Take Control

One week before Gryffindor's match against Hufflepuff, Harry received a summons from none other than Umbridge.

Dear Mr. Potter,

In one week, you are to meet with me in the afternoon. If you choose not to show up for this meeting, please see me in my office at the same time for detention.

Sincerely,

Professor Dolores Umbridge High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

In all honesty, Harry had been wondering what his excuse for not being at the match would've been otherwise. The rest of the team still didn't know, but he'd been working with Ginny since the weather had improved enough for practice.

"WHAT?!" Angelina screamed when he showed her the note.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"WHAT DID YOU DO?"

"Nothing!" he snapped, offended that she thought he'd done it on purpose. "I don't know! Umbridge probably just has it in for me."

Angelina jabbed a finger at him.

"You. With me. Now!"

With the note in hand, Angelina stormed up to McGonagall's office with Harry in tow. He knew Professor McGonagall knew, but he wasn't sure what would happen. If Angelina found out he'd cheated, that was it. He'd be off the team. She was graduating, which put either he or Katie in the running for captain next year. There was little he wanted more than to be the captain, even if it meant having to select almost an entirely new team. Gryffindor wasn't good at keeping up with their reserve players.

"Professor McGonagall!"

"Ms. Johnson," McGonagall replied, looking up from her desk.

Harry wondered if they always had something to do, or they were just required to always look busy when students came by.

"What's this?" Angelina asked, holding out the parchment.

"It appears to be some sort of parchment," McGonagall said dryly.

"Umbridge is holding Potter during the match!" Angelina exclaimed. "You've got to stop her!"

McGonagall hesitated, then caught Harry's gaze. She knew why this was happening, just not how Umbridge knew anything. At least, that's what Harry thought that look meant. It was hard to tell with McGonagall.

"I don't know what you expect me to do," McGonagall said. "Professor Umbridge can have anyone sacked if we go against her. Have you got a replacement for Mr. Potter?"

"What?!" Angelina shrieked. "But you can't—"

"I can't do anything about it, Ms. Johnson, so I repeat: Have you got a replacement for Mr. Potter?"

Angelina stared in horror at McGonagall. Harry looked between the two, still fearful that McGonagall would give him up. But she stayed silent, waiting for Angelina to answer her question.

"Weasley might be ready," she said at last. "Against Diggory though? She doesn't stand a chance!"

"I'm afraid there's nothing we can do," McGonagall said, handing the parchment back to Harry. "I'm sorry."

Angelina stormed out of McGonagall's office.

Harry started to leave, but stopped for a moment.

"Thanks."

��That was not a favor to you, Mr. Potter," she said. "That was a favor to Ms. Perks. She was quite insistent that no one else know. I have no doubt she organized your detention as a clever ploy to shift the blame away from you. If you have any decency in you, you would thank her for it. If I'd caught you cheating, you'd have been kicked off the team immediately."

Harry spent the rest of the week avoiding people. He didn't talk to Ron or Ginny specifically, and he was in no mood to talk to Hermione about anything. The closest he came to talking to anyone that week was sitting with Alavel for an hour. Neither said a word the entire time.

When the match rolled around, Harry went straight to Umbridge's office. Alavel walked with him and left him at the door.

Harry walked inside the sickeningly pink room. Umbridge sat behind her desk, looking far more smug than Harry would've liked.

"It has come to my attention that you've been cheating, Mr. Potter. While I have been assured that you learned your lesson, I'm going to make sure that it sinks in."

She held out a black quill for him.

"Take this quill, take a seat, and write 'I shall not cheat' until I tell you to leave."

Harry knew what that meant. Part of him tensed up. Fear slowly took him over, but he pushed it out. If Hermione and Luna could do it, so could he.

He took the quill, sat down, and began to write.

The moment Umbridge told him he could leave, Harry raced down the corridor, sliding his gloves over his hands as he ran. If he hurried, he'd have just enough time to reach the pitch before the match was over. If he was really, really lucky, there'd be enough time for him to sub in for Ginny.

He'd worked Ginny hard over the past few months, harder than he'd worked her two years ago. If she won, it'd all be worth it. The rest of the team was good; some of the best, really, but the other players were just there to stall for time. That had never been more obvious than in the match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin a few weeks ago. Ravenclaw's offence had dominated the field, but Malfoy had beaten Cho to the Snitch and won the match.

The thought of Malfoy made him even angrier. He wasn't a complete git as he'd been in previous years. It wasn't even Malfoy at whom Harry was angry.

