and therefore, so was he. He would use the time until he faced the Boy-Who-Lived to search for an absolute immortality, he would not underestimate Harry Potter once more and risk dying.

There were creatures which could grand him immortality, like vampires or dementors, but he was a Pureblood at heart, his strong dark magic and unique inheritance had long since driven the blood of his unworthy father from his body, therefore he would never consider to become a creature. It would be unworthy of his Slytherin heritage.

Rising to his feet, he made his way down to the library with long, purposeful strides. He would start his research now, there was no time to be waisted. He was sure he would finally be able to find the key to an unrestricted lifespan. He had learned much about life and death during his research for Horcruxes, theoretically and practically.

…

"Hem, hem!"

Harry rolled his eyes simultaneously with his friends. It had only taken one day for that little coughing noise to become the most hated sound in Hogwarts, not even the Slytherins appreciated it and they normally appreciated everything that annoyed the other houses.

It was lunch time and he and Ron had just successfully survived one of the most absurd Divination classes in their lifes, in which Professor Trelawney had predicted, that the entire castle, stones, students and all, would be eaten by the giant squid and now they were sitting in the great hall, hoping for a peaceful lunch, but that hope had just been chattered by that little noise.

"I wonder, what she has to announce now," Ron grumbled, not even looking up from his plate.

"I am sure we are about to find out," Harry sighed and turned to face Professor Umbridge. She stood once again in front of the head table and Moody, who had apparently refused to leave the school yet, glared with his magical eye at her.

"My dear students," she started and a silent groan went through the student body, some even made a retching sound at her overly sweet voice.

"I am happy, to make two announcements."

"I am sure we will be happy as well," Hermione grumbled and glared up at her, whilst Harry could only nod, whatever was coming, it wouldn't be good. Nothing coming from that woman would ever be good.

"First of all," Unbridge continued, "I am very relieved, to be able to tell you, my dear friends..."

"When does she finally cut that crap about being our friend?" Ron mumbled in between, but Harry didn't answer and continued listening instead.

"... that the threat of misguided and unworthy teachers will soon be taken care off by the new position of the High Inquisitor," Umbridge ended her sentence.

He nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "The what?!"

"The High Inquisitor," Hermione repeated, her brows furrowed.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"An Inquisitor is someone, who has the power to investigate and punish, or in this case- probably the power to sack teachers," Hermione explained in an hushed voice, but loud enough, that Dean, Seamus and Neville could hear her as well and all sported the same worried look, which Harry could feel on his own face.

That was even worse than expected. Umbridge would probably go after all teachers, who supported Dumbledore and could pose a real thread, which would be at least all heads of houses, that was, if Albus was right and Snape was still on their side. Thinking of him, he would have to find an opportunity to asked the old wizard.

He turned his attention back to Umbridge who just explained: "In the next few weeks, I will personally investigate the standards and abilities of every teacher."

Looking up, Harry could see many very murderous looking teachers. "But only, if she is not murdered first, I am sure Snape just scans his mind for an convenient, untraceable potion to poison her," he said, pointing with his chin in the direction of said professor.

"You could be right, but I believe the possibility to end up as an transformed mice is high as well," Hermione snickered, motioning towards their head of house.

"... but this is not the only good news I have on this fine noon," Umbridge went on and Harry couldn't suppress a groan.

"Britain's school for wizardry and witchcraft has always been one of the best out there in the world, if not the best of all of them. It is the believe of the Ministry, that our high standards in education should not go unnoticed, that is why I can now announce to all of you, my dear little students, that this year, we will have the honor of hosting the Triwizard Tournament! In three days, representatives from the France Beauxbatons Academy and the Institute of Durmstrang will arrive in our wonderful castle!"

Absolute silence rang through the hall. Harry could only blink in confusion, he had no idea, what this tournament was, but he was sure, that the Ministry only would host it, to advertise Britain's strength to gain some sort of respect or power over the other countries. Dumbledore and the other professors seemed to think something along the same line as well, because they looked even gloomier than moments before. He could only assume, that Albus was less than happy to see his students used in such a way and if he read the mans expression right, he had not been informed about this tournament at all.

Finally Fred, who sat further down the table interrupted the silence by exclaiming: "She must be joking!"

Umbridge chuckled sweetly: "I am not joking at all, Mr. Weasley. But as I can see, that many of you do not seem to know what this tournament is, I will elaborate: The Triwizard Tournament was first established about seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry, the already mentioned schools: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang.

A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities. Sadly, due to many accidents and grave injuries..."

Harry snorted: "Grave like in fatal?"

"Probably," Hermione agreed, before they continued to listen.

"...the tournament was discontinued, instead of adapting the rules. In the past weeks, the Ministry of Britain has, in cooperation with the France and Bulgarian Ministry, established those adaption. That is why, only students, who are already of age, are allowed to take part in this tournament and for the one champion, who will win in the end, the glory of their school and nation, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money will wait."

With Umbridge, every student was always weary in the beginning, but glancing around, Harry could see that the interest of his fellow students was slowly getting peaked, although, some had once again deflated at the announcement, that only adult students could represent their school. But those, who could try out for the roll of champion, where gasping in excitement at the prospect of thousand Galleons prize money. He himself was glad for the age restriction, at least, he would not end up as the Hogwarts champion this way.

"So, how can we become the champion for Hogwarts?" A brave Ravenclaw asked with properly lifted hand, which made Umbridge smile approvingly.

"The selection of the champions will be done by an unswayable judge, the Goblet of Fire, a magical artifact. Those of you, who wish to lead our school to glory, can fill out a piece of parchment with their name and throw it into the cup, which will reside in the great hall from Friday to Saturday evening. On Saturday the coup will then announce the champions."

Already Fred and George were sticking their heads together and whispering suspiciously. Harry had the feeling, that these two would not be stopped by the mere ban of Umbridge.

Umbridge finally sat down again.

"I think it is really unfair, that we can't join," Ron complained, as soon as the usual chattering had started once again.

Harry gave him an incredulous look. "You can't honestly mean that?" He asked.

"Why not? One thousand Galleons and glory, that would be great!" The red head protested.

"Do you really wand to do those tasks, what if they put you in front of an dragon?" Harry questioned, thinking, that they really should be happy, that they were out of the game.

"They wouldn't do that," Ron said in an convinced voice.

"I would be not so sure," Hermione mused, before looking at her watch. "We are getting late!" she exclaimed and sprang up.

Harry sighed. Normally they would have another ten minutes, but their next class was Herbology, down at the green houses. At least, they didn't had the class with the Slytherins this year.

They left the great hall and crossed the entrance hall, before leaving the castle. It was still warm outside, but the sky was getting cloudy and the air was humid.

He quickened his space a bit and his friends followed suit. A few Rawenclaws were already standing in front of greenhouse 4 and they joined them.

"Do you know, what kinds of plants grow in greenhouse 4, Mione?" Harry asked and tried to get a look inside of the glass house, but the plants looked fairly harmless on first sight, which didn't say much, most plants looked like this as long as undisturbed, which didn't mean, that they couldn't suddenly grow tentacles and try to eat you.

"Guardian Plants," Neville's voice sounded suddenly from behind them and the boy stepped next to Hermione.

"Guardian Plants?" Hermione asked interestedly.

"Yes," Neville nodded. "They are like guard dogs, only worse." They boy winced, which didn't bode well for their next few Herbology classes.

"My gran has one of those and no one has ever broken into her home, but sometimes we find a single shoe..." the pudgy Gryffindor shivered.

"That sounds like something, Hagrid would like," Ron commented and shivered as well.

Harry had to agree his friend silently, the half giant had a thing for dangerous creatures after all.

Professor Sprout arrived and waved them over: "Not so shy, we have not yet arrived at the toxic potions plants," she said and unlocked the greenhouse. Harry exchanged a look with Hermione, who's hands were slightly shaking.

