Adventures of Harriet Potter

Snape's Worst Memory

——— BY ORDER OF ———
The Ministry of Magic

Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-eight.

Signed:
Cornelius Oswald Fudge
Minister of Magic

The notices had gone up all over the school overnight, but they did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister of Magic, and his Junior Assistant to escape. No matter where Harriet went within the castle next day, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore's flight, and though some of the details might have gone awry in the retelling (Harriet overheard one second-year girl assuring another that Fudge was now lying in St. Mungo's with a pumpkin for a head), it was surprising how accurate the rest of their information was. Everybody seemed aware, for instance, that Harriet and Marietta were the only students to have witnessed the scene in Dumbledore's office, and as Marietta was now in the hospital wing, Harriet found herself besieged with requests to give a firsthand account wherever she went.
"Dumbledore will be back before long," said Ernie Macmillan confidently on the way back from Herbology after listening intently to Harriet's story. "They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me . . ." He dropped his voice conspiratorially, so that Harriet, Ron, and Hermione had to lean closer to him to hear, ". . . that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for him. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her." Ernie smirked. "Apparently she had a right little tantrum . . ."
"Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head's office," said Hermione viciously, as they walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall. "Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old —" Harriet sensed something off at the doors and drew her wand. "Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?" Draco Malfoy had slid out from behind the door, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. His pale, pointed face was alight with malice. "Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff," he drawled. "You can't take points from fellow prefects, Malfoy," said Ernie at once. "I know prefects can't dock points from each other," sneered Malfoy; Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. "But members of the Inquisitorial Squad —"
"The what?" said Hermione sharply. "The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger," said Malfoy, pointing toward a tiny silver I upon his robes just beneath his prefect's badge. "A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points. . . . So, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress. . . . Macmillan, five for contradicting me. . . . Five because I don't like you and you're apparently a big slag, Potter . . . Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that. . . . Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a Mudblood, Granger, so ten for that . . ."
Ron pulled out his wand as Harriet began to move hers, but Hermione pushed them away, whispering, "Don't!" Harriet reluctantly relented, glaring murderously at Malfoy for having used that slur in front of her. While talking about one of her best friends in the whole world no less. "Wise move, Granger," breathed Malfoy. "New Head, new times . . . Be good now, Potty . . . Weasel King . . ." He strode away, laughing heartily with Crabbe and Goyle. "He was bluffing," said Ernie, looking appalled. "He can't be allowed to dock points . . . that would be ridiculous. . . . It would completely undermine the prefect system . . ." But Harriet, Ron, and Hermione had turned automatically toward the giant hourglasses set in niches along the wall behind them, which recorded the House points. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been neck and neck in the lead that morning. Even as they watched, stones flew upward, reducing the amounts in the lower bulbs. In fact, the only glass that seemed unchanged was the emerald-filled one of Slytherin.
"Noticed, have you?" said Fred's voice. He and George had just come down the marble staircase and joined Harriet, Ron, Hermione, and Ernie in front of the hourglasses. "Malfoy just docked us all about fifty points," said Harriet furiously, as they watched several more stones fly upward from the Gryffindor hourglass. "Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break," said George. "What do you mean, 'tried'?" said Ron quickly. "He never managed to get all the words out," said Fred, "due to the fact that we forced him headfirst into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor."
Hermione looked very shocked. "But you'll get into terrible trouble!" she said, remembering Harriet telling her that one was broken. "Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him," said Fred coolly. "Anyway . . . we've decided we don't care about getting into trouble anymore."
"Have you ever?" asked Hermione. "'Course we have," said George. "Never been expelled, have we?" Harriet thought it a fair point. "We've always known where to draw the line," said Fred. "We might have put a toe across it occasionally," said George. "But we've always stopped short of causing real mayhem," said Fred.
"But now?" said Ron tentatively. "Well, now —" said George. "— what with Dumbledore gone —" said Fred. "— we reckon a bit of mayhem —" said George. "— is exactly what our dear new Head deserves," said Fred. "You mustn't!" whispered Hermione. "You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!" She sounded like she was pleading with them. "You don't get it, Hermione, do you?" said Fred, smiling at her. "We don't care about staying anymore. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So anyway," he checked his watch, "phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."
"Anything to do with what?" said Hermione anxiously. "You'll see," said George. "Run along, now." Fred and George turned away and disappeared in the swelling crowd descending the stairs toward lunch. Looking highly disconcerted, Ernie muttered something about unfinished Transfiguration homework and scurried away. "I think we should get out of here, you know," said Hermione nervously. "Just in case . . ."
