Chapter 13
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"WELL?" SAID MCGONAGALL. "I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Two on one! Explain yourselves!"

"Malfoy provoked us," argued Harry stiffly.

Sirius had not retrieved his hand away. If there was anything he noticed about Harry, it was that he was afraid of Sirius being angry with him. He only hoped the hand resting on his godson's back conveyed comfort.

"Provoked you?" shouted his old Professor. The woman was relentless with her scolding. She slammed her hand on her desk. To be quite fair, Sirius did think she was overselling it a bit. Despite what Madam Hooch had said, this definitely wasn't the first quidditch fight.

Beside him, Remus was silent. His lips were pressed together, his jaw was tight. The man's gaze had settled on a particular set of paper on McGonagall's desk as though it was the most fascinating thing. Sirius wondered what was up. Sure, what Harry did was wrong, but Remus was not the type of person to get so angry in a situation like this.

"He'd just lost, hadn't he? Of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth can he have said that justified what you two—"

"He insulted my parents," snarled George. "And Harry's mother."

And that part of the fight, they hadn't missed. He and Remus were simply coming down to the pitch to congratulate slash console his godkids, when he overhead the jeers the Malfoy boy was throwing at them. Sirius made it just in time as Harry jumped.

"But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle duelling, did you? Have you any idea what you've—"

"Hem, hem."

Sirius turned around, and there, at the doorway, was a stout woman in an emerald cloak. He recognized her visage immediately, from the red-cloak dawning Ministry employees that took up seats at the Wizengamot.

She entered the office, babbling about extra authority and whatnot. Sirius glanced at McGonagall, who's face had turned red from anger. But she regarded him with a stern look, one Sirius remembered receiving every now and then, back during his school days. From the teachers' table at the Great Hall, to the Transfiguration class, it was a look that said : "Behave. Or else."

Remus curled his fist next to him, and Sirius knew he recognized the expression, too. And since the woman was one of the only few teachers they had actually respected, Sirius decided to keep his mouth shut.

For now.

The woman in green — who Sirius realised was the High Inquisitor from her little speech — handed a scroll to McGonagall. Dolores then continued to talk, about power, and authority, and tempers and then...a ban?

McGonagall sent them another look.

"Ban us?" questioned Harry. He sounded startled, and his voice was small. Sirius ran his hand up and down his back. "From playing...ever again?"

Dolores smiled, a wide and wicked smile and Sirius instantly knew that the woman was enjoying herself. He glanced at McGonagall, but she was still sending him the look.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick."

McGonagall kept looking his way. Remus still hadn't moved.

"You and Mr. Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped, too — if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr. Malfoy as well."

McGonagall looked away. And Sirius relaxed only a little bit, a fake smile making its way to his lips.

"I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course—"

"—I suppose you will be taking young Mr. Malfoy's broom, as well?"

Dolores stilled. She hadn't addressed the two extra occupants in the room since her arrival, going directly to McGonagall. Slowly, she turned her head towards him, her smile going tight.

"Lord Black."

"Oh!" Sirius acted surprised. "So, you do know who I am. My apologies, I thought perhaps you didn't since you barely even looked my way this entire time."

A professional through and through, Dolores didn't let the comment agitate her, though she did look irked by his presence.

"I was a bit busy with disciplining a student—"

"A student who happens to be my godson." Harry looked up at him, and without turning away from the woman, Sirius moved his hand from the boy's back to his head. "I know you're new to this teacher thing but you ought to learn to address the guardians, Miss, uh?"

Now, the woman looked triggered. Sirius leaned his ear close to her, pretending to wait for her response. At her desk, McGonagall had gone suspiciously quiet.

Through gritted teeth, Dolores said: "Dolores Umbridge."

"Ah, yes. Miss Umbridge."

"Pardon me, Lord Black. But you said guardians. As in plural. Are you referring to the man beside you?"

"Well, of course, this is my partner, Remus—" Sirius extended an arm towards the man to introduce, but Remus hadn't moved, at all. He kept silently looking at the stack of paper. Sirius nudged him, breaking him away from his thoughts.

Remus forced a smile at him, before slumping back.

