Knight Bus
Group: Fantastic Ferret
Posts: 124
Joined: 30-August 04
From: Varies
Member No.: 274
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Umbridge Undone
“Umbridge?,” breathed Harry. “Umbridge is back? But how...”
“Ssshe wanted revenge,” hissed the snake. “But the csentaursss proved ssstronger than her. They ussse poisssoned arrowsss, but sssomehow ssshe sssurvived.”
Harry turned to his friends. They avoided his eyes. Harry suddenly realized how the conversation must have seemed to them. He gulped, and looked down. Hagrid broke the silence.
“Well, ‘arry?” he said. “Does ‘e like bein’ called Wilbur?”
Harry shook his head. “I didn’t ask. He says that Umbridge is in the forest. She came back to get revenge, and the centaurs attacked her. I’m not sure how she lived.”
Harry looked up. Ron and Hermione were now looking at him.
“We’ve got to tell Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said.
“Dobby will get in trouble!” Ron protested.
Hermione shook her head. “This is more important.”
Harry was relieved that they believed him. “I think you’re right,” he told them. “Whatever Umbridge is doing, we’ll need help to stop it. Let’s go back to the castle.”
“What are you three planning now?” Hagrid demanded suspiciously.
“We’ll explain later, Hagrid,” Harry said as the three walked out the door. They set off at a trot towards Hogwarts castle.
“It wasn’t Malfoy, after all,” Hermione remarked to Ron as they entered the entrance hall.
“There’s still a prefect involved,” Harry told her, gasping for breath. “C’mon, we’ve got to go-”
“Harry Potter, sir!” A squeaky voice interrupted him. All three looked around for its source. “Harry Potter!”
Harry looked around. “Dobby, where-”
Hermione’s gasp cut him off. “Dobby! How-”
Ron and Harry looked in the direction towards which Hermione stared. Harry looked, closed his eyes, and opened them. Nothing changed. On the left wall of the entrance hall was Dobby, looking pleadingly at them out of a portrait frame. He beckoned frantically, and the trio approached. Halting before his portrait, they stared, openmouthed. None of them said anything.
“Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby repeated, his large eyes even larger than usual. “Dobby tried to watch him for you, sir, but Dobby was...Dobby was...”
The house elf broke into sobs, gesturing to the frame which surrounded him.
“Who did it, Dobby?” Harry asked. “And how?”
Dobby, sobbing into his hands, did not answer. After a moment, though, he lifted his head and looked not at Harry but beyond him and down the corridor. If he had looked frightened before, he looked terrified now. After a moment, the three realized why. They could all hear the sound of approaching footsteps.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione drew their wands and aimed them at the corridor. “Stunning spells,” Harry muttered. “We all need to hit her together.” They held themselves tensely; ready to attack Umbridge the moment she appeared. The footsteps halted just before their owner became visible. The three heard a low voice hiss an incantation from around the corner. Before they could react, a wide beam of deep red light engulfed them. The three flinched and covered their eyes. They found themselves forced backwards, unable to resist. The light changed in quality, shining through them, rather than around them. Ron fainted as he felt his body change. Harry and Hermione screamed in pain. Then, suddenly, it was over- the light was gone. Harry and Hermione opened their eves. Malfoy walked around the corner, a small globe emitting light a few shades deeper than the color of human blood resting on his outstretched palm. As he approached them, the light shrank back into the globe and its glow went out. Malfoy tucked it into the pocket of his robes, and then bent to pick up three wands. He leered at the trio.
“Potty, the Weasel, and the Know-it-all. Going off to tattle to Dumbledore, were you Potty?” Malfoy laughed. The sound was a bit eerie.
Harry lunged to hit Malfoy. He didn’t care that Malfoy had four wands and he had none; his only intent was to cause him as much pain as possible. He stretched out his hand, and then stretched it farther, and farther, but the distance between them did not lessen. Still chuckling, Malfoy turned and walked away.
“What happened?” Harry demanded angrily. “What did he do to us?”
