Chapter-5 Dolores Umbridge


Sweat poured from his body as spell after spell flew from the end of his wand. He poured his frustration, hate and every ounce of anger into each spell.

Bombarda. Diffindo. Reducto. Perdere.

The dummy created by the Room of Requirement collapsed like a doll. A few seconds later a new one was created, courtesy the magic of the room.

He glared hard, his eyes as hard as emeralds; he brought down his wand in a flurry motion and jammed it towards the dummy whispering, globus ignis. A ball of fire, approximately the size of a football flew from the end of his wand shattering and incinerating the dummy into a million pieces.

He was breathing hard, the frustration from the day's torture decreasing with each spell he cast.

His magic demanded revenge. It demanded justice. It demanded him to destroy those who dared to mess with him.

The rational part of his mind advised him to stay strong and endure. They were children, mere children who were petty enough to behave as such. He needed to be the better man.

But as time went by, he had a growing feeling that only he was being a better man and also the man who was blamed for everything. They were seeing him as dummy, worse than the one standing in front of him. A dummy meant to take everything they threw, whether it be respect or disrespect, praises or insults, adoration or hate.

They blamed him for the Chamber. They blamed him for the Tournament and now, they were blaming him for Cedric. No they were accusing him of murdering Cedric. The mindless sheep were bigots to the core. He knew what would happen next.

As soon as he had out flown the Dragon they had all come crawling back claiming to have forgiven him for entering the tournament. He knew very well that the same was going to happen.

Voldemort was back. It was the Cold Hard truth. Sooner or later he would come out into the open. They would all come back crawling, pushing the burden of defeating the Dark Lord onto his shoulders while bestowing upon his some other ridiculous title.

He sighed, dropping down on the nearby couch. Groaning, he sank into a meditative stance preparing to clear to his mind.

He subconsciously went through the day's events.


Harry was awake by 4:30. Shrugging off the oddity of the hour he went by the usual routine of using Brush, Bath and everything before heading off towards the RoR. He was in the great hall by 7:30 sharp. Four Sandwiches and some tasty bacon later he was on his way outside which lead to his first piece of unpleasantness of the day.

Malfoy.

"Alright there Scarhead?" came the same classic insult. Some people never change.

His green eyes sought out the grey ones of his rival. He rolled his eyes, ignoring the insult and the trio of idiots.

He walked past them. They were not worthy of his time. They were insects compared to the dark lord that was after him. He has spent the last four years fighting and arguing with Malfoy. He was above the blonde ponce now. The idiot was below his stature.

Apparently Malfoy didn't like being ignored.

His answer was a Buckling Hex, from behind he might add.

Harry Potter was no slouch. His senses screamed a warning the second the spell left Malfoys wand. He easily stepped aside, the curse flying harmlessly over his shoulder. He turned around using the spin to unsheathe his wand.

Expelliarmus.

The Malfoy heir never expected Harry to retaliate albeit so fast, so he never bothered to prepare himself. His wand deftly flew from his hand and into Harry's outstretched arm. The Power from the spell knocked him backwards. He landed on his butt a few meters from where he originally was.

Aculeus.

An overpowered stinging Hex left the blonde biting his tongue, drawing blood to prevent himself from screaming. Crabbe and Goyle had drawn their wands, ready to defend their leader. Crabbe threw a Hex, it was purplish in color. Harry's attention shifted to the two big bullies, his green eyes focused as he calculated the threat.

A simple Protego dismissed the hex like it was nothing. Goyle's spell impacted with his shield a moment later and Harry was pleased to note that his shield was still on, although its color had dimmed. It could take on one more spell.

Stupefy. Incarceous.

Carbbe dodged the stunner, moving as expected into the line of the binding spell. He fell down in a pack of vines bound like a present. Harry turned his attention towards the remaining two, among which one was wandless.

Anteoculatia.

Harry couldn't resist firing off the Hex at the enraged Malfoy. Goyle was useless, even with a wand. But a spell from him in retaliation to the Hex on Malfoy destroyed his shield.

