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The Daring Win	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 8178 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Thirty-Five—Shatter the Shackles
“Why are you using a different wand, Miss Dolores?”
Harry sked the question when the two of them were at dinner that night. Sirius had eaten hastily and run upstairs to be with Lupin, since it was the night of the full moon and his transformation might begin at any moment. At least Dolores knew he had drunk the Wolfsbane each time he was supposed to.
Dolores considered the thought of the Elder Wand. There seemed to be no doubt that it was what it seemed to be. She had tried casting, and her spells were exponentially more powerful. She had used her first wand to cast a spell that would detect the kind of core a wand had, and had watched the cloudy image of a thestral form, rather than the usual phoenix, dragon, or unicorn. That matched with the legends that said the core of the Elder Wand was a thestral hair.
There was also no doubt from Dumbledore’s devastated, blank stare that he had been more than sorry to lose the wand. He had opened his mouth to say something when Aurors came to escort him from St. Mungo’s, but then closed it without speaking. His eyes had remained pinned to the wand as he turned away.
“Miss Dolores?”
Dolores smiled as she glanced at Harry. It was ridiculous, if one looked at the bare facts, for her to entrust this secret to a mere child like Harry. On the other hand, she would trust him more than she would Sirius or Lupin. Or Snape, who thankfully would be moving to his new premises tomorrow.
And there was at least one thing the wand might help with, one decision Harry alone could make.
“Harry,” she said, and from the tone she used he must have known it wasn’t just in response to his question. His brow wrinkled, and he sat up and gave her his full attention. “Do you still want to attend Hogwarts?”
Harry ate a few more bites of his steak before he responded, his movements slow. Dolores waited patiently. She knew he was considering it deeply instead of giving the expected, kneejerk response.
“I think so,” Harry finally said. “I don’t know Hogwarts myself, but it feels like I do, because Sirius and Remus have told me so many stories about it. I know about the Houses and the Sorting and the secret passages and the point systems and about half the professors. And I don’t know anything about Durmstrang or Beauxbatons. I mean, not in comparison.”
“Plus, you would have to use Translation charms almost constantly or else learn the language,”
“Yeah.” Harry pushed his plate aside and focused fully on her. “I know Dumbledore is a problem if he won’t obey those sanctions, but I don’t want to let him push me out of attending Hogwarts. I want to go. And I want him to either obey the rules or leave.”
Dolores smiled. “Good. Then I think I might have a way to let you attend Hogwarts and have everything you want.”
Harry looked at her with those bright green eyes that would be tricking people out of their secrets before he was much older. “How is that, though? If he came up to you in hospital and he won’t obey the sanctions—”
Dolores took out the Elder Wand and put it down on the table next to her. Harry shut up and stared narrowly at it. After a second, he made a hasty gesture with one hand, as if he had been going to grab it and then prevented himself from doing so.
“What does the wand’s magic feel like to you?” Dolores asked quietly.
“Greasy,” Harry said. “Bloody.” He hesitated. “I was going to say evil, but I don’t think it’s evil. It’s just—strong.”
Dolores nodded. “This is one of the Deathly Hallows. The Elder Wand. I took it from Dumbledore by Disarming him. And it seems to have decided that I’m its new master.” She eyed the wand. She was remembering other stories about it now, like that it would trick and betray its master to be with a new one as soon as possible. She intended to keep it locked in her room most of the time and use her old wand, but it wasn’t impossible the wand would manage to find a way out of it even there.
In that case, she would hire someone to make a replica. The only thing that mattered was Dumbledore thinking she held the wand and was its master.
“And you think that if Dumbledore thinks you have it, he’ll let me go to Hogwarts?”
Dolores reached out to put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. She didn’t blame him for his skepticism. She would have felt exactly the same in his place. “Not that so much as that it will take away one of his best lines of defense and dent his confidence. I think that he’ll be considerably less likely to think he can get away with everything.”
“He still has his reputation.”
“Sullied, after his encounter with the Wizengamot. He will not give up trying, I think; he is more likely to be cautious and circumspect now. And we have a powerful weapon that we can wield against him if need be.”
“I don’t want you to.”
Dolores blinked. She had anticipated a reaction more like the one she was certain Sirius would have had, if she had felt like trusting him with the secret of the Elder Wand. Joy and glee and anticipation. “Why not?”
“Because I remember all the stories you read me, of the Elder Wand turning on its master.” Harry was staring at her with his brow furrowed so fiercely that his scar looked like a cloud instead of a lightning bolt. “I don’t want that to happen to you. I want you to stay alive and be my—guardian.”
Dolores reached out and hooked an arm around Harry’s shoulders, tugging him close enough to lightly kiss his forehead. “You don’t have to worry about that. I know the stories, too, and I’m going to use the Elder Wand as little as possible.”
“It might still betray you in an attempt to get away,” Harry said, but he leaned into her, and his voice was lighter than before.
“Then we’ll have to make sure that no one knows I have it, unless we need it to intimidate Dumbledore.” Dolores smiled a little into his hair at the thought of being able to do that. “I doubt he’ll be eager to advertise its loss. Can you keep a secret?”
Harry pulled back and gave her such an offended look that Dolores laughed and kissed his scar again. “What’s the point of asking me that question?” Harry asked flatly. “Of course you think I can, or you wouldn’t have told me this secret in the first place.”
“My apologies, Harry.” Dolores swept his hair out of his face, and knew that she probably looked doting as she smiled down at him. On the other hand, there was nothing wrong with affection—in its place. “Of course you’re right. I just don’t want you telling Sirius and Lupin.”
Harry shook his head slowly. “I’m not going to do that again. They were wrong about you, and I think they’re wrong about some other things, too.” He paused and twirled his fork between his fingers. “Sirius was in prison for so long, and Remus is a werewolf. Do you think that can warp your perspective?”