Hermione gulped. “I think we’re in a picture,” she whispered.
Harry stared at her. She looked solid and three-dimensional. He stretched out his hand and examined it. It was not flat, and it felt just as it had a minute before. He glanced at Ron; he also looked normal.
“A picture?” he asked, unbeleiving.
“Look around,” whispered Hermione.
Harry obeyed, and saw he was in a living room. The walls were painted blue, and there was a cheery rug on the floor. It looked as though he had discovered a new room in Hogwarts.
“It looks normal to me,” he said.
Hermione sighed. “Oh, Harry. Look! See the dark space over there? And over there? I bet they’re the ends of our frame.”
Now Harry looked more closely. He saw that distortion marred the walls and furnishings, the pleasant room ended strangely, as if cut off, and beyond that was darkness. As he stared into it, two pinpricks of light appeared and grew until they were the size of tennis balls. Harry blinked as Dobby stepped into the room.
“Harry Potter, sir! He is putting you here, too! Dobby is sorry he could not watch him...” The house elf looked at Ron and gasped. “Your Wheezy, sir! Your Wheezy!”
Dobby ran over to Ron and shook him. To Harry’s relief, Ron stirred and sat up.
“What happened?” he asked. “All I remember is red light.”
“We’re in a picture,” Hermione replied.
“Why can’t we get out?” he demanded. “I saw portraits that left their frames - why can’t we?”
“Portraits?,” Ron whispered, “We’re portraits?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied.
Dobby tugged on his robes. “Harry Potter, sir, Dobby thinks we should go to the bathroom.”
“The Prefect’s Bathroom. Of course,” Harry said, looking to the darkness on his left. “But how do we get through?”
“Just walk,” Hermione replied. “The portraits do it all the time, after all.”
Harry advanced nervously through the darkness, but only a few paces on he came to a flowery meadow. Another dark passage, then a ballroom; then a study; then the branches of an oak. Their surroundings changed so frequently and completely that Harry was amazed at the variety of this new world, a diversity he had never before considered. Although the portraits’ thickness was at most an inch, when observed from the outside, inside they formed a space at least as large as the Hogwarts he knew. The four walked on until Dobby stopped them.
“We are below the bathroom now,” he told them. “We must go up!”
Taking a deep breath, Dobby jumped. Instead of coming back down, he drifted into the darkness above them. The other three followed warily, but learned that they could now float upwards easily when they wished to. Finally, up five floors and over three portraits, they arrived in a landscape all four recognized. Standing on the beach where the mermaid used to live, they looked out and saw the large bathtub and gleaming marble of the Prefect’s Bathroom.
Harry reached forward. The air in front of him felt strange, almost liquid.
“I think we might be able to get out here. Dobby, what do you think?”
For answer, the house elf stepped forward and fell out of the picture. The other three were about to follow him when Dobby exclaimed, “Wait!”
Hearing him, the other three paused and looked.
“Oh no,” Hermione said. “Dobby, you’re flat.”
“Why is he flat,” Harry demanded, “When the portraits were three-dimensional?”
“Maybe they came out in a different way- I’m not sure.”
“Dobby has turned into a painting,” the house elf said in his shrill little voice, then burst into tears.
“Can you come back in, Dobby?” Harry asked.
Dobby tried, but he was much to short to reach the painting.
“We’ll never be able to get out of here,” Ron complained. “We’re trapped for life!”
“Wait,” Hermione said. “I have to think. There must be a way.” She sat down on a rock and stared off into space for a few minutes. Finally, she stood up.
“Harry- you said Peeves looked scared when you were here first?”
“Er- yeah,” Harry answered. He had almost forgotten about Peeves.
“So Malfoy must have put him in a portrait. I can’t think of anything else that would scare him. Peeves came out of a tap, so I think we have to also.”
And how are we going to get there? Jump?” Ron wanted to know.
“There’s a lake in this portrait, and it may lead to the castle’s plumbing.”
“This is portrait water, not real water! It can’t possibly take us there!”
