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Harry stumbled through the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room, his right hand clenched into a fist. His breath came out in uneven gasps, and his shoulders ached from tension. He had hoped—prayed, really—that he could just sneak into the dormitory, collapse onto his bed, and deal with the aftermath of Umbridge’s punishment in silence.
That hope was dashed the moment Seamus Finnigan looked up from where he was sitting near the fire. His blue eyes brightened for a second when he saw Harry, but the happiness immediately faded into concern as he took in his boyfriend’s pale face, the stiff way he carried himself, and most tellingly, the way Harry kept his right hand pressed tightly against his robes.
“Harry.” Seamus was up in an instant, his voice laced with worry. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Harry mumbled, trying to sidestep him. “Just tired.”
“Bollocks.” Seamus grabbed his wrist, not rough, but firm enough to keep him from pulling away. “Don’t lie to me, love. What happened?”
“I told you, it’s nothing.” Harry tried to twist free, but Seamus tightened his grip slightly. Not enough to hurt—but enough to make Harry wince.
Seamus caught it immediately. His eyes darkened. “Oh, that’s it,” he said, his voice dangerously calm. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”
Harry sighed, defeated, and slowly turned his hand over.
The words I must not tell lies were carved into his skin, the fresh wound glistening in the firelight.
For a second, there was nothing. Just silence.
Then—chaos.
Lavender gasped loudly, clapping a hand over her mouth. Dean and Neville shot to their feet. Ron swore loudly. Even the first-years sitting near the fireplace scrambled backward, eyes wide with horror.
“She did that to you?” Dean demanded, his hands balling into fists.
“What the hell—” Ron was already grabbing his wand, face red with fury. “That—that hag—”
“UMBRIDGE DID THIS?” Seamus bellowed, voice shaking.
Hermione, who had been talking quietly with Ginny, looked up at the commotion. The moment her eyes landed on Harry’s hand, her face went deathly pale before quickly turning crimson with rage.
Harry barely had time to react before Hermione lunged forward, grabbing his wrist and inspecting the wound. Her grip was gentle, but her hands were shaking. “Harry,” she said, her voice tight. “Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
Harry swallowed thickly. “It’s… a Blood Quill,” he admitted. “The writing carves into the skin every time you write a line.”
A dangerous silence fell over Hermione.
Then she exploded.
“That—THAT EVIL, SADISTIC—” Hermione’s voice was practically a snarl. “SHE TORTURED YOU, HARRY! SHE LITERALLY—LITERALLY—USED DARK MAGIC ON A STUDENT!”
Across the common room, someone kicked a chair over in fury.
Seamus was shaking. His fingers curled into fists, his entire body trembling with raw, unfiltered rage. His jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap.
“Oh, that pink bitch,” he whispered, and it was deadly.
Seamus had never been one to keep his temper under control, but this—this was something different. This wasn’t just rage. This was vengeance burning in his veins.
“You tortured him,” Seamus growled, staring at the wound. “You tortured my boyfriend.”
Harry reached for him, trying to calm him down. “Seamus, don’t—”
Seamus snapped.
“Oh, I will.”
“We’re hexing her,” Hermione announced, her voice filled with steel.
Harry blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” she snapped, already grabbing her wand. “Seamus is right. There is no way we’re letting her get away with this.”
Seamus nodded sharply. “First stop—the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey needs to see this. Then—” His grip on his wand tightened. “Then we make that hag regret ever laying a hand on you.”
The common room erupted into agreement.
“Blow her office up, Seamus!” Dean yelled.
“She deserves worse than that,” Ron growled.
“Let’s storm the bloody castle,” Neville muttered.
Even the first-years were glaring, and that’s when Harry realized—this wasn’t just his fight anymore.
This was war.
Madam Pomfrey nearly fainted when she saw Harry’s hand. She immediately summoned a dozen different healing salves, muttering furiously under her breath about “Ministry interference” and “unacceptable punishments.”
Seamus was pacing the entire time, fists clenched, steam practically coming out of his ears. Hermione had to force him to sit down, though it didn’t do much to calm him.
“Harry,” Madam Pomfrey said after she finished treating the wound as best as she could, “I must report this to Professor McGonagall. This is beyond—”
“Go ahead,” Seamus said darkly, standing up. “But we’ve got unfinished business.”
