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On The Hunt: Chapter 25
🕑 Added 2023-12-02 16:30:02 +0000 UTC“I can’t lie, I love that look on his face,” Neville muttered, sneaking a glance at the small group of Slytherins at their house table. The rest of their little group also looked over, all chuckling together.
“Potter really dressed him down very nicely,” Anthony chimed in. “I got chills, you know? He never raised his voice and told it all exactly how it was. Put him in his place, he did.”
“Malfoy is just a pathetic excuse of a human being. I wonder just how messed up his upbringing has been,” Hannah mused distastefully.
“He is Lucius Malfoy’s son, Hannah. That should tell you enough,” Susan replied with a disgusted glance toward the ponce who slapped Parkinson’s hand away after something the girl said to him. “You should listen to Auntie’s rants about that ponce. Apparently, he was the one who convinced Fudge to slash the aurors’ budget. He’s been a pain ever since he managed to buy his way out of Azkaban.”
“Do you know anything about his crimes as a Death Eater?” Cho asked in a whisper.
“Auntie doesn’t talk about it,” Susan shook her head.
“He was a Death Eater, Cho. We all know what his kind gets up to. Use your imagination if you want to.”
“Yeah, I’d rather not,” the beautiful Asian witch replied with a grimace.
They were all together in the Great Hall, working on their assignments, but also keeping a watchful eye on Malfoy and his cronies. The ponce and his sycophant Parkinson were seething, no doubt thinking about the way Harry had destroyed him verbally, while his two bookends seemed entirely oblivious to what was going on around them.
“As Harry expected, the entire school is disgusted with him,” Tracey noted with a hint of satisfaction in her voice. They stared around the Great Hall at students who either looked disgusted or outright sneered whenever they laid eyes on Malfoy.
“For good reasons as well. I still can’t believe he really said all those horrible things about Gabrielle, particularly the one about…”
Grimaces spread across their faces as they recalled all the vile things Malfoy had said about the veela. It was one of the most disgusting things they had ever heard.
“I sometimes wish people could be persecuted for speaking unforgivable shit like that,” Susan muttered.
“Nothing would happen anyway,” a familiar voice interjected and they all looked up to see Harry and Daphne approaching them.
Harry fixed his gaze on Susan and continued, “They’ve got too much corrupt influence in the administration. You’re all well aware of it.”
The redhead let out a sigh and nodded.
“What happened over there in the headmaster’s office?” Neville asked in a hushed voice. As one, they all leaned forward eagerly to hear what Harry had to say.
Harry let out a chuckle, exchanging an amused glance with Daphne as he turned his attention to them. Slowly, he started to explain how they had managed to successfully rile up Umbridge even more by putting on quite an extraordinary show.
“You serious?” Tracey asked disbelievingly.
“Very serious,” Harry chuckled. “Fudge must be sweating his pants right now. I doubt he even had a clue about who Gabrielle truly is. He must have realized that the moment he gets to know about it, Mr. Delacour will raise a shitstorm with the entire might of the French ministry behind him. After all, this is his precious daughter we’re talking about here.”
“Wait a minute,” Tracey interjected curiously. “Didn’t you say the law is clearly against Gabrielle and that she would be sentenced to Azkaban without a trial?”
“I do recall saying that, yeah,” Harry smirked. “But that was when this looked like an open and shut case.”
“And now it’s not?” Cho asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Let me ask you something. Who was the last person every student saw in that class with Gabrielle?” Daphne threw the question out there instead of Harry, making everyone turn toward her.
“Umbridge,” Hannah replied.
“And now Gabrielle is missing, from right under Umbridge’s nose,” the blonde smirked.
“I’m not saying anything directly,” Harry added with a wicked grin. “But there might be a possibility that someone had an agenda against Gabrielle. That someone might have a history of being bigoted toward magical creatures and those who are crudely referred to as half-breeds. And that someone might have done something to ensure that they had Gabrielle at their mercy. Once they had her at their mercy, who knows what they might have done?”
Eyes shot open wide in shock at the insinuation Harry was making.
“Are you seriously saying what I think you are saying, Potter?” Zacharias Smith asked in stupefied wonder, earning a smirk from the emerald-eyed wizard.
“I’m merely throwing a possibility out here. A possibility that a certain lovely blonde cousin of Gabrielle might have communicated to her father already. A possibility that the information might already be on its way to the poor veela’s father as we speak. BIGOTED BRITISH MINISTRY PLOTS AGAINST AN INNOCENT VEELA GIRL. Now, wouldn’t that make a splendid headline?”