"Please choose a partner for the following lessons and sit down in front of one of the plants to the very left side, but don't bring your stools any closer than 2 meters, before I haven't given you the necessary instructions about how to deal with the plant.

Ron quickly stepped nearer to Hermione and gave him a sheepish look. Harry sighed, he would need to find another partner than. But before he could look around a dreamy voice said at his left: "We are an uneven number of students, would you like to join with Neville and me?"

He spun around and came face to face with a girl, which looked as dreamy as her voice had sounded. Her hair was nearly as light blond as Malfoy's, her eyes were huge and deep blue and from her ears hung something, that looked like radish earrings.

"Um...yeah," he said unsurely, flickering his eyes over to Neville.

"That is Luna, Luna Lovegood, she is from Ravenclaw," the boy explained.

Grinning sheepishly at Luna, Harry said intelligently: "I am Harry Potter."

"I know," Luna retorted with a small smile and bounded over to the plants.

Neville shrugged and explained: "She is always like this, but she is very nice," and they followed her.

The plant on the wooden work bench looked utterly plain, in Harrys opinion. It was small, with tiny, yellow blossoms, the only odd thing was, that it was not kept in a pot, but only in a small mount of soil.

"So, what can this plant do?" Harry asked, leaning a bit forwards to get a better look, but in that moment, Professor Sprout started her lesson:

"These are Radix Captura, one of the more harmless Guarding Plants we will discuss this year, but do not be fooled, her roots can leave very nasty bruises and if she captures and bind you and you are not found in time, one of your limbs could even die off."

Harry paled, that sounded already very dangerous to his ears, he was not looking forwards to the really dangerous plants.

"Today we will practice, how to remove old leaves. Please get gloves and a pair of protection goggles and than start."

When Professor Sprout said nothing more, silent shuffling started as the first students got up to fetch the protection items.

"Doesn't she explain anything else?" Harry asked incredulously, thinking that he needed some more instructions, but Neville and Luna only shrugged.

Sighing, Harry said: "I will get the stuff," before standing up and going over to the garden tools shack, which was connected through a door on the opposite side of the green house.

The gloves he found actually would reach over their elbows and he also picked up three pair of secateurs, before returning to Neville and Luna.

He pulled the gloves on, feeling utterly ridiculous with them and than looked at Neville expectantly.

"The trick is," the boy said, putting on his pair of glasses "that you let it capture one of your arms with it's roots, but only your arm and it had to wind all of her roots around it, or you will get problems later on..."

Harry watched as Neville put his right arm securely behind his back and than stepped a few steps in the direction of the plant, which immediately attacked.

Grayish roots shot from the soil and Harry suddenly knew, why the plant wasn't kept in a pot, it would have destroyed it. Neville quickly lifted his left arm and the roots wind themselves tightly around it.

"Than," Neville continued his explanations, twisted his hand and grabbed the roots "you grab the roots and hold it tight. When the plant doesn't struggle anymore, you can start to cut the old leaves off."

Harry watched in awe, as the roods struggled for a moment to get free and than went slag. Neville picked the secateurs up and started to remove dried leafs.

"You know," Harry said, stepping closer "it always looks so easy when you work with the plants."

Luna giggled. "It does, he is a real plants-expert."

"It really isn't all that complicated," Neville said, but Harry didn't believe it one bit, his Gryffindor friend always said something like this in Herbology and it always turned out to be even more complicated than initially expected.

When a third of the old leafs was removed, Neville let go of the roots, which instantly retreated and gave Harry an expecting look."

"You expect me to try that as well, don't you?" He asked.

Neville merely grinned at him and he groaned, but took a few steps forwards regardless.

The moment he was close enough, the roots shot forwards again and in the blink of an eye, both of his arms were captured.

"You forgot to put one arm behind your back," Luna said helpfully.

"Oh...yeah," he retorted intelligently, his eyes fixed on that single root, which had left go of his right arm and was now sneaking up towards his throat.

Luckily Neville quickly grabbed the roots with both hands and after a moment of flexing around his arms, they went still and slag again and as Neville let go of them once more, they retreated again.

"Try again, but don't forget to hide your right arm this time," Neville said.

Harry nodded, wishing that there would be a way to persuade Neville, that he didn't need to practice this, but the boy was actually like Hermione in that regard, thinking that everybody needed to do their own work.

Putting his right arm behind his back and bracing himself, Harry stepped forwards once more. As the roots shot forwards, he lifted his left hand and most of the roots grabbed it, but not all.

"Duck!" Neville exclaimed and Harry quickly followed the shouted comment, just in time to see a root shooting over his head, where his eyes would have been.

"What shall I do?" He asked, getting slightly panicked as he avoided yet another root with an inelegant stumble to the left.

"Shake your left arm a bit, so that the other roots will concentrate on it," Neville adviced.

Harry moved his left arm in front of his body, which wasn't easy with the tight restrains. Already he could feel his arm getting numb and tingly, but as he shook it a little, the attacking roots changed their direction and as soon as they had gribbed his arm, he twisted his hand and grabbed them.

Panting, Harry through Neville and Luna a relieved smile.

"You did it," said Luna in an singsong voice and smiled dreamily at him.

43 minutes later, Harry finally left the greenhouse. Ron and Hermione waited for him outside, with Ron sporting a blue eye and Hermione a nasty looking cut on her right cheek. He really was glad, that he had Neville as a partner, the fight against the Radix Captura had been exhausting, but at least he had come out of it without any cuts or bruises.

"You really are a lucky guy, you know that?" Ron grumbled, touching his eye.

Harry snickered: "I know, guess it was good, that I was left out by you two."

Hermione snorted and than asked: "So, when do you have to be at Umbridge's office?"

"At five," Harry sight.

"Than we have still about three hours, we should go to the library and do some homework," Hermione said.

"Mione," Ron whined. "It is only the second day, we doesn't have that much homework already."

"That is exactly, why we should start now, Ron," their female friend huffed.

"We can go to the library, but I want to go to Dumbledore before my detention," Harry agreed, knowing that it would do no good to argue with the brainy witch over homework.

"Than let's hurry," she said and quickened her pace.

Ron groaned, but Harry only shrugged, as much as he hated doing homework, it had to be done.

They went straight to the library and picked a table in the far back corner, where no one would disturb them. Harry hung his school back over the back rest of his chair and than asked: "So, where should we start?"

"We could start with the homework for DADA, that is not much, only reading and summarizing," Hermione suggested, already pulling out her book.

"Yeah, but it is boring," Ron argued, but bend down to retrieve his book as well.

Harry merely said: "Let's get it over with," and skipped to chapter two.

The second chapter was as boring as the first one, maybe even more so. He really tried to just read it quickly, but he ended up reading the same sentence two or three times again, as the letters threatened to lull him into sleep. After two pages he realized, that he would never remember what he had read, if he didn't start to take some notes, so he summoned his quill and ink pot and a piece of parchment, before starting from the beginning once more.

In the end he needed nearly as long as he normally needed for an whole essay, only to read 25 pages and write an 2 feet summary, it really was frustrating, but at least he was still quicker than Ron, who actually had fallen asleep midway through the Theory of Defense Magic, or however the boring title actually had been.

He started with his diary for Divination, this year about the topic Dejavue Interpretation and tried to remember, if he had experienced any dejavues in the last days. After about ten minutes of thinking, he decided to do it like last year and just invent something and started to scribble down three dejavues.

Hermione only rolled her eyes at his homework, but spared him the comment.

At 4PM he was actually finished with all his homework for this first two school days and decided on an impulse to read ahead in his potions book, he didn't want a failing grade in his next potion again.