“Have you a better idea?” Hermione asked, looking a bit affronted.
At Ron’s silence, she turned to Dobby.
“Dobby, we’ll try to fix you, but we need to get out of this painting first. Do you remember which tap Peeves came out from?”
“Yes, miss,” Dobby sniffed.
“Then turn it on, please.”
Hermione looked down and gulped. They had entered this portrait through the side, so none of them had any idea what lay at its bottom. She took a deep breath, and then plunged into the lake in the picture. Harry and Ron followed. They swam down until they came suddenly to a space as dark as the passages between paintings, then fell through this until they hit still more water- different water. To Harry it felt more real, cooler, more full of life.
He kicked out and drew ahead of Hermione, nearing the source of a tug on his body and the water surrounding it. In a few seconds, he felt a curious feeling, as his body lengthened to fit through a tube. Feeling air on his face, he gasped for breath. Hermione and Ron came out of the same faucet, and landed next to him on the floor of the bath. When the three had caught their breath, they examined themselves very carefully. They were solid and three dimensional.
“I’m pretty sure it worked,” Harry announced. “Good thinking, Hermione.”
Harry walked over to Dobby, who was still trembling, and lifted him up into the mermaid’s portrait frame. The house-elf entered it as if the canvas didn’t exist, but when Harry tried to stick his arm into the canvas, it stopped at the surface. Reassured, Harry returned to the bathtub to wait for Dobby. Only a minute later the house elf emerged from the tap.
“Thank you Harry Potter, sir!” he squeaked, and his eyes filled with tears of gratitude.
“You were the one who led us here,” Harry replied. He then turned to Ron and Hermione.
“Malfoy’s still out there somewhere, and so is Umbridge. We’ve got to do something about them.” Remembering something, he pulled the Marauder’s Map out of his pocket. Miraculously, it didn’t appear damaged. “Malfoy’s coming this way,” Harry exclaimed. “This room must be important...”
“If we only had our wands, we could catch him.” Hermione glanced around, worried. “But we’re helpless like this...”
“Dobby will help!” squeaked the house elf. “Dobby needs no wand.”
“Are you sure, Dobby? He got you last time,” Harry pointed out.
Dobby nodded gravely. “He surprised Dobby, sir. This time, Dobby will surprise him.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione agreed to hide in the shower stalls so that Malfoy wouldn’t guess they were there. Dobby hid just behind a wall, invisible to anyone who entered the bathroom. For a few breathless minutes, they all held perfectly still, waiting. Then Dobby suddenly jumped out of his hiding place and snapped his fingers. There was a clanging sound and a puff of pink smoke. Harry ran out of the showers, followed by Ron and Hermione. Malfoy lay stunned in the entrance to the bathroom. Harry quickly reached into his pocket and found their wands. He handed his friends’ wands back to them, then hesitated a moment. Finally, he took his own as well as Malfoy's.
“Incarcerous,” Harry said, pointing his wand. Immediately strong ropes bound Malfoy from head to foot.
Something whizzed behind Harry. He spun, wand in hand, and saw another shape emerging from the pipes. It settled into the form of a squat woman- if a woman it was. Her skin had a black, smoky tint to Harry’s eyes, and her veins shone uncannily red through it. Her eyes were harsh and piercing. She wore tattered robes that had probably once been green. Her brown hair was matted. Twigs and leaves were caught in the tangles. A hideous fetor came from her, poisoning the air. Even so, she was clearly recognizable.
“Umbridge!” Harry exclaimed. He shot a stunning spell straight at her.
The creature kept walking. Harry stood staring- how could he have missed? He saw Ron and Hermione cast spells out of the corner of his eye, but they affected Umbridge no more than his own.
Harry began to think frantically. What sort of spell did he know that could stop her? Why couldn’t he hurt her body?
“Legilimens!”
