Chapter Text
Harry knew he was practically dead on his feet, but he didn’t have any choice other than to attend class. If it had been History of Magic, or Divination he would have been able to get away with sleeping through the period, but there was no way he would be able to manage now, not in the toads class.
He stumbled his way through the hallway, Hermione and Ron on either side of him. It was a testament to how out of it he was that he didn’t notice the concerned looks and frantic whispers they passed behind him. He had had detentions for so long he could hardly remember what it was like to have an evening free, and from the looks of how things were going there wouldn’t be any in his near future. Every night was the same, go to Umbridge’s office after dinner, carve into the back of his hand for hours - recently she even made him stay past curfew, - then go back to the common room to treat his throbbing, bleeding, hand and finally do whatever homework he could manage before falling asleep in the early hours of the morning.
Hermione was begging him to tell someone, but Harry refused to. It wasn’t like there was anyone who could do anything anyway, and even if he would be able to help, Dumbledore and Harry weren’t on speaking terms at the moment. Everyone was being watched too closely to be able to help him, so there was no reason to make his professors more concerned. Some had noticed, not asking him questions in class or calling him out if he lost focus or dozed off. Even Professor McGonagall seemed to be giving him slack.
Telling Mr. and Mrs. Weasley was also out of the question, they would only worry more than they already did. Then with Remus and Sirius it would just be torture for everyone. There was no use in asking people for help when doing so would only put them, and Harry, in a bad spot.
But no, today just had to be Defense. On autopilot, Harry found his seat and pulled out his book. He didn’t even need to look up at the board, it wasn’t as if the instructions would have suddenly changed. Today we will be instructing students how to perform the shielding charm, please pull out your wands- yeah, there was no way. Harry pulled out his textbook and opened it to the next chapter. He wasn’t sure if he had it in him to bother fighting today, as much as he wanted to shove everything he had at the horrible and evil woman teaching the class.
It took a few minutes for the rest of the class to shuffle in. No one spoke outside of their robotic greeting, just getting straight to their work. After the newest decree, number thirty-seven if Harry recalled correctly, not that he bothered at this point, everyone was left feeling put out. He had stopped paying attention to what each new rule was after the first dozen, but each time a new decree was added it sent a wave of despair through the student body.
Harry didn’t notice when his eyes had shut. One moment he was reading all about the history of stunning charms, and the next a hand tapped his shoulder. On his right, he heard a familiar throat clearing. “Mr. Potter, I am not sure why you find it necessary to sleep in my class, but you are not any more special than any other student. Surely you find your dorm satisfactory.”
Harry heard students shifting, anxious to see what his reaction would be today. He was sure half of the class was trying to get better seats, watching with careful eyes.
Harry sat up, he didn’t have the energy for this today. “My bed is plenty satisfactory Professor, or it would be if I were given a chance to sleep in it.”
A hushed mumble swept through the classroom, it always did when Harry talked back. Even Seamus and Dean who were at odds with Harry knew that he wasn’t just snarking off though. Harry rarely made it to bed before half two in the morning now, and even when he was able to sleep he wound up waking the whole dorm up with his mumblings. His dreams only got worse the more detentions he had. Hermione told him it was probably in response to the stress, but Harry didn’t bother to listen. There wasn’t anything outside of a potion he could take to get the dreams to stop, the least he could do was put a silencing charm around his bed to let his roommates get some rest.
“And why exactly, Mr. Potter, have you not been sleeping during the night. Causing more trouble after curfew, are you?” Umbridge tutted, her eyebrows disappearing under a floppy pink hat. “I see no reason why you should be unable to manage yourself when all others in this school, even those as young as first years, seem perfectly capable of such a task.”
Harry’s head was pounding, and he felt his temper rising much quicker than he would like to admit. “Most other students haven’t had detentions every evening without reason.”
“All of your detentions have been justified.” Umbridge hissed. Oh, how Harry wanted to snap back at her, but his brain felt too slow to come up with a quick response. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion today. “Perhaps if you exhibited better behavior you would find your evening’s to be free. Seeing as that has yet to happen we may as well make tonight's detention a double. Ten points from Gryffindor for sleeping during class. Now, back to your reading.”