The next potion the would brew was a mind healing draught, with actually sounded even more complicated than the draught of peace from their last lesson. He would need to keep his thoughts together, or he would mess it up again and royally this time. There were many potions, where you had to stir a minute, or sometimes even ten, but he had never seen a potion before, where you had to stir ten seconds, hopefully his time stopping spell could count down seconds as well, or he would be lost.

Hermione suddenly looked over his shoulder and when she saw, what he was doing, said approvingly: "I think that is a wise decision."

But Ron only looked incredulous. "I think it's a sign, that he seriously needs to see a doctor," he commented, his eyes fixed on Harrys potions book in disbelieve.

"Well, I can't continue like this. If Snape starts to vanish all my potions, which are not perfect, than I didn't have to show up anymore," Harry said dryly.

He finished the chapter and cast a tempus, noticing, that he should head up to Albuss office, if he still wanted to visit him before his appointment with Umbridge.

"I have to go, guys," he said and quickly packed his things back into his bag.

"Good luck," Hermione said and Ron added: "Don't kill her yet, I bet Fred and George want to prank her first."

Laughing, Harry waved a see-you-later and made his way out of the library.

Classes where over for the day and most students lazing in their common rooms, so the corridors were empty as he took a short cut to the gargoyle. The stone beast winked at him, before hopping to the side, letting him pass. As he climbed up the stairs, Harry wondered, if his adoption could have something to do with the fact, that he barely needed a password anymore, but he shrugged the question off, when he stood in front of the office door.

He knocked twice, before stepping in.

"Harry, good to see you. Would you like some lemon cake? Dobby brought me a whole plate and it really is delicious."

Thinking that he could accept Dumbledore's offer once in a while, he nodded and sat down onto a stool.

"I guess you want to know, what came from our conversation yesterday?" Albus asked.

The man really knew him far too well, Harry thought with a happy grin on his face. "Yes, but I also wanted to ask, if you knew about the tournament," he said, accepting a small golden plate with a piece of cake.

"Ah well..." Dumbledore said and took a bite from his own cake, before continuing. "To the first issue, Severus indeed came to me yesterday and told me about Voldemorts return, or Toms, I still don't like his self-invented title."

Harry, who had just taken a bite of the cake himself, nearly choked on it, as he desperately tried to suppress a laughter. Dumbledore looked with bright, twinkling eyes at him, mirth dancing in their depth.

When he had finally swallowed, he joked: "We could start and call him Tom again, I bet he would dance in joy."

"A wonderful idea, Harry, I think I will actually do that," Dumbledore retorted and Harry nearly choked a second time.

"But let us come back to the main topic:" the old wizard said, when Harry was able to listen again. "Severus came to me and his story was identical with yours. What concerns the Triwizarding Tournament, I had no idea, or I would have tried to stop it." Dumbledore sighed and suddenly looked as old as he was.

Harry had noticed during the summer, that the man did not simply laugh about everything, or saw it as a simple matter, he only chose to hide his true concerns in front of most people, knowing, that he was a pillar for the wizarding world.

"The Ministry says, that they will prevent death with the age restriction," the old wizard continued. "But fact is, that there always had been more adult students than underage, due to the fact, that the goblet also takes their magical abilities in account, before choosing and many died still. I am in fact relieved, that the students have actually no idea, how many died in the tournament."

Harry winced, but he had already assumed something like this.

"Do you know, when she will start with her inquisition?" He asked, thinking, that he could try to get as much informations as possible, when he was already eating cake with Dumbledore.

"I believe, she will start as soon as the students from Beauxbaton and Durmstrang are here," Dumbledore said.

"I am sure Snape will be overjoyed to have her pink presents lingering about in his classroom," Harry smirked, making Albus chuckle.

"He is already looking forwards to it, so is your head of house," Dumbledore winked, before adding in an thoughtful voice: "I am still waiting for the announcement, that she will examine my skills as an headmaster as well."

Harrys eyes widened in horror. "You can't be serious!" He exclaimed, imagining, how Hogwarts would be without Albus and that ugly toad as headmistress instead.

"My boy, I fear, that my removal is the Ministry's real goal."

"Please no, Hogwarts without you is unimaginable!" Harry protested wholeheartedly, knowing, that every Gryffindor would sign that statement as well, but Dumbledore merely chuckled.

"I am happy to hear your appreciation of my persona as headmaster, Harry, but even though it is not easy to remove a headmaster from his position, there are still a few ways and many more can be invented. We just have to prepare for the worst and be attentive this year."

Slumping a bit in his chair, Harry nodded, somehow Hogwarts would survive even a year with an High Inquisitor, Hogwarts had survived much worse, the attack of Slytherin's heir fore example, one fifty years ago and one only barely two.

"I bet she will somehow manage, to appear in every of my classes," he finally grumbled after another bite of cake, Dobby had really out doe himself.

Dumbledore chuckled as well: "You could be right, Harry. And speaking about her, I fear you have to go now, or you will be late for your first detention."

Scowling, Harry quickly shoved the last piece of cake into his mouth, before standing up again.

"I will be going than," he said.

"I wish you good luck, my boy and try not to irritate her even more, than you already have. You know, it is a serious and hard task to hold onto an obvious false truth," Albus sad with a wink and a bright twinkle in his eyes."

"It probably is," He retorted, before exiting the office again.

The way down to Umbridge's private office on the third floor was far to short, but deciding, that it would look awkward if someone saw him anxiously lingering in front of the door, he decided to just knock, even if it was only five minutes to five.

"Come in," sounded her sugary voice and Harry just wanted to turn around and just pretend, as if he had forgotten about his detention, but in the end he entered against his better judgement.

Once inside, he curiously looked around after all he had known this office under thwo of its previous occupants. In the days when Gilderoy Lockhart had lived here it had been plastered in beaming portraits of its owner. When Lupin had occupied it, it was likely you would meet some fascinating Dark creature in a cage or tank if you came to call.

Now, however, it looked totally unrecognizable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolor kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. They were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter."

Harry startled and looked around. He had not noticed her at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

"Evening," Harry said stiffly, still in daze over the kittens.

"Well, sit down," she said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair, on her face one of her ugly smiles. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for him.

Starring at it, he wondered, if she could mean this seriously. Not a single teacher in Hogwarts made their students write lines, not even in detention. No one gained anything from writing lines. The students gained no knowledge and the teachers no help, therefore, students often had to do practical chores mostly, like helping Hagrid with some creatures, or Professor Sprout with some plants. Even the cauldron-scrubbing they had to do for Snape, did at lest benefit the Professor, this was only stupid and made Harry once again feel like a five year old.

Or maybe, there would be some kind of trick to it, than even writing-lines would probably make sense.

Jerking from his trance, he noticed, that Umbridge was watching him with her head slightly to one side, still smiling widely, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking and was waiting to see whether he would start shouting again. With a massive effort Harry looked away from her, dropped his schoolbag beside the straight-backed chair, and sat down.

"No complains about my teaching methods this time?" she asked sweetly, when he didn't respond in any other way, apparently, she had hoped for some kind of violent outburst from him, so that she cold punish him more.

Not wanting to grand her that particular joy, he gritted his teeth, this was a battle of wills, he knew as much. "No, Professor," he answered equally sweetly and he could see at the twitching of one vein at her temple, that she didn't appreciate to get her own method thrown back at her.

Finally she said: "There, we're getting better at controlling our temper already, aren't we? Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Mr. Potter."

Harry, who had already expected that much, was already banding down to retrieve his quill and ink, but was stopped by Umbridges sweet voice again.

"No, not with your quill, you're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."

She handed him a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.

Taking the quill, he eyed it suspiciously, something was off with it, so much was clear by only looking at the thing, apparently he would be correct with his assumption. Unfortunately he couldn't say what exactly was wrong with it. Well, he would find out in a minute or so.

"I want you to write 'I must not tell lies,' " Umbridge told him softly.

"How many times?" Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness, successfully hiding his suspicion.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go."

