Categories > Books > Harry Potter


by 1991Kira 6 reviews

They expected him to be a Paragon of Virtue, a Champion of the Light, the personification of all that is good and noble in their world........they were wrong. Series of one-shots involving a darker...

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: G - Genres: Drama,Fantasy - Characters: Harry - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2015-07-17 - 3532 words

Dolores Umbridge strolled into the classroom, a wide smile across her toad-like face.
This was it. This was the class she'd been waiting for all day. This was her chance to finally confront the bane of her beloved Cornelius' existence - Harry Potter.
That lying, attention-seeking, no-good half-breed had caused no small amount of grief for the
Ministry of Magic in the last few months. Him and that.......that addled old muggle-loving fool of a Headmaster!
Dolores scoffed in anger. Really, You-Know-Who back from the dead? Upstanding members of
wizarding society accused of being Death Eaters? Such nonsense! No doubt this was just one of Dumbledore's pathetic attempts at improving his own standing within the Ministry, now that Cornelius had started to become more independent and stopped relying on his so-called advice while making difficult decisions. Senile old fool simply couldn't stomach the fact that he wasn't needed anymore, and was stirring up trouble for the Ministry to boost his own ego!
As much as she wanted to strangle the muggle-loving bastard with his own beard sometimes,
Dolores knew full well that taking on Albus Dumbledore head-on, politically or otherwise, was
suicide. Even without his positions in the Wizengamot and the ICW, the man was a formidable
opponent. The sheer amount of magical power he possessed, and his near-fanatical group of
supporters, meant that taking down Dumbledore was not something that anyone could hope to
accomplish within a short period of time.
Harry Potter on the other hand...
Her eyes lit up with malicious glee at the sight of the teenage wizard sitting at the back of
the class.
Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, protégé of Albus Dumbledore, champion of the Light...he was
the chink in the old warlock's armor. Dolores had heard the rumors in the Ministry about how
Dumbledore jealously guarded his connection to the prized teenager. He had gone out of his
way on many occasions to accommodate the young wizard, and exercised every last bit of his
influence to ensure that no one, meaning absolutely no one within the Ministry could do
anything to affect the boy in any way. She knew for a fact that Cornelius himself, on several
occasions, had done his very best to ingratiate himself with the Boy-Who-Lived; but because of Dumbledore's constant meddling and the boy's own reticent nature, had not made much
She sneered inwardly. Such a fool the boy was! Better wizards than him spent years currying
favor just to shake the Minister's hand; he'd been offered everything a teenager like him to
could've ever dreamed of. Heck, at that age Dolores herself would have killed to have a fraction of the attention the Boy-Who-Lived had received from the Minister.
Yet what had that foolish child done? He had spurned the Minister's advances, treated his
kindness with contempt, spat on everything the Ministry stood for.....all for the sake of more
attention and publicity.
Dolores Umbridge could never forgive such insolence.
She sighed internally. For all his intelligence, Cornelius was a too nice a man sometimes; too soft to do what must be done. Had he been more like her, he would have recognized the danger Harry Potter posed to the Ministry, and taken steps to correct it years ago. Instead, he had stood back and allowed the problem to fester, with the end result being all this chaos within their beloved society.
But no matter. That was why she was here, after all.
In hindsight, the plan to assassinate Harry Potter using Dementors had not been one of her best moments. She had been completely unaware that the boy was capable of producing a Patronus (and a corporeal one at that). She should have simply stuck with the original plan involving a couple of former hit-wizards on her payroll, who had enough experience with manipulating things to make it look like a muggle robbery gone wrong. Unfortunately, her vindictive side, which wanted to cause him as much suffering as possible, had decided on Dementors at the last second.
She had been livid when Potter had walked out of the courtroom that day, thanks to the silver
tongue of that old wanker! Far from getting rid of the problem at the source, circumstances had instead conspired against her to turn the whole incident into an embarrassment for the Fudge administration. It had been fortuitous that the whole fiasco had not been covered by the press, or heads would have rolled.
This was why when one of the Minister's advisors had suggested getting an insider into
Hogwarts through the vacant DADA position, Dolores had leapt at the opportunity. This was her
way of setting things right. Oh yes! She was going to use this chance to destroy Dumbledore's
precious school from the inside out.
