Categories > Books > Harry Potter > If Wishes Were Hippogriffs
Chapter 12 – Dueling Witches
Harry walked into Helena’s apartment hand in hand with Pansy Parkinson. He brought their entwined fingers to his lips and kissed hers before slumping down in his favorite love seat.
“I know there is a God Almighty, endowed with a wicked sense of humor and further, I know She is having way too much fun at my expense.”
Millicent, dressed in a plush terry bathrobe, her hair still a bit damp from the shower sat on the seat, casually picked Harry up, settled her man in her lap and hugged him to her breast. She patted the empty cushion for Pansy to sit with them.
“It’ll be okay,” the big girl cooed, “Tell Mummy Millie all about it.”
)O(
The day had started off so well, with a pleasant repeat of the previous evening’s couplings - Millicent and Susan, only in reverse order. Dobby had apologetically conveyed the Headmaster’s invitation for Harry to accompany him on an errand of some importance.
Convincing the paranoid Horace Slughorn to come out of retirement had been easy enough, then again, is it paranoia if someone really is out to get you?
They returned to the castle by way of Dumbledore’s fireplace. As Harry was leaving the headmaster’s office he passed Minerva and Snape coming in. “Old” Professor McGonagall wore her summer weight robe open to reveal a neatly tailored ensemble beneath. He couldn’t help but notice the way Minnie’s dress hugged some nice curves beneath that robe. His favorite professor stumbled on the top step and Harry quickly reacted to catch her and cop an opportunistic feel in the process.
“Thank you, Mister Potter, for your quick action – good hands, by the way. I’d rather not fall back down that staircase.
“While I’m thinking of it, Harry, could you find your way to my office? I need to talk with you about something Quidditch related.”
“Of course, Professor.”
Snape wasn’t saying anything; he simply stared at Minerva’s hand on Harry’s arm. Her young, unblemished, rejuvenated hand.
“Ah, Severus, Minerva, please come in. Good day, Harry, and thank you for helping secure our new-old potions master.”
Harry went straight to Minnie’s office and had just cleaned off the top of her desk when she burst in.
“Lord Harry, Snape knows!” She said, anxiously.
“About us?”
“Not us, specifically, but he knows I’ve undergone rejuvenation. While Albus was out of the room he commented on the “glamour” on my hands, saying that if he didn’t know better he’d think I’d used the potion. Then he looked me in the eye and said that he knew someone had. I’m reasonably sure he’s told the headmaster as well.”
“He may not have had to,” Harry mused, “I think Dumbledore can see through glamours.”
“Then why didn’t he say anything, I wonder?”
“Could it be he didn’t because it’s not really any of his business?” Harry ventured.
McGonagall’s expression was priceless.
“Oh, yeah; like he’d stop if anything wasn’t his business.”
Minerva looked worried, “Snape has sussed out that a coven has formed at Hogwarts.”
“He called it a “sorority”.” Pansy said from the open doorway. She stepped in, closing the door behind her, casting a silencing spell as she did so.
“What could Snape do with the information?”
“I don’t really know, milord, but I know I don’t like it.”
“Well he should be on his way out; Dumbledore got a new potion’s master, some guy named Slughorn.”
Minerva brightened at that, “Oh, he’s very good. He fancies himself something of a politician, but he is a very capable teacher.”
“So did Snape get the sack?”
“I’m afraid not, milord.”
“I just know I’m not going to like this.”
“Professor Snape is now the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher.”
)O(
A very smug Professor Snape glided into his classroom, the one he should have been granted a decade before. He would be in his element, Dark Arts finally taught as it should be, by someone steeped in the Arts, but not corrupted by them. He might only have the position for a year, he knew the curse only too well, but that should be enough. He would finally be recognized for the genius he was.
As he entered the DDA office his eye twitched at the previous occupant’s “taste” in decor.
“I need a house elf in the Defense against the Dark Arts office.” He announced to the empty room.
A young elf faded in and asked, “How is we able to help, sir?”
“Remove this lace and frippery from my office; I want all the walls bare when I come back.”
Snape didn’t bother to wait for a response, he just strode, bat-like, out of the office on his way to the owlrey.
)O(
“Demand trial by combat. In her vanity the Transfiguration Mistress of Hogwarts has undergone rejuvenation, she will be useless in a duel – accept the challenge.”
Dolores Umbridge re-read the note and smiled evilly, challenged by a woman who was little more than a squib. She called for her solicitor.
