Dark Defense

Ousting and Omens.

Needless to say, rumors soon flew regarding the events of the previous night, the notable absence of not Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, Vergil AND Umbridge, only serving to confirm the rumors, which set the students into a frenzy.

Even the Slytherins, as much as they loathed Hagrid for his ties to the Golden Trio and Dumbledore, had balked at the High Inquisitor's approach. An ambush on Hogwarts' Grounds? With Dumbledore in the castle? Disgraced and stripped of his position as Supreme Mugwump or not, the Headmaster possessed formidable clout, and with the number of witnesses the Toady had thoughtlessly brought with her, it was highly unlikely she'd be setting foot at Hogwarts again anytime soon.

Not that the students cared much for this, if anything, it simply gave them additional reasons to cheer, even the remaining faculty members looking decidedly pleased with the removal of the High Inquisitor, and judging by the quality of the food and the appearance of the dormitories, the House Elves were clearly over the moon too.

In short, by the time their final exam, History of Magic, rolled around at two-o'clock that afternoon, Harry would enter the great hall with his fellow fifth-years with a smile on his face, a smile that was, surprisingly, mirrored by Draco Malfoy, the two of them eyeing one another warily, before turning their attentions back to their facedown exam papers, feeling decidedly awkward.

There was a very good reason for this: On the one hand, the two had hated one another since Year one, a hatred that had worsened as a result of their rivalry as seekers and Harry's fame. However, against the threat of Umbridge, they had been united, somewhat, against a common foe, Serpents and Lions putting aside their differences to make the Toad's life HELL.

Now that Umbridge was gone, however, did that mean they were to go back to squabbling over pointless little things like who could fly better or whose father could beat up the other's? Harry highly doubted they' ever be FRIENDS, perish the thought, but this lack of enmity had been refreshing, a sentiment he KNEW Draco shared judging by the boy's lack of worry lines of late.

"Turn over your papers," Professor Marchbanks ordered from the front of the Hall, flicking over the giant hour-glass "You may begin."

What followed next would have been HELL had Harry, content in the knowledge that Hagrid was safe and Umbridge likely picking out her new wardrobe for Azkaban, not gotten a proper night's rest, followed by a good breakfast before a last-minute study session with Hermione and Ron. As it was, while he stumbled a little over names and dates, he at least had the facts straight, blazing through the questions, even the one regarding wand legislations, having read up on them in his bid to garner as much about Wizarding World Law in case Fudge tried to pull another fast one.

He was just pondering why the Wizarding community of Liechtenstein had contested Pierre Bonaccord's appointment as the first Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, something to do with Mountain Trolls apparently, when his vision swam, and he suddenly found himself walking along the cool, dark corridor to the Department of Mysteries again, his tread firm and purposeful, occasionally breaking into a run, so eager to finally reach his destination.

Once again the black door swung open before him, the youth finding himself standing in the middle of the circular room with its many doors once more, this time cutting straight across the stone floor and through the second, ignoring the patches of dancing light on the walls and floor and that odd mechanical clicking, focusing on the third door as he jogged towards it, passing through until he was standing once again in the cathedral-sized room full of shelves and glass spheres, his heart hammering desperately as he hurried along the aisle between rows 97 and 98.

Unlike last time, however, there was a shape on the floor at the very end, a black shape moving on the floor like a wounded animal, a sight which, to Harry's horror, filled him with a dark, indescribable pleasure.