And she was going to start with his beloved Golden Boy.
Pasting a sickly sweet smile on her face, she stepped forward.
"Well, good afternoon!"
A few people mumbled "Good afternoon," in reply.
"Tut, tut," she said with a smirk. "That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.' One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"
Dolores glared at the students staring back at her blankly. She had expected them to obediently follow her instructions (not without some resistance of course, they were Gryffindors after all), but this.......this silent defiance was something else altogether. She opened her mouth harshly, ready to dock the little brats a hundred points for their disobedience.....
........only to freeze when her eyes fell upon the root of her problems.
The Boy-Who-Lived stared at her silently, eyes boring into hers. His face was set in a neutral
mask, but there was something else in his eyes........something Dolores had seen before.
She remembered where she'd seen that expression before. Back in the courtroom, back when
they'd made eye-contact for the first time.
She had to admit the boy had taken her by surprise that day. She had fully expected to see a
scared teenager walk into the chamber, frightened at the possibility of losing his wand, awed by the presence of the entire Wizengamot at his hearing, stammering lame excuses and tripping over his answers.......
It was why she had recommended the whole set-up to Cornelius in the first place.
But that was not what had happened. That, that young man (though she hated to admit it) had thrown them all off their game with his attitude. His confident posture, the way he sat in the chair of the accused, as if it were a throne, surveying them with his bright green eyes as if they were the ones being judged.......
For the briefest of moments, she had met his eyes back then. Staring into those emerald orbs
brought out an emotion she hadn't felt in a long time.......fear.
It reminded her of some of the more sinister rumors she had heard in the Ministry about the Boy-Who-Lived. There had been rumors about his magical prowess, of a power and skill greater
than any other student in the castle; she had also heard rumors about how there was a cult of
sorts in Hogwarts, growing in numbers by the years, who followed Potter with a fanaticism the
likes of which the school had not seen since the days of He-who-must-not-be-named.
She had dismissed it back then as mindless drivel. The boy was a Gryffindor through and
through, and those kind of rumors attributed to an extremely efficient Slytherin. It was
inconceivable that Dumbledore's Golden Boy could ever hope to accomplish something of that
magnitude, or so she'd thought anyways.
Staring into those green orbs now, she suddenly didn't feel so sure.
"Yes...well," she cleared her throat, hoping to regain some semblance of control over the
situation. "Wands away and quills out, please."
To her relief, the class silently complied with her order. She fumbled with her handbag and drew
her own wand, feeling reassured by its weight in her hand. She sharply rapped the blackboard
and the words 'Defense Against the Dark Arts - A Return to Basic Principles' appeared, followed
by her course aims.
She stood back and watched as the students silently copied down everything. When they were
finished, she said, "Good. I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk."
Once again, the students complied. Dolores breathed a silent sigh of relief. Finally, she seemed to be in control once again.
This relief was short-lived, however, as a single hand shot into the air.
"Yes, Miss...?"
"Hermione Granger, Professor. I've got a query about your course aims."
Ah, yes. Hermione Granger. Dolores had heard that name before. She was a Mudblood and
one of Potter's closest friends. This was going to be fun.
"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through
carefully," she said in a voice of determined sweetness.
"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."
Oh this was going to be fun indeed.
"Using defensive spells?" she repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"
"So, we're not going to use magic?"
"No, my dear, I suppose not."
She waited with bated breath for the Mudblood to speak next. Being the head-strong Gryffindor
she was, no doubt this condescending remark would provoke a colorful reaction from her, giving her the perfect excuse to put her in detention. Dolores had a Blood Quill just itching to be used.
After all, what better way to break Dumbledore's Golden Boy than through his friends, she
thought with a sneer.
To her disappointment however, the Mudblood didn't take the bait. "Professor, isn't there a
practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we
can actually perform the counter-curses and things?"
"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be
able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," she said
She waited again, hoping against hope that someone in the class would speak up against this,
and give her an excuse to make an example out of them.
To her surprise however, the Mudblood simply paused a few moments before turning around to
speak to Potter directly. "Harry, I think it'll be better if we used this period to do a little bit of self-studying in the dorms instead of wasting our time here."
Dolores' eyes bulged in shock at the blatant way the MudBlood had disregarded her presence.