"Yeah, all right," said Ron, and the three of them moved toward the doors to the Great Hall, but Harriet had barely glimpsed today's ceiling of scudding white clouds when somebody tapped her on the shoulder and, turning, she found herself almost nose to nose with Filch, the caretaker. She took several hasty steps backward; Filch was best viewed at a distance. "The headmistress would like to see you, Potter," he leered. "I didn't do it," said Harriet stupidly, thinking of whatever Fred and George were planning. Filch's jowls wobbled with silent laughter. "Guilty conscience, eh?" he wheezed. "Follow me . . ." Harriet glanced back at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking worried. She shrugged and followed Filch back into the entrance hall, against the tide of hungry students. Filch seemed to be in an extremely good mood; he hummed creakily under his breath as they climbed the marble staircase. As they reached the first landing he said, "Things are changing around here, Potter."
"I've noticed," said Harriet coldly. "Yerse . . . I've been telling Dumbledore for years and years he's too soft with you all," said Filch, chuckling nastily. "You filthy little beasts would never have dropped Stinkpellets if you'd known I had it in my power to whip you raw, would you, now? Nobody would have thought of throwing Fanged Frisbees down the corridors if I could've strung you up by the ankles in my office, would they? But when Educational Decree Twenty-nine comes in, Potter, I'll be allowed to do them things. . . . And she's asked the Minister to sign an order for the expulsion of Peeves. . . . Oh, things are going to be very different around here with her in charge . . ." He glanced at her rotund belly with a sneer, as if saying there'd be none of what got Harriet pregnant under Umbridge's rule. Harriet almost smirked as she'd like to see one woman try to reign in the libidos of two hundred eighty plus teenage students. Harriet herself had been caught a few times in the lavatory satisfying intense urges amplified by her pregnant state. That saying nothing of the countless times Hermione and Ron had found other students rutting in empty classrooms after hours while patrolling as prefects, or the number of girls who were pregnant like Harriet was.
Umbridge had obviously gone to some lengths to get Filch on her side, Harriet thought, and the worst of it was that he would probably prove an important weapon; his knowledge of the school's secret passageways and hiding places was probably second only to the Weasley twins. "Here we are," he said, leering down at Harriet as he rapped three times upon Professor Umbridge's door and pushed it open. "The Potter girl to see you, ma'am." Umbridge's office, so very familiar to Harriet from her many detentions, was the same as usual except for the large wooden block lying across the front of her desk on which golden letters spelled the word HEADMISTRESS; also her Firebolt, and Fred's and George's Cleansweeps, which she saw with a pang were now chained and padlocked to a stout iron peg in the wall behind the desk. In blatant disregard for multiple wizarding laws regarding personal property, and the fact that Harriet's attempt to fight the illegal seizure of her broom legally was getting bogged down in the bureaucracy of Fudge's pressure on the Prophet to portray her as a mad nutter who would make up anything for the broadening of her own fame. Umbridge was sitting behind the desk, busily scribbling upon some of her pink parchment, but looked up and smiled widely at their entrance.
"Thank you, Argus," she said sweetly. "Not at all, ma'am, not at all, said Filch, bowing as low as his rheumatism would permit, and exiting backward. "Sit," said Umbridge curtly, pointing toward a chair, and Harriet sat. She continued to scribble for a few moments. She watched some of the foul kittens gamboling around the plates over her head, wondering what fresh horror she had in store for her. "Well now," she said finally, setting down her quill and looking like a toad about to swallow a particularly juicy fly. "What would you like to drink?"
"What?" said Harriet, quite sure she had misheard her. "To drink, Ms. Potter," she said, smiling still more widely. "Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice?" As she named each drink, she gave her short wand a wave, and a cup or glass of it appeared upon her desk. "Nothing, thank you," said Harriet. "I wish you to have a drink with me," she said, her voice becoming more dangerously sweet. "Choose one."
"Fine . . . tea then," said Harriet, shrugging. She got up and made quite a performance of adding milk with her back to her. She then bustled around the desk with it, smiling in sinisterly sweet fashion. "There," she said, handing it to her. "Drink it before it gets cold, won't you? Well, now, Ms. Potter . . . I thought we ought to have a little chat, after the distressing events of last night." She said nothing. She settled herself back into her seat and waited. When several long moments had passed in silence, she said gaily, "You're not drinking up!" She raised the cup to her lips and then, just as suddenly, lowered it. One of the horrible painted kittens behind Umbridge had great round blue eyes just like Mad-Eye Moody's magical one, and it had just occurred to Harriet what Mad-Eye would say if he ever heard that Harriet had drunk anything offered by a known enemy — especially when in her condition. "What's the matter?" said Umbridge, who was still watching her. "Do you want sugar?"