)O(
Astarte sat cross legged on Dumbledore’s shelf watching the manipulations of the old man. Why couldn’t he just cut Snape loose? Oh sure he’d been useful up to a point but now?
“Flopsie, can you tell what the old man is thinking.”
The sorting hat whispered “I can.”
The silence dragged on.
“Will you tell me what Dumbledore’s thinking?”
“Of course, Goddess. He’s thinking that he needs to re-think his handling of the Potter boy. He’s absolutely convinced that Snape is essential to his plans, but he’s not sure about his own motives anymore.”
“He’s very much alone, isn’t he?”
“His own choice, I’m afraid. I’ve tried suggesting he take on an apprentice, maybe the Potter boy. Maybe he will, maybe not.”
Astarte looked at the tired, frustrated old man and sighed. “I’ve never seen anyone more in need of a good rogering.”
“Yes, Goddess,” the hat agreed, “but would he be the top or the bottom?”
)O(
Pansy looked at her warlock with deep admiration tinged with concern. “Lord Harry, let me help.”
“How?”
“Leave that to me, milord. Millicent, please prepare our warlock for his bath.”
Harry stood and began to unbutton his shirt when Millie pulled him back into her lap and gently smacked his hands away.
“Let me.”
She unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled it off along with his under-vest. Millie leaned him back so that she could unbutton, and then unzip his trousers. She had a little trouble worrying his pants off but he helped a bit by raising his hips at the right time. The big girl placed one arm under his knees and her other behind his shoulder-blades and stood, carrying his unresisting body to the footed tub in the bathroom.
Pansy was already in the tub so that when Millicent placed him in the perfectly warmed water she was there to cushion and comfort him.
“Oh, this is nice.” He purred.
“Sit up, so we can wash your hair.”
He sat up and four hands with long nails caressed his scalp. Harry groaned in pleasure, saying, “Oh aye, I’ll give you all night to quit that. . .”
“Head back.”
He looked up at the ceiling as Millie poured water from a bowl, rinsing his hair.
“Now just lean back and let us take care of you.”
Pansy was the one to sigh contentedly this time. There was nothing sexual about bathing Harry, but it was making warm and tender, heart-felt love none the less. And she loved him deeply, profoundly, completely.
)O(
The next morning Harry found himself surrounded on all sides by witches of his coven – Myrtle stroked his cheek and, when his eyes had fluttered open, placed the tiny potent mint on his tongue. As the freshness filled his mouth, he drew Myrtle into a deep, soulful “Good Morning!” snog. He then set about kissing his ladies awake, starting with Hermione, then Susan, Millicent, Pansy and finally Minerva.
“I feel so alive this morning!” he enthused, “Like I could do anything!”
The Lady Helena phased through the bedroom wall. “Milord Harry, Professor McGonagall is being summoned by the Wizengamot for trial duty.”
Harry looked confused, “Is that like jury duty?”
Minerva sighed and shook her head, “No milord - trial duty. In a fit of anger I challenged Dolores Umbridge to a witches duel, she’s taking this as an opportunity for trial by combat.”
“What kind of medieval shite is that? I thought the Wizengamot had judges and lawyers and solicitors!”
“The Wizengamot, like the rest of the ministry, is run by the old pureblood families, and they have adamantly preserved the right to trial by combat.”
“You can’t face her, Minerva.”
“I must. If I refuse she will be declared innocent and will have her positions in the ministry and magical society reinstated. Would you have her return to Hogwarts as High Inquisitor?”
“But you gave up so much of your magic for me!”
Minerva took Harry’s face in both her hands and said, “Because I believe in you, I trust you, therefore, I trust the prophesy.”
“She will give up her youth so that she may again grow old with him,” Harry repeated, “kinda vague – it doesn’t say you will, it says you may.”
“Do you trust me, Milord Harry?”
“You know I do.”
“Then trust me when I say I can do this.”
He pulled her into a fierce embrace – but I don’t want to lose you.
“You won’t. I promise.”
)O(
Old business having been concluded the Wizengamot opened the floor to new business. All the members present knew they were waiting for Professor McGonagall to arrive so that the real business of the day, Madame Umbridge’s trial by combat could get underway.
Minerva, looking all of her nearly ninety years, arrived at the ministry in due course attended by Pomona Sprout and trailed by the rest of the witches of the Coven of the Four Houses. A single hooded figure walked to the visitor’s galley near the house seats and sat inconspicuously.