“Seamus—”
“I’m not letting this go, Harry.”
Seamus turned and walked out of the Hospital Wing without waiting for an answer. Hermione followed, wand already in hand, her knuckles white.
Harry groaned, rubbing his temples, before following.
The door to Umbridge’s office slammed open with a bang that shook the walls.
Seamus stormed in first, his wand raised, his body practically humming with rage. Hermione was right beside him, her eyes dark and unrelenting.
Umbridge looked up, startled. “Mr. Finnigan, Miss Granger, what is the meaning of—”
“Bombarda!” Seamus roared.
Her desk exploded, sending ink bottles and parchment flying.
“Expelliarmus!” Hermione snapped, and Umbridge’s wand flew out of her hand.
“You tortured Harry,” Hermione spat. “You think you can get away with it?”
Umbridge opened her mouth—probably to call for help—but Seamus was already moving.
“Incarcerous!” he barked, and thick ropes shot from his wand, wrapping around Umbridge’s arms and legs, binding her tightly to her chair.
Umbridge let out a strangled shriek, struggling wildly.
“HOW DARE YOU—YOU FILTHY, DISRESPECTFUL CHILDREN—”
“Shut up!” Hermione snapped.
“You hurt Harry,” Seamus growled, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea how much I want to hex you right now?”
“You filthy half-blood—”
“Confringo!” Seamus shouted, his wand sparking dangerously as he aimed it at the wall beside her. The stone shattered on impact, sending cracks along the edges.
Umbridge screamed.
“SEAMUS!” Harry grabbed his wrist. “You’ll bring the whole castle down!”
Seamus was shaking with rage, breathing hard.
The door suddenly slammed open behind them.
Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore entered, robes billowing, their expressions sharp.
“What is the meaning of this?” McGonagall demanded.
Hermione turned sharply. “Professor, look at Harry’s hand.”
McGonagall’s sharp gaze landed on Harry, and the moment she saw the angry red letters on his skin, her entire expression darkened.
Dumbledore’s face turned to stone. “Delores.” His voice was deathly quiet.
His eyes were blazing with fury—more fury than Harry had ever seen in them before.
“You dare to lay a hand on my students?” he asked softly, dangerously. “You dare to torture a child in my school?”
Umbridge let out a breathless, enraged shriek. “Albus Dumbledore, these children have attacked me! They have no respect for authority! I demand that they—”
Dumbledore flicked his wand.
“Oscausi.”
A jet of golden light struck Umbridge in the face.
And her mouth vanished.
She let out a strangled, muffled shriek, her hands twitching wildly as she tried to scream—but no sound came out.
Seamus let out a breathless laugh. “Holy shite.”
Dumbledore’s expression remained as sharp as cut glass. “You will not be speaking for a while, Madam Umbridge. Perhaps that will give you time to reflect.”
“Minerva.” Dumbledore’s voice was clipped. “Contact the Ministry. Inform them that Madam Umbridge has been found using illegal dark objects to harm students. And inform Fudge,” his mouth curled into something that was not a smile, “that if he wishes to retrieve her, he may do so personally.”
McGonagall’s lips twitched in satisfaction. “Right away, Headmaster.”
Harry reached for his hand, lacing their fingers together. “Seamus,” he whispered, pulling him close.
Seamus turned, immediately wrapping his arms around Harry, holding him close against his chest. His fingers ran through Harry’s hair, grounding them both.
Seamus grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Harry’s temple. “Told ya, love.” He smirked at the still-silent Umbridge. “No chance in hell we were letting this go.”
Dumbledore glanced at him, eyes twinkling just slightly. “I would advise you to be more careful with explosive spells in the future, Mr. Finnigan.”
Seamus shrugged. “No promises, Professor.”
Harry squeezed his hand, warmth spreading in his chest.
Dumbledore’s gaze softened slightly as he looked at them, and he gave a small nod. “You were right not to let this go.”
Seamus Finnigan was fire.
And now, Umbridge was burning.
By breakfast, the entire school knew what Umbridge had done to Harry.
It started with Gryffindor House. After Seamus and Hermione stormed Umbridge’s office, Dean and Ron wasted no time spreading the story across the tower. By morning, every single Gryffindor was seething with rage.
By the time Harry and Seamus made their way down to the Great Hall, a riot was brewing.