She was about to rail into the sorry excuse of a witch when Potter spoke.
"I agree, Hermione."
His voice was soft, but had a firmness in it that carried across the silent room.
A brief pause, and the lanky red-head beside him got to his feet and started packing his bag.
"Well, you heard the man."
To Dolores' horror, the entire class stood up as one and began to pack their bags, preparing to leave the class.
"Now look here......" she sputtered in outrage. "Where do you all think you're going? I have not dismissed any of you..."
But her protests fell on deaf ears as the entire class stood up and began to file of the room.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" she screamed at the departing students. "Do not ignore me! hundred points from Gryffindor......"
Her protests fell on deaf ears, however, as all the students quietly began to file out of the
classroom. Dolores merely stood there, screaming like a child throwing a temper tantrum, as the fifth-years walked out without a care in the world.
"Detention!" she shrieked, as the doors opened and the students began to spill out of the room.
"A week's worth of detention to all of you! How dare you ignore me! Come back here this
In a matter of moments, the classroom was empty except for Potter and his two lackeys, the
Longbottom boy and Dolores herself.
The new Professor seethed in fury as she turned to regard the bane of her existence, who was
standing in the middle of the classroom, still regarding her with that unblinking stare of his. She took an unconscious step backwards, her mouth moving furiously, but unable to make any actual noise.
The Mudblood Granger, meanwhile had finished packing her bag and turned to speak to the redhead (was he a Weasley?). "Make sure he doesn't go too far this time, alright Ron?"
Dolores eyes nearly fell out of her head at these words. Worse still, the red-head merely rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, mum."
The Mudblood shot him a mock-glare before leaning forward to kiss him affectionately on the
cheek (Dolores's jaw dropped). She then proceeded to walk out the class, shooting the
Longbottom boy a brief smile on the way. The door swung shut behind her, leaving the four of
them alone.
Dolores couldn't stand it anymore. Her outrage overriding her sense of self-preservation, she
stormed over to Potter, who stood with his hands folded behind his back, and jabbed her finger into his chest.
"How dare you!" she bellowed in anger. "How dare you disrupt this class, Potter? How dare you disrupt my class? I shall see you expelled for this!"
In her anger, she did not notice the other two boys in the room moving to cover the only two
exits. She also did not notice them lock the doors with a number of advanced locking charms,
before putting up a few wards around the room.
"You're finished, you hear me?" she continued to jab him in the chest as she ranted.
"Your precious Dumbledore won't be able to save you this time! You will be expelled! I'll
personally snap your wand and throw you out of the castle, you filthy half-breed!"
"I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minster for Magic! I am in charge here! I......."
She was cut off as a strong hand landed on her right shoulder, startling her into silence.
"Do you feel in charge, Madam Umbridge?"
She gaped in astonishment as she looked up into the face of the Boy-Who-Lived. He was by no
means taller or stronger than the average fifteen year old; yet as she looked up into his face, she felt a paralyzing fear overtake all of her senses. The air seemed to grow thicker around her,and she began to feel a slight difficulty in breathing.
It took her a minute to realize she wasn't imagining any of it.
The air around her was getting denser by the minute, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. Magic seemed to roll off the young wizard before her in waves, saturating their surroundings with pure energy. His bright emerald orbs glowed with barely restrained power as the sheer pressure of his presence crushed the very air out of her lungs, her body unable to move an inch.
"Wh-who are you?" she finally croaked out, her very soul trembling with fear.
"Who me?" Potter said softly, his hand on her shoulder moving to form a gentle yet firm grip on her neck. "I'm Wizarding England's reckoning, Madam Umbridge."
She gurgled in horrified surprise as he effortlessly lifted her into the air with one hand. For a few moments she merely hung there as he stared into her eyes, his head cocked to one side as if contemplating something. Then without warning, she flew across the room to collide against the wall with a sickening crunch.
She rolled on the floor grunting in pain, dimly aware of slow methodical footsteps coming closer.
Her eyes fell on the blurred shape of something familiar lying beside her.
My wand!
Slowly, she picked up her wand, a short and stubby piece of wood, and pointed it unsteadily at the figure approaching her. Her head was still throbbing with pain and a small trickle of blood ran down over her eyes. She said the first spell that popped into her mind, "Crucio!"