McGonagall wore the traditional witches dueling robe, a simple white floor-length singlet beneath her Hogwarts robe. White would show any blood let as a result of the duel. As she ascended the dueling platform she noted that Umbridge didn’t have a second.
“No one to stand by you, Dolores? Pity.”
“Pity yourself, Minerva, I won’t need a second, you, however, seem to need quite a lot of propping up.”
“To deal justice to you? No. My friends are here because they love me and will no matter the outcome of this travesty.”
Amelia Bones, in her capacity of acting Chief Witch appealed one last time.
“Will you not trust justice to prevail in a court of law, Madame Umbridge?”
Ubridge’s answer was to shrug off her outer robe to stand in her slightly off-white dueling shift. “I claim my privilege as a born pure-blood to stand trial by single combat. Minerva McGonagall has challenged me and it is my right.”
McGonagall dropped not only her outer robe, but her old age glamour as well. She stood proud and tall, a young, beautiful woman in her prime, red hair braided in a complex French knot. The whole Wizengamot gasped as they realized that Minerva had undergone rejuvenation very recently and that she was not going to be at the height of her powers.
“So, dearie,” Umbridge taunted, “sure you don’t want to just declare me the winner? You may save yourself a considerable amount of pain.”
Minerva whipped her wand up in a formal salute, bowed slightly from the waist and replied, “On my worst day I’m still twice the witch you are, dearie.”
Umbridge didn’t bother to return the salute; she turned on her heel and waddled three steps before turning and shouting “experliarmus!”
The simple disarming hex missed because her opponent had executed a casual half turn and let the spell pass by.
Umbridge shrugged and shouted, “Petrificus totalus, incarcerous, stupefy!”
Each time the squat ex-undersecretary fired a curse or hex Minerva simply side-stepped it.
Furious, Umbridge slashed diagonally across her opponent’s body with her wand screaming “Diffendo!”
Minerva got up a weak shield but the powerful cutting curse got through and a wound appeared across her thigh, an angry red gash against her white singlet.
Umbridge smiled triumphantly then cast another stunner which Minerva dodged.
Some of the members of the Wizengamot were murmuring – McGonagall was limping, obviously wounded, and apparently powerless. She hadn’t cast a single offensive spell.
Umbridge fired a reducto, not as focused as a stunner but harder to dodge. Again, Minerva’s shield spell was too little too late and she staggered under the concussive spell.
The newly-young sorceress looked stunned, barely able to stand as the gloating, toad-faced witch advanced to put and end to this mockery of a duel. Umbridge got within arms reach and brandished her wand with a flourish.
“Dolores,” Minerva croaked out.
“Yes?”
“Flash!”
As Minerva said the word a preternaturally brilliant flash of light assaulted her opponent’s eyes. Indeed everyone in the gallery who hadn’t been forewarned about the “flash” spell saw spots before their eyes for days afterward.
Umbridge threw up her hands, but too late. She was blinded by the light.
For her part, Minerva, who was neither stunned nor winded, simply reached out and plucked the short wand from Umbridges stubby little fingers. Then bitch slapped her. The force of the blow spun the short, stocky witch around.
“That was for using a blood quill on me wee bairns.”
Minerva took Umbridge by the collar and threw her to the raised floor of the dueling platform.
“It would be a kindness to kill you, Dolores, but I’m feeling a bit vengeful at this particular moment.”
The stately redhead held her opponents wand aloft and declared the trial at an end.
Amelia Bones struck the gavel saying, “As she is the vanquished in this trial by combat I declare Dolores Jane Umbridge guilty of all charges. There will be no appeal and the judgment of this Wizengamot is final. Further, this court orders that she be compelled to undergo thorough questioning under veritaserum and legillimancy to determine what, if any, other crimes she may have committed in her capacity a Senior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic.
“Professor McGonagall, do you require medical assistance?”
“Thank you, Madame Mugwump; I have Poppy Pomfrey to fuss over me.”
“Very well, Professor, your business with this august body is now concluded, you may go.”
She struck the gavel again and demanded, “Any other new business?”
The cloaked figure stood and walked to the empty seat labeled “Potter.”
Harry flipped the obscuring hood back to stand before his seat as the young scion of the ancient and noble house of Potter.
Several sharp intakes of breath mixed with murmurs of approval.
“Have you ascended to your lordship, Your Lordship?” Amelia asked, with some humor.
Harry held up his right hand, bearing the signet ring of his house.