“And as family, we all would stand firmly behind our allies, supporting them in whatever endeavor they decide to undertake, as expected of upstanding wizarding houses like ours, even if we have to go against the ministry,” Daphne took over, a vindictive smirk dancing on her lips.
“Holy mother of Merlin, you two,” Neville whispered, utterly flabbergasted.
“We told you all, didn’t we?” One of the twins remarked, looking at the couple with eyes filled with worship.
“These two are scary together,” the other finished with the same look in his eyes.
A moment of silence settled in as everyone pondered on what Harry and Daphne had planned for Fudge and the ministry in general.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see where this goes,” Ginny rubbed her hands eagerly, earning a chuckle from Daphne.
“If Fudge has even a semblance of common sense, he would do everything in his power to find Gabrielle, by whatever means necessary.”
“You seriously think he does?” Susan asked incredulously.
“He doesn’t,” Harry replied. “But his backer surely does.”
Curious, everyone stared at Harry who smirked.
“Lucius Malfoy knows Voldemort cannot afford the French to intervene in Britain’s affairs so soon. After all, he has done nothing so far. And it is Lucius Malfoy who has been pulling Fudge’s strings all this while. Fudge might want to take some action against the one who almost killed his dear undersecretary, but I fully expect Malfoy to intervene.”
“Gabrielle is not a serious target for them,” Daphne continued once Harry finished. “She is merely a so-called filthy half-breed of little to no consequence. Putting their entire operation at such a massive disadvantage just because an upjumped undersecretary got her feathers ruffled a bit would be a fool’s errand.”
“And Malfoy is not a fool,” Neville said with a nod.
“Well, he can be made to look like one pretty easily, but on his own, he isn’t,” Harry replied with a smirk, coaxing chuckles out of everyone as they recalled his little trial this past summer. Lucius Malfoy had surely become a subject of mockery back then after being schooled by a mere schoolboy, not that it put even the slightest dent in his influence over the minister.
“So let me see if I got this right,” Tracey said once everyone quieted down. “You are planning to pin the blame for Gabrielle’s disappearance on Umbridge and the ministry. She’s got a track record of being a bigoted bitch and you’re going to use her bigotry against her. Sounds about right? Good. Now, what are you planning to do about her pointing fingers at you for Gabrielle’s disappearance, Harry?”
“Why would Harry need to prove his innocence?” Daphne asked rhetorically, smirking. “These are all baseless accusations. There is no proof that Harry had anything to do with Gabrielle’s disappearance from that classroom. Instead, it’s that undersecretary who has got to prove that she is not behind the disappearance of the daughter of a senior French dignitary. After all, every student from the fifth year saw her slamming the door to the classroom with an unconscious Gabrielle still inside and no one saw any trace of the poor girl after that. Meanwhile, my dear fiancé was far away tearing Malfoy a new one.”
There was a chorus of chuckles at that.
“Our tracks are covered, guys,” Harry remarked comfortably. “We’ve got solid alibis. The one under pressure here is Umbridge, and consequently, our dear Minister Fudge. I, for one, am looking forward to seeing this little game play out.”
There was an undercurrent of anticipation among them as they all shared eager grins. Everyone loathed Umbridge and they wanted to see her flounder even more. After all, wasn’t it quite poetic that the bigot would be held guilty solely for her bigotry?
XXXXX
“Monsieur,” a middle-aged woman greeted respectfully as she entered his office. “A letter from Britain has just arrived for you.”
“Thank you, Louise,” Antoine Delacour replied with a polite smile and accepted the sealed envelope from his secretary. He could not help but feel a surge of curiosity at the sight of the familiar seal.
He carefully extracted the parchment from the envelope, wondering what his cousin was writing about as he unfolded the letter. The last time he had heard from Cyrus was when he had communicated about Daphne’s engagement to Harry Potter.
Antoine had been both delighted and intrigued by the match. The Potters were a highly respectable wizarding family, with a rich history of significant contributions to the progress of Wizarding Britain and Europe. The name of Charlus Potter was still revered in his homeland – the man who, alongside his companions Arcturus Black, Albert Greengrass, and François Delacour, had defended the Maginot Line against the forces of Gellert Grindelwald.
The sole surviving member of the family, Harry Potter, was a prominent figure known worldwide for a previously unfathomable feat of surviving the Killing Curse. No one knew what had exactly happened that Halloween night, but ever since that day, the legend of Harry Potter had only grown.