Dolores nodded. “It could do that.”
“They just seem so suspicious of other people all the time,” Harry muttered. “They wanted to ambush Snape at dinner the other night and play pranks on him, even though he hadn’t done anything to them.”
Dolores sighed. She already had some confirmation that Harry was smarter than many of the adults in his life, but here was an additional piece of evidence. “I think you’re right, Harry, that their perspective is damaged. As long as they don’t try to get you to play the pranks or lie to me, you can understand that and still be friends with them.”
“They do that some of the time.” Harry waved his hand in an airy, adult gesture. “I just tell them that I’m not interested, and they back off.”
Dolores chuckled again and let Harry go, with one soft tap to the top of his head, where his hair was misbehaving as usual. “Let’s discuss some of the letters that we could write to Dumbledore to get him to back off now that I have the Elder Wand.”
Harry’s eyes brightened, and they finished up the pudding the Potter house-elves served in a very enjoyable manner.
*
A very polite owl arrived the next day. Dolores actually hadn’t ever seen a pure black eagle-owl, or one with such beautiful manners. It landed calmly next to her and didn’t beg for a scrap of her roast, but took it gracefully from her fingers and made sure she opened the letter before it flew to another perch across the room.
The letter was from Dumbledore, of course. Dolores didn’t know why she expected anything different. She ate the rest of her meal and considered the letter at length, sometimes casting spells to make sure that he’d put no charms on it and there was no invisible ink hiding any words.
Dear Dolores,
I know that you understand what a treasure you have acquired. And also, how dangerous that treasure can be in the wrong hands.
We might disagree about whether yours are the wrong hands. Very well, let that disagreement rest between us. But you should consider this: you are only protected by a few wards on the Potter house, and the house-elves. Hogwarts has many more defenses, and many more house-elves. I can do things with the wand that you cannot, when you have only “known” it for a few days.
Whose hands are really the right ones? Who can keep the wand from harming dear Harry?
Please let me know when you plan to return the wand. I don’t think owls are secure enough for this exchange. I will be able and happy to meet you at any place of your choosing, and give you whatever amount of money you want.
He’d signed it with all his names and titles.
Dolores snorted a little, and glanced sideways at the wand. It lay there on the table, not rolling or vibrating or doing anything else unusual that would call attention to itself. But it draw attention anyway. Dolores shook her head. “Do you want to know how much money your former master values you at?” she asked, and then she paused. “No, actually, he’s letting me make that determination. I wonder if that’s how he plans to get your loyalty away from me? By making me be the one who sets the price and shows that I don’t value you enough?”
The wand lay there.
“He seems to think that I can understand I have the Elder Wand and yet not know that the master needs to be defeated in combat.” Dolores moved on to the fluffy meringue that the house-elves had decided was for pudding today. Honestly, they more often decided the menu than she or Harry did, except for birthday parties. “Well, it doesn’t matter since I won’t be giving you back to him anyway, but he seriously underestimates my intelligence. It’s almost sad.”
The wand had no opinion.
“Right,” Dolores murmured, and turned to write back the blandest, politest note in the history of bland, polite notes.
Dear Professor Dumbledore,
I do understand what I have, and I agree that mine are not the best hands to have it for the world, maybe. But they are the best hands for Harry. You have shown that you can’t follow the rules, and you’ll never leave Harry alone. So I am going to decline to return the wand. I hope you continue well and that you obey the rest of the sanctions so Harry can attend Hogwarts.
Best,
Dolores Umbridge.
*
Dolores sat quietly in the front row of seats that faced the Wizengamot, keeping her eyes patiently and penitently on the floor. Well, let the others think that she was patient and penitent. Dolores knew perfectly well what she really felt like, but in the middle of what was half a trial wasn't the time to show it.
Such a boon for our side that Dumbledore never learned that lesson.
Harry raised his head next to her as the Aurors escorted Dumbledore into the room. Dolores took his hand and pressed it. Harry flashed her a fleeting smile. "I wasn't really upset," he mouthed back at her, and then continued to study the Aurors, and the Headmaster, with an intense gaze.
Dolores took his word for it. Harry knew better than to lie to her about things like that, now.
The Wizengamot settled with a great deal of mutters and blowing noses and rustling robes, and then Madam Greengrass made her way forwards to the edge of the railing to stare unsmilingly down at Dumbledore.
"You just couldn't let things rest the way they were, could you, Albus?" She shook her head. "You always were as impatient as someone half your age."
"I don't believe that we were called together to entertain random opinions, Madam Greengrass." Dumbledore could keep his head up and do haughty with the best of them, Dolores had to admit. "I believe we were called here to learn whether I violated the sanctions that the Wizengamot imposed on me."
"Whether," said several voices at the same time, which at least told Dolores that the Wizengamot was as tired of Dumbledore's excuses as she was. Those members exchanged glances now.
"Of course you did, Albie boy," said Madam Greengrass, and cackled when Dumbledore gave her a stony stare. "Never did learn to like that nickname, did you? It ought to cure you of calling random students 'my boy' and 'my girl.'"
"I have already expressed my opinion on this waste of time."
"Waste of time, really," said Madam Greengrass. None of the others were challenging her, Dolores thought, so if she wasn't in charge of the investigation, at the very least they'd decided to go along with her. She turned and thumped her cane on the floor hard enough to make Harry jump. "I call Dolores Umbridge to tell what she witnessed."
Dolores started to stand, and then paused. Dumbledore was giving her the deepest look of hatred she'd ever received.
A look like that from someone like him is a pleasure and an honor, she reminded herself, and returned it coolly as she moved past him and settled into the witness's chair, which was more comfortable than she remembered it being.
"Please tell me what you witnessed, Madam