Frowning, Sirius returned his attention to Umbridge. "And we can speak for George, too." The boy sent him a grateful look. "As Mr. Malfoy made clear on the pitch, our families are close. Which brings me back to my original question. Will Mr. Malfoy's broom be confiscated, as well?"

Unbridge raised her nose high. "The poor boy is in the Hospital Wind with a bloody nose. I highly doubt that—"

"Oh, but it does. You see, you just banned George's brother, Fred, despite the fact that he hadn't turned physical. For, what did you say...ah! 'Because his teammates could not restrain him.' Well, then I suppose Mr. Malfoy, who started the fight, might I add, should probably be banned, as well."

He took a step towards the woman, bringing his volume down a little. "Otherwise, as Harry's guardian, I don't believe it's quite fair. After all, we are talking about a lifelong ban. Don't you think so, too, Remus?"

Remus gave a very unconfident chuckle. "I'm not too sure, Sirius. You're the guardian, it's your call."

Sirius practically whipped his head around. His mouth parted open, almost in disbelief. Remus stood, shoulders hunched, and rubbing his hands together. He looked away when Sirius turned to him.

Sirius composed himself again, after a second, eyes narrowing slightly. He faced Umbridge again, keeping Remus' reaction tucked away at the back of his mind. "Right. Well. If you insist on banning Harry, then I insist the ban be extended to Mr. Malfoy."

Umbridge crossed her arms. "Mr. Malfoy didn't hit another—"

"He tried to," cut in Harry. He had gained his confidence back along the way. "When I said something about his father being in Azkaban."

And honestly, the comment sounded like something Sirius would have said, not James.

"You provoked him."

"He provoked me, too."

"He didn't land a hit!"

"Neither did Fred, but you insist on banning him, too," threw back Harry, and he sounded so snarky that Sirius snorted.

Umbridge bristled. Harry glared at her. And they seemed to be having some sort of stand-off.

"Oh, fine! I'll go deliver the news to the poor boy!" And with that, the horrid woman stalked out.

The situation wasn't ideal, Harry, George and Fred were still banned from quidditch, but at least now Malfoy was, too. McGonagall looked pleased, and so did George.

Sirius looked at Remus, brows drawn together, but his partner was avoiding his gaze.

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"I already knew this, but your godfather is fucking cool."

Harry grinned.

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"We really are getting too big for the cloak."

Hagrid was back. Harry hadn't wasted anytime to sneak out to the man's hut. Turned out, with all of them being fourteen years old (except for Hermione who was already fifteen, and Millie who was going to be in like two days), it was a tad bit difficult to fit five people under the invisibility cloak.

Thus, they had decided on rock paper scissors to choose who would tag along with Harry, and Millie and Hermione had won (Ron and Adhara could just go the next day). Alas, even three people was apparently too many.

"We would have much more space had you decided to forgo the muffler and the hat," Millie practically shouted at Hermione.

Harry shushed her.

Hagrid's tale was simple: a job from Dumbledore, giants, Madam Maxime and further confirmations that the Ministry was watching them.

They would have continued the story, but someone was rapping on the door, making the three fifth-years scramble underneath the cloak.

And now they were stuck there. Hudding in the corner of Hagrid's hut, practically squeezed together like sardines in a can to ensure they remain invisible. The last thing they wanted was for Umbridge to catch them.

"Ron could have predicted her coming," whispered Hermione.

Harry would have shushed her, but he was standing on her foot, so he opted to keep his mouth shut.

Umbridge searched the house, checking under the bed, inside the big cauldron. She inspected Hagrid's wounds, eyes squinting in suspicion. Harry tuned into the conversation.

"What sort of an accident?"

"I tripped."

"You tripped?"

"'Yeah, tha's right. Over — over a friend's broomstick. I don' fly, meself. Well, look at the size o' me, I don' reckon there's a broomstick that'd hold me. Friend o' mine breeds Abraxan horses, I dunno if you've ever seen 'em, big beasts, winged, yeh know, I've had a bit of a ride on one o' them an' it was—"

Harry wanted to smack himself. Hagrid was failing miserably. He may just be a worse liar than Hermione.