“Very well, milord, what is your business?”
“I move that, from this day forward, the farce that is “trial by combat” be forever banned in the Wizengamot – the practice has little to do with justice and everything to do with who has the biggest wand to wave about. Just another way of saying “might makes right”.”
The motion is made, is there a second?
Harry was about to display his ring from the house of Slytherin when Iris Parkinson, current proxy for the ancient and noble house of Slytherin stood and said, “I second.”
Harry looked at Pansy’s mother and smiled, the smile he got in return told him that she knew and approved of her daughter’s decision. Parkinson House was now openly allied with the Noble House of Potter.
A heated discussion followed with most of the pureblood contingent insisting on honoring the respected traditions of the pureblood forefathers. Everyone else, inspired by Lord Potter, insisted that the Wizengamot needed to at least enter the twentieth century as the rest of the world was poised to enter the twenty-first.
The vote was called. Every house with a daughter in the Coven of the Four Houses backed Lord Potter’s resolution. The House of Longbottom voted with them as well.
It was more than enough to carry.
The Slytherin vote wasn’t even necessary. Harry decided to hold that one in reserve just in case he needed it later.
Harry spun out of Rosemerta’s fireplace and, for once, didn’t fall but ran to the door grabbed his Firebolt and mounted it on the run. If there had been a record for the fastest time to travel from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts before this particular day it was broken. In less than a minute Harry soared through the infirmary window where Madame Pomfrey was attending Minerva’s wounds. He did an impressive forward dismount and ran to her bedside.
“How are you?”
“A bit bruised, a bit bloody, but not much worse for the wear.”
He sat on the side of Minnie’s hospital bed and pulled her, as gently as he could, into his arms. “Minerva McGonagall, don’t you ever do that to me again!”
If Poppy Pomfrey was shocked by the behavior of her oldest and dearest friend and the unseemly intimate contact with a student she didn’t show it.
Harry looked down at the gash on Minerva’s right thigh and then realized that her whole leg was uncovered all the way up to her hip. He looked worriedly at the matron who smiled.
“It’s a clean cut and will heal very well, perhaps a thin line of a scar but that’s all.”
“Um, please don’t misunderstand me Madame Pomfrey, but why are you not screaming at me right about now?”
The healer smiled, “Minnie and I have no secrets, Mister, I mean, Lord Potter. I gave her a thorough examination when she completed the rejuvenation process. I’m happy to say her magical core will recover, by the way, in time. I know why she underwent the process and for whom.” Her eyes narrowed, “I admit, I did try to dissuade her, but she was adamant.”
“So you’re okay with us?”
Madame Pomfrey shrugged, “Time will tell, but healer-patient information is privileged so . . .”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and then asked, “How long?”
“Normally I’d have a patient with these wounds stay the night but I think I can trust her to not over-exert herself.” Poppy said, giving Minerva a significant look.
“Walk with me, Mister Potter, and lend me your arm if you will, please.”
Harry lifted his elbow in her direction, saying, “Of course, Professor.”
Since Helena Ravenclaw’s apartment was along the way they had no trouble detouring into what had become their living quarters.
Upon entering the living room Harry collapsed in pain, clutching at his scar. He didn’t even bother trying to rise, the pain would just floor him again so he rolled onto his back and grimaced, “He’s happy about something, and that can’t be good for us.”
There was a fluttering of small wings as a bird or perhaps a bat flew to Harry. The winged creature stood all of twenty-five centimeters tall in her tiny bare feet as she landed near Harry’s head. Half a dozen coven wands tracked her as she approached the warlock.
“I’m so sorry, Harry, I was distracted and could not block Riddle’s link.”
Harry squinted at the diminutive deity he’d only ever seen in his dreams.
“Astarte?”
“In the flesh, such as it is, baby.”
He looked up at the anxious faces of his witches, “Its okay. She’s with us.”
Astarte placed the palm of her tiny hand on Harry’s scar and concentrated. Then her face split into the mischievous grin that Harry knew from his dreams.
“What did you do?”
“Why nothing, baby, but Riddle has had his own ghastly passions reflected back. I would guess he’s in much worse shape than you at the moment.”
With Harry recovering from curse-scar pain and Minerva needing to rest and recover from her duel it was a sedate, cuddlesome group that turned in early that evening.
)O(
The next morning the headlines read:
Mass Prison Breakout, Azkaban Breeched!
The dementors had gone over to Voldemort, and the worst of the worst, the Lestanges were free.