Harry frowned at the way she had emphasized the words sink in. Slowly he got a very bad feeling about his detention.

He watched, as Umbridge moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking, before the sharp black quill and then realized what was missing.

"You haven't given me any ink," he said.

"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice- a rather sick laugh.

Resining himself to his fait, whatever it would be, he placed the point of the quill on the paper once more and wrote: I must not tell lies.

Sharp pain surged through the back of his right hand and he let out a gasp of pain and shock. Looking down, he saw, that the words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink and at the same time, on the back of his hurting hand as well, where they had cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel.

For a moment he could do nothing but stare. Professor Umbridge couldn't be doing this. This was torture, real, painful torture, it couldn't be legal. The coppery smell in the air told him without any doubt, that it was his own blood, which was transferred onto the parchment as ink. Did that mean the quill used blood magic? If so, that would mean, that it was an dark magical object and not only illegal withing Hogwarts.

As he was looking down, starring at the shining cut, he could see his skin healing over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder, but smooth.

He could feel Umbridge gaze on the back of his head, only waiting for him to say something, or to look up, but he didn't. He would survive this without making another sound, or even acknowledging her, he would note give in in front of her.

Instead he placed the quill upon the parchment once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; the words had once again been cut into his skin, and once again they healed over seconds later.

And on it went again and again in the same pattern. The cut always healed over, but he could feel his skin getting raw and itchy as time went by.

Darkness fell outside Umbridge's window, considering, that it was still summer, he had been writing lines for hours, but he did not ask when he would be allowed to stop. He did not even check his watch, after all she was still watching him for signs of weakness and he was not going to show any, not even if he had to sit here all night, cutting open his own hand with this quill!

Silently, Harry wished every curse he knew onto her. He was honestly tempted to offer Snape his help for brewing a convenient poison, but the man would probably get a better result without him.

After what had to be at least seven hours later, she finally said: "Come here."

Standing up, he took his parchment and went over to her, but instead of taking the scroll, she commanded: "Hand."

He extended his hand and repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers on which she wore a number of ugly old rings.

"Tut, tut, I don't seem to have made much of an impression yet," she said, smiling.

And you never will, Harry thought inwardly, but kept silent.

"Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

Knowing, that he would only throw some insults at her as soon as he would open his mouth, he left the office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. He walked slowly up the corridor then, when he had turned the corner and was sure that she would not hear him, broke into a run.

Now, where he had left Umbridge's office and was out of that situation, his whole body started to shake. He felt violated once again. After his talk with Dumbledore at the end of last term, he had thought, that he would never again feel like this, but now he did. What was wrong with him, that people always wanted to hurt him? Was he really such an freak? Was he unworthy of an kind or even human treatment?

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, he felt so dirty. The patches of skin, where Umbridge's sweaty hand had touched his, still felt sickly sticky. And even though the words had disappeared, he could still see the wounds of yet another insult cut into his skin. It had to be him, something had to be wrong with him, that was the only explanation. Why else would people, regardless of muggle or wizarding world, torture him like this?

He came to an abrupt halt in front of the fat lady.

"Pass word?" She asked in a good-humored voice, but her friendly smile fell, as she saw his expression.

"Lion cub," he said the password and rushed through the hole, intend on taking a shower, hoping to get at least rid of Umbridge's sweat on his skin and than going into bed.

Without looking left or right, he crossed the common room with long strides, but a soft voice stopped him.

"Harry? What happened?"

Startled, he froze mid-step and turned around to see Ron and Hermione waiting for him by the fire, it had been Hermione who had spoken.

Forcing his lips into a smile, which hopefully only looked tired and not entirely pathetic, he said: "Just tired. The bloody bitch capt me for..." he glanced at the watch hanging over the fireplace "... seven and a half hour."

He honestly hated lying to his friends, they had, after all, never once judged him, but he just couldn't tell them the truth, it hurt too much, it was too close to his personal nightmare coming true, only that it had always been Dudley or uncle Vernon torturing him again.

"Ron and I only wanted to make sure, that detention wasn't too horrible," Hermione's soft voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"It wasn't. I only had to write lines," he reassured her with yet another forced fake-smile.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed. "Lines for over seven hours? She really is crazy!"

Chuckling dryly, Harry said: "She is, but guys, I really only want to take a shower and call it a night."

"Well, we will see you tomorrow than," Hermione smiled.

With a last wave he disappeared up the staircase and into the boys bathroom and closed the door behind him.

He leaned against a sink and tried to calm his racing heart. He didn't want to break down, he would not break down, because of such an ugly, stupid bitch. If he ever would brake down because of anybody again, than because of Voldemort and as evil as the snake bastard was, he at least was powerful as well, while Umbridge was just a sadistic cow.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment, only concentrating of his breathing, until he felt his heart slowing down. It was a long process, because his heart was racing so violently and his magic was crackling just beneath his skin, wanting to break free and destroy everything that hurt him.

When he finally felt calm again, he stepped out of his clothes and quickly ducked under the shower, he wanted to be in bed before 1 in the morning, or he would be useless tomorrow.

The hot water soothed his tense muscles and he stayed under the spray for a bit longer than he normally did.

When he finally was dry again, he noticed, that he had forgotten to take his t-shirt for the night along, so he opened the door of the bathroom, glanced around the corner and quickly made his way down to his dormitory in only his boxers. Luckily no one was awake at quarter to 1 in the middle of the week.

Ron was already snoring soundly, so was Neville, when he entered. He quickly climbed into bed, before sealing his curtains shut and ending his glamours. With a loud sigh he let himself fall back onto his pillow and closed his eyes, only to feel that nudging sensation again.

This time he didn't startle, it had never appeared before he was on the brink of falling asleep, but it had never done something to him either. It had not even cost him nightmares and it felt almost familiar by now. Thinking about it, it had felt somewhat familiar from the start, or it would have worried him much more. He also wouldn't have been able to fall asleep otherwise as well.

Relaxing further into his mattress, he tried to examine the feeling. It felt so familiar, as if it belonged into his mind, it was strange, because it clearly wasn't his. Not really, at least.

The last two evenings it had been curious, but today it also felt slightly agitated. Had it witnessed his torture and distress? Harry had the feeling, as if it was pondering something, but couldn't say what.

Shrugging mentally, he decided to let it ponder about whatever was concerning it and turned onto his sighed to fall asleep.

The next morning he woke well rested, even though he had only slept about five and a half hours. His dark thoughts had once again retried to the far back of his mind, because he didn't felt depressed anymore. He sighed in relieve, he had feared for a moment, that he would not be able to keep these self-destructive words locked away, but they were gone and he felt much better again. He was so relieved.

He stretched and pulled his wand from under his pillow to reinstall his glamours. When he was finished, he opened his curtains and climbed out of bed. Ron was just sitting up and mumbled a tired "g'morning," before grabbing his toiletries and disappearing into the bathroom.

Chuckling, Harry shook his head and quickly got dressed before following his friend.

"Honestly, mate, if she always keeps you so long, I won't wait for you every evening. I am bloody tired," Ron grumbled in reference to Umbridge.

"No problem," Harry retorted and started to brush his teeth. He even would feel better, if his friends wouldn't wait for him anymore, this way, he could hide better, what really happened in that office.

Ten minutes later they joined Hermione downstairs and went together to the Great Hall.

"So do you think, your potion will be better this time?" She asked, as they climbed down the stairs.

"Er...?" Harry asked intelligently, not really knowing, what she meant.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry. Don't you not know your new timetable yet? We have Potions first."

"We only are here for three days, how shall I already know my whole time table?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Well, I have it memorized already," Hermione countered.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yes, but not everybody is as crazy as you are, Mione."

They had reached the foot of the staircase at the ground floor.

"I don't know. Hopefully my reading-ahead will help a little," Harry shrugged, in answer to her original question.