He felt the cloak tug towards his right. "Mil—"

"...of your colleagues has been able to give me any information as to your whereabo—" Umbridge's head whipped in their direction, making the three of them freeze.

She stepped closer to them, but when nothing else fidgeted, the woman continued with her interrogation.

Both Hermione and Harry turned to glare at Millie, but the girl didn't even glance at them. She continued her path towards the window, which was left ajar. The wind could easily blow the cloak off, though that didn't stop the Slytherin. And the other two couldn't even protest. If they talked, Umbridge would hear. If they didn't follow, the cloak would slide off and they would be out in the open.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "bit o' — o' fresh air, yeh know—"

Scratch that. Hagrid definitely was a worse liar than Hermione.

"Yes, as a gamekeeper fresh air must be so difficult to come by," said Umbridge sweetly.

"Well — change o' scene, yeh know—"

"Mountain scenery?"

Oh, Umbridge definitely knew.

Right next to the window, Harry could feel the cool air hit the side of his face. When he looked back, he could see Mille slip her wand out of the cloak.

Hermione tried to stop her, holding Millie's arm in place and glaring at her. Whatever message she tried to convey, however, was lost. Millie didn't seem to care, brushing Hermione's hand off, and glaring right back at the girl.

Harry wanted to stop her, too, but they were already moving too much.

Millie, discreetly, poked her wand out of the cloak, and pointed it towards the window.

Very softly, she whispered: "Finestra."

Softly, almost making no sound, the glass shattered, and Millie pulled her wand back inside. Despite the soft sound, Umbridge's keen ears picked on. Swiftly, she turned toward the broken window.

The trio quickly backed when Umbridge approached. She pushed the window open, peering outside, as though expecting to catch someone.

"Were you expecting anyone, Hagrid?" There it was again. That sickly sweet voice that made Harry's ears ring. The woman narrowed her eyes at Hagrid, perhaps believing she figured something out.

Hagrid, the poor man, shook his head fervently. "Not a' all!"

Umbridge hummed, disbelieving. She crossed to the door. "I shall go and inspect. Someone was obviously trying to pay you a visit." She glanced at Hagrid, one last time. "Are you certain you don't know who that was? It's better if you tell me the truth, now, Hagrid. It will be much worse when I catch your accomplice."

Hagrid hesitated, eyes shaking. "I — I assure ye, Ma'am. I don' know wha' ye implying. Must'v' been the wind!"

Umbridge huffed. She wasn't as polite to Hagrid as she was to the rest of the professor; didn't try as hard to maintain her kind front.

Tucking in her coat properly, Umbridge looked over Hagrid's hut one last time — eyes passing over the spot where Harry, Mille and Hermione stood briefly, making them all hold their breath — then walked out the door, wand out.

Harry released his breath.

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Ever since Adhara discovered what was really happening during detention with Umbridge, neither she nor Harry had brought it up. It put Harry on edge, because he knew the anger in her was merely simmering. She wasn't talking about it now, because there was no point in doing so. Though her opinion on the matter was as clear as day.

Stop getting in trouble, and it won't happen again.

Harry's opinion on that matter was also very obvious.

Harry just couldn't not do anything. Words burned his throat, fighting to get out, and Harry did not feel compelled to fight against it. Why shouldn't he speak up when he saw injustice? Sometimes, it felt like he was locked in a cage, shouting from behind bars only for people to ignore him. Wasn't the solution, then, to shout louder?

He could feel anger practically radiate from Adhara at the end of the DA meeting. She had his sleeves rolled up, eyes fixed on the angry red letters that taunted him.

"I thought you'd be smarter than that. Apparently, that was a mistake on my part."

Adhara's anger was different from his. She was ice. Cool, collected, calmly seething. Whereas, Harry was fire. Big, loud, and burning. And fire always overshadowed ice.

"She was spewing bullshit about Voldemort again!" Harry exclaimed. He pulled away his arm, eyes blazing. "About Sirius, about Remus, about you! What was I supposed to do? Stay quiet—"

"Yes," answered Adhara. Her gaze was piercing, brows were furrowed. She looked just as angry as Harry did.