Everyone waited with bated breath, Harry was never one to back down to Umbridge, and though he loathed the thought of letting her win, the thought of being forced to spend all night in her office was even worse.
Class ended and the three Gryffindors all but ran out of the classroom, Hermione whispering praises in his ear while Ron cursed their Professor up and down.
Harry barely ate during dinner, though not for lack of trying. Every bite he took seemed to drag his eyes down, and if he fell asleep he had a feeling he wouldn’t be waking up again that evening. He, Ron, and Hermione climbed up to Gryffindor Tower with half an hour to spare before Harry’s detention. It was just enough time to take off the bandages from his hand and for Harry to take a pepper up before he had to be back on his way.
Hermione promised to let Harry look at her potions essay when he got back, and Ron let Harry know that he’d have chocolate frogs and licorice wands waiting for him. He knew they both were trying to be helpful, but really all Harry wanted was to be able to get a full night’s rest.
The pepper-up potion did almost nothing while he waited outside of Umbridge's office. He still had three minutes before he needed to go inside according to a clock in the hallway, and he wouldn’t be going in a moment before. Time wasn’t on his side that night, however. For as slow as everything felt in his head, the clock seemed to be going twice as fast as usual.
Before he knew it he was forced to bring his knuckles down against her door. Surely by now, he should be able to see a dent from where his knocks always landed, but there was no flaw on the wood.
Harry opened the door after an all too happy, “Enter,” sounded from inside. To his shock, his usual table was empty. There was no parchment and no blood quill. As much as Harry wanted to send thanks to whatever magical being caused such an event, he had a feeling that this would not end well for him.
“Ah, Harry,” Umbridge said sweetly. “Come in and take a seat, we are going to have a change of pace tonight.” She stood from her seat and slowly walked around the desk. Harry allowed the door to fall shut behind him and sat on the edge of his chair. Electric was in the air, it must have been, because every breath Harry took felt charged. He didn’t take his eyes off of Umbridge the entire time, even when she walked behind him to the door.
As if the bad feeling in his gut wasn’t enough to tell Harry something was wrong, hearing the small muttering of charms she placed on her office would have been enough to send alarm bells ringing. Silencing charm, locking charm, misdirection charm, what was she doing that she didn’t want anyone to possibly overhear or walk in on? Blood quills were already illegal, but if she was taking that many precautions then it must be something absolutely unimaginable.
“It has come to my attention that you do not seem to be taking in your lesson Mr. Potter. And while I hate to take extreme measures,” Harry seriously doubted that given the look of glee in her eyes. For once she looked like she had a real smile on rather than the forced sickly sweet one she usually reserved for Harry. “It is my job within both Hogwarts and the Ministry to ensure the safety and well-being of the public. That includes stopping your horrible lies, Mr. Potter. I am sure that the Minister will understand the necessity behind my actions, after all, you have left me no choice.”
Umbridge walked back over to her desk, turning a picture of Minister Fudge face down in its frame. Whatever she was planning had to be bad if she hadn’t run it by Fudge first. Harry was determined, whatever happened he wouldn’t let her win. Whatever it was Harry would take it without blinking. If she thought whatever she had would be enough to break him then she would surely be mistaken.
“The cruciatus ought to help the message sink in.”
A voice sounding suspiciously like Hermione rang through his head and out of his mouth before he could think. “That’s an unforgivable curse, it’s illegal.”
Umbridge bristled, “As I said, an exception will have to be made. With the circumstances - yes I am sure the Minister will understand. We are so close after all, it will only take a little push after this I’m sure.”
Circumstances? Circumstances, Harry wanted to yell. What bloody circumstances would give anyone permission to use an illegal curse on a child? He bit his tongue, taking in her words. So close? Close to what. He knew she had to be talking about him, but she wouldn’t be able to torture him into silence. Harry knew what the curse felt like, though he didn’t think telling her Voldemort had already tried that one would be a good idea. For once Harry sat too stunned to speak.
Umbridge brought her shoulders back, standing to her full, unimpressive, height. “Now, Mr. Potter, I will give you one more chance to admit to your lies before you force my hand. Today’s foolish display is just proof that your lies are overtaking you, it is only a matter of time before they come out one way or another.”