Harry walked into Helena’s apartment hand in hand with Pansy Parkinson. He brought their entwined fingers to his lips and kissed hers before slumping down in his favorite love seat.
“I know there is a God Almighty, endowed with a wicked sense of humor and further, I know She is having way too much fun at my expense.”
Millicent, dressed in a plush terry bathrobe, her hair still a bit damp from the shower sat on the seat, casually picked Harry up, settled her man in her lap and hugged him to her breast. She patted the empty cushion for Pansy to sit with them.
“It’ll be okay,” the big girl cooed, “Tell Mummy Millie all about it.”
)O(
The day had started off so well, with a pleasant repeat of the previous evening’s couplings - Millicent and Susan, only in reverse order. Dobby had apologetically conveyed the Headmaster’s invitation for Harry to accompany him on an errand of some importance.
Convincing the paranoid Horace Slughorn to come out of retirement had been easy enough, then again, is it paranoia if someone really is out to get you?
They returned to the castle by way of Dumbledore’s fireplace. As Harry was leaving the headmaster’s office he passed Minerva and Snape coming in. “Old” Professor McGonagall wore her summer weight robe open to reveal a neatly tailored ensemble beneath. He couldn’t help but notice the way Minnie’s dress hugged some nice curves beneath that robe. His favorite professor stumbled on the top step and Harry quickly reacted to catch her and cop an opportunistic feel in the process.
“Thank you, Mister Potter, for your quick action – good hands, by the way. I’d rather not fall back down that staircase.
“While I’m thinking of it, Harry, could you find your way to my office? I need to talk with you about something Quidditch related.”
“Of course, Professor.”
Snape wasn’t saying anything; he simply stared at Minerva’s hand on Harry’s arm. Her young, unblemished, rejuvenated hand.
“Ah, Severus, Minerva, please come in. Good day, Harry, and thank you for helping secure our new-old potions master.”
Harry went straight to Minnie’s office and had just cleaned off the top of her desk when she burst in.
“Lord Harry, Snape knows!” She said, anxiously.
“About us?”
“Not us, specifically, but he knows I’ve undergone rejuvenation. While Albus was out of the room he commented on the “glamour” on my hands, saying that if he didn’t know better he’d think I’d used the potion. Then he looked me in the eye and said that he knew someone had. I’m reasonably sure he’s told the headmaster as well.”
“He may not have had to,” Harry mused, “I think Dumbledore can see through glamours.”
“Then why didn’t he say anything, I wonder?”
“Could it be he didn’t because it’s not really any of his business?” Harry ventured.
McGonagall’s expression was priceless.
“Oh, yeah; like he’d stop if anything wasn’t his business.”
Minerva looked worried, “Snape has sussed out that a coven has formed at Hogwarts.”
“He called it a “sorority”.” Pansy said from the open doorway. She stepped in, closing the door behind her, casting a silencing spell as she did so.
“What could Snape do with the information?”
“I don’t really know, milord, but I know I don’t like it.”
“Well he should be on his way out; Dumbledore got a new potion’s master, some guy named Slughorn.”
Minerva brightened at that, “Oh, he’s very good. He fancies himself something of a politician, but he is a very capable teacher.”
“So did Snape get the sack?”
“I’m afraid not, milord.”
“I just know I’m not going to like this.”
“Professor Snape is now the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher.”
)O(
A very smug Professor Snape glided into his classroom, the one he should have been granted a decade before. He would be in his element, Dark Arts finally taught as it should be, by someone steeped in the Arts, but not corrupted by them. He might only have the position for a year, he knew the curse only too well, but that should be enough. He would finally be recognized for the genius he was.
As he entered the DDA office his eye twitched at the previous occupant’s “taste” in decor.
“I need a house elf in the Defense against the Dark Arts office.” He announced to the empty room.
A young elf faded in and asked, “How is we able to help, sir?”
“Remove this lace and frippery from my office; I want all the walls bare when I come back.”
Snape didn’t bother to wait for a response, he just strode, bat-like, out of the office on his way to the owlrey.
)O(
“Demand trial by combat. In her vanity the Transfiguration Mistress of Hogwarts has undergone rejuvenation, she will be useless in a duel – accept the challenge.”
Dolores Umbridge re-read the note and smiled evilly, challenged by a woman who was little more than a squib. She called for her solicitor.
