Chapter 16
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IT TOOK ONE EXTRA DAY FOR HARRY TO MUSTER UP THE COURAGE TO CALL SIRIUS. All he had to do was call him through the fireplace, and simply say that he wanted to talk, and Sirius was already arranging for them to meet over the weekend.

And then here they were, at Hog's Head, on Saturday morning, as he sipped on his butterbeer, and Sirius traced the red words on the back of Harry's hand, as though he was the most delicate thing in the whole world.

It took all of his effort for Harry to not snatch his hand back. He didn't think he ever felt so vulnerable in his life.

"Hermione's been using murtlap, you said?"

Harry nodded wordlessly.

The others weren't there. Remus decided it was best to give Harry and Sirius some privacy, which Harry was immensely grateful for. It wasn't that he didn't trust Remus. He definitely did. It took a lot of courage to even show his scar to Sirius, and he didn't think he was ready to be this vulnerable in front of two people at the same time, yet.

Remus seemed to understand that. He thought it best to keep the others company, bringing them to The Three Broomsticks instead.

Sirius released his hand, and Harry wasted no time in pulling in under the table, out of sight.

"Haz. Did I...did I do anything to make you distrust me?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed right away. "It's not your fault. It was never your fault. I just — I didn't want..."

How was he supposed to explain that he was fine? At least, that he thought he was fine? That the idea to even tell someone, to seek help hadn't even occurred to him until someone pointed it out to him?

Perhaps, he didn't have to explain himself. Harry merely glanced at his godfather, and he could see nothing but understanding in his eyes.

Sirius took off his leather jacket, suddenly, and pulled his short sleeve over his shoulder, revealing lightning-like scars adorning his shoulder all the way to his back. There was a tattoo covering most of it, but the scar was still distinguishable if one knew to look for it.

"Courtesy of my dear mother."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "She — she did that to you?"

Sirius nodded. "The summer after my first year at Hogwarts. She wasn't happy about the friends that I had made, so she decided to throw a curse at me." He pulled the shirtsleeve back down, but he left his jacket off. "But you know what was worse, Haz?"

"What?"

"I thought it was normal," revealed Sirius.

Harry couldn't help but inhale a deep breath from the ball that was forming in his throat. He could feel his eyes turn glassy.

"It wasn't until your dad saw it one day and told me that wasn't okay."

Harry was still. He didn't know what to say, or what to feel. He simply looked at his godfather, and the man didn't hesitate to pull him into a hug.

Harry didn't like being crowded often. But sometimes, a hug was all he needed. He lived without them for far too long.

"It's difficult to speak up when you didn't even know you had to say something, isn't it?"

Harry nodded into his shoulder.

"Everything's alright, Haz. We'll get through this together."

━━━━

If his friends noticed Harry's red puffy eyes when they met up later, they were nice enough not to mention it. Instead, Adhara faced him with a blank look, finger pointing at the three ice creams Ron and Millie were holding, each.

They were competing to see who could finish the fastest.

"They already ate two"

Hermione was profusely apologising to Sirius, explaining how she tried to stop them when she realised that they were using his money.

Sirius didn't seem to care about the money. He did raise a brow at Remus. However, the man singly shrugged, stating that if he could control teenagers, he would still be a teacher.

Harry laughed. No one mentioned how that definitely wasn't the reason why Remus wasn't a teacher anymore.

"Yeah? And how many did you have?" Harry questioned Adhara.

The girl in question glared, caught. Her bottom lip jutted out slightly, but Harry didn't think she noticed. "I could only finish two."

And the admission itself made Harry burst out into a laugh.

━━━━

When the lights turned on inside the room, even when Sirius heard the loud gasp, he didn't so much as flinch. He remained seated, feet on top of the table, and the black quill twirling between his fingers.

"Couldn't part with it, I see. You must be very proud of your invention."

Dolores Umbridge entered her office fully, mouth curled into a scowl.