It was Sally-Anne.

Harry had watched that match, and saw Malfoy turn around and dive for the Snitch. He couldn't have seen it; it wasn't possible. Harry had come to the conclusion that he'd cheated, yet Sally-Anne didn't care. Sally-Anne didn't cause a fuss about Malfoy, because apparently, they were friends or something. No, it was just Harry.

His mood only worsened when he heard the sounds of people returning to the castle. He'd been too late. Harry anxiously scanned the crowd, hoping to catch his friends before too long. He needed to know how the match had turned out.

His answer came in the form of saddened, miserable, or frustrated looks he got from Gryffindor. A pit formed in his stomach.

They'd lost.

Harry pushed through the crowd, searching for his friends, fighting sneers from Slytherin, and looks of anger from his own house.

"Potter!"

Instead of finding his friends, Angelina found him.

"Where were you today?!" she shouted, despite knowing the answer.

"What? You know where I was! Umbridge told me she needed to meet with me today! She said meet with her casually, or meet with her for detention! I didn't have a choice!"

"Then make something up!"

"Like what?"

"I don't care! Get McGonagall to fix it! Get Dumbledore to fix it! You didn't have to just take it!"

"We tried that!"

"You could've gone to Dumbledore!"

"You could've gone to Dumbledore!"

By then, a crowd of people had gathered around them to enjoy the shouting match. He spotted Hermione, possibly the only person that didn't blame him. That was an odd feeling. Ron, Fred, and George wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Next time, I'll make sure to lie my way out of it."

"Next time?" Angelina let out a laugh that sounded more like a shriek. "You think there's going to be a next time for you?"

Harry froze. He'd missed one match, and now Angelina was about to kick him off the team. She wouldn't.

"You're gonna kick me off the team, then? We lost without me!"

"There's no 'we', Potter! You've got more important things to do than to show up to a match, so why don't you go off and do them?!"

With that, Angelina stormed off, shoving aside anyone in her way.

Harry watched her storm off, then caught Umbridge out of the corner of his eye. She had the nerve to look pleased with herself.

After glaring at her, he turned around and went his own way. He knew it wasn't her fault, although she made a good target for his hatred. The real culprit was Sally-Anne. If she'd kept her mouth shut, he'd have been fine. None of this would be happening if she'd just said nothing.

Before Harry left the entrance hall, Sally-Anne, who'd been careful to stay away from Harry to give him time to cool off, caught sight of his hand. It hadn't been all scratched up earlier, she was sure. Thinking about it, Loretta's hand had been injured too. And she was sure she'd seen the Twins with injuries on their hands some time ago.

She wandered down the corridor, thankful to have some time to herself to give it more thought. It seemed like everyone she knew had suffered some sort of injury to their hands recently. Was that what was happening? Was it just the people she knew? Of course, she knew quite a lot of people, so it wasn't certainly her friends. What were those injuries?

Before Sally-Anne could come to a conclusion, screams were heard from further down the corridor. It wasn't a cry of distress, but one of anger. It was also easy to tell whose voice it was.

"Parkinson?"

Sally-Anne walked quickly (without running, that would be undignified) towards the sound of screaming. Fortunately, Parkinson made it easy to tell where she was.

"YOU CAN'T DUMP ME!"

"Oh no," Sally-Anne whispered, then picked up her pace.

"I can do whatever I want!"

"Our parents already said we have to be together! What will they say when I tell them you tried to dump me?"

Parkinson sounded confident that she'd won the argument, but Sally-Anne knew Malfoy better than that. He never went down without a fight.

"I'm not trying to dump you, I am dumping you! We're finished!"

Yup. Never without a fight.

Sally-Anne reached the argument and found a growing crowd around them. She knew Parkinson; she always performed better for a crowd.

"You can't dump me! No one dumps me! I'm Pansy Parkinson!"

I'm honestly a little surprised she knows her own name some days.

"I'm surprised there's enough space in that useless head of yours for your own name."

Unlike Parkinson, Malfoy kept his voice down, but put as much condescension and arrogance as he could into every word. And of course, he accented it with a sneer. It wouldn't be Malfoy without that sneer.

Parkinson lost what little calm she had left. She screamed and pulled her wand, but Malfoy was faster than Parkinson. They threw spells at one another as the crowd backed away. All except Sally-Anne, who had an easier time fighting her way to the front with everyone else backing away.

"Seu Strada!"