"It surely..." Hermione said, but their conversation was cut short by an all too sweet voice:

"Mr. Potter. Would you please accompany me?"

Sighing in exasperation, Harry turned around, only to notice, that Umbridge was flanked by two men in red auror robes.

"What the bloody hell?" Ron muttered.

"Tut, tut, Mr. Weasley. This is not very nice language," Umbridge said with one of her overly sweet smiles and than ordered: "Mr. Potter, please follow me."

Having an unpleasant feeling in his stomach, Harry glanced over to his friends, who looked as if they didn't want to let him go, least of all alone. Ron was rapidly getting red in his face and Hermione looked, as if she was about to say something, when a voice sounded:

"Ah, Professor. I hope you are not intending on taking him to your office alone? Interrogation of an underaged child, without the present of a parent, guardian, or teacher is after all not legal."

Harry actually smirked at Umbridge's gritting her small, pointy teeth. But her hones-sweet smile was quickly back in place and she turned to his step father, who was descending down the last steps of the staircase.

"Of course not, headmaster. We would have come immediately to your office after collecting Mr. Potter."

"As if..." Ron muttered under his breath and Harry nodded in agreement. What ever had happened which lead to Umbridge wanting to interrogate him with two aurors, it couldn't be good."

"I bet she wanted to somehow kick you out," Hermione hissed next to him and Harry could see Dumbledores twinkling blue eyes shortly flicking over to her, before giving an nearly inconspicuous, single nod.

"That bitch," Ron muttered, but he couldn't answer, as Albus waved him over. "See you in Potions, guys," Harry said, before striding over. Dumbledore instantly placed a protective hand onto his shoulder, before saying: "Shall we go to my office than, or would you prefer your own, Dolores?"

The use of her first name only seemed to enrage her further, but to Harry's surprise, he could see a maraudish gleam in Dumbledores eyes and he snickered silently.

"I prefer my own," Umbridge smiled and Harry assumed, that she might need the illusion of her own office giving her more power over the situation, which of course, was utter bullshit.

"Well than," Albus prompted and motioned for her to lead the way.

They stepped up to the third corridor, Dumbledore's hand never leaving his shoulder. It was an immense comfort to feel the weight and to know, that with Dumbledore- no, with Albus, he really had gained a father. That was, why he finally should start to call the man by his first name at all occasions, and not only in privacy with him. The man had asked him to and he should at least grand him that small wish.

Respect had made him hesitate until now, but right now, as he scooted a bit closer to the red velvet robe with the golden suns embroidered on it, he realized, that his politeness probably only hurt him.

Professor Umbridge opened her office door and as they stepped inside, they were greeted by eager mews from the kittens on the wall. In front of Harry, the two aurors visibly flinched at the side of the overly pink room, but quickly straightened their backs again.

"Professor Umbridge," the older auror said, "please, stay to the side during the interrogation."

Harry examined him a bit closer: He had dirty blond hair, was tall and broad shouldered, with grey eyes and a three-day beard. His face was stern, but not unfriendly, he looked battle-tested.

"But I am an high Ministry official, I am even a Minister," she pointed out with a smile, but the aurors face only hardened further and Harry got the feeling, that the man didn't like the new Minister of Education as much as he did.

"Yes, you are. But only the Minister of Education, that gives you no power in an interrogation. But if you would prefer, you can always wait outside."

Umbridge pursed her lips, but didn't say more and sat down behind her desk, her little toads-eyes never leaving him.

The aurors turned to Harry than and the older one said: "I am auror Jonson and that is auror Mathew." He motioned to the other man, before continuing.

"We are here on the request of Professor Umbridge, who believes, that you may have something to do with an incident that happened in the early hours this morning down in Hogsmeade, but I would suggest, we sit down first, before continuing."

Harry nodded and Dumbldedore pulled his wand out, conjuring a plush, red lounge, that clashed horribly with the pink of Umbridge's office, but seemed to amuse the old wizard immensely.

Jonson and Mathew sat down in two armchairs, while he and Albus took the couch.

"Mr. Potter," Jonson began again "this will be an official interrogation, this means, that everything you say, can be used against you should this incident be carried in front of a court."

Harry started to feel honestly nervous, even with Dumbledore next to him. For some reason, he felt utterly small and intimidated, a feeling he had never felt within the wizarding world, but maybe Umbridge's detention had broken something inside of him after all. He swallowed once, to get rid of the lump in his throat and than said: "I understand, sir."

"Good," Jonson said. "Mr. Andrews, the owner of the apothecary in Hogsmeade was found dead this morning. He was killed around 3. 30 AM and the Dark Mark was cast over his store," Jonson continued.

Harry only blinked in confusion. "And what has that to do with me?" He asked incredulous, not seeing the connection.

"Well," this time it was the auror named Mathew, who spoke up for the first time. He was smaller than Jonson, with dark brown hair and light green eyes. He made a sly impression and Harry found him uncongenial.

"Professor Umbridge informed us, that you insist on making the student body believe, that he-who-must-not-be-named is back and even started a loud argument over the issue in one of her classes."

"And that is why I should have killed him?" Harry couldn't suppress his snort any longer, this was just to ridiculous and he was relieved to see, that Jonson was also slightly frowning at the accusation his colleague made.

"Yes, Mr. Potter," Mathew affirmed. "Your claims went obviously unnoticed, so you wished to give them more weight with your doing."

"That is utter bullshit!" Harry exclaimed.

"Mr. Potter!" Umbridge snapped from her place behind her desk.

Harry sighed and took a deep breath, before saying in a much calmer voice: "First of all, yes, it is true, that I told my class and that Voldemort is back, because it is true after all, but it is not true, that no one in my class acknowledged me." He huffed in annoyance.

The aurors flinched, but Mathew quickly collected himself again and narrowed his eyes: "That might be true, Mr. Potter, but you also tried to convince the Ministry and you certainly didn't succeed there."

"Ah, but I fear that was me, not my son," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"Than he wanted to help you, headmaster. After all, you were the one who saved him apparently from his relatives."

The breath hitched in Harrys throat. Where did the auror had that information from? As far as he knew, Amelia Bones had sealed his case. He looked up to glance at Albus and saw the man narrow his eyes as well.

"Please tell me, auror Mathew, where do you got informations from a sealed case?" Dumbledore asked, his voice icy cold and Harry found himself relieved, that the man never would be his opponent.

Mathew huffed: "I do not have to reveal my sources."

"I am still member of the Wizen Garmont and thus, can demand this information," Dumbledore countered.

Mathew grew pale and Jonson said with a glare at him: "I am sure my colleague has already forgotten this bit of informations, headmaster."

Mathew nodded quickly.

"Very well," Dumbledore said.

"You still have more than enough reasons to commit a crime such as these," Mathew continued with another train of thoughts, making Harry blink in disbelieve once again.

"This incident brings you, Mr. Potter, back into the spotlight, being the one who defeated you-know-who 13 years ago and even more so, if the public should really start to believe, that he has returned."

Harry growled. This accusation was even more laughable than the last one. "I have more than enough attention, even more than I ever wanted. If you would take the time to look into the Daily Prophet or any other newspaper, you will see, that not a single day goes by where no article is posted about me."

"But they are no articles about heroic deeds. Surely you would wish to see these again and get rid of the newest rumor concerning your love life?"

Rolling his eyes, for what felt like the hundreds time this day, Harry retorted: "I would prefer to be normal and show not up in the paper at all. You can ask all my friends, they will confirm my statement."

Mathew narrowed his eyes: "You could have lied, Mr. Potter. No one likes to admit, that he feels as if he gets not enough attention."

Dumbledore cut finally in again, clearly at the end of his patience: "Concerning the matter of the crime, I believe there is a quick and quite sufficient solution to our problem." He hold his hand out in front of Harry, who blinked at it and asked: "Harry, would you please hand me your wand?"