Antoine was aware that there was no truth to the dozens of Harry Potter books that used to circulate the market until a few years ago, no matter how popular those used to be in his own household at one point in time. Nevertheless, the young man’s accomplishments were undeniably impressive all the same. Antoine had witnessed his performance in the Triwizard Tournament, which had further contributed to his renown.
He held a lot of respect for the family and the young man himself. However, he also could not help but contemplate the implications of allying one’s family with his.
It was an open secret that the dark lord who had terrorized Britain a few decades ago had returned, with Harry Potter as his primary target. It was expected even for this dark lord to force his focus on Harry Potter considering he was the one to deal a fundamental blow to his aspirations on that fateful Halloween night.
Antoine recognized the betrothal as a clear statement from his cousin and he was relieved that Cyrus had finally decided to cast away the notion of neutrality in the upcoming conflict. Cyrus’ father had been a pragmatic man who had refrained from choosing a side, but his son seemed to inherit the spirit of his grandfather Albert.
He had already communicated his thoughts to his cousin, promising him as much of his aid as he could muster should the need arise. And he knew the time would come sooner rather than later.
Shaking his head, Antoine started to read the letter.
Antoine,
I’m afraid an unfortunate event took place at Hogwarts today.
You must be aware that in his paranoia, Fudge has planted a stooge of his at Hogwarts – one Dolores Umbridge. You must also be familiar with her notorious track record when it comes to those whom she considers inferior to her.
The woman has been appointed the History of Magic professor and in her infinite wisdom, she decided to use the class as a tool for spreading her vile discriminatory propaganda. I shall explain the specifics to you when we meet but the crux of the matter is that Gabrielle was maliciously targeted by Umbridge today.
Before you worry too much, let me tell you that the woman did not try anything more than putting her in a spot by making her read passages full of bigotry, lies, and propaganda against Veela.
Sadly, Gabrielle happened to lose control of her veela instincts in the class today after being subjected to such treatment.
As you might have guessed already, the situation turned violent and she almost killed Umbridge. Fortunately, Harry and Daphne succeeded in shielding the woman while subduing her.
As expected of her, Umbridge has since gone on a warpath, hellbent on tossing Gabrielle in Azkaban without a trial by abusing the bigoted laws of Wizarding Britain when it comes to magical creatures. She made the entire class leave her alone with a stunned Gabrielle.
However, before anything could happen, Harry successfully managed to extract her from that classroom with Umbridge being none the wiser. Right now, Gabrielle is safely resting in a secret room known only to a select few, Harry and Daphne included. They assure me no one would be able to find her there and I am inclined to believe them.
This abhorrent behavior should already be enough for you to be agitated with the British ministry but Harry and Daphne want to twist the proverbial knife even more. They have come up with another plan.
They propose that you assert your position and demand for your daughter’s safe and sound return and for her to be treated the way her station demands. She cannot be subjected to this country’s vile laws when it comes to magical creatures.
Furthermore, as far as anyone else knows, Gabrielle is still considered missing and the one she had last been seen with was Umbridge. The entire fifth-year class is a witness to that. Ever since her disappearance, Umbridge has been blaming Harry for it without any proof. They intend to turn the tables on her and hold her accountable for Gabrielle’s disappearance by using her established bigotry for magical creatures. The matter would be escalated in no time with the weight of the French ministry behind them.
You expressed previously that you would be eager to lend your aid in any impending conflict. Well, it looks like your time has come now.
I’ll be waiting eagerly for your response, and once again, I assure you that Gabrielle is completely safe.
Please convey my best regards to Apolline and Fleur. I’ll see you soon.
Cyrus
Antoine Delacour put down the letter, his mind racing. He was concerned for his beloved daughter. Gabrielle had undergone her veela maturity this past summer and he knew from his prior experiences with Apolline and Fleur how challenging a time it could be. Yet, his youngest had faced the challenge bravely and he could not be prouder of her.
He truly hoped she was doing alright after the emotional ordeal she must have suffered.
As for what Cyrus was proposing, it was indeed intriguing. Antoine could see how it would work out and within the confines of his mind, he offered a silent applause to Harry Potter and Daphne for their remarkable ingenuity.
Dolores Umbridge was known to most of the high-ranking officials of other magical countries in Europe, including his own, and all for the worst of reasons. The woman was unpleasant, with a veneer so fake that it made many people feel uneasy in her presence. They knew all about the discriminatory laws she had advocated for in her time as Fudge’s undersecretary and none of it had earned her any positive recognition from her international counterparts or anyone else.