A shimmering disc asserted itself between the squabbling couple. Both bolts struck it, making Sally-Anne thankful that most spells seemed to manifest as bolts she could block. What was she supposed to do with it if they weren't?

"That's quite enough of that," she said, withdrawing the shield. She kept her hand at the ready, in case they decided to attack again.

Parkinson turned her fury on Sally-Anne.

"You!"

"Stay out of this, Perks!"

"If you two wanted privacy, then you shouldn't have made a scene."

Parkinson looked from her to Malfoy.

"I see. You're with her, aren't you?!"

"That's ridiculous!" Malfoy snapped. "As if I'd dirty the Malfoy bloodline like that!"

Thanks, Malfoy.

"Then what's she doing here?"

At first, Sally-Anne thought she must've heard Parkinson wrong. At least 20 students were crowded around them. Then she realized that Parkinson just wasn't that bright.

"I'm a prefect, Parkinson, like both of you. I heard a fight and came to break it up. That's my job."

"Get over yourself, Mudblood!"

"Care to repeat that, Ms. Parkinson?"

The crowd dispersed and ran for it when Professor McGonagall arrived, leaving Malfoy, Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle, and Sally-Anne alone with her.

"I… I…"

"It's alright, Professor McGonagall," Sally-Anne said. "She didn't mean it. She and Malfoy are having an argument, and in the heat of the moment, Parkinson said something she didn't mean."

It took a moment for Sally-Anne to realize that she no longer thought about being the better person, she simply was. She understood perfectly what was necessary, even if other people refused to see or accept it.

Fortunately for her, Professor McGonagall was not such a person that ignored the truth.

"I see. Well, Ms. Parkinson, I suggest you apologize to Ms. Perks."

"That's really not necessary," Sally-Anne said, certain she saw smoke coming out of Parkinson's ears. "I hold no ill will towards her."

"Regardless, that isn't the sort of language we tolerate at Hogwarts," McGonagall said, turning her attention back towards Parkinson. "Ms. Parkinson?"

Parkinson growled something that sounded like "I'm sorry", so Sally-Anne took it before she painted an even bigger target on herself.

"Apology accepted."

With that, Parkinson stormed off. Sally-Anne caught her muttering what she was sure was a threat, but chose to disregard it. She didn't want to risk causing more trouble.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. "Anything to say?"

"No."

McGonagall looked to Sally-Anne for confirmation. Sally-Anne gave a short nod.

"Very well. I trust you'll all have a pleasant remainder of your day."

After McGonagall left, Sally-Anne gave Malfoy a small, polite smile, hoping he got "I'm proud of you" out of it. She honestly felt proud of him. There was little doubt in her mind Parkinson would get herself reinserted into his life within the week, but at least he'd stood up for himself.

"Have a nice day, Malfoy."

He gave her no response. Not out loud, anyway.

You too, Perks.

Sally-Anne turned around before she lost her composure. She was finally getting somewhere with him. What a good day it was turning out to be.

After the match and possibly being kicked off the team, Harry was in a bad mood. He didn't want to talk to anyone, nor did he want to deal with anyone else's problems. He'd heard Parkinson shouting earlier, so he'd steered clear of that. Unfortunately, trouble always found him.

"Potter!"

"Leave me alone!"

"Ever think about how we found out about you and Chang?"

Harry paused. He'd never thought about how Malfoy had found out about it. With everything that had happened between him and Ellie, then he and Sally-Anne, he hadn't cared. Then he'd tried to put the entire thing out of his head to focus on working with Malfoy instead of against him. In all of that, not once had it occurred to him to ask how Malfoy had known.

"Alright, how?"

Parkinson's smirk grew even more annoying.

"Perks told us."

That caught Harry's attention. Alavel had said it was because of Rose that Sally-Anne was acting so strangely lately. But all of that had happened before Rose had died. Before everything had gone wrong.

Parkinson scrunched her nose and frowned.

"I think it was right after your match against Hufflepuff two years ago, come to think of it." She smirked again. "Funny how it works like that."

Harry struggled to think of that match. It felt like ages ago. He hardly remembered liking Cho back then, but if he had, then… of course he had. That was when he'd told Sally-Anne!

He made no attempt to hide his anger. It burned brightly inside him, causing him to shake with rage. How long had it taken her to go straight to Malfoy? How long had she been leaking his secrets? He'd told her about everything! Everything! He'd told Sally-Anne all about his life with the Dursleys, something he hated talking about. He'd hardly told Ellie about it, but he'd believed — honestly, truly believed — that he could trust Sally-Anne.