"POTTER"

The loud voice of the Potions Master of Hogwarts rang through the hall. Harry sighed knowing what was going to happen. He lowered his wand.

A big mistake. Goyle's cutting flew straight ahead. Eyes widening he threw his body to the left, the curse scraping his arm but most of it passing away harmlessly.

"Duelling in the Corridor's" he shouted, "twenty points from Gryffindor"

He sheathed his wand glaring at the Potions Master. This man deserved no respect. He was the most immature being in existence. Throwing Malfoy's wand straight into his smirking face, he turned his back on Snape, walking outside.

It took a while for the Potions Master to realize that his favorite target wasn't going to argue. Taking five more points from Gryffindor he waved his wand over his godsons face, vanishing the antlers, muttering a healing spell for the bruise from the stinging hex. He growled annoyance when the bruise didn't fade immediately. Two spells later the boys face was again spotless.

Harry stormed outside of the castle cursing Snape. He plopped down near the lake. He liked this particular spot as it often gave him a soothing sensation. He allowed the memory of showing Malfoy his place to plague his mind. A small smirk worked its way onto his face.

He relaxed outside, the cool breeze ruffling his messy hair giving him a rugged look. He took of his glasses, observing the round out of fashion thing that looked as though it was taken out of a trash can. Harry idly wondered if there were Optometrists in the Wizarding world. Surely there had to be a potion or other that could heal his eyes. He filed the thought for later research in the Room of Requirement.

He had History of magic first thing in the morning followed by Divination and then DADA in the afternoon. Oh well, he was only going to attend DADA, Divination and History of Magic were both a waste of time. He absently glanced at his watch, it was 8:06. He picked up his bag, threw the customary invisibility cloak around him and made his way to the Room of Requirement.

It was around twelve when Harry came to the kitchens for his lunch. It was a quiet affair with Dobby providing him with more and more food, until he was literally stuffed. He had spent the time usefully till 10:30 going over all the theory and a wide variety of spells he had made a list of that he needed to learn. He had twenty five spells up until now, which he planned to master in the next two days. He was going to relax for the time being before heading off to DADA at half past one.

Maybe a small nap, he decided changing his course towards the Gryffindor common room. Setting the alarm to 1:15 he went off to a peaceful slumber.


Daphne Greengrass considered herself as a ruthlessly logical person, her main attribute being able to easily discern her adversaries' thoughts; the ability to relate people's actions to their emotions was way too easy for her. She watched Malfoy proclaiming loudly as to how he would destroy Potter, wrap him up in a neat little package and present him to the Dark Lord. Everyone knew that Malfoy now thought himself as the ruler of Slytherin, a level of respect that was usually earned by the upper years, usually the seventh years who had proven to be the best witch or wizard in the house of cunning. Being cunning was not one of Malfoy's finer attributes, not that he had any other to begin with.

However everyone in the common room knew that Malfoy currently held power. She was pretty sure that everyone in the room had received an invitation from the Dark Lord, and Lucius Malfoy, as a political monster and great tactician was at the top of the Death-Eaters hierarchy. Antagonizing Heir Malfoy, who was nothing but a spoiled braggart who would go crying to his father at the first chance, could make life difficult for the other Slytherins. Hence was the reason the blonde twit had not yet been Hexed.

Daphne closed the Defense book that she had wasted her money on. It was useless to study, a book that had no reference whatsoever to using spells or practicing defensive techniques, the ministry's stupidity at its finest. How was Hogwarts going to produce any half a decent Aurors when there was practically no mention of using spells. It was the Ministry's way of interfering in Potter's life while attempting to show that Dumbledore was not the one in control.

Daphne knew all about Dolores Umbridge, the toad was the worst among the bigots that plagued the British society. True, there were bigots in every country, she had visited quite a few with her mother, but nowhere was it as bad as the issue was at Britain.

Her best friend Tracey Davies plopped down on the couch in the common room beside her, giving her a childish grin. Her friend was the bubbliest person she knew of, and she was a redhead, not a blonde.