"No," said Harriet. She raised the cup to her lips again and pretended to take a sip, though keeping her mouth tightly closed. Umbridge's smile widened. "Good," she whispered. "Very good. Now then . . ." She leaned forward a little. "Where is Albus Dumbledore?" Apparently getting right to the point. "No idea," said Harriet promptly. "Drink up, drink up," she said, still smiling. "Now, Ms. Potter, let us not play childish games. I know that you know where he has gone. You and Dumbledore have been in this together from the beginning. Consider your position, Ms. Potter . . ." Her gaze went to Harriet's pregnant belly.
"I don't know where he is." Harriet said as she pretended to drink again. "Very well," said Umbridge, looking displeased. "In that case, you will kindly tell me the whereabouts of Sirius Black." Harriet's stomach turned over, her baby kicked wildly, and her hand holding the teacup shook so that the cup rattled in its saucer. She tilted the cup to her mouth with her lips pressed together, so that some of the hot liquid trickled down onto her robes. "I don't know," she said a little too quickly. "Ms. Potter," said Umbridge, "let me remind you that it was I who almost caught the criminal Black in the Gryffindor fire in October. I know perfectly well it was you he was meeting and if I had had any proof neither of you would be at large today, I promise you. I repeat, Ms. Potter . . . Where is Sirius Black?"
"No idea," said Harriet loudly. "Haven't got a clue." They stared at each other so long that Harriet felt her eyes watering. Then she stood up. "Very well, Potter, I will take your word for it this time, but be warned: The might of the Ministry stands behind me. All channels of communication in and out of this school are being monitored. A Floo Network Regulator is keeping watch over every fire in Hogwarts — except my own, of course. My Inquisitorial Squad is opening and reading all owl post entering and leaving the castle. And Mr. Filch is observing all secret passages in and out of the castle. If I find a shred of evidence . . ." BOOM! The very floor of the office shook; Umbridge slipped sideways, clutching her desk for support, looking shocked. "What was — ?" She was gazing toward the door; Harriet took the opportunity to empty her almost full cup of tea into the nearest vase of dried flowers. She could hear people running and screaming several floors below.
"Back to lunch with you, Potter!" cried Umbridge, raising her wand and dashing out of the office. Harriet gave her a few seconds' start then hurried after her to see what the source of all the uproar was.
It was not difficult to find. One floor down, pandemonium reigned. Somebody (and Harriet had a very shrewd idea who) had set off what seemed to be an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks. Dragons comprised entirely of green-and-gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went. Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers. Rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the walls. Sparklers were writing swearwords in midair of their own accord. Firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere Harriet looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight, or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer she watched.
Filch and Umbridge were standing, apparently transfixed with horror, halfway down the stairs. As Harriet watched, one of the larger Catherine wheels seemed to decide that what it needed was more room to maneuver; it whirled toward Umbridge and Filch with a sinister wheeeeeeeeee. Both adults yelled with fright and ducked and it soared straight out of the window behind them and off across the grounds. Meanwhile, several of the dragons and a large purple bat that was smoking ominously took advantage of the open door at the end of the corridor to escape toward the second floor.
"Hurry, Filch, hurry!" shrieked Umbridge. "They'll be all over the school unless we do something — Stupefy!" A jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit one of the rockets. Instead of freezing in midair, it exploded with such force that it blasted a hole in a painting of a soppy-looking witch in the middle of a meadow — she ran for it just in time, reappearing seconds later squashed into the painting next door, where a couple of wizards playing cards stood up hastily to make room for her. "Don't Stun them, Filch!" shouted Umbridge angrily, for all the world as though it had been his suggestion.
"Right you are, Headmistress!" wheezed Filch, who was a Squib and could no more have Stunned the fireworks than swallowed them. He dashed to a nearby cupboard, pulled out a broom, and began swatting at the fireworks in midair; within seconds the head of the broom was ablaze. Harriet had seen enough. Laughing, she ducked down as low as her condition allowed, ran to a door she knew was concealed behind a tapestry a little way along the corridor and slipped through it to find Fred and George hiding just behind it, listening to Umbridge's and Filch's yells and quaking with suppressed mirth. "Impressive," Harriet said quietly, grinning. "Very impressive . . . You'll put Dr. Filibuster out of business, no problem . . ."