To turn her well-proven history of bigotry against her was nothing short of a stroke of genius, one that he could wholeheartedly praise and even rally behind.
He knew it would not be a formidable task for him to create pressure on the British ministry, especially considering the compelling arguments and witnesses they appeared to have against them.
With a sense of purpose, Antoine Delacour tapped his wand against the crystal, calling for his secretary. The woman arrived within seconds, giving him her undivided attention.
“Yes, Monsieur?” She inquired.
“Arrange for a meeting with the minister right away,” he instructed. “Within the hour, if possible.”
Although surprised, the woman did not question and gave him an understanding nod.
“As you say, Monsieur.”
Antoine nodded and watched as she walked out of the office. He took a moment to lean back in his chair, a sense of purpose coursing through his veins.
Politics was his occupation, be it internal or overseas, and he was more than eager to take the game to Fudge’s administration.
The British ministry had made no friends in the recent past and many had been keenly observing the recent events unfolding in the country. More than a few countries had been ecstatic when Harry Potter had served the ministry of his own country with a lawsuit, accusing them of malicious prosecution.
While the British press had only published one article on the matter, the international press had a field day with the news. That event had the potential for far-reaching consequences within the political landscape of Wizarding Britain, and several other nations were eagerly awaiting that trial.
Fudge was already tethering on the edge with the impending lawsuit. Adding the weight of the French government to the equation would create even more pressure on his troubled government.
Together, they held the potential to bring about the change that Wizarding Britain sorely needed to survive the upcoming conflict, and that was something many other countries preferred as well.
Everyone knew a madman’s lust for power never ended. Should that dark lord seize control of Britain, he would set his sights eastward. They were all invested in ensuring that the matter remained contained and was resolved within Britain’s borders.
They could tackle multiple challenges simultaneously. Britain required a new and capable government, both to weather the conflict and to steer the nation forward. Additionally, their laws needed a thorough overhaul.
He met the gaze of his secretary when she entered once again and raised an expectant eyebrow.
“The minister is free right now, Monsieur.”
“Splendid. Thank you, Louise.”
A wave of determination coursed through him as he strode with long, purposeful steps toward the Minister’s office.
Change was undeniably on the horizon, and he would play his part in shaping the course of events.
XXXXX
Tracey Davis walked along the corridor that led to the History of Magic classroom. She had a detention scheduled with Umbridge. She knew that it was going to be a nightmare to endure and to say that even a mention of it had triggered an argument was an understatement.
As she had expected, Neville had almost blown a gasket when she told him that she was not skipping it. He was understandably concerned about her considering the atmosphere around the school, particularly with Umbridge, but she was not a coward.
She loathed Umbridge with every fiber of her being. There were no two ways about it. But she refused to back down from that vile woman. The last thing she wanted was to let that wicked bitch think she was intimidated by her. She appreciated her boyfriend’s concern but she was going to face whatever might be thrown at her.
Neville was not happy but he had respected her decision, which made her appreciate him even more than she already did.
There was also the little fact that Umbridge, as the so-called ‘High Inquisitor’, could expel her on the spot if she went ahead with that transgression, and she did not want to give her any more excuse than she already had in the History of Magic classroom.
Word of what had transpired in the History of Magic classroom this morning had spread across the school like Fiendfyre. People had seen Fudge arrive with aurors, all puffed up and arrogant, and leave with them a while later, morose and ashen-faced. Speculations ran rampant on the sudden shift in mood, some sounding plausible while a few were outright laughable. However, none were boring.
One thing was for certain though. What had happened today had not endeared Umbridge to anyone. If she had thought that being attacked in the middle of a classroom would’ve earned her any sympathy, she was sorely mistaken. Her actions that followed the incident had shown her true colors.
Everyone was aware that she was accusing Harry of Gabrielle’s disappearance and the fifth-year students had not hesitated in vouching for him. They were all pointing out how Harry had been putting Malfoy in his place at the same time. Considering how the ministry had tried to pin the murder of that muggle boy on him this past summer, people were starting to doubt the ministry. They were starting to wonder whether the ministry truly had a vendetta against Harry and if so, why?
A few brave students did speculate on whether Harry and Dumbledore had been telling the truth all this while about Voldemort’s return and the ministry was trying to bury everything under the rug by getting rid of him. Those few voices were enough to plant seeds of doubt in the minds of many students.