Ron, Hermione and Millie were somewhere in the room with them, quiet and observing. They knew well enough not to intervene when the siblings were quarrelling.

The rest of the DA had left, already. It was a fairly successful training session. They were even having fun, until Adhara was paired with Harry, and Harry's sleeve rolled up when he fell back.

The aisles of bookshelves vanished then, a cupboard full of healing potions appearing in its stead. By the time Adhara was right in front of Harry, grabbing his wrist, Ron was kicking everyone out of the Room of Requirement.

"You're supposed to keep your mouth shut. You talk about fighting, but how is that," she pointed at his arm, "fighting?"

"It's better than doing nothing!" Harry shouted back. "It's better than just watching! There's a war brewing, Adz! And they're trying to sweep it under the rug!"

"I know that! I was there during the meetings! But as I said before, why should you involve yourself? You didn't create this mess!"

"Involve myself?! Don't you get it? I'm already involved! Voldemort is after me! He wants me!"

"Then run away!"

"I can't! He's already got me! He's inside my head!"

Adhara's expression stuttered in shock. She stumbled back, eyes flickering to their other friends, probably wondering if they knew. But they hadn't. Harry hadn't told anyone about the dreams, yet. No one knew.

"What...what do you mean?"

Slowly, Harry released a staggered breath. He closed his eyes tight, the bright lights from the room bothering him.

"I get these dreams. Of him. From him."

"Is that why your scar's been hurting?"

Harry nodded. Tired, he sank down on his knees. And Adhara was there, in front of him.

"You're sure, they're really from him? And not just dreams?"

"No!" he yelled, at first. Ron, Hermione and Millie had gathered around the two. "I know what dreams feel like. Even bad dreams. These don't feel the same. They feel real, almost like I'm there."

Ron's jaw was tight, eyes hard. Probably cursing himself for not noticing earlier. Hermione, on the other hand, had furrowed brows, already putting together a plan to help Harry with this. And Millie, as she did, looked straight at Harry's head, wondering what was happening, how it was possible.

Adhara, however, was indecipherable. If one didn't know her, one would believe she wasn't thinking at all, that she didn't care enough to. But Harry knew her. He knew her enough to know that there was a plan forming in her head. Her gaze was fixed on Harry's arms, and he knew right there that the girl was going to tackle one problem at a time.

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Witnesses. Adhara needed more witnesses. She had already confronted Montague (or he, her) and took note of his testimony. She hunted down a few others — a Ravenclaw, two Hufflepuffs, and a Gryffindor who roomed with Harry — and piled together a neat stack of accusations against Dolores Umbridge. She wasn't sure if it was enough to push a trial, but as long as the story got out to the public, the Ministry won't have any choice but to investigate.

There was one other testimony Adhara wanted to get, one that she didn't really think was necessary, but if she got Montagne to speak, it was only fair for Greengrass to participate.

Adhara stalked down to the dungeons the next day after dinner. The Common Room should be fairly empty right about now, with everyone still mingling in the Great Hall. Adhara had opted to stay in the kitchens that day — Winky had been insisting for a while now — which was common enough of an occurrence that her friends shouldn't question it.

Astoria Greengrass rarely frequented crowded mealtime, something Adhara noticed last year. Breakfast and lunch was fine, but dinner Greengrass had in her room — a quick check of the map has confirmed it.

In no time, Adhara was standing in front of the fourth-year's dorm room. She knocked, and soon enough, Greengrass was standing in front of her, arms crossed and brow arched.

"Show me your arm," blurted Adhara.

"What?"

"Your arm. And then, testify against Mat—" Adhara stopped herself, catching herself off guard. "U — Umbridge."

The girl didn't question how Adhara knew about the bloodquill marks. She didn't even ask what her plan was. "And what's in it for me?"

Adhara rolled her eyes. "Please. You secretly live for drama. We both know you want to watch this unfold with your own two eyes."

A small, tiny smile appeared on the girl's face. It was barely even there but it looked a thousand times more genuine than those sickly ones she threw at people.

She stepped aside, allowing Adhara in.

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