"Cheers," whispered George, wiping tears of laughter from his face. "Oh, I hope she tries Vanishing them next. . . . They multiply by ten every time you try . . ." The fireworks continued to burn and to spread all over the school that afternoon. Though they caused plenty of disruption, particularly the firecrackers, the other teachers did not seem to mind them very much. "Dear, dear," said Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the dragons soared around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. "Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?"
The upshot of it all was that Professor Umbridge spent her first afternoon as headmistress running all over the school answering the summonses of the other teachers, none of whom seemed able to rid their rooms of the fireworks without her. When the final bell rang and the students were heading back to Gryffindor Tower with their bags, Harry saw, with immense satisfaction, a disheveled and soot-blackened Umbridge tottering sweaty-faced from Professor Flitwick's classroom. "Thank you so much, Professor!" said Professor Flitwick in his squeaky little voice. "I could have got rid of the sparklers myself, of course, but I wasn't sure whether I had the authority . . ." Beaming, he closed his classroom door in her snarling face. Fred and George were heroes that night in the Gryffindor common room. Even Hermione fought her way through the excited crowd around them to congratulate them. "They were wonderful fireworks," she said admiringly. "Thanks," said George, looking both surprised and pleased. "Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs. Only thing is, we used our whole stock, we're going to have to start again from scratch now . . ."
"It was worth it, though," said Fred, who was taking orders from clamoring Gryffindors. "If you want to add your name to the waiting list, Hermione, it's five Galleons for your Basic Blaze box and twenty for the Deflagration Deluxe . . ." Hermione returned to the table where Harriet and Ron were sitting staring at their schoolbags as though hoping their homework might spring out of it and start doing itself. "Oh, why don't we have a night off?" said Hermione brightly, as a silver-tailed Weasley rocket zoomed past the window. "After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we'll have plenty of time then . . ."
"Are you feeling all right?" Ron asked, staring at her in disbelief. "Now you mention it," said Hermione happily, "d'you know . . . I think I'm feeling a bit . . . rebellious." Harriet could still hear the distant bangs of escaped firecrackers when she and Hermione went up to bed an hour later, and as she got undressed a sparkler floated past the tower, still resolutely spelling out the word "POO". She got into bed, yawning. With her glasses off, the occasional firework still passing the window became blurred, looking like sparkling clouds, beautiful and mysterious against the black sky. She turned onto her side, wondering how Umbridge was feeling about her first day in Dumbledore's job, and how Fudge would react when he heard that the school had spent most of the day in a state of advanced disruption. . . . Smiling to herself, she closed her eyes. . . .
The whizzes and bangs of escaped fireworks in the grounds seemed to be growing more distant . . . or perhaps he, Harry, was simply speeding away from them. . . . She had fallen right into the corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. She was speeding toward the plain black door. . . . Let it open. . . . Let it open. . . . It did. She was inside the circular room lined with doors. . . . She crossed it, placed her hand upon an identical door, and it swung inward. . . . Now she was in a long, rectangular room full of an odd, mechanical clicking. There were dancing flecks of light on the walls but she did not pause to investigate. . . . She had to go on. . . .
There was a door at the far end. . . . It too opened at her touch. . . . And now she was in a dimly lit room as high and wide as a church, full of nothing but rows and rows of towering shelves, each laden with small, dusty, spun-glass spheres. . . . Now Harriet's heart was beating fast with excitement. . . . She knew where to go. . . . She ran forward, but her footsteps made no noise in the enormous, deserted room. . . . There was something in this room she wanted very, very much. . . . Something she wanted. . . . or somebody else wanted. . . .
Her scar was hurting. . . . BANG! Harriet awoke instantly, confused and angry. The dark dormitory was full of the sound of laughter. "Cool!" said Lavender, who was silhouetted against the window. "I think one of those Catherine wheels hit a rocket and it's like they mated, come and see!" Harriet heard Hermione and Lydia scramble out of bed for a better look. She lay quite still and silent while the pain in her scar subsided and disappointment washed over her. She felt as though a wonderful treat had been snatched from her at the very last moment. . . . She had got so close that time. . . . Glittering, pink-and-silver winged piglets were now soaring past the windows of Gryffindor Tower. Harriet lay and listened to the appreciative whoops of Gryffindors in the dormitories below them. Her stomach gave a sickening jolt as he remembered that she had advanced Occlumency the following evening. . . .