"Lord Black. I demand you—"

"You hid it quite well, however." Sirius didn't bother to even look in the woman's direction. "Concealed under dark magic. Smart. You knew the aurors wouldn't think you would use such vile spells."

His gaze flickered from the quill to the supposed professor. "Unfortunately for you, I was taught much worse."

Umbridge was clenching her jaw quite tightly. Eyes blazing with fury, she gestured to the door. "I must ask you to leave, at once. Otherwise, I will have to call in the authorities!"

"The authorities? Really? Even when I'm holding this?" asked Sirius, motioning to the quill. "Go ahead, I will happily comply."

"I have absolutely no clue what you are talking about. Clearly, that thing was planted in my office to frame—"

"Oh, drop the act, Dolores? I'm not here to listen to you spew more lies. I'm here to make a deal." Siris accioed a file on the desk, in front Umbridge. "Go on, read it."

But the woman was quite persistent. "I assure you, Lord Black. I do not understand—"

"Are you sure you don't want to read it?" Sirius took his feet off the table. He picked up the incriminating object, waving it around in the air. "I could easily hand it over to someone else. I'm sure they will be more than interested to read about Ellen Cracknell."

At the mention of the name, the colour drained from Umbridge's face. She snatched the file away from him immediately.

Sirius stood up, the quill never leaving his hand. "You know, as Lord of an Ancient House, it is quite easy to get my hand on pureblood familial information. I searched for your name in several registries. Imagine my surprise, when I never once came across it."

Umbridge was flicking through the file, which happened to be her biodata. Everything about her, from her birth, to her position today. It included everything she did to reach her position, every lie she spewed, every person she ruined. It contained it all.

"So, I did some digging around at the Ministry. Seems getting information on someone isn't that difficult when people are afraid of you. After all, I am Lord Black and an ex-convict."

He paced in circles around Umbridge, intimidating her. She swirled around, trying to keep up.

"Lord—"

"And even easier when they despise said person," taunted Sirius. He looked at her, feigning concern. "How exactly do you treat your peers, Dolores?"

The woman was enraged. Her usual leer was replaced with unadulterated ire directed towards Sirius, but the look didn't satisfy him.

No. Anger was not what he wanted to see.

Umbridge ripped the file in two, letting the remnants burn away in a silent spell.

Sirius watched her, unimpressed. "Have you never blackmailed anyone before? Obviously, that wasn't my only copy."

"You!" She pointed a finger at him, intending to approach him, but Sirius kept her at a distance with his foot.

He rolled his eyes, continuing with his threat. "I found your father."

And that made Umbridge finally freeze in place.

"Orford, was it? Horrible man, it doesn't take a genius to see who raised you. Easy to make him talk, though. All I had to do was drop a bag of galleons in front of him, and he opened his mouth like a fish on a hook."

Sirius made his way to the desk, sitting down and looking directly at the woman who was now in front of him.

Umbridge had calmed down. Her eyes still danced with fury, but the woman regained her calm demeanour.

"What do you want?" No sign of any politeness, however. That was lost.

Sirius' smile widened. "Finally decided to drop the act?"

Umbridge huffed. "You want me to stay away from Potter and Black? Fine, I wasn't going to use the quill—"

"No, no. That isn't enough. I want you gone, Dolores."

Umbridge stilled. "...what?"

"Hm? Gone? Out of sight, disappear, gone. Don't you understand? I want you to leave."

"You want me to leave Hogwarts?"

Sirius snorted. "Oh. No. No, no, no. I want you to leave the country."

Umbridge blinked.

"Are you having trouble understandi—"

"How can I just leave the country?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. Fake a transfer, say you're getting married—"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

Sirius scrunched his brows together, the twirling quill freezing between his fingers. Umbridge was breathing heavily.

"You keep cutting me off. I don't think you understand your predicament, just yet." He stood up, advancing on Umbridge, who had to take a few steps back. "You've got no choice, Dolores."