Nodding, Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve and gave it to Dumbledore, wondering what Albus would do. Dumbledore had pulled out his own and mumbled a spell, before pointing it to the next wall of Umbridge's office.

Harry watched in awe, as his wand started to fire off spells: a summoning spell, an unlocking spell, the three glamours he always used, a locking spell, another summoning spell and lastly a strong blasting curse, which blasted quite a huge hole in Umbridge wall.

Little red numbers had appeared with every spell and as he realized, that it were the times, he also realized, that Dumbledores spell had made his wand repeat the spells he had casted in the last 12 hours, only with the last one first.

"As you can see, Harry has not cast morsmodre," Albus said friendly but insistently, but Mathew still looked suspicious.

"Why so much glamours?" The man asked.

Harry really didn't want to answer this, there were things these men had no right to know, so he simply said: "Scars."

"But you can't glamour a cursed scar," Mathew pointed out, referring to his famous lightning-bolt scar.

Rolling his eyes, he retorted: "I said scars and not scar." With a flick of his wand he lifted one of his glamours from an especially nasty scar on his cheek, where Dudley had successfully pushed a knife deep enough into his flash to make the tip come out in his mouth again.

Mathew and Jonson both gasped and Jonson quickly said: "I think we are finished Mr. Potter. Our apologies for the inconvenience. I think we can say without a doubt, that you are not involved in the murder of Mr. Andrew's." He threw a filthy glare at Umbridge, who looked more than unhappy at the outcome of the interrogation.

Harry followed Dumbledore when he rose and vanished the lounge again, happy to get finally out of this hellish office.

"I will escort you back to the Entrance Hall," Dumbledore said friendly, but in a voice that made it clear to everyone, that he would accept no objection. The two aurors followed him, but Dumbledore stopped at the office door and turned back around to Umbridge: "Professor, next time, when you are worried about one of your students, please come to me first. I am sure these fine officers have more important things to do than to follow false leads."

Umbridge glared at the man's retreating forma and without waiting for a retort, Harry swept out of the door, quickly following Albus, before Umbridge could make him stay behind.

Down in the entrance hall, Dumbledore said a few parting-words to the aurors, before turning towards him, after they had left and the front door had closed behind them.

"Well, this challenge we have conquered. I believe you have Potions now."

Harry sighed. "I have."

"Than we will see us later," Dumbledore said with a smile, before turning around and disappearing up the stairs again.

Resigning himself to what ever nasty remarks Snape would have prepared for him, Harry turned in the directions of the dungeons and made his way down to his classroom. If there was anything worse than Potions class in general, it was being late for Potions class.

He opened the heavy, wooden door and tried to slip in as unsuspiciously as possible, but as soon as he had entered, Snape's sneering voice announced: "25 points from Gryffindor. There is no reason to be late for my class, not even for an job interview with the aurors, Mr. Potter."

Harry gritted his teeth and quickly went over to his work space, where his friends greeted him with a questioning look.

"Later," he whispered and pulled out his Potions textbook.

"Harry," Hermione worried her bottom lip as she could not suppress the question that was lying on her tongue. "Had it something to do, with that article about Hogsmeade?"

Harry looked around shortly, checking if anybody was listening in on them, before saying: "Yes."

Hermione nodded, before stirring her potions two times clockwise.

Ron sucked in a harsh breath, but he too, turned back to his cauldron.

Opening his textbook, Harry skipped to the page of the Mind Clearing Solution. He was glad, that he had already read the instructions once, that gave him at least a small chance to complete the potions within the lesser time he had. Snape surely would not give him 30 extra minutes to finish his assignment.

He quickly went into the storage room and retrieved the ingredients he needed, before starting to prepare them, careful to not miss a line of the instructions once again. The next 15 minutes he chopped, sliced and diced, before finally turning to his still empty cauldron to begin the real brewing process. He would not let Snape vanish this one as well.

With a determined look, he filled the cauldron with the right amount of water and than added the dragon's saliva, which would make the water able to boil on a much higher temperature.

"Mr. Thomas, pray tell, what shall this be?" Snape's sneering voice carried over to him, but he just was glad, that he was not the once who got insulted for once and ignored it.

He added the ring snake skin, before stirring the potions three times clockwise and one and a half times counter clockwise.

When Snape finally announced, that they should bottle up their potions and bring a sample to his desk, Harry was glad to see that it was only slightly darker and a tad bit thicker than it should be at it's stage, granted, he have had no time for the last step of the brewing, which would have been let it simmer for 7 minutes, but he was sure that he at least would get a mark for it and no T as well.

Snape sneered at his viol and for a short moment Harry feared, that the man would refuse to mark an unfinished potion, but than he gave a curt nod and accepted the unfinished Mind Clearing Solution.

As Ron passed him, he could see, that his friends potion was unfinished as well and instead of an silvery blue, it was bright pink. Harry gave him an sympathetic look and Ron visibly braced himself, before stepping up to Snape.

"hen everybody was seated again, Snape announced: "Next week we will start with with the topic of healing poisons," before snapping a "dismissed."

"Your potion looked fairly good," Hermione commented as they left the classroom.

"It did," Harry agreed with a relieved sigh.

"So," Ron interrupted them "what did Umbridge want?"

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but Hermione stopped him. "Wait a moment;" she said and waved her wand mumbling "in privato."

A transparent, shimmering bubble suddenly surrounded them, before it flickered and disappeared.

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously.

"A moving privacy charm, it will stay around you, even if you are on a walk. Quite useful, I found it yesterday in a book about security spells. The only problem is, that it is quite noticeable in the first seconds of casting, but than it's very save," Hermione explained.

"Oh, you have to teach me that one," Harry grinned and than lapsed into the revision of his interrogation.

"You said, that there was an article about Hogsmeade?" He started.

"Yeah, quite nasty," Ron confirmed.

"Well, apparently Umbridge told the aurors, that she has a student, who insist on spreading the lie, that Voldemort is back. But because no one listened to him, he apparently saw it necessary to give his words some more weight," Harry told them sarcastically.

"But, the guy has been tortured to death!" Ron exclaimed. "She couldn't honestly think, that you would do something like this!"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know if she really think I could torture someone, or if she simply wanted me out of the way."

"Did they had more accusations?" Hermione asked in an thoughtful voice.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I also was unsuccessful with persuading the Ministry, that only added to my frustration."

"But it was not you, who went to the Ministry to warn them," Hermione pointed out.

"Well, but he is my adoptive father and I wanted to help him, after all, Albus saved me from my abusive relatives." Harry snorted.

Hermione winced and Ron asked: "I thought your case is sealed?"

"Albus pointed that out as well, so the one auror, who apparently wanted to see me in Azkaban as well had to change tactics," Harry smiled coldly, he really was annoyed by the man and his new DADA Professor.

"Oh no, what did he say?" Hermione asked, sounding as if she wasn't sure if she could handle any more of that bullshit.

"He pointed out, that I am not very often in the paper anymore and that I feel, as if I get nod enough attention. When I told him, that there is every day an article about me in the bloody paper, he said, that it was not the kind of article I want to read. No heroic deeds, you know."

Hermione actually made a bristling sound at his last words.

"But Dumbledore helped you, didn't he? You couldn't have any real problems with him there." Ron asked.

"I hadn't, he preformed a spell, which made my wand repeat all the spells I have cast in the last 12 hours, so I could go again."

Hermione's eyes widened: "She used priori incantatem?"

Harry only shrugged: "He didn't say the spell out loud. Where was I with the story?" He thought for a moment, until he remembered and than continued his tale: "Umbridge really was angry. I think she wanted to get me without Albus and intimidate me into silence, so that she would be able to claim, that I couldn't deny anything, because I have done the murder, or something like this."

