Year Two - Chapter Twenty

My eyes did not betray me. Though I wished they had, they did not. There was a nifty-looking Quibbler's special edition on the breakfast table, and it recited the glorious revelation of Lockhart's fraudulent schemes. He had come clean during the Christmas Party for the Valiant Wizards, having publicly attested in front of a lot of elderly, well-respected wizards just how much of a fraudulent monster he was.

It was amusing to watch the look of surprise on Lockhart's face through the picture on the Quibbler, as well as the fact that in no small part, the man could no longer keep himself from spouting the truth. An overdose of Veritaserum, from a prankster who had somehow gotten inside Lockhart's house without tripping any alarm nor setting off any defensive charm.

Ah, House Elves, the bane of all short-sighted wizards.

I looked up from my Quibbler towards Dumbledore's expression, and the Headmaster himself looked at me with a slightly affronted, slightly tired expression. He gave me a single nod, and I grinned as I resumed my reading of the latest sighting of Nargles.

"With such short notice, we will have to find a new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor," Dumbledore spoke as I went for my regular tea and sherbet lemon afternoon. In just a few days, the lessons would resume.

"You could teach," I pointed out. "Though there's a curse on the position, I'm sure it won't count if it's only half a year."

The Headmaster chuckled at that, and shook his head. "No," he said. "My time, sparse as it is, cannot take a further hit with teaching. Though I do miss the chance to witness the stars in children's eyes," he glanced at his tea cup. "I will be calling on an old friend to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"That will make Professor Snape slightly angry," I pointed out. "Wouldn't you let him do just these six months? He really would enjoy them."

The Headmaster stared at me as if I had grown a second head. He then bemusedly looked up towards the hat. "Sometimes I do wonder if a mistake wasn't made."

"No mistakes, Albus," the hat grumbled, "Only sheer determination in not wanting to become a Slytherin. I didn't give those poor snakes' a fair chance at surviving the end of the year with him in their House. At least the Ravenclaws have the common sense not to bother with the dangerous snake in their midst."

I stared at the hat. "H-Hey!" I exclaimed, half-spluttering. "I am not a dangerous snake. I'm a proud eagle, raven, condor, whatever-that-flies!"

Fawkes took that as the cue to emit a soft musical thrill from its perch.

"Why not a humble mongoose, Mister Umbrus?" Dumbledore remarked, his lips forming a smile.

"Because then, I wouldn't be able to fly," I pointed out. "Once I've learned how to stick the hovering and the banishing charm to objects, I'll find a way to get flying down too. Then, I'll soar." I grinned. "It's going to be interesting."

The Headmaster nodded. "Achieving flight is something many wizards have tried, and failed. Only few managed, and those few...are best left forgotten."

"Then I'll try to become one that can be properly remembered," I answered.

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, and then glanced over to the hat. "Have you already some thought about next year's plan, Mister Umbrus? For I'd like some warning, should something require my immediate attention."

I laughed at that, shaking my head. "Do not worry, Headmaster. I doubt I'll be doing something quite as grandiose as striking down a basilisk anytime soon," I glanced away. "It's not the kind of thing I wish to make into a habit, you know? Challenging mythical beasts, saving possessed damsels in distress...I don't want to do that. Rather, I don't want there to be a reason for me to have to do that." I grimaced. "I'm not explaining properly, am I?"

"If there was no need for a hero, then the world would be peaceful indeed, Mister Umbrus," Dumbledore nodded. "Myself, I would perhaps practice some much needed rest."

I took a sip of the tea, and then gingerly looked at the phoenix. Fawkes looked back, as if sensing my gaze on it. "I do not know whether to envy you or not, Headmaster," I wheezed out. "To have such kindness and good in your heart, what terrible things you went through, and just how strong you are to have pulled yourself past them..." I looked back at him, "I cannot fathom them, but sometimes, I do wonder if the world would be a better place without hardships, or if the hardships are what makes the good men worth looking up to."

"Good cannot be cheapened because it comes easily, Mister Umbrus, for in the end an act of good is a choice that can be given, just as easily as it can be refused," the Headmaster answered. "To do good, whether it is easy or hard, is still an act of good."