)O(
Astarte sat cross legged on Dumbledore’s shelf watching the manipulations of the old man. Why couldn’t he just cut Snape loose? Oh sure he’d been useful up to a point but now?
“Flopsie, can you tell what the old man is thinking.”
The sorting hat whispered “I can.”
The silence dragged on.
“Will you tell me what Dumbledore’s thinking?”
“Of course, Goddess. He’s thinking that he needs to re-think his handling of the Potter boy. He’s absolutely convinced that Snape is essential to his plans, but he’s not sure about his own motives anymore.”
“He’s very much alone, isn’t he?”
“His own choice, I’m afraid. I’ve tried suggesting he take on an apprentice, maybe the Potter boy. Maybe he will, maybe not.”
Astarte looked at the tired, frustrated old man and sighed. “I’ve never seen anyone more in need of a good rogering.”
“Yes, Goddess,” the hat agreed, “but would he be the top or the bottom?”
)O(
Pansy looked at her warlock with deep admiration tinged with concern. “Lord Harry, let me help.”
“How?”
“Leave that to me, milord. Millicent, please prepare our warlock for his bath.”
Harry stood and began to unbutton his shirt when Millie pulled him back into her lap and gently smacked his hands away.
“Let me.”
She unbuttoned his shirt, and pulled it off along with his under-vest. Millie leaned him back so that she could unbutton, and then unzip his trousers. She had a little trouble worrying his pants off but he helped a bit by raising his hips at the right time. The big girl placed one arm under his knees and her other behind his shoulder-blades and stood, carrying his unresisting body to the footed tub in the bathroom.
Pansy was already in the tub so that when Millicent placed him in the perfectly warmed water she was there to cushion and comfort him.
“Oh, this is nice.” He purred.
“Sit up, so we can wash your hair.”
He sat up and four hands with long nails caressed his scalp. Harry groaned in pleasure, saying, “Oh aye, I’ll give you all night to quit that. . .”
“Head back.”
He looked up at the ceiling as Millie poured water from a bowl, rinsing his hair.
“Now just lean back and let us take care of you.”
Pansy was the one to sigh contentedly this time. There was nothing sexual about bathing Harry, but it was making warm and tender, heart-felt love none the less. And she loved him deeply, profoundly, completely.
)O(
The next morning Harry found himself surrounded on all sides by witches of his coven – Myrtle stroked his cheek and, when his eyes had fluttered open, placed the tiny potent mint on his tongue. As the freshness filled his mouth, he drew Myrtle into a deep, soulful “Good Morning!” snog. He then set about kissing his ladies awake, starting with Hermione, then Susan, Millicent, Pansy and finally Minerva.
“I feel so alive this morning!” he enthused, “Like I could do anything!”
The Lady Helena phased through the bedroom wall. “Milord Harry, Professor McGonagall is being summoned by the Wizengamot for trial duty.”
Harry looked confused, “Is that like jury duty?”
Minerva sighed and shook her head, “No milord - trial duty. In a fit of anger I challenged Dolores Umbridge to a witches duel, she’s taking this as an opportunity for trial by combat.”
“What kind of medieval shite is that? I thought the Wizengamot had judges and lawyers and solicitors!”
“The Wizengamot, like the rest of the ministry, is run by the old pureblood families, and they have adamantly preserved the right to trial by combat.”
“You can’t face her, Minerva.”
“I must. If I refuse she will be declared innocent and will have her positions in the ministry and magical society reinstated. Would you have her return to Hogwarts as High Inquisitor?”
“But you gave up so much of your magic for me!”
Minerva took Harry’s face in both her hands and said, “Because I believe in you, I trust you, therefore, I trust the prophesy.”
“She will give up her youth so that she may again grow old with him,” Harry repeated, “kinda vague – it doesn’t say you will, it says you may.”
“Do you trust me, Milord Harry?”
“You know I do.”
“Then trust me when I say I can do this.”
He pulled her into a fierce embrace – but I don’t want to lose you.
“You won’t. I promise.”
)O(
Old business having been concluded the Wizengamot opened the floor to new business. All the members present knew they were waiting for Professor McGonagall to arrive so that the real business of the day, Madame Umbridge’s trial by combat could get underway.
Minerva, looking all of her nearly ninety years, arrived at the ministry in due course attended by Pomona Sprout and trailed by the rest of the witches of the Coven of the Four Houses. A single hooded figure walked to the visitor’s galley near the house seats and sat inconspicuously.