"I — I can't just leave —"

"Oh, yes, you can. Build a life elsewhere. You're so good at rising in ranks, I'm sure you can do it somewhere else."

Umbridge spluttered. "Where would I—"

"Anywhere that isn't here. I don't care where you go, I don't even care who you use. I simply want you gone."

She gulped down.

Wordlessly, Sirius accioed another file in his hands. "Otherwise, this file will find its way to every office in the Ministry. Maybe, I'll even let my niece have a look at it, hopefully it'll inspire her to write a new article. And then, your reputation will be tarnished, not only here, but in the rest of the magical world. You won't get a chance to rebuild your life anywhere else."

Silence reigned for a while. Truth to be told, Sirius wanted to do much worse to her. Curse her, hex her, have her locked up in Azkaban to let the dementors slowly eat away at her soul. But the best way to punish her would be to threaten her with her worst nightmare. Not his.

And, at the end of the day, he was doing all this for his god kids, not himself.

Finally, Sirius watched as Umbridge's shoulders slumped.

"...when should I leave?"

"That's the spirit!" Sirius smiled, jovially. He took his seat on the table once more. "You leave tomorrow morning."

Umbridge's head snapped up. "Tomorrow? But that's so soon! I have to—"

"Don't act as though you have anyone to say goodbye to. You have no one. I suggest you prepare quickly, if you want to leave on time."

Umbridge was fumbling at her feet. She looked as though she would fall over any time soon, so Sirius pushed out the chair — the one in front of the desk where she had her students sit — and she practically collapsed onto it.

Sirius took out a blank piece of parchment and placed it on the desk in front of the woman.

"Now, all I need is for you to write a letter."

"A — a — a letter?"

"Of course. Can't have people investigate your disappearance, can we? You need to explain that you left at your own free will."

"R — right."

Sirius handed her the quill that he had been carrying. Umbridge took it without a second thought. She settled herself in front of the parchment.

"Now, you will write what I dictate."

She went to dip the quill in the ink pot, only for Sirius to take it away.

"That quill doesn't need ink, don't you remember?"

Realisation dawned on Umbridge. Quickly, she examined the quill in her hand.

"This is —"

"What I dictate, Dolores."

"But —"

"Do you realise just how easily I'm letting you go, Dolores?" He looked directly into the woman's eyes. "I can do much much worse."

At those words, Sirius finally saw what he wanted to see. Fear.

Umbridge stayed quiet, simply resting the quill tip onto the parchment.

"Now, write what I say. I, Dolores Umbridge..."

Umbridge moved the quill against the parchment, hissing in pain only from the first stroke.

"...hereby admit that the charges against me were indeed true."

"But I can't!"

"But you must."

"But this will ruin me!"

And it angered Sirius to no end, that even in this kind of situation, all the woman cared about was her reputation.

"More than your heritage? More than what you've done to your father? To your mother and brother? How you abandoned them all?"

So, Umbridge wrote. She wrote, hissing and crying in pain with every letter, with every stroke. The same words appeared on the back of her hand. Sirius felt absolutely no remorse.

By the end of the letter, the words reached down, past her wrist.

"...Finally, finish it with, I promise never to lie again."

Umbridge blinked, realising what the sentence was echoing. "That's unnecessary."

"It's funny how you still think you have a choice here."

"Look here, I'm doing what you want me to do. I'm leaving—"

Sirius took out his wand and jabbed it on the side of her head, making Umbridge scream.

"I'm writing! I'm writing!"

She finished the sentence, writing it word for word as Sirius dictated it.

"Trace it over."

"What—"

"The last sentence. Trace it over. I want the lesson to stick."

And at this point, Umbridge had learned not to argue. She relented unwillingly, tracing the sentence over and over again until the words cut deep into her skin.

Only when the back of her hand was a bleeding mess, was Sirius satisfied. He took the paper and rolled it up. He vanished Umbridge's biodata, which was only the second of the few copies he had made.