Words burned on Harry’s tongue. Any thoughts of making tonight easier on himself fled as the implication that his exhaustion was the fault of anyone but the poor excuse of a witch in front of him. At once it seemed like his mind had caught up to speed. “Today’s foolish display? We must have been in two different classrooms then, because all that happened today was a direct result of your bloody detentions keeping me up till midnight, then me having to go back to my common room and do all the homework and studying I should have been doing instead! And I haven’t been lying, just because you and the ministry are too ignorant and blind to see what’s right in front of your face doesn’t mean-”
The air crackled with an electric pulse, which may not have just been in Harry’s head. The world seemed to move in slow motion, even with his mind clouded in anger he could see the deathly look in Umbridge’s eyes. Her nostrils flared like a dragon and her pink lips nearly disappeared into a pencil-thin line.
There was no sudden gasp for breath, and Umbridge didn’t shout. Her words were hissed so murderously that Harry had a moment of surprise he hadn’t seen venomous fangs poke out from her teeth.
Outside in the hallway, the clock ticked once. One second had passed, and nothing seemed amiss.
As that same second passed within the room Harry jolted in his seat as the curse hit him square in the stomach. He felt sick, fighting to keep what little he had eaten over the day down. It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, like his skin was burning right off his bones. He fought every instinct he had not to scream.
He could handle it, Harry thought. He had had worse before, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. But the seconds ticked on and Umbridge didn’t let the curse up until the clock’s hand had come full circle.
One minute under the cruciatus curse.
Even after Harry knew the curse had been dropped he could feel the shocks traveling under his skin. It felt almost like a spider web, the pain rippling out through different areas at the smallest movement.
“Heh hem,” Umbridge huffed looking pleased with herself. “I have had enough of your cheek Mr. Potter. It is obvious you are going to make this more difficult than it needs to be. The Ministry will not fall prey to your lies, we are not fools. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone, and while you may spin a grand tale for the attention you seek, that is all they are. Tales. No matter what it takes I will ensure that your lies do not harm the ministry even if I must drag the truth out of you myself.”
Before Harry could catch his breath Umbridge straightened her cardigan. “Admit, and your punishment will be simple. Continue to make stories and I will do what I must. I encourage you to think hard on this one Mr. Potter.”
Harry huffed, waiting for the pain to ebb away. He wasn’t one to back down, least of all when he was right. He was only going to make this harder on himself, but there was no other option. “And I encourage the Ministry to accept the fact that Voldemort is back. I saw him, just because you don’t want to admit-”
Harry was not surprised to find himself put right back under the curse. His teeth creaked as he ground them together. He wouldn’t scream, or moan, or even let a whimper past his lips. That was what she wanted, and doing so would mean she won.
The curse hit him higher this time, striking him in the center of his chest.
It felt like there was ice in his veins, and fire burning in his muscles. Desperately, he squeezed the sides of his chair, wishing it had arms he could hold on to. He was afraid if he didn’t he would lose control of himself. Even so, Harry felt himself leaning to the side to get away, only for the curse to follow him to the floor.
It felt like his lungs were going to burst. When was the last time he had taken a breath? Harry couldn’t even tell if he was breathing anymore, his mind too overridden with the pain.
He wasn’t sure how long she kept it on him that second time, but Umbridge seemed satisfied when she let it up. She didn’t bother to give him a second glance as he lay heaving on her floor. She sat back in her putrid plush pink throne and waited for Harry to sit up.
Slowly but surely Harry stretched out his fingers on the right hand, then his left. He could see he was moving them, but the feeling was delayed. All of his limbs felt heavy and useless when he forced them up anyway. He could taste blood in his mouth. It had been hard to hear anything but the heartbeat pounding in his ears, but he knew without a doubt he had bit his tongue rather than cry out.
Sluggishly Harry pulled himself back into his chair and forced what he hoped was a neutral expression on his face as he swallowed his own blood. He couldn’t feel his face enough to tell if it worked, but the glare in his eyes worked as a double measure.
“Let that be your warning for tonight, I will not be as forgiving in the future. Are you ready to do your lines now Mr. Potter?”
With a grimace, Harry straightened himself in his chair. He didn’t bother to look at her, he didn’t need to. She didn’t bother to give him further instructions either. This part was familiar. Routine.