Daphne whipped a strand of her golden honey blonde hair behind her ear and gave Tracey an enquiring look.

"Hello Pretty Girl, Shall we move to DADA?" Tracey said with a teasing smile.

"Isn't Blaise coming?" Daphne asked.

"Oh, he's not here. He said that he would meet us in DADA, said that he had to go to the library" Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were somewhat tolerable people. Though Nott's father was a well known Death-Eater though Daphne knew the mousy haired boy was harmless.

"Then let's go" she said and the two friends departed from the common room.

Daphne and Tracey passed by Malfoy bullying a few Hufflepuff first years. The blonde twat tried to appear as though he was the one in power in front of the ladies from his house. As usual, they looked along blankly, sporting an indifferent attitude when the twat talked to them, slithering away once he was done speaking. During the first two years when Daphne had hexed the Blonde twat life had become painful for her courtesy of her father. Had it not been for her mother, Daphne shuddered to think as how she would have grown up under her father's influence? Probably like a puppet, spouting bigoted words, trained to be a completely dumb pretty doll that was meant to be nothing but a trophy.

Like Astoria.

Each and every attempt that she had tried to sway her sister towards her side had resulted in failure. The girl had taken her father's words to heart, making it her life's ambition to one day be known as, Lady Malfoy. Since Draco had openly shown that he was interested in the elder Greengrass sister, noticeably the prettier of the two the sibling relationship that they had preserved through their father's mind games was shattered.

Daphne knew that their father was not a man that needed to be respected or followed. He was, to the society a man who held a vote in the Wizengamot, a proper pureblood who followed all customs, ran a profitable business and had a very beautiful wife.

They didn't know just how rotten their dad was on the inside. They didn't know that he had been one of the Death-Eaters at the World Cup a year ago. They didn't know that he often went out with Lucius Malfoy in the middle of the night. And most of all, that he took the Dark Mark a month ago. The Greengrass's had remained neutral in the last war courtesy of her grandfather who had refused to take the dark mark but had agreed to stay out of the conflict. Her father was a very ambitious person, a trait that had led their family to a dark path.

Astoria had then begun to gradually shift towards her father after an altercation with their mother. Her mom, Elizabeth had tried to patch the gap between her two daughters from time to time, only for Astoria to fall further into their father's grasps with each try. Daphne knew that she herself looked overwhelmingly like her mom with her eye color being the only attribute that she had gotten from her dad.

Her sister on the other hand had inherited the crooked and rough look that their father had, thus making Daphne the prettier of the two sisters. It had never been an issue until Malfoy came into the picture. While she had wanted nothing to do with the blonde haired twit ever since he had insulted her best friend Tracey when they were kids, of being filthy, Astoria had always been smitten immediately by the polite pureblood act of the boy that she had seen at the parties who spoke of customs and revolutions he would bring about in the Wizarding World.

The result was observed by Tracey as she watched the Greengrass sisters pass each other on the corridor without so much as a nod. To the entire world they may not be related at all. In fact Tracey doubted that anyone beyond Slytherin knew of the fact that the two were sisters. She didn't care for Astoria as she knew that her best friend's sister held her in the same regard as Malfoy, it didn't bother her much but the slight coloring of Daphne's eyes worried her. She knew that the blonde still loved her sister, even if the girl was a real bitch. Behind the pureblood Ice Princess mask that Daphne wore, Tracey knew that she was her mother Elizabeth through and through.

They reached the Defense classroom and were surprised to find it nearly empty. Granger was sitting in the front row, with Blaise at the last but second row. Their friend waved them over and three settled in two adjacent desks. They conversed quietly among themselves and Nott slid into the seat next to Daphne with a barely murmured, 'Hey'.

The Gryffindor lions came next, Ronald Weasley leading Thomas and Finnigan an arrogant smirk marring their faces as a giggling Patil and Brown followed. Daphne frowned at seeing that Potter was not with them. The two were known to be the best of friends throughout the school. She looked to her side to see that Tracey too was sporting a frown.