"That sounds like her," Hermione agreed, just when they arrived at their transfigurations classroom.

"I really hate her," Ron grumbled, but their conversation came to an end, when McGonagall opened her classroom door that moment.

They went to their usual seats in the front row and the next two hours they listen to a long lecture about the theory of object to animal transformations. Harry always liked McGonagalls class, but to the begin of every topic she tended to hold one of these long lectures, which left him and most of the other students bewildered, with the exception of Hermione, of course. Luckily the theory was not very important in the end and until now, he had always found a book which could explain the theory to him before his end of term exam.

After transfiguration was over, they went down to lunch, where they joined Fred and George, who both had laid their heads down onto their still empty plates.

"What's up, guys?" Harry asked with a lifted eyebrow, examining the normally cheerful twins.

"Just sat through two hours of Defense, a Theory for Advanced Learners," one of the twins mumbled, but with their arms shadowing their faces, Harry could not tell, if it had been Fred or George.

"At least she didn't try to accuse you of murder," Ron grumbled and the heads of the twins shot up.

"What..." George started and Fred ended "...did she do?"

Sighing in defeat, Harry repeated his story a second time.

"That bitch," the twins exclaimed in unison as soon as Harry had ended.

"Don't worry, Harry," Fred said, more serious than he had ever seen the older boy. George nodded and finished the sentence for his brother: "We will revenge you."

"Thanks, guys. If you need help, I would be happy to assist."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "Has your father not warned you only yesterday to not offend her too much?" she stopped, gave him a sheepish look and than asked: "Can I call Dumbledore your father?"

Harry blinked for a moment and remembering the realization he have had earlier, that Albus honestly had adopted him as his son with his whole heart, so he said: "You can, I think he will even be happy about it. I mean, he has adopted me and even announced me his legal hair."

"Isn't that the same?" Ron asked. "I mean, a son is always the heir, isn't he?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, with an adoptive child, you have to announce him or her your heir, otherwise the adoptive parents hold only the guardianship. It is an old law, which should ensure the main line of pureblood families, in case, they adopt an older son of an main branch."

"Why should they even do that?" Ron asked.

"Because," Harry said "parents die sometimes."

Ron flushed and his brothers snickered: "Oh, our poor little Ronny-kins just embarrassed himself once again."

Grinning, Harry said: "But really, boys, if you need some help, then let me know."

"We'll do that," they grinned back.

Winking, he grabbed the next bowls with noodles and started filling his plate.

"Well," said Fred, between two bites. "Forge and I may have come up with a few ideas the last two days." Forge snickered.

"Oh really, guys, you all will get into trouble!" Hermione huffed exasperatedly.

"They will make sure, to leave no traces," Ron tried to sooth her, but she still looked disapproving. The only thing, Harry mused, which probably stopped her from saying anything more, was the personal hate for Umbridge she was building up. For Hermione, teachers were close to gods and to see a woman misuse such an holy position like Umbridge did, had to be a huge sin in her eyes.

"So, how was detention with her?" George asked, just when Ginny joined them.

"Just lines, but that for seven hours," he answered.

Ginny sputtered: "Seven hours?! She is crazy!"

Not wanting to think about the detention too much, because it would only remind him, that he had to return in four hours to that horrible office and that torture device of an quill, he said dismissively: "Yeah, she is."

The rest of their lunch went by with lighter conversations and after break was over, Harry made his way down to Care of Magical Creatures, together with Ron and Hermione.

For once, Hagrid had no horribly dangerous and deathly creatures waiting for them and was grumbling something about "Having to go through the official curriculum first."

So the next hour they fed Chic-Chicks, some kind of magical chicks, which looked exactly like normal chicks, only that they never would grow into an adult chicken. The class was not very interesting, but at least, harry hadn't to fear about getting bitten, burned or stabbed, so he didn't complain. His friends looked as relieved as he himself, when they finally went back up to the castle.

"So, we have three hours left until you have to go to Umbridge," Hermione said, opening the entrance doors. "What should we do until than?"

"No homework!" Ron exclaimed immediately and Harry nodded. He really wanted to do something nice before going back to that bitch.

"Do you want to play some chess?" Harry asked Ron.

"Sure, why not?" Ron agreed.

"Than I will just read a bit," Hermione mused with a content expression.

When they had reached their common room, they parted shortly to bring their schoolbags up to their dormitory, or rather, Harry went up with his and Ron's bag and promised to fetch the chess board for them, because Ron claimed to be too tired.

He quickly deposited their bags on their beds and was about to fetch Ron's old chess board from his friends trunk, when a nervous knocking sound startled him. He looked around, but when he saw no one entering, he looked over to the window, where a small, agitated, brown owl fluttered in front of it, a small piece of parchment attached to one leg.

Harry went over to the window to led the bird in, which instantly landed on top of his head. Frowning, Harry tried to shoo it away, but it only hopped a bit to the side to avoid his hand.

Sighing, he went back to Ron's trunk, fetched the board and went back down. As soon as Ron saw him he snorted, making Hermione look up, who was already engrossed in a book.

"Who is that?" She asked with a giggle.

"Don't know, but he doesn't want to leave my head," Harry grumbled and flopped down next to her. "Could you please get the note and if possible the owl as well?"

Still giggling, Hermione nodded, before she grabbed the small owl with a quick movement and untied the note.

"I guess it's for you?" she asked and handed him the parchment.

"Thanks," Harry said absentmindedly, unrolling the scroll, before checking the bottom of it.

"Its from Padfoot," he grinned.

"What? How is he doing?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Don't know yet, I have to read first," he said and started to read the short letter:

Dear Harry,

I am sorry that I was not able to write you sooner, but I had to find a save place first. Albus told me, that you would stay at Hogwarts during summer, or otherwise, nothing would have stopped me to write you regardless.

I found a good place yesterday, actually quite near by, so just tell me, if you ever want to meet up, I honestly would like to see you again.

Buckbeak is fine as fine as well, I left him with an Hippogriff breeder, who has such a big herd, that he won't attract attention. They are all grey as well and when I left, Buckbeak was already happily flirting with a chick.

I didn't plan on leaving him at first, but my place is just too small and he will be happier with a herd of his own, so please don't be mad, pup.

Please give Ron and Hermione my regards as well and tell Ron, that he can keep the owl as it's my fault, he no longer has a rat. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job.

I will write again soon, Padfoot.

"He says you can have the owl," Harry said to Ron after he had finished.

"Really?" Ron grinned.

"Yeah, he says sorry about the loss of your familiar," Harry said pointedly, because a bunch of second years were just entering.

"Than tell him thanks when you write back. Mum and dad never would be able to buy me one," Ron said and tried to take the owl from Hermione, but the blasted bird only flew on top of Harrys head again.

"Hey, are you trying to steal my owl?" Ron mock glared and Hermione snickered.

The girl tried to free Harry from his headdress, but this time the little bird was prepared and somehow managed to avoid her every time.

"Just let him be," Harry sighed in the end. "As long as he gets off before I have to go to detention it's fine."

In that moment Hedwig flew in, saw the other owl on his head and hooted offendedly. She swooped down on the smaller bird, who instantly fluttered away, but Harry only had a moment to be thankful for the loss of weight on his head, when Hedwig landed and wriggled a moment to make herself comfortable.

Ron burst into laughter, while Hermione started giggling. He glared at them, and tried to push Hedwig off his head, but she made herself heavy and didn't budge an inch.

"I think someone is jealous there," Hermione snickered and to his absolute horror she called Collin over, who was just coming down the staircase, his camera around his neck as usual.

"If you ask him to make..." Harry's sentence was cut short by the loud puff from the third year.

"That's a great picture, you look so cute with your owl on your head," Collin grinned happily. "I will make you a copy," the boy promissed, before saying: "I have to go now, Dennis and I want to go down to the lake, would you like to come with us?"