Her wand burst into flames.
Shrieking in pain and horror, Dolores dropped her wand, watching it turn into ash as it hit the ground. Cradling her injured hand to her chest, Dolores scampered away from Potter until she hit the wall.
"Tut, tut, Madam Umbridge," he spoke disapprovingly, as if to a poorly performing pupil. "That's not the way to perform that spell." He slowly drew his own wand. "Shall I give you a lesson?"
Panic-stricken, she looked around to see both the Weasley and Longbottom boy standing guard
next to the exits. Both were determinedly not looking at her, their expressions betraying none of their thoughts.
"Y-y-y-you...c-c-can't...P-P-Potter...p-please," she whimpered, tears streaking down her cheeks.
"Oh, but I can," he said softly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. His wand bore down on her trembling figure.
"P-Please...H-H-Harry...don't," she begged.
Dolores screamed in pain as a thousand molten knives seemed to dig into her body. Pain unlike
anything she'd ever felt coursed through her; she wanted to black out, to die........anything to stop the horrific pain which seared through her. Dolores Umbridge drew her legs into her chest and screamed in agony, her voice reverberating throughout the classroom.
Please let someone come! Dumbledore, McGonagall........anyone, please!
Mercifully, her world went dark.
"Finally awake, Professor Umbridge?"
Dolores blearily opened her eyes to look into the concerned face of Madam Pomfrey, the
Hogwarts mediwitch.
"Wh-what...?" she asked weakly, unable to fully comprehend what she was seeing.
"Easy," the nurse said soothingly. "You're in the hospital wing."
Her eyes fully snapped open in surprise. There were a thousand questions rushing through her
mind. How was she still alive? Where was Potter? How did she get to the hospital wing?
"The Fifth-year Gryffindors brought you in. They said that you'd suddenly fainted in the middle of the class."
Dolores nearly laughed out loud. Fainted? Is that the story Potter had given the school nurse? She had been subjected to the Cruciatus curse, for Merlin's sake! How could this blind woman believe she'd simply fainted?
Wait a minute. The Cruciatus curse...
Dolores quickly ran her hands over her body, as if to check if all of her limbs were still attached.
Her heart was beating wildly inside her chest. This isn't possible.....
It was gone. The pain was gone!
She knew enough about the Cruciatus curse to know that the pain from such a Dark curse
simply did not disappear in a few hours. The spell was considered an Unforgivable for a reason. Long term damage was pretty common for those who'd been kept under the curse for more than a minute. Even minor exposure to the spell left a great deal of pain and aches over the body.
But Dolores felt nothing. No aches, no was like she had never been placed under the curse in the first place.
And her hand........she stared at her hand in astonishment. Her previously injured hand was
completely healed as well. For all intents and purposes it was like she had never been attacked in the first place.
She glanced at the school nurse suspiciously. Could it be that she was in league with Potter,
and had healed her injuries in advance to ensure that Dolores wouldn't press charges against
him? Her blood ran cold at the implication.
She had to get out of here. It was all a mistake......this accursed castle, this Merlin-damned school! She had to get away from all this, from Potter, from Dumbledore........
"Where do you think you're going?" the mediwitch snapped, her hands on her hips.
"Have to go to the Ministry.......lots of work.......important time," Dolores babbled
incoherently as she jumped out of bed and began to get dressed.
Pomfrey seemed torn between concern for her patient and relief at evicting this odious
individual from her domain. She settled on the former. "Professor, you are severely dehydrated, and you seem to have suffered a slight concussion when you hit the floor. I must insist......"
"I assure you, my dear, I feel fine," Dolores plastered on her best fake smile, though it had the unintended effect of making her look slightly constipated.
"Very well," Pomfrey sighed. "Please remember to collect your things on the way out." She
walked away, silently relieved to be rid of the obnoxious witch so soon.
Dolores started to move towards the Floo before she cursed and doubled back to the bedside
drawer, where her possessions were laid out neatly.
The sight that greeted her nearly made her pass out of sheer terror.
Lying innocently on the table was a very familiar piece of short and stubby wood.
Beneath it lay a small piece of parchment, with a message written in neat, clear script.
Take care, Madam Umbridge.
AN: Reviews would be very much appreciated.
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