The lions settled down on the other side of the classroom at the back. Weasley got up and walked up to Granger, whispering something in her ear, unaware of the attention he was getting from the four Slytherins in the room.

Granger snapped something with a huff and look of blatant disapproval making Weasley growl before he retreated back to his seat. Malfoy and his gang came after, starting a fight with the lions at the back, that both parties didn't notice a very sleepy Potter arrive at the classroom. The boy noticeably yawned before plopping down next to Granger. Malfoy soon settled in front of her directing a glare at the back of potter's head as Professor Umbridge entered the room.

Daphne was confused, seeing as Weasley had never left Potter's side, save for those few weeks before the first task the year. To see him openly avoiding Potter was not part of the routine.

Umbridge sat down at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Daphne was again reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.

The class was quiet under Professor Umbridge's scrutiny. She was as of yet, an unknown quantity and nobody knew yet how strict a disciplinarian she was likely to be.

"Well, good afternoon!" the toad said when finally the whole class had sat down.

Very 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. Daphne shoved her 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; 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 O.W.L. 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." She smiled sweetly down at all of them.

"Copy down the following, please." She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by a list of three aims which Daphne felt ridiculously stupid when copying down.

As the last noise of a scratching quill stopped she said, "Has everybody got a copy of

Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

Everyone nodded, "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." She gave a smile at the end making Daphne's lip curl in disgust.

The class collectively groaned before pulling out the book from their respective bags. Daphne herself knew that the book was a load of Dragon Shit, though she nonetheless pulled it out and opened up the first page, a vicious scowl marring her pretty face.

It was desperately dull, quite as bad as listening to Professor Binns. Daphne felt her concentration sliding away from him; she 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 her, Nott was absentmindedly turning his quill over and over in his fingers, staring at the same spot on the page.

Daphne looked up from her book and received a surprise. Granger had not even opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air.

The students in the DADA classroom couldn't remember a time when Hermione Granger ever neglected to read when instructed to, or indeed resisting the temptation to open any book that came under her nose. She was staring at Professor Umbridge intently, who was looking just as resolutely in another direction. Daphne nudged Nott, her friend looked up and frowned. He looked at her questioningly and she shrugged.

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

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

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

"Not about the chapter, no," said Granger

"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 Granger. Daphne's sneer became more pronounced at the slight curl in Umbridge's lips at recognizing the girl as a muggle born.

"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 Granger bluntly. "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. Daphne had to shake her head at Granger's foolish question. It was painfully obvious that Umbridge wanted them to fail in DADA what with, the book, the instruction, the attitude and everything.

"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?" Weasley ejaculated loudly. Tracey shook her head on the other side, covering her ears in mock pain at the loudness of Weasley's voice.

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

"Weasley," said the redhead, thrusting his hand into the air turning a bit pink.

Professor Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him. Granger immediately raised her hands too. Professor Umbridge's pouchy eyes lingered on Potter for a moment before she addressed Granger. Daphne snorted at Umbridge's blatant attempt to rile up Potter. The Gryffindor golden boy would no doubt start shouting to the world that the Dark Lord was back in a few minutes.

"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, making Daphne wonder if Umbridge had a bit of Slytherin in her.

"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 Weasley loudly. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a —"

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

Weasley 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 Thomas.

"Dean Thomas."

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Ron 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 Thomas, "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 Finnigan angrily, "he was the best we ever —"

"Hand, Mr. Finnigan! 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," Granger, "we just —"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Hermione put up her hand; Professor Umbridge turned away from her. "It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —"

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean Thomas hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads —"

Daphne mentally sighed. Gryffindor's were never good for any arguments. They tended to be brash, illogical and irritating. Raising your voice against someone who had indirectly declared by the use of 'the Ministry' in almost every sentence that 'You can't do anything about this'

"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" trilled Professor Umbridge.

"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 O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses 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 —"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" said Finnigan loudly, his fist in the air again.

Professor Umbridge looked up.

"This is school, Mr. Finnigan, 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. Weasley."