He walked to her door. Looking back, he saw Dolores Umbridge slumped over the desk, exhausted.

"Goodbye, Dolores. Never appear in my sight, ever again."

━━━━

Adhara snatched the Prophet from her roommate's hand when she noticed the title on the front page. Tracy Davis tried to snatch it back, but Millie pushed her away, peaking over Adhara's shoulder. Harry looked over the other.

Umbridge fleas, unveiling her trail of lies!

by Crow Rivers

"I suppose that's why Snape taught the class this morning," murmured Harry.

Adhara hummed.

Millicent took the paper from Adhara, who let her. They walked into the Great Hall as their blue-haired friend read through the article.

"...admits to the abuse charges revealed in the Quibbler..."

"She admitted it?" Harry snatched it from Millicent, looking through it himself. "...Minister Fudge promises to hold a press conference by the weekend..."

Millicent groaned. "He'll spew up some ridiculous excuse to save his own skin again."

"And get away with it," finished Harry.

There was a copy of the paper in front of everyone in the hall. Student hunched over an ugly picture of Cornelius Fudge and Dolores Umbridge from a while back, looking all chummy. The Prophet was a Ministry endorsed newspaper, so it would very rarely criticise anything it has done. The writer of the article probably had a billion of rules they had to follow to ensure Fudge didn't feel insulted.

And besides, a journalist had to remain neutral.

But by providing a picture of Fudge and Umbridge being friendly along with an article that revealed the woman's abusive actions to be true showed Rivers' true opinion. The connotation was there. And surely, the public will fall for it easily.

"He'll simply appoint someone else," reminded Adhara. They had made their way towards the Slytherin table, standing right in front of it.

Harry looked at Adhara, and she looked back. "Fudge still wants to keep an eye on Dumbledore. He will easily replace Umbridge with someone else."

"Someone much worse," concluded Harry.

"But who?" asked Millie.

Adhara turned to her, shrugging. "Who knows."

Students glanced at one another, wondering which one of them had fallen victim to Umbridge's quill. Some of the Slytherins looked at her, knowing Adhara was the one who released the Quibbler article days ago. Knowing that she knew who those poor victims were. But Adhara kept her lips firmly shut.

Harry nudged her. "Look," he whispered.

When Adhara and Millie looked over at him, he gestured towards the table with his chin. The girls followed his line of vision, their eyes falling on Draco Malfoy.

The blond boy was sitting at the very end of the table, completely alone.

"He's alone. Where're his friends?"

"Appearance means everything to purebloods," explained Millicent.

Harry frowned, annoyed. The concept of reputation didn't make much sense to the boy. "I caught a bunch of kids bullying him the other day."

"What?"

Harry nodded. "Because of his father."

Adhara's jaw clicked shut. Her eyes narrowed onto her cousin, determined.

━━━

"What are you doing?"

Adhara ignored the boy, settling down her satchel on the floor, between her feet. She casted one look at Malfoy, daring him to say anything else, but the boy remained quiet.

The Great Hall, too, quieted down.

Not long after, Millicent followed suit, taking the seat next to Adhara. And then, Harry did the same.

And that broke Malfoy's silence.

"What are you doing?!"

━━━━

The kiss was soft. It was short. It was sweet. It was bitter. Harry looked into Cho's sparkling eyes and watched as it slowly waned off. She continued to smile, however. But Harry noticed the slight tremble of the corners of her mouth. He knew exactly what she was thinking at that moment, because Harry was thinking the same.

Cedric wasn't here.

Every night Harry dreamt of Cedric dead eyes, of Voldemort's cold hands and of the dagger slicing his skin. Every night he was plagued with thoughts of guilt, of death, of dread.

Cedric Diggory died because Harry had been blind. Because Voldemort wanted Harry alive. Never has he hated his nickname of The-Boy-who-Lived so much.