Of course, there were many who still had full faith in the ministerial propaganda of Harry being an attention-seeking brat and Dumbledore being a doddering old fool though, but they did not matter to anyone. The doubts had set in, and they won’t go away until the truth was unearthed.
Shaking her thoughts off, Tracey walked across the History of Magic classroom and rapped twice on the door to the office.
“Come in.”
She hid a grin at the seething voice of the toady and pushed the door open. She walked in and immediately paused, her steps faltering at the hideous sight of the room.
She had never been in a professor’s office so she didn’t know what to expect, but she was sure none looked like this. It felt as if someone had poured pink paint over the walls before wrapping everything up in even more pink. There was a collection of pink plates, each bearing the portrait of a large cat wearing a bow of different colors, lining the walls when she looked over. She also spotted several vases filled with some kind of pink flowers she didn’t recognize.
All in all, it was too much pink and she was so flabbergasted that for a moment, she simply stood still at the entrance and stared around.
“Are you just going to stand there like a simpleton?”
Tracey blinked owlishly and stared at Umbridge who was dressed as she usually was, and the woman oddly fit in with so much pink around her. Tracey had a sudden thought that the woman could easily camouflage if she stood in front of the wall and got a bit angry, and she had to hold back a chuckle at the image her mind conjured.
She settled on a nod, refraining from saying anything, and walked forward.
“And who’s going to close the door? Your mother?”
For the first time, a vein popped in Tracey’s forehead at the woman’s tone and choice of words but she yet again refrained from saying anything. She turned around and shut the door before making her way over to the desk.
“Sit down already! Merlin, the kids of this school have had their brains rotten, it seems,” Umbridge remarked in exasperation but there was no mistaking the rage in those beady eyes of hers. They gleamed with malice and for a second, Tracey felt a chill creep up her spine.
She took a seat and fixed an even gaze at the woman, refusing to cower in front of her glare.
“Now Miss Davis, your behavior in the class today has been very horrid. Unbecoming of a young woman like you. I must admit I find myself… disappointed that my old house could not make you more cultured. Alas, it seems the standards have fallen since you are not the only one.”
Tracey buried a few choice words she wanted to throw at the toad’s face. Instead, she chose to stare with a stoic face.
“It is thus my duty as your instructor to ensure you are taught an adequate lesson. A lesson that sinks in permanently.”
Tracey did not like the sudden evil glint in the woman’s eyes. Her demeanor had shifted from rage and faux disappointment to a more calculating one. For the first time, Tracey realized she was in front of a woman who had climbed ranks in the ministry and become the minister’s undersecretary.
“You will be writing lines, Miss Davis. Parchment and quill are on your right.”
Tracey looked over and pulled a sheet of parchment on the pad in front of her. She stared keenly at the quill.
It was different from the quills they used. For starters, the feathers were entirely black, and there was a metallic cover at the bottom that glinted in the light. She reached forward and grabbed it.
Holding the quill over the parchment, she asked without looking up, “What am I supposed to write?”
“Hm? Oh, let’s see. It needs to be something appropriate. Something that should remind you what you did wrong and that you need to do better. How about ‘I must respect my betters’?”
Tracey scoffed to herself and rolled her eyes. The woman was so pathetic she was not even surprised anymore. In any case, writing lines was not much of a bother. It was at least better than scrubbing toilets without magic.
“That’s enough,” a sharp voice called out from in front of her and Tracey’s head shot up in surprise. Her eyes widened at the sight in front of her.
Daphne was standing with her wand pressed against the back of Umbridge’s neck while Harry stood beside her, glaring at the woman with utter loathing.
“Tracey, stand up and step aside,” he instructed and she hastened to follow.
“Potter! What are you doing here!?” Umbridge cried out shrilly, glaring at the emerald-eyed wizard.
“That’s not your concern. Tracey’s not going to do anything you say.”
Umbridge’s bulging eyes narrowed in rage.
“Potter, you are crossing your limits. I am a professor and as such, I have the right to assign detentions for transgressions. Miss Davis deserves to be punished for her foul mouth.”
“Is that so?” Harry asked in slight amusement, although his eyes kept glaring at the woman. “And who authorized you to use a Blood Quill as a form of punishment?”
Tracey’s eyes bulged out in shock and she belatedly realized the quill was still in her hand. She hastily threw it away. The quill clattered against the wall and fell on the floor.
“I don’t—”
“Cut it,” Daphne hissed from behind the woman, digging the tip of her wand further into her pudgy skin.
“Talking about punishing people for their offences,” Harry continued. “I believe if someone deserves it more than anyone else, it’s you.”