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

"Oh, yeah. What about the dark wizards in Azkaban? There are more of them out there" Weasley shouted.

"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. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead —" Here the toad looked directly at Potter who was … doodling was it?

"Once again, I must repeat that this is a lie" the entire class was now looking at Potter, who for the first time looked up directly into the eyes of the Professor.

"Is that right Mr. Potter" Umbridge's eye twitched as the target didn't rise up to the bait.

"If you say so Professor" the last word was said in such a sarcastic manner that it made Daphne wince.

"Then say it to everyone Mr. Potter" Umbridge said tersely.

"Say what professor?" Potter appeared to be honestly confused.

"Admit to the class that your claims at the end of last year were all lies" Umbridge growled out.

"Oh" Potter's eyes seemed to glaze over as he seemed to think for a few minutes, the class watched in silence. He shook his head suddenly and turned to Umbridge, "What were you saying again professor? I have this bad habit of getting distracted in the middle of important things" the same sarcastic emphasis on the last word.

"The truth, Mr. Potter" Umbridge yelled.

"Truth?" Potter replied with a honestly confused expression.

"The truth that people deserve to know" Umrbridge was blowing a vein by now.

"You mean the one about how a fifteen year old underage wizard who was tried in a full course criminal trial for a simple case of underage magic in front of the entire Wizengamot?" Potter said in a single monotone. "The Prophet conveniently failed to publish that one didn't it".

"How dare you?" Umbridge was going to kill Potter.

"Or the one about how much the standard of education has dropped at Hogwarts, what with the DADA teacher being an undersecretary to the minister who was appointed in a not so subtle way to spy on the Headmaster" Daphne shook her head at the blatant Gryffindorish behavior.

"Mr. Potter Stop th-"

"Or the fact that the DADA teacher is completely incapable of teaching the students anything let alone defense and is a nothing but a pathetic high class bigoted toad who is so ugly that the only person willing to hire her as an undersecretary is Cornelius Fudge" Potter was on a roll.

"Mr. Pott-"

"Maybe the one about how Cornelius Fudge is so busy taking bribes from Lucius Malfoy that he doesn't have time to actually run the ministry himself"

"That's eno-"

"Oh, the truth can also be about how the minister arrested a completely innocent man under the pretext that the Ministry must been seen doing something three years back"

"I order you to st-"

"Oh, how about this. The fact that a Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black was sent to Azkaban prison without even a trial" The class gasped in horror at both the words coming out of Potter's mouth and the audacity of the insults.

Umbridge was looking like a lunatic what with the murderous expression on her face.

"Professor, if those truth's are enough, now please, may I get back to my reading" Umbridge struggled to say something. Her pea sized brain was still processing the insults and insinuations.

"DETENTION Mr. Potter, for the rest of the week, tonight at six. Class dismissed" Umbridge finally yelled running into her room in panic.

Daphne frowned as Potter left the room, the first one to go. Such blatant abuse of an obviously high political figure could lead to nothing but danger. Potter had just made a huge enemy out of Umbridge. Though the woman was a weakling in terms of magical power, she had connections that could make her potentially lethal.

Potter needed someone to keep him in line.


At five to seven Harry set off for Umbridge's office on the third floor. Herbology had been

When he knocked on the door she said, "Come in," in a sugary voice. He entered cautiously, looking around. He had known this office under three 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. In the impostor Moody's days it had been packed with various instruments and artifacts for the detection of wrongdoing and concealment.

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. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke again.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter." Harry started 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.

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

"Er," said Harry, without moving. "Professor Umbridge? Er — before we start, I-I wanted to ask you a . . . a favor."

Her bulging eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes?"

"Well I'm . . . I'm on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And I was supposed to be at the tryouts for the new Keeper at five o'clock on Friday and I was — was wondering whether I could skip detention that night and do it — do it another night . . . instead . . ." He knew long before he reached the end of his sentence that it was no good. Maybe he should have held his temper in class. Well, it was worth a try.