And now here he was, kissing Cedric's girlfriend and being happy about it.

Dread unspooled in Harry's stomach, and he wondered if he had ever felt such conflicting feelings. Can happiness and guilt coexist?

━━━━

"One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode."

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have."

Harry wringed out the bottom of his flannel shirt, knowing that this would be the second one he has frayed this week if he continued.

"She was the one who started it," said Harry. " I wouldn't've — she just sort of came at me — and next thing she's crying all over me — I didn't know what to do —"

"Don't blame you, mate," said Ron.

"You just had to be nice to her. You were, weren't you?" asked Hermione, narrowing her eyes slightly when she remembered that she was talking to Harry, after all.

Harry looked sheepish. "Well, I sort of — uhm — patted her on the back a bit." He made to motion his hand in the air to show how exactly he did that.

Hermione pursed her mouth tightly, looking as though she wanted to groan. Or shout. Or roll her eyes. Or all of them together.

"I suppose it could've been worse. You're lucky Millie isn't here to lecture you on how to properly care about a girl's feelings."

That made Ron roll his eyes. He sat on the tea table in front of Harry, the one on top of which Hermione was writing a letter.

"Yeah, because she's some sort of guru about girl's emotions, isn't she?"

"She understands feelings better than you at least," threw back Hermione instantly, without even looking up from her work.

Ron gave Harry a look that conveyed "can you believe her?", which Harry only replied with arching his brow, because he agreed with Hermione completely. Ron frowned.

Ignoring his friends' betrayal, Ron nudged Harry with his foot. "And you? How'd you feel about it all?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." Ron glanced at Hermione, but the girl had her gaze firmly on her parchment. She was writing away. "Cho isn't the only one feeling...confused about Cedric?"

The sound of Hermione's quill abruptly stopped. Harry glared at Ron.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Ron gave him a 'seriously?' look. "You aren't going to tell 'Mione?"

"If this is about Harry fancying Cedric last year then I already know."

Both boys whipped their heads towards the girl. Harry practically shrieked. "You knew?"

"You stuttered every single time you talked to him. You wouldn't stop talking about him. And Adhara kept grumbling about how weird snogging is and how even more strange it was to want to snog two people after she talked to you at the Yule ball, so I just put two and two together."

Harry groaned, closing his eyes and sinking into his chair.

"Millie guessed, too."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

━━━

Ron nudged him again. "So? You didn't say how you felt."

Harry took a couch pillow and buried his face into it. "I don't know." His voice came out muffled but he didn't care.

"You don't know?"

"No! The whole thing with Umbridge just finished, and I'm still processing that!"

Hermione hadn't gone back to her letter, judging from the lack of quill and parchment sounds. "Well. Then how do you feel about Umbridge, then?"

Harry removed the pillow from his face. "Really? A bit of a jump of subjects, don't you think?"

Hermione shook her head. "One thing at a time, Harry."

They fell into silence. Hermione and Ron kept looking at Harry, expecting him to speak. And honestly, Harry didn't really know what to say. He had been pushing back any thoughts about Umbridge since the article was released. It wasn't that difficult. When the news arrived, Harry's body went completely numb, and that was how he still felt about the situation. Numb. So, that was what he meant by process, but he supposed that wasn't what processing meant.

Very unlike his father, Harry thought.

"I'm trying not to think about her."

Hermione narrowed her eyes once again. But it was Ron who spoke.

"And has that been helping?"

"Yes," lied Harry.

And now Hermione was downright suspicious. She fixed Harry with a stare, and Harry didn't break eye contact, refusing to lose.

At the end, Hermione huffed, "You should learn to actually process things properly. It makes me wonder what other things you've been 'trying not to think about.'"

Harry didn't mention his dreams. He didn't mention his guilt. He didn't mention Voldemort. Harry simply gave his friends a blinding smile, one that was obviously fake.

"Nothing at all, sweet Hermione."

And finally, Hermione rolled her eyes.

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