The moment Harry stepped through the doors, the hall erupted.
“THERE HE IS!”
“Oi, Harry—show us your hand!”
Harry flinched as students literally turned in their seats to look at him. He had barely made it three steps inside before people started rising to their feet.
Seamus, ever the protective boyfriend, yanked him close. “Oi, back the hell off!” he barked. “He doesn’t need the whole bloody school gawking at him!”
But it was too late.
It wasn’t just Gryffindor House anymore—Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were furious. Even a handful of Slytherins looked uncomfortable.
The story had spread.
“She carved into your hand?” Hannah Abbott gasped, looking downright ill. “Like—permanently?”
“Dark magic in a detention?!” Terry Boot’s voice was incredulous. “That’s illegal!”
“Umbridge tortured him!” Dean called out furiously. “And Dumbledore vanished her mouth!”
A beat of silence—then—
The Great Hall exploded into noise.
“GOOD!” shouted someone from Ravenclaw.
“BLOODY RIGHT HE DID!” Seamus roared. “SHE DESERVED WORSE!”
At the staff table, McGonagall stood abruptly. “ENOUGH!”
The hall fell silent.
McGonagall’s lips were tight as she surveyed the students. “Yes, Madam Umbridge’s actions were heinous, and yes, they have been reported to the Ministry.”
Seamus scoffed loudly. “Like the Ministry’s gonna do anything.”
A rumble of agreement echoed across the hall.
McGonagall’s mouth twitched—because Seamus wasn’t wrong.
She glanced at Harry, then sighed. “Hogwarts does not tolerate cruelty against its students. Madam Umbridge has been removed from power. But—” she added sharply before the hall could cheer, “this does not mean we riot. I will not have my students turning this school into a war zone.”
“Too late,” Ron muttered.
McGonagall shot him a look but otherwise ignored it. “Eat your breakfast,” she finished. “And if I hear of anyone attempting retaliation, you will deal with me.”
She turned and left the hall, but it didn’t matter.
The students weren’t done plotting.
Seamus glared at the high table, fingers still curled around his wand. “What if they just cover it up?” he muttered to Harry. “You know Fudge is gonna do everything he can to save his own arse.”
“He’s coming to Hogwarts,” Hermione murmured, confirming their worst fears.
Harry blinked. “What?”
“I overheard McGonagall telling Flitwick. Fudge is coming today. He’s demanding a ‘review of the situation.’”
Seamus sneered. “Oh, I’ll give him a review, alright.”
Harry groaned, already exhausted.
The students didn’t riot.
But they did assemble.
By the time Cornelius Fudge stormed through the main doors, an entire army of students was waiting for him.
Gryffindors stood at the front, Seamus and Hermione leading the charge. Behind them, clusters of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and even a handful of Slytherins lingered, arms crossed.
Fudge stopped abruptly, looking alarmed at the sea of angry teenagers blocking the entrance.
Beside him, Percy Weasley stood stiffly, clutching a clipboard. His face was unreadable, but his grip on the parchment was tight. Behind them, two Aurors exchanged wary glances.
Dumbledore stood at the top of the stairs, utterly calm. “Cornelius,” he greeted. “How nice of you to visit.”
Fudge scowled. “I’ve come to deal with this slanderous situation—”
“SLANDEROUS?” Seamus exploded.
Fudge took an actual step back as Seamus stormed forward.
“SHE CARVED INTO HIS SKIN, YOU BLOODY BASTARD!” Seamus shouted, pointing at Harry. “LOOK AT HIS HAND! LOOK AT IT!”
Harry, despite himself, raised his hand and shoved it in Fudge’s face.
Fudge recoiled, eyes widening in genuine shock as he took in the raw, inflamed letters.
Harry curled his fingers into a fist. “That’s what your Ministry-approved Professor did to me.”
For a long moment, Fudge didn’t speak. His lips pressed together as if processing what he was seeing.
Then—he scoffed.
“Oh, come now,” he said, voice dismissive. “Surely, you’re exaggerating—”
The students boiled.
“EXAGGERATING?!” Hermione shrieked.
“DOES THIS LOOK FAKE TO YOU?!” Dean thundered.
“YOU SPINELESS, USELESS—” Seamus practically lunged before Hermione grabbed him.