Harry carefully formed each letter but his writing remained nothing more than a faint pattern of scribbles. Umbridge accepted them with a tut, saying he would have to write double tomorrow since tonight’s were illegible. If he thought he would have been able to speak without risk of it coming out just as garbled as his writing Harry would have asked her whose fault that was.
Instead, he carried himself up to Gryffindor Tower on unsteady feet. It was well after curfew, Umbridge had made him stay until he had written two feet worth. He felt like a ghost walking through the empty and silent halls, but if he were a ghost he supposed he wouldn’t be in pain anymore.
The common room had been deserted except for Ron and Hermione, both of who jumped to their feet when Harry stumbled through the portrait.
There was a moment where they didn’t move, followed by a frantic tornado of action. Hermione pulled him over to the couch, talking a mile a minute about how worried they had been when he hadn’t shown up for hours. “You need to stop provoking her Harry. She’s just awful, absolutely horrible. Look what she’s already doing to you, oh Harry you look horrible. I’ve been trying to think of how we can stop her and I just can’t think of anything that would work.”
“Nothing short of Harry saying the Ministry is right is going to stop her ‘Mione. At least Harry’s got us to take care of him though, right Harry?”
“Your hand looks worse, are you sure we can’t go to Madam Pomfrey? If we go now then maybe-”
“We’ve been over it a hundred times Hermione, it’s better if we take care of it ourselves. Pomfrey is under that bitches eye just as much, if not more than the other professors. Besides, if Harry goes then that means-”
“Oh Ronald, this isn’t a matter of winning or losing, it’s Harry’s health I’m scared of.”
Harry let the two of them bicker back and forth, neither one of them really tried to get Harry to talk. If they thought Harry was on autopilot before, then now he had shut down. He didn’t even glance at the pile of homework waiting for him when Hermione finished treating his hand. All he could think about was how unreadable his handwriting was, there was no use when he’d just have to redo it again later.
No, Harry went straight to bed. He didn’t bother taking off his robes, or kicking off his shoes, or even setting his glasses to the side. Ron followed him up, but they didn’t make conversation. For the first time in months, Harry didn’t have any dreams, too tired for his mind to conjure up the horrible images.
Though it was the most sleep he had gotten in ages, Harry didn’t wake up feeling rested. He felt like he'd been hit with a jelly legs jinx, and it took all of his concentration to get him up and moving the next morning. In the end, Harry wound up locking his knees so he didn’t sink onto the shower floor, and he had to let the warmth drain from his body before he felt steady enough to step out to dry off. Ron and Hermione were patient with him, keeping his slow pace as they walked down to the great hall for breakfast. Neither one of them asked questions, and Harry was thankful for it.
Harry didn’t look at the staff table at all that day and kept his head down during morning classes. As long as he did nothing to make students in other houses look at him he’d be able to fly under the radar. He slowly felt more in control of his body, and after lunch, an outsider wouldn’t have been able to tell anything was wrong. Harry’s hand still burned if he tensed it, but it was manageable. Luckily he only had History of Magic and Charms that evening which he knew he could take a breather in if he needed to.
The fact he had another detention tonight hadn’t left his mind all day, and his next occlumency lesson loomed too close for comfort.
The day passed in a blur, Ron, and Hermione steering him from class to class when he zoned out. He’d have to make it up to them later, he thought. They acted as his personal bodyguards, and he followed their lead without hesitation.
Harry didn’t eat much of anything at dinner. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what would happen in just a short hour or so from now. Did he really believe that she would use an unforgivable on him for a second time? He hadn’t thought she would the first. His stomach twisted just at the thought of the electric spell invading his veins for a second night.
Hermione and Ron tried to walk him to her office, but Harry wouldn’t let them. He spoke for the first time he had all day, since when was he so quiet he wondered?
“‘Can do it myself,” He croaked, his voice heavy with disuse. “She’ll just be worse if you come with me. Be back later tonight,” Harry promised.
He set off with a concerned look from Ron, and a tight hug from Hermione. He didn’t want to admit it but those helped more than the other two could ever know.
Umbridge shut the door the moment he entered, not wasting a second of their precious time together. She got straight down to business.