Dark Defense

Mind Games.

The fact that Umbridge had been watching the fireplace, coupled with Hedwig's assault and Filch's attempt at seizing his letter, finally drove home the fact that the woman was spying on Harry, either on orders from the ministry or some other, personal agenda.

This, more than anything, made Harry question his hesitancy in turning her into potions ingredients. Bad enough the hag was interfering with Hogwarts, but now she was pointedly signaling out Harry and those associated with him for acts of cruelty, all under the protection of the Ministry.

Harry was so vexed that, rather than silencing his bullfrog like he was supposed to be doing, he unintentionally directed the hex at professor McGonagall, leaving the witch standing there looking thunderstruck for a few seconds, before recovering enough to level a pointed glare at the teen as she removed the cancelled the hex with a casual wave of her wand.

"Mr. Potter." She stated firmly, her eyes boring into Harry's own as she spoke "While I am glad to see you're improving in your casting of spells, I would PREFER that you stick to using the designated targets."

Luckily enough, all Harry got was an essay assignment on the importance of proper direction and control in relation to Hexes for his trouble. He almost swore he caught a small smile on McGonagall's face when he'd looked back at her as he filed out.

Due to the downpour outside, the trio had filed into an abandoned classroom with a group of other students during break, Harry deciding to get a head start on the assignment and was in the midst of jotting down ANOTHER of Hermione's points on the subject when Angelina came struggling towards them, employing a liberal use of elbows to clear a path through the crowd.

"I've got permission!" the excited chaser cried out, the elder Gryffindor grinning excitedly down at the confused duo as she finally pulled up at their desks "I got permission to reform the Quidditch team!"

"EXCELLENT!" Harry and Ron yelled, in a manner reminiscent of a certain time-traveling duo, minus the rock and roll and phone booth, though a few members of the crowd looked around in confusion, wondering why they could hear guitar music in the background.

"Yeah," Angelina sighed, idly looking around to see where the noise came from, before beaming at the duo "I went to McGonagall and I THINK she might have appealed to Dumbledore." She nodded her head in approval of the Deputy-Headmistress' tactics "Anyway, Umbridge had to give in." she admitted with a sharp laugh "Now I want you down at the pitch at seven o'clock tonight, there's only three weeks until our first match, and we REALLY need to make up time."

Harry and Ron nodded enthusiastically, grinning up at their captain as she nudged her way back through the crowd, doubtless off to spread the word to the rest of the team, the two of them returning to Harry's essay with a renewed vigor, as suddenly things seemed to be looking a little better.

Several hours later, as they marched themselves off the sodden Quidditch pitch, having suffered an abysmal training session that they couldn't quite blame on the weather, the duo were instantly cursing themselves for jinxing things.

It hadn't helped that Harry's scar had acted up in the changing room, the teen covering up by claiming he'd poked himself in the eye , before hanging back to talk with Ron about the feelings he'd been getting about it, only for the redhead to gape at him, stunned out of his gourd at the concept of being able to read Voldemort's mind.

Harry, of course, didn't see it that way, as he personally didn't see the benefit of being the Dark Lord's personal Mood Ring, especially since all it gave him were fleeting images, followed by gouts of pain that at their best, felt like being hit upside the head, and at their worst…well all he needed was to collapse again where people could see and the Ministry would have a field day.