Harry quickly shook his head. It was enough to exchange a few words with his overzalous fan every other day, he didn't need to spend his free time with him. "I have detention soon."

"Oh," Collin looked disappointed for a moment, but than said "See you later, than," and waved goodbye.

"Than let's start with the game," Ron said as soon as they were alone again and flicked his wand to set the pieces, but Harry turned to glare at their female friend. "Really, did you have to call him? Now this photo will be around the school by tomorrow," he huffed, feeling a bit hurt in his manliness.

"But you look so adorable with Hedwig on your head," she gushed in a very girlish voice, that was utterly untypical for her.

Ron lifted a questioning eyebrow at Harry, but he only could shake his head in disbelieve at the sound.

He and Ron finally started their chess match and in the next two and a half hours Harry lost more games than he could count, while Hedwig didn't move an inch.

He always lost against Ron, but with the prospect of Umbridge black quill looming over him, he grew more and more distracted as time went by and 5 PM grew nearer. His hands even started to shake slightly around 4.

At 10 to 5 Harry nudged Hedwig and said: "Hey Girl, I have to go to detention now."

She hooted disapprovingly and stayed seated.

Sighing, Harry promised: "You can sit on my head again tomorrow.

Hedwig rustled her feathers, as though she was thinking about his offer and than finally left his head again.

Sighing, Harry got to his feet, said "see you later," to his friends and left the common room to walk down to the third floor. When he arrived, he didn't knock immediately, but took a deep breath and tried to still his hands, which were by now shaking violently. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. His dark thoughts from the day before started returning again and the question, why he always was the one, whom the people wanted to hurt.

With an uproar of his mind, he pushed the thoughts away again, they wouldn't help him and only make him feel more miserable. So he clenched his fists and knocked.

"Please come in," piped Umbridge's honey-sweet voice from behind her office door.

After having taken one last calming breath, Harry pushed the door handle down and entered.

"Mr. Potter, I have already prepared your work table. The line will be the same as yesterday, we want it to sink in, after all, Mr. potter."

Harry only gave her a curt nod, determined on not letting her see how distressed he actually felt. Without hesitating a moment, he sat down behind the small table and grabbed the quill, before placing it onto the parchment in front of him.

His hand, instantly started to burn.

…

Voldemort gritted his teeth. This was the second time and it always had started around 5 PM. Since two hours now he could feel pain coming through the link. Whatever happened to the other one, it caused him physical and mental pain and pain, regardless in which form it occurred, was a feeling, he didn't appreciated. He had believed, that he had overcome all weaknesses that could cost him pain a long time ago, but apparently not. It made him feel weak again, even though he was everything but. He hated it.

He had already tried to distract himself by torturing Wormtail, but it had not helped, it just wasn't satisfying to torture someone, who broke at the blink of an eye. And trying to continue with his research would be of no use either as long as he was not able to concentrate on the old and difficult writings.

That was why he now forced his enraged mind to be clear again. When this continued, or grew even worse he would have to do something. Pain was not a feeling, he liked to experience, at least, not when he wasn't the one causing it.

He started to pace back and force in his throne room, like a caged animal.

There was absolutely nothing good about pain, not if he wasn't the one inflicting it in others to make them bend to his will.

Suddenly he stopped in his track. A evil grin spread over his thin lips, as a plan formed in his mind. Maybe, there was something good about this pain after all. Maybe this could become his chance to start ensnaring who ever it was on the other side.

Yes, at least that much he had determined, the one at the other end of the link had to be a human, or at least a creature, who was very close related to a human, his range of emotions left no place for another possibility.

A very sadistic and delightful shiver ran down his spine. Oh, he wanted that power. This darkening, but still so sweetly innocent power. He would gain it and taint it, until it would be darker than any other magic of his followers, until it would be nearly as dark as his own.

The boy, or girl would be a good addition to his forces.

Feeling a bit calmer again, he sat back down onto his throne. He would keep having an eye on this person and hopefully, when his chance to strike came, his magic would be sufficient enough to reach the child. Than he would start to lure his way into it's heart and seduce it to his side.

Normally he preferred material gifts and rewards to convince young recruits. It took much lesser time to hand over a bag full of galleons, or a rare, dark magical artifact, than to actually seduce someone and he always had despised close social relationships, but in this case there was no other path to his goal.

Well, he would pretend for a few weeks and as soon as the prodigy would have his dark mark, there was no escaping him anymore and he could return to his usual ways.

…

Harry's hand throbbed painfully when he finally left Umbridge's office at half past thre in the morning. He wanted to race back to the common room, but his legs were shaking and he tried desperately to keep the depressing thoughts at bay, these silent whispers, that he deserved this punishment, because he was a freak, that there had to be a reason, why so many people wanted to hurt him.

A sob escaped his throat and he quickly bit on his bottom lip to prevent another sound from escaping.

This nightmare would never be over. The Dursleys were not a random cruel family, where he unfortunately had to live with for 13 years, they were just an example for many more people, who could clearly see, that he didn't deserve a nice word, or a gentle hand.

He himself couldn't see it, but he guessed that was normal. An alcohol addict didn't thought of himself as an addict as well and he was just the same.

His muscles trembled as he sat his write foot onto the first step and it caused all his remaining willpower to drag himself upstairs. He was so exhausted. His body was tired from being 19 hours awake and his mind was a whirlwind of emotions and memories, while feeling somewhat numb at the same time.

With every step his legs hurt more and he even needed to stop and take a break a few times. When he finally had reached the last landing, he couldn't say how long he had needed. He dragged his feet along the dark corridor until he finally reached the fat Lady. She was already asleep and Harry had to knock on her frame to wake her up.

She looked drowsily down at her and he tiredly gave her the password, and waited for her to swing to the side. He wasn't disappointed, when he found the common room empty, he wasn't in the mood to speak to his friends right now, anyway. Probably, he wouldn't even be able to. How was someone to tell his two best friends, that he was being tortured by their professor? How should he ever tell them, that he somehow had to deserve this treatment, because there was just no other explanation he could find?

For a moment he led his eyes wander through the dark common room. The only light came from the dying fire in the hearth, but finally, he forced himself the spiral staircase up to his dormitory.

Loud snoring greeted him, but he paid it no attention as he climbed onto his bed, still completely clad in his school uniform, with shoes and all. He closed his curtains, locked them and added an silencing spell and as soon as he was sure, that no one would here him, he rolled into an ball and tears started to stream down his face.

He sobbed loudly as the unfairness of his life sank in. It was always him: He was the one, who's parents had been killed. He was the one, who had to live with relatives, who didn't want and starved him. He had gotten countless scars edged into his skin and now he was the one, who was once again the one being tortured, after just having escaped that hell ten weeks ago.

He clutched his hurting hand to his chest in an desperate effort to comfort himself, but it was no good. There was no comfort from him, none he could give himself, anyway, he just hadn't any strength left.

The tears felt hot on his skin and he was drowning in darkness. It hurt so much, everything hurt so much, his whole life was one long nightmare, with only short phases of wakefulness. He couldn't stand this anymore, he just...

And than suddenly a wave of calmness and understanding swapped over him and Harry's sobbing stopped in surprise as the sensation relaxed his muscles and soothed his mind, without that he could have done anything against it.

As the soft waves washed over him, he recognized the signature of that prodding sensation he had felt the last two evenings, but now it felt more like a present in his head, as if it was a real person, someone, who was trying to help him.

The waves changed a pit, carrying the promise of help, support and strength.

Closing his eyes, Harry sighed. Only seconds ago he had felt utterly alone, but the feeling was gone, chased away by the supporting present in his mind. He let himself be covered by the calming waves it send through him. He wanted to thank it for it's help, but his mind was already slipping away from him. He was too tired and too blissful to say a simple thanks and before he knew it, he was asleep.