Twisted Tales

Detention

Harry doesn't waste much time in waging war against Umbridge, giving me my third chance to show him I can be trusted.

"What's the use of that?" Harry questions, once Umbridge has finished up a rather long-winded explanation that the Ministry feels we should learn Defense Against the Dark Arts in a risk-free environment. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be risk-free."

"Hand, Mr. Potter," Umbridge forces back, her usual wide smile now completely wiped from her face as a slew of other hands shoot up.

Umbridge does her best to explain away questions from other students, often falling back on her favorite reprimand about students raising their hands to speak. About a dozen fists fly into the air, everyone demanding answers. Once again Umbridge answers these with well-rehearsed lines about theory and practical knowledge being enough to get us through our O.W.Ls.

"And what's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry challenges.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world."

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

Umbridge swallows hard, forcing a grin, her voice taking on the same high-pitched tone as it had at the beginning of class, "There is nothing out there, dear. Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?"

"Oh, I don't know," Harry pauses, pretending as if he's actually giving this question some thought. "Maybe, Lord Voldemort."

For a moment it looks as if Umbridge is at a loss for words; her perfectly crafted, Ministry approved responses meant to dispel any concerns from students probably not preparing her for the likes of Harry Potter. After a few breaths, she nonetheless paints on another wide smile, "Now let me be quite plain. You have been told that a certain dark wizard is at large once again." She gives the class a pointed look. "That is a lie."

"It's not a lie!" Harry erupts, his fist making contact with this desk, the book there jumping. "I saw him! I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter."

Sensing my time to butt in has arrived, I throw my own fist into the air, shaking off Draco as he whispers at me to sit back down, "He's telling the truth, you daft woman! Your precious Minister Fudge has done and gone loony. Instead of facing the truth, he's decided to call Dumbledore and Harry nutters."

I don't care about attacking the Ministry. I don't care that she'll ultimately tell Fudge what I've said. None of it will matter once he's regained power; Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Fudge, Umbridge, the Ministry; it'll all be worthless, relics of another time. Voldemort is back and he's growing more powerful with each passing day. This I am certain of.

A silence falls over the room, all eyes now switching between Umbridge and myself. Draco continues to tug at the sleeve of my robes, trying to get me to retake my seat. Chest heaving, I stare down the woman in front of me. She lets out a miserable hem-hem, before delivering the final blow, "Potter, I will see you in my office at five o'clock sharp for your detention." She blinks once, her eyes never leaving me. "Miss Riddle, you may join him."

"What the hell did you do that for?" Draco demands as we file out of the classroom.

"I told you," I jerk him out of the flow of students trying to get to the Great Hall for lunch. "This is what I have to do."

"Make a public display of yourself?" Draco hisses back, motioning for Crabbe and Goyle, Draco's almost constant shadows, to go on without him.

Letting out a sigh, I release my hold on the front of Draco's robes, "Stand up for him. Be his friend. Make him trust me. Most of the school believes what they're printing in the Prophet. If I show him I believe him, that I'm someone he can talk to this about, I get a foot in the door. Now, shall we go to lunch?"