Harry found himself casting a spell he had never tried before, out of desperation, hoping to take control of her mind, since her body was untouchable. Immediately he felt engulfed in blackness. He strained against the darkness, fighting. He must not be captured in it- he must be on top of it! He felt as if he were drowning in a deep, dark ocean. For a moment, he struggled, and then suddenly he shifted. Now, he surrounded the ocean; he controlled it. Out of it came images, pictures of a young woman lusting for power, of a woman plotting for control. Images came also, of long months spent in a dark forest; of unicorns, slain for their life-giving blood. Harry gripped the dark sea, the whole knowledge, and being, of his enemy, and held on. He gritted his teeth, knowing that if he let go, he would lose.
Ron and Hermione had seen Harry cast the spell, and watched in wonder as the creature- Umbridge? – had fallen to the floor, lying there as if dead. Harry had fallen to his knees. Sweat poured from his forehead. His eyes were wide and staring.
“Harry!” cried Hermione, “Are you all right?”
Harry could not hear her. He still gripped the dark sea, but barely. It fought him, its tide pulling at his hold on it. It thrust memories of despair at him, trying to dislodge his mind. Harry knew he had to do something to it- he could not keep holding it forever. He searched for away to enclose it, to cut it off, and found none. Feeling helpless, almost despairing, he cast about, hoping to find a way. He felt his energy, his very life, draining away in the struggle to hold on.
Then, unexpectedly, Harry’s mind cleared. He seemed to rise above his own struggle for a fleeting moment, seeing it clearly. That was enough. Briskly, he folded the dark sea’s tides in on itself, enclosing it, tying it up, and keeping it away from him. The sea - the mind - resisted, fighting him, but he bore down until it was a tiny knot, tied off securely. When he released it, it stayed where he had put it. Exhausted, he collapsed to the floor in a faint, but the darkness in his mind was a cleaner one.
* * *
A pair of blue eyes hovered in the darkness.
Is that Dobby, Harry wondered. But no- that happened already. And Dobby turned into a portrait!
Harry opened his eyes to see the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore above him.
“Ah. I’m glad to see you’ve awakened, Harry. How do you feel?”
Harry sat up slowly. His muscles felt like mush, and his head was swimming. He found himself in a reclining armchair in Dumbledore’s study. How had he gotten there? He couldn’t remember. All he could remember was fighting a dark mind.
“Where is Umbridge?” he asked finally. His voice was hardly more than a croak.
Dumbledore sat down in a chair facing him.
“You need not worry about Dolores Umbridge.”
“And Malfoy? What happened? How did the portraits get out- why didn’t you stop it? I tried to tell you, but-”
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. He placed his long fingers together. His blue eyes glittered over them as he looked piercingly at Harry.
“I believe you were told what Umbridge has become. Do you not know already of her transmogrification?”
Harry blinked at him, and then remembered. Hagrid had spoken of dead unicorns. Remembering a memory he had glimpsed in her mind of slaying a unicorn and drinking its blood, he shivered.
Dumbledore was watching him closely.
“When she returned to the forest, the centaurs used poisoned arrows on her,” he told Harry, “and left her to die. She had a will to live, though. She crawled away, killed a unicorn with her bare hands, and drank its blood. So she did live, but she was only half-alive. Is it any wonder that she tried to take control of Hogwarts once more, and that those she chose to start her domination with were the portraits, only half alive themselves?”
Harry flinched. Now that Dumbledore described Umbridge’s deeds in the forest, he saw each memory he had pulled from her afresh in his mind. They made him feel unclean. Looking down at his hands, he asked, “What did I do to her?”
Dumbledore looked grave. “You performed the most difficult form of Legilimency. You knew how to do it instinctively. I believe your ability is great, greater than mine, greater than any I have ever known.”
Harry looked up into the eyes of the Headmaster. Dumbledore’s eyes bored into his own.
“You know well that Legilimency serves to read minds. But in very rare cases, it can be used to control them as well. Last year Voldemort did just that when he caused you to fall asleep and to see an eidolon of Siruis Black being tortured. It appears you have this ability also. I will not tell you that you did wrong, doing as you did, but I must ask you to promise me one thing. Never use this gift again unless you must. It may be useful for you one day, but for now you must not use it.”