McGonagall wore the traditional witches dueling robe, a simple white floor-length singlet beneath her Hogwarts robe. White would show any blood let as a result of the duel. As she ascended the dueling platform she noted that Umbridge didn’t have a second.
“No one to stand by you, Dolores? Pity.”
“Pity yourself, Minerva, I won’t need a second, you, however, seem to need quite a lot of propping up.”
“To deal justice to you? No. My friends are here because they love me and will no matter the outcome of this travesty.”
Amelia Bones, in her capacity of acting Chief Witch appealed one last time.
“Will you not trust justice to prevail in a court of law, Madame Umbridge?”
Ubridge’s answer was to shrug off her outer robe to stand in her slightly off-white dueling shift. “I claim my privilege as a born pure-blood to stand trial by single combat. Minerva McGonagall has challenged me and it is my right.”
McGonagall dropped not only her outer robe, but her old age glamour as well. She stood proud and tall, a young, beautiful woman in her prime, red hair braided in a complex French knot. The whole Wizengamot gasped as they realized that Minerva had undergone rejuvenation very recently and that she was not going to be at the height of her powers.
“So, dearie,” Umbridge taunted, “sure you don’t want to just declare me the winner? You may save yourself a considerable amount of pain.”
Minerva whipped her wand up in a formal salute, bowed slightly from the waist and replied, “On my worst day I’m still twice the witch you are, dearie.”
Umbridge didn’t bother to return the salute; she turned on her heel and waddled three steps before turning and shouting “experliarmus!”
The simple disarming hex missed because her opponent had executed a casual half turn and let the spell pass by.
Umbridge shrugged and shouted, “Petrificus totalus, incarcerous, stupefy!”
Each time the squat ex-undersecretary fired a curse or hex Minerva simply side-stepped it.
Furious, Umbridge slashed diagonally across her opponent’s body with her wand screaming “Diffendo!”
Minerva got up a weak shield but the powerful cutting curse got through and a wound appeared across her thigh, an angry red gash against her white singlet.
Umbridge smiled triumphantly then cast another stunner which Minerva dodged.
Some of the members of the Wizengamot were murmuring – McGonagall was limping, obviously wounded, and apparently powerless. She hadn’t cast a single offensive spell.
Umbridge fired a reducto, not as focused as a stunner but harder to dodge. Again, Minerva’s shield spell was too little too late and she staggered under the concussive spell.
The newly-young sorceress looked stunned, barely able to stand as the gloating, toad-faced witch advanced to put and end to this mockery of a duel. Umbridge got within arms reach and brandished her wand with a flourish.
“Dolores,” Minerva croaked out.
“Yes?”
“Flash!”
As Minerva said the word a preternaturally brilliant flash of light assaulted her opponent’s eyes. Indeed everyone in the gallery who hadn’t been forewarned about the “flash” spell saw spots before their eyes for days afterward.
Umbridge threw up her hands, but too late. She was blinded by the light.
For her part, Minerva, who was neither stunned nor winded, simply reached out and plucked the short wand from Umbridges stubby little fingers. Then bitch slapped her. The force of the blow spun the short, stocky witch around.
“That was for using a blood quill on me wee bairns.”
Minerva took Umbridge by the collar and threw her to the raised floor of the dueling platform.
“It would be a kindness to kill you, Dolores, but I’m feeling a bit vengeful at this particular moment.”
The stately redhead held her opponents wand aloft and declared the trial at an end.
Amelia Bones struck the gavel saying, “As she is the vanquished in this trial by combat I declare Dolores Jane Umbridge guilty of all charges. There will be no appeal and the judgment of this Wizengamot is final. Further, this court orders that she be compelled to undergo thorough questioning under veritaserum and legillimancy to determine what, if any, other crimes she may have committed in her capacity a Senior Undersecretary for the Minister of Magic.
“Professor McGonagall, do you require medical assistance?”
“Thank you, Madame Mugwump; I have Poppy Pomfrey to fuss over me.”
“Very well, Professor, your business with this august body is now concluded, you may go.”
She struck the gavel again and demanded, “Any other new business?”
The cloaked figure stood and walked to the empty seat labeled “Potter.”
Harry flipped the obscuring hood back to stand before his seat as the young scion of the ancient and noble house of Potter.
Several sharp intakes of breath mixed with murmurs of approval.
“Have you ascended to your lordship, Your Lordship?” Amelia asked, with some humor.
Harry held up his right hand, bearing the signet ring of his house.
“Very well, milord, what is your business?”