"Oh no," said Umbridge, smiling so widely that she looked as though she had just swallowed a particularly juicy fly. "Oh no, no, is your punishment for spreading evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, Mr. Potter, and punishments certainly cannot be adjusted to suit the guilty one's convenience. No, you will come here at six o'clock tomorrow, and on Friday too, and you will do your detentions as planned. I think it rather a good thing that you are missing something you really want to do. It ought to reinforce the lesson I am trying to teach you."

Harry felt the blood surge to his head and heard a thumping noise in his ears. So he told evil, nasty, attention-seeking stories, did he? She 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. It had been nearly a day since he had done any Occlumency and his emotions were running high. He needed to focus or he could blow something up.

"There," said Umbridge sweetly, "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. No, not with your quill," she added, as Harry bent down to open his bag. "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.

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

"How many times?" Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness.

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go." She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking. Harry raised 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.

Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not tell lies. He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth. Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toad like mouth stretched in a smile.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," said Harry quietly.

He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again the words had been cut into his skin, once again they healed over seconds later. And on it went. Again and again Harry wrote the words on the parchment in what he soon came to realize was not ink, but his own blood. And again and again the words were cut into the back of his hand, healed, and then reappeared the next time he set quill to parchment.

He knew that what he had in his hand was an illegal artifact. The nasty bitch was torturing him. He could feel his magic twitching just beneath his fingers. How had the bitch smuggled a vile thing such as this inside the castle? He wanted to take out his wand and blast the smug smile off the toads face. He purposefully reigned in his emotions. He thought of his parents, their smiling faces in the Mirror of Erised. They were with him, now and always. He felt a sense of calm overcome his senses. The anger still lurked beneath but it was contained, to be used later when he researched a way of revenge. After detention he was going to do some research on this bloddy quill.

Darkness fell outside Umbridge's window. Harry did not ask when he would be allowed to stop. He did not even check his watch. He knew she was 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. . . .

"Come here," she said, after what seemed hours.

He stood up. His hand was stinging painfully. When he looked down at it he saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw.

"Hand," she said.

He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry 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. "Well, we'll just have to try again tomorrow evening, won't we? You may go."

Harry left her office without a word. The school was quite deserted; it was surely past midnight. He needed to get to the RoR to vent some of his frustration.

Just as he took the next turn a he used his hand to push himself away from the wall as a spell whizzed past where his stomach had been moments ago. He dropped his school bag wand whipping into his hand, which was already red and sore with the pain from whatever quill the toad had made him use.

Michael Corner and Cho Chang stood in front of him with their wands out. Corner looked neutral but Chang had an expression of fury etched on her face. He was at a four corridors meet point. The left corridor was flanked by Anthony Goldstein and the right one by Marietta Edgecombe. Harry eyed them speculatively, trying to come up with a nice way to walk away without creating a fight.

"Tell me Harry, what were Cedric's last words when he found out that you wanted to kill him" Cho asked in a voice laced with extreme hate.

"Cho, you don't have to do this. I meant what I said last year. I'm not lying when I say that Voldemort is back" Harry said warily eying the angry girl.

"That's right. You would never have been able to take my Cedric in a duel. You killed him from behind didn't you? You cast the killing curse on him when he wasn't even looking. That's the only way you could beat him Potter. He was better than you in every way" Cho raged on.

Harry used this talk to get a good view of the people flanking him. Edgecombe's grip was strong, the wand shaking in her hand. An easy target. Goldstein on his left seemed to be adept projecting a confident look. Corner was good at theory, but other than that, he was an unknown. Cho was the top of her class, making her the highest threat.

Harry knew that he himself was in a very distressed situation. His magic was urging him use these Raven's as dummies to vent his frustration. The day had been very taxing on him.

"Cho, Cedric was a great wizard. He was the real Hogwarts Champion yes, but bele-" He stepped aside easily as another Hex flew from Cho's wand.

"DON'T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT HIM YOU MURDERER!" Cho yelled.

Harry snapped.