Before anyone could reply, Harry waved his wand around in an arc. A massive shockwave erupted from his wand, sending static through the air before suddenly, a collection of objects exploded on the desk and around the room in a puff of smoke.
The floo extinguished before Daphne quickly whirled around and froze the entire wall, cutting off the only remaining mode of communication.
“What are you doing!?” Umbridge cried out shrilly, reaching for her wand when Daphne pressed her wand against her even more firmly.
“One wrong move and I can’t guarantee the next spell won’t be… hurtful, Undersecretary,” Daphne whispered dangerously. Umbridge’s eyes widened in fear and she gulped audibly at the threatening tone of the blonde.
“That was to get rid of all the enchanted objects you’d kept scattered about your office to call for help should the need arise,” Harry replied nonchalantly. “You can rest assured that no one’s coming to interrupt our little session, Umbridge.”
Umbridge paled.
“P-potter… y-you—AAAHHHH!!!”
A blood-curdling scream rang through the air and Tracey jumped as Umbridge cried out in indescribable agony. The brunette’s eyes widened in shock at the sight.
Harry kept his wand trained toward the woman as Daphne walked over and took her spot beside him, watching in indifference as the woman thrashed in her chair. A swift flick of her wand conjured thick chains around her, keeping her bound to the chair.
Dolores Umbridge had never felt such raw, hot pain. She could feel her insides on fire, seeping through her joints and setting her bones aflame. Her entire body cried out in sheer anguish, forcing her to let out gut-wrenching cries as she struggled against her bindings to no avail.
Harry waited for a few more seconds until her skin started to turn a slight shade of red and cast the counter-curse.
The sudden chill made Umbridge gasp. Steam rose from her body, covering her in a sheen of sweat as she sat on the chair, bound and powerless, held by nothing but the chains around her.
“Blood-boiling curse followed by a freezing charm,” Harry remarked. He glanced toward Tracey and found her glaring at the woman with utter loathing. Another glance and Daphne was faring no better.
“Go ahead. You know you want to, and there are few who deserve it more.”
The two young women exchanged a look and nodded as Harry stepped back, leaning against the wall.
No one was coming to save this harridan and they had all the time in the world.
By the time Daphne and Tracey were done with Umbridge, she had been reduced to a weak, shivering mess. Her hair was matted to her forehead, sweat covering her body and making her horrid pink clothes cling to her skin.
Harry wondered what would have happened if they had tried any of the torture curses on her, particularly the Cruciatus. If she was shivering so badly after these relatively tame ones, then it was entirely plausible for her to pass out or even die if she was subjected to something more serious.
Umbridge could not even muster a word when Daphne and Tracey stepped back and took their place beside him.
“You know,” Harry started, twirling his wand idly. “I considered you a mere nuisance until this morning. Nothing more than someone who thought too highly of herself. Don’t get me wrong, I held nothing but hatred for you given your past, and it all grew even more when I discovered you sent those Dementors to kill me, but when it failed, you concocted this pathetic plan to frame me for Polkiss’ murder.”
Umbridge’s head hung limply in front of her as she sat there, bound and barely responsive.
“Still, I was willing to let you be. It was slightly funny to see you flounder about like a fish out of water as you tried to gather as much power as you could. But after what you did today in that class with Gabrielle and Tracey, and what you were going to do to Tracey right now… shit just got personal, bitch,” he hissed.
Daphne and Tracey kept glaring at the subdued woman.
“I value my friends, Umbridge, and you tried to harm them. You didn’t only insult them and their honor, repeatedly, but you tried to seriously put them through torture of pain and Azkaban. You fucked up big time, Umbridge.”
Perhaps there was still some fight left in the woman as she slowly lifted her head and hissed, “I w-will m-make sure y-you r-rot in Azkab-ban, P-Potter! Y-you and all th-these bints!”
Harry scoffed at her pathetic attempt, watching disdainfully as she devolved into a series of coughs. He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
“Well, looks like the message hasn’t sunk in yet,” he remarked, leveling his wand against her once again. “Ladies, care to join in teaching an upjumped toad a lesson?”
Barely a few seconds later, the office reverberated with the bloodcurdling scream of Dolores Umbridge once again.
To be continued…
Comments
GhostnKC
Never piss off Harry Potter and this character proves why. The question is how is he going to get the toad put of the school. I'm looking forward to the next chapter.
Erinnyes
There's far too few stories where Harry realizes that when the law is protecting the lawless, any solution must be found outside it. Great chapter