“I move that, from this day forward, the farce that is “trial by combat” be forever banned in the Wizengamot – the practice has little to do with justice and everything to do with who has the biggest wand to wave about. Just another way of saying “might makes right”.”
The motion is made, is there a second?
Harry was about to display his ring from the house of Slytherin when Iris Parkinson, current proxy for the ancient and noble house of Slytherin stood and said, “I second.”
Harry looked at Pansy’s mother and smiled, the smile he got in return told him that she knew and approved of her daughter’s decision. Parkinson House was now openly allied with the Noble House of Potter.
A heated discussion followed with most of the pureblood contingent insisting on honoring the respected traditions of the pureblood forefathers. Everyone else, inspired by Lord Potter, insisted that the Wizengamot needed to at least enter the twentieth century as the rest of the world was poised to enter the twenty-first.
The vote was called. Every house with a daughter in the Coven of the Four Houses backed Lord Potter’s resolution. The House of Longbottom voted with them as well.
It was more than enough to carry.
The Slytherin vote wasn’t even necessary. Harry decided to hold that one in reserve just in case he needed it later.
Harry spun out of Rosemerta’s fireplace and, for once, didn’t fall but ran to the door grabbed his Firebolt and mounted it on the run. If there had been a record for the fastest time to travel from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts before this particular day it was broken. In less than a minute Harry soared through the infirmary window where Madame Pomfrey was attending Minerva’s wounds. He did an impressive forward dismount and ran to her bedside.
“How are you?”
“A bit bruised, a bit bloody, but not much worse for the wear.”
He sat on the side of Minnie’s hospital bed and pulled her, as gently as he could, into his arms. “Minerva McGonagall, don’t you ever do that to me again!”
If Poppy Pomfrey was shocked by the behavior of her oldest and dearest friend and the unseemly intimate contact with a student she didn’t show it.
Harry looked down at the gash on Minerva’s right thigh and then realized that her whole leg was uncovered all the way up to her hip. He looked worriedly at the matron who smiled.
“It’s a clean cut and will heal very well, perhaps a thin line of a scar but that’s all.”
“Um, please don’t misunderstand me Madame Pomfrey, but why are you not screaming at me right about now?”
The healer smiled, “Minnie and I have no secrets, Mister, I mean, Lord Potter. I gave her a thorough examination when she completed the rejuvenation process. I’m happy to say her magical core will recover, by the way, in time. I know why she underwent the process and for whom.” Her eyes narrowed, “I admit, I did try to dissuade her, but she was adamant.”
“So you’re okay with us?”
Madame Pomfrey shrugged, “Time will tell, but healer-patient information is privileged so . . .”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and then asked, “How long?”
“Normally I’d have a patient with these wounds stay the night but I think I can trust her to not over-exert herself.” Poppy said, giving Minerva a significant look.
“Walk with me, Mister Potter, and lend me your arm if you will, please.”
Harry lifted his elbow in her direction, saying, “Of course, Professor.”
Since Helena Ravenclaw’s apartment was along the way they had no trouble detouring into what had become their living quarters.
Upon entering the living room Harry collapsed in pain, clutching at his scar. He didn’t even bother trying to rise, the pain would just floor him again so he rolled onto his back and grimaced, “He’s happy about something, and that can’t be good for us.”
There was a fluttering of small wings as a bird or perhaps a bat flew to Harry. The winged creature stood all of twenty-five centimeters tall in her tiny bare feet as she landed near Harry’s head. Half a dozen coven wands tracked her as she approached the warlock.
“I’m so sorry, Harry, I was distracted and could not block Riddle’s link.”
Harry squinted at the diminutive deity he’d only ever seen in his dreams.
“Astarte?”
“In the flesh, such as it is, baby.”
He looked up at the anxious faces of his witches, “Its okay. She’s with us.”
Astarte placed the palm of her tiny hand on Harry’s scar and concentrated. Then her face split into the mischievous grin that Harry knew from his dreams.
“What did you do?”
“Why nothing, baby, but Riddle has had his own ghastly passions reflected back. I would guess he’s in much worse shape than you at the moment.”
With Harry recovering from curse-scar pain and Minerva needing to rest and recover from her duel it was a sedate, cuddlesome group that turned in early that evening.
)O(
The next morning the headlines read:
Mass Prison Breakout, Azkaban Breeched!
The dementors had gone over to Voldemort, and the worst of the worst, the Lestanges were free.
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