He twirled his hand and send a disarming hex towards Edgecombe to his right before spinning by a ninety and launching a Stupefy at Corner. Edgecombe barely put up a shield in time considering she had never expected Potter to move so fast let lone unleash a spell that powerful. The Expelliarmus slammed into her shield destroying it a second later like it was nothing before moving on to disarm her. her wand flew behind her by a few feet and the backslash knocker her down. She scrambled towards her wand.

Harry meanwhile completed his spin, reaching a one-eighty degrees and firing a Petrificus Totalus at Goldstein. He dropped to the ground as soon as the spell left his wand, with two more spells passing where his hand and chest had been courtesy of Cho and Goldstein. Corner conjured a Protego that shattered under his stunning spell, the magical backslash leaving the boy off balance.

Anthony fired off a stunner as soon he saw Potter snap off a Hex towards Marietta. He paused seeing Potter spin a one-eight degrees before dropping to the ground expertly, flipping off a spell towards him inches before he hit the ground. He barely put up a Protego as the stunner slammed its way past his shield and threw him a good three feet back, his wand slipping from his hand. He watched in shock as Potter converted his fall to the floor into a roll, stepping into the corridor where he had fallen, using the to break the line of sight from Cho and Michael and send a Stupefy towards him before his vision turned black.

Marietta successfully crawled towards her wand, feeling the warmth as she held it again in her hand. She looked to see Potter stun Anthony, now away from the line of vision of Cho and Michael. She hastily sent a flimsy Jinx towards him that he dodged with ease before snapping a stunner in her direction leaving not time to raise a shield and taking her out.

Harry knew that he was not done yet. His eyes fell on the suit of armor that stood to his side on the corridor. Howarts had hundreds of such suits, a proof that the castle was at least a millennia old. Spells flew from the corner and impacted on the walls making him aware that Chang and Corner were still there. It appeared that they were edging towards him slowly.

Eademque Imperium.

The suit of armor came to life and Harry grinned as he commanded it to charge towards the two idiots around the corner. He ran behind the knight ,the screams when a knight clad in silver charged around the corner was music to his ears. He stepped from behind the knight just after two spells impacted on its armor, snapping two stunners towards the two idiots who were distracted by the armor charging towards them.

The second that the stunning spell left his wand, the armor that was less than a feet from Michael collapsed with a heavy clang that echoed through the halls of Hogwarts. The two Ravenclaws fell as Harry hurriedly donned his invisibility cloak from his school bag fleeing into the darkness of the hall's of Hogwarts, anger rising as his mind recalled the reason for this act of bullying. He ran not in the direction of the Gryffindor tower, but towards the seventh floor corridor where he could vent some of his frustration.

He was completely oblivious to the disillusioned pair of blue eyes that had watched the duel between the Lion and the four Ravens with fascinated interest.


A/N:

Hey there guys. Long time, ya I know. I'll try to make frequent updates from now. Hey'a Stranger will be updated in a few days. 3K words are done. Just 1K words more, then editing.

About the chapter, if there are any errors please let me know, review or PM me. Sorry, I don't have a beta for this fic.

This is not a bashing fic. People just don't know any better. They are just immature. Ron is like that, he just wants new friends. Hermione, she is with Harry. For other Ravenclaws, Cho loved Cedric hence the reaction.

People generally duel at night at Hogwarts. Being BWL kept Harry out of it, thanks to his fame. Last year he became a bit unpopular and now even more so. So, people are now forgetting that he is the BWL and taking out their anger on him like they would do on any other student.

I know that the fic is bit of ANGST, but wait, a special person is coming in to make it better. I meant Daphne. She has to, right? It's the main pairing. Don't worry, Harry will have plenty of adventures throughout his fifth year, that is till the story hits the 100K mark. Beyond that is the real fun and even I can't will till the story get's to that. But, I will take a lot of time to build up the HP/DG relationship. It's necessary.

For now please bare with this moody Harry. He'll become a real new person a few chapters down the line when he drops off everything and accepts his role as how the son of Lily and James should act.

Other than that do give me more suggestions to improve.

Next Update: Give me two weeks or so.