Harry nodded. “I won’t,” he promised. He had hated the feel of Umbridge’s mind in his own. “How did she bring the portraits to life?” he asked. “I still don’t understand that.”
“Not to life,” Dumbledore corrected him. “She possessed no thaumaturgy that could make a revenant live. What you saw- what they experienced- was merely a ghostly reflection of living. Dolores Umbridge, being poisoned, and thus dead like them, yet living also, was uniquely able to call them from their frames. But she could not give them life. They felt no pain, no hunger, and no love. They have returned to their frames, where they belong. The dead may linger here, but they must not be returned to the living.”
Harry was silent a moment, considering this. Then he remembered something.
“What about Malfoy? Will he be expelled, or punished, or-”
“Mr. Malfoy is no longer a prefect, but he will remain here. I have already returned his wand. You felt the power of the creature that approached you. Mr. Malfoy had no Legilimency to defend against it. It is not his fault he was lured in. His memory has been modified, and the globe you saw has been confiscated. It was made with Dolores Umbridge’s blood, and gave the bearer the power to command portraits and ghosts as she did.”
“The ghosts too?” Harry asked. “I saw Peeves acting- strangely.”
“Yes, she must have put him in a portrait,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully. “That would be disturbing for any ghost, but especially for one who enjoys his death as much as that poltergeist.”
Harry looked down at his hands. To avoid asking the question which was really on his mind, he said abruptly, “What about the faucets in the bathroom?”
Dumbledore gave him another piercing glance. “The faucets were altered to provide an escape route, should Dolores Umbridge ever wish to release someone from imprisonment, of course.”
Harry swallowed. “Did I kill her?” he asked Dumbledore. For a moment, Dumbledore did not reply. Harry glanced up and saw that Dumbledore gazed at him intently.
“No,” he said. “Look.” Dumbledore stood up and walked to a corner of his office. On the wall hung a square of heavy black cloth. He pulled it down, and Harry jumped up in alarm. In the portrait was Umbridge as he had seen her in the bathroom, corrupted, evil. She appeared to be stunned. Dumbledore covered the portrait again.
“She drank unicorn blood,” he remarked placidly. “Enough to keep her alive.”
“Shouldn’t you do something about her,” Harry wanted to know. “Shouldn’t you punish her, instead of putting her in there? What if she gets out?”
”She cannot,” was Dumbledore's calm reply. “I put her in with the tool she made herself. It was crafted from her blood, and so she is bound by it.”
“But she’ll wake up, won’t she? She’ll start being annoying, and-and taking control of the other portraits, and-”
Harry stuttered to a halt. He thought of the portrait of Sirius’s mother which hung in 12 Grimmauld Place, how she survived after death only to insult people, to be an annoyance even in death.
Dumbledore gazed steadily at Harry. “Did you think it is only the good who leave a mark on this world? Did you think you could inherit strength, and love, and courage from the memories of your parents, but those who were against you could leave you nothing? Death is not the end of all things. Maybe it is not even really the end of life. It is wrong to linger in a living form, as Dolores Umbridge tried to make the portraits do, because the world belongs to the living. The dead imitate the living, trying to take a form of being like theirs- but have you not noticed that many among the living emulate the dead?”
Harry considered this, gazing at the black cloth which covered the portrait, but he said nothing more.
“And now, Harry,” Dumbledore said, rising, “I think it is time you took your broom and went to bed.” He indicated the broom Harry had left in the bathroom at the beginning of the day.
Harry obediently left the office and returned to Gryffindor tower. In the common room, he found Ron and Hermione, sitting in armchairs close to the fire and talking in low voices. It was past three in the morning, but tired as he was, Harry sat there with his friends in silence through the long hours before dawn.
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"Unfaithful is like rice."
--My Linguistics professor
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PBD ~ ROUND THREE ~, Mission & Submissions
evlpez PBD ~ ROUND THREE ~ Sep 23 2004, 10:57 AM
Sep 23 2004, 10:57 AM