I grinned at that, and then finished my tea break. "You know, Headmaster," I hummed as I made to leave, "If I ever change my mind on making myself a cottage island, I hope I'll become half the good man you are. Though I will do my utmost best to keep away from any and all titles. I'll think of the poor journalists having to write them all down, after all."

"I am sure, Mister Umbrus," Dumbledore said from his desk, "That you will do great things. That is why, I hope you'll forgive me if I ask you to return the books Lockhart allowed you to loan out of the library before the end of the week?"

"I'll have them returned by the day's end, Headmaster," I added.

Thus, it was to my surprise that as I finished returning the books I came face to face with Amanda, Megan and Wayne. I looked at them and waved, receiving three waves back. "You're back one day early, aren't you?" I asked, staring at the three's strangely wooden forms. Had they forgotten how to breathe or something?

"Wanted to come back early," Amanda said. "Couldn't stay away," she added. "Thought you'd be lonely all by yourself."

"Yeah mate," Wayne said, grinning and giving me a pat on the shoulder. "Wouldn't want you to feel lonely reading your books or whatever."

"What they said," Megan said, with a strangely sour look. I looked at the three of them.

I dimly recalled Hermione heading for Lockhart after my own trip, and she had done so in the canon rails to get the permission slip to pull out the book on the Polyjuice Potion. Admittedly, I had used that knowledge to get a permission slip to pull out a few dark books myself, but that was then and this was now.

"Well," I said, "I guess that means we've got the day to ourselves. How about a nice trip to the lake's shore for some fishing?" I smiled in their direction, and the trio smiled back. So, somehow, I dimly realized that the trio had believed me to be the Heir of Slytherin. The knowledge that the basilisk had been utterly defeated had been kept quiet, not even told to the Weasley's extended progeny.

Thus, to them, a petrifying dark arts user was around. I had pulled out Dark Arts books from the library, and I didn't put it past Hermione's nosy attitude to find those books out. Gods, I had become the antagonist for the second book, hadn't I? Even though I had dealt the killing blow to the basilisk, the trio was fishing for information.

"You got any idea who petrified Mrs Norris?" Wayne asked, "It was wicked, wasn't it?"

"Poor cat," I said with a sigh, shaking my head. "I can't stand people who hurt animals. She's a cutey, you know? She likes belly rubs, and I'm sad she's not around. Poor Mister Filch's devastated."

"Really?" Megan asked. "You're friends with Filch, of all people?" the disgust on her face was evident.

"I do not judge people by their status, or their job. You try cleaning the Weasley twins' mess with but a mop and a bucket of magical detergent," I retorted hotly. "He has my respect, and that's that."

"He does a valid job for Hogwarts' benefit," Amanda said. "But don't you have any idea who could have done such a thing? Really Dark Arts had to be used, someone must have been involved."

"What can I say," I shrugged. "I don't have a clue. By the way, did you like the pink ribbon I gifted you? I know it was a bit of a cheap gift, but I didn't get the transfiguration down quite right to get you something better-"

"Man, talk about being cheap on Christmas gifts," Wayne muttered. "Mine was definitely better."

"Being an orphan who lives in an orphanage, I can't pretty much do much better than use transfiguration to make my Christmas Gifts, Wayne," I smiled sadly in his direction, "But you would know that, if you were Wayne."

Three seconds later, I had three startled second year students dragged petrified straight into Professor Snape's office, much to the man's surprise. "Professor!" I piped in jovially, "Someone stole supplies for a Polyjuice potion from your cupboard," I quietly let the three petrified students down. "Would you think the capture of the three criminals warrant some points?"

Professor Snape's vicious smile grew only more at the sight of the faces turning into those of three familiar dunderheads.

Even more when he realized that Harry Potter had lost the draw, and ended up becoming Megan Jones of all people.

"Ah Potter...I believe the skirt suits you," he sneered, "Just like the punishment you three will receive."

Spluttering was had. Thirty points were accrued for the glory of Ravenclaw.

Clearly, this year was off to a great second half.

But if that was the case, why was Remus Lupin teaching at Hogwarts right now, then!?