"See you around, Potter," Parkinson said. With a swing in her step, she sauntered off, leaving Harry alone in the corridor.

As bad a mood as he'd been in before setting off, he was even worse then. He never wanted to see Sally-Anne again. He couldn't trust anyone! Not Sally-Anne! Not Ellie! Not Hermione! Anyone! And worse yet, Sally-Anne had everyone else convinced she was nice. No, not nice, trustworthy.

I'm Sally-Anne Perks. Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets. Don't worry, I promise not to tell anyone.

"Anyone except Malfoy," Harry growled. "Is she trying to be a pureblood?"

The answer to that question seemed obvious once he remembered how she'd been treating Sirius: yes. She absolutely was. The way she spoke to Sirius, belittling him in front of everyone, trying to make him act "proper", it all pointed to one thing: Sally-Anne was trying to be a pureblood. If not that, then trying to fit in with them, so no one would ever question it. She was on Malfoy's side, for no one knew how long.

He didn't care. All he wanted was to be alone. Far away from everyone else who just tried to make his life miserable. That's all anyone ever did.

After Malfoy and Parkinson left, Sally-Anne returned to her thoughts on Harry. Was it something that had happened during their meetings? Sally-Anne hadn't thought about the meetings in a while. In fact, she'd avoided thinking about it at all. There was no telling what Hermione could do, so avoiding thinking about it seemed like the best decision.

How did their club factor into their plan? Was Harry really interested in teaching students to defend themselves? He sounded like he thought Hermione was raising an army instead. Assuming he was telling the truth then, what if… what if Hermione was raising an army? What if Umbridge had been right all along? If Dumbledore had told Hermione to do something, she'd have done it. She questioned some authority, but never Professor Dumbledore. What if she'd told him about the club, and he'd let her in on his real plan?

That was it, wasn't it? Sally-Anne had known everything was falling apart, but she hadn't realized how far gone everyone had become.

That left her with the question of their hands. What were they doing to their hands? Neville… wore gloves, so she couldn't be sure. Luna had worn a bandage on her hand for a time, but Ginny hadn't. Not at first, anyway. Then there was Hermione, who'd taken to wearing gloves early on. What was it? What were they doing?

Then, it was as if everything fell into place. Hermione had detention with Umbridge, then shortly thereafter started wearing gloves. Sally-Anne still didn't know why. Luna had detention with Umbridge, and kept her hands hidden. Then Sally-Anne had seen Luna go into Umbridge's office, and afterwards, Luna had kept her hand bandaged up. Then Umbridge had given Loretta detention, and she'd worn a bandage on her hand. Finally, Harry had just met with Umbridge, the idea for which had been Sally-Anne's, and he was suddenly wearing his Quidditch gloves.

Sally-Anne realized what had to be done. Whatever was happening involved Umbridge, and it was up to her to put a stop to it.

"Professor Umbridge, have you got a moment?"

Umbridge looked up from her work and smiled at Sally-Anne.

"Ms. Perks. How can I help you today?"

"I've got concerns to raise with you about the students," Sally-Anne said, closing the door behind her.

"Oh? Whatever could those be?"

Sally-Anne sat down, carefully avoiding looking as panicked as she felt.

"Every time a student has detention with you, they come back with some sort of injury to their hand. I'd like to know why."

The smile never faded from Umbridge's face.

"It's my form of punishment." She took out a black quill from her desk. "I call it a Black Punishment Quill. It draws ink by scratching words into the writer's hand. That way, they'll never forget what they've done." She gave a small chuckle. "It truly leaves an impression on the naughty student."

Sally-Anne took a moment to process that. A teacher in whom she'd placed her faith was punishing students through physical abuse. Not just that, but forcing them to harm themselves. It sounded more like torture than punishment.

"That… doesn't sound legal."

Umbridge took a letter with a Ministry seal on it and placed it on her desk between them.

"Authorization for the Black Punishment Quills from Minister Fudge himself. I assure you, unlike Dumbledore, I'm working quite within the boundaries of the law."

Sally-Anne felt dizzy, but quickly shook it off. She wanted to shout at Umbridge, because Sally-Anne herself knew that such a punishment would only encourage her friends. It was almost certainly what solidified Umbridge as a villain to Hermione, and likely the rest of her friends as well. Those quills were probably what made them believe they were doing the right thing, when to any rational person, they were clearly not.