Harry clenched his jaw. “She used a Blood Quill, Minister. That’s Dark magic.”
Fudge sputtered. “Now see here, Potter—”
“No,” Hermione snapped. “You see here. Your precious Undersecretary used illegal magic to torture students. And now—you’re covering for her.”
Fudge’s face turned red. “Now, see here, young lady—”
“NO, YOU SEE HERE, YOU CORRUPT LITTLE GOBLIN!” Seamus roared. “YOU’RE NOT SWEEPING THIS UNDER THE RUG!”
A murmur of agreement rippled across the students.
Harry stared in disbelief. He had never seen Hogwarts united like this before.
Even the Slytherins weren’t defending Umbridge.
Fudge realized this too—because his face paled.
“This—this is absurd!” he snapped, turning back to Dumbledore. “Surely you can’t allow this level of—of insubordination!”
Dumbledore simply smiled. “They are defending their fellow student, Minister.” His blue eyes twinkled. “Surely, you wouldn’t punish them for that.”
Fudge bristled.
But before he could reply, someone unexpected stepped forward.
“Enough,” Percy Weasley’s voice cut through the noise.
Silence.
Fudge blinked, startled. “What—”
Percy’s expression was unreadable. His hands trembled slightly, but his eyes—his eyes were blazing.
For years, Percy Weasley had obeyed the Ministry without question. He had followed Fudge loyally, believing the system would protect those who needed it.
But now—
Now he was looking at Harry’s scarred hand.
Now he was looking at his little brother’s best friend.
A boy he had practically helped raise.
Percy took a step forward. His face was eerily calm. “Minister,” he said. “With all due respect…”
Fudge turned toward him. “Yes, Weasley?”
“...You are a disgrace.”
The entire hall went silent.
Fudge stiffened. “Excuse me?”
Percy’s hands were shaking. But not with fear.
With rage.
“You’ve ignored corruption for years,” Percy continued, voice steady. “You let Umbridge do whatever she pleased. You covered for her when she tried to undermine Dumbledore. And now—” he took another step forward— “you’re standing here, making excuses, when Harry Potter has been tortured in your name.”
Harry’s breath caught.
Percy’s voice was deadly. “You disgust me.”
Fudge’s face turned purple. “Weasley, you will hold your tongue—”
“Or what?” Percy’s wand was already in his hand.
The students gasped.
Fudge’s eyes bulged. “Are you threatening me?!”
Percy’s lips curled. “No,” he said. “I’m warning you.”
And then—before anyone could stop him—
“Anteoculatia!”
A burst of magic shot from Percy’s wand, striking Fudge in the face.
The Minister of Magic let out a panicked screech.
And then—right there, in the middle of the Great Hall—HUGE, CURLING ANTLERS burst from Fudge’s head.
The Great Hall ERUPTED.
“PERCY JUST GAVE THE MINISTER ANTLERS!”
“OH MY GOD—”
“WEEEEEASLEY IS OUR KING!”
Seamus HOWLED with laughter, clutching Harry as the scene descended into chaos.
Fudge staggered backwards, eyes bulging as he grabbed at his new antlers in horror.
Percy snorted. “Looks good on you, Minister.”
Dumbledore, ever the picture of grace, hummed. “I must say, it is quite an improvement.”
McGonagall choked on air.
Fudge was LIVID. “YOU—YOU DARE ATTACK ME?!”
Percy didn’t flinch. “I’d do it again,” he said coldly.
The entire student body lost it.
Even McGonagall looked vaguely impressed.
Fudge, panting with rage, turned to the Aurors. “ARREST SOMEONE!”
The Aurors looked at each other.
Then, very deliberately, they turned back to Fudge.
And didn’t move.
The Minister’s face fell.
Percy, still shaking, tossed his Ministry badge on the ground. “I quit.”
The Great Hall erupted in wolf whistles.
Dumbledore, amused, tilted his head. “I don’t suppose you’d like to put your skills to use at Hogwarts, Mr. Weasley?”
Percy glanced at him, then at McGonagall. “Is the Defense position open?”
McGonagall smirked. “It is now.”
Seamus grabbed Harry.
And kissed him—right there, in front of everyone.
Harry gasped against his lips, startled—then melted into it.
The Great Hall roared louder.
And for the first time in forever—
Harry felt safe.