If Sally-Anne tried raising her voice to Umbridge, it would be just as effective as it would've been to her friends. She was in a position of trust with Umbridge, and she didn't want to do anything to disturb that. At the same time, she wanted to stop it from happening. She'd done that to Luna, Hermione, and Loretta — Loretta of all people. She was a first-year. She didn't know any better.

"With all due respect, I think what you're doing is wrong," Sally-Anne said.

Umbridge shifted the letter on her desk.

"I'm acting well within the law, Ms. Perks."

"I didn't say 'illegal', I said 'wrong'. Unethical."

"I'm doing what is necessary."

Anyone could've told that Umbridge believed that. She believed that such an inhumane punishment was necessary, but it wasn't working. Sally-Anne knew that for a fact, but she had to explain so delicately, otherwise she risked causing more problems.

"I know for a fact that this isn't working," she said calmly. "You're not stopping students from breaking the rules, only making them more careful about it."

Umbridge folded the letter and put it away. Her eyes stared straight at Sally-Anne. Sally-Anne had her attention.

"Do you now? However could you know that?"

"Because I know what my friends are doing. On the surface, it seems harmless enough, but I think… I think it's growing into something worse. I think you're right; Dumbledore is trying to raise an army out of the students."

The smile on Umbridge's face grew wider.

"Really?"

"I think Harry is lying about Voldemort. I think he and his girlfriend Ellie — ex-girlfriend, now, I suppose — snuck out to the Forbidden Forest at the end of last year. Whatever they planned to do was interrupted when they found Rose's body. Harry made up the story about Voldemort for fear of being punished and most likely expelled. I don't think he understood the magnitude of his lie at first, but then Dumbledore picked it up for the exact reasons you keep saying: I think he wants to control the Ministry. Not for hostility, but for retaliation. I think he's believed that Minister Fudge has been running the Ministry improperly, and that he knows better."

Sally-Anne noticed a quill scribbling down notes out of the corner of her eye that hadn't been there before. It didn't surprise her; what she knew was about to change everything.

"Then the Minister put you in charge of Defence Against the Dark Arts, which leads me to another conclusion of mine."

"Which is?"

"Before I tell you, I want to make a deal," Sally-Anne said. "Everything my friends have done since then has been due to the influence of Rose and Professor Dumbledore. Removing them from Hogwarts wouldn't do any good. Monitoring them at all times might be necessary, but I know they'll see reason in time. I'm sure of it, so I'd like your word right now, while that quill is writing everything we say, that you won't expel or arrest them."

Umbridge didn't say anything at first. Sally-Anne's heart was beating much faster than she would've liked, and loud enough that she could hear it. She did everything she could to keep herself together.

Umbridge nodded towards the quill, and it started a new page. After a moment of silence, broken only by the scratching of the quill, Umbridge slid the parchment towards her.

Sally-Anne looked it over and saw that it was a contract, dictating the terms for which Sally-Anne had just asked. It also mentioned Sally-Anne's statement in an attached form. She glanced at the other piece of parchment and saw an "A-1" at the top, indicating the form to which it was referring.

"I'd also like to ask that you don't use those punishment quills anymore," Sally-Anne said. "Right now, they're using it as proof that you're a villain. Using such a harsh punishment on teenagers who believe the world is black and white will only make it harder for them to accept that you're just trying to do what's best for them."

"And what would you suggest instead?"

Sally-Anne paused for a moment, thinking on it. Harry was easy enough to figure out; just take away his broom, and he'd cooperate. Although once you actually took it away, you'd need something else. Hermione was trickier, but she had pressure points too. Probably her equipment from Rose, but Sally-Anne was still hesitant to mention any of it. It wasn't doing any immediate harm, apart from maybe Hermione's hair clip.

"Everyone's got something," she said. "A blanket punishment like that doesn't work as well. I was able to get the Slytherin team to back off Ron using something I'd learned about their captain. Once you've established that you won't tolerate their behavior, enforcing the rules won't be too hard once you find out what they want. And I know what each and every student in Hogwarts wants."

Umbridge stared at Sally-Anne as if she were trying to reach into her mind. Sally-Anne had no idea what it felt like to have her own mind read, but, after she'd explained that wizards could read minds without some special pendant, her mother had insisted that she learn to fight it. While Sally-Anne wasn't the best at Occlumency, she was confident she was good enough to keep out basic attempts.

After a moment of a somewhat creepy stare, Umbridge nodded to the quill. It scribbled down more terms to their contract, which Sally-Anne reviewed.

"Now," Umbridge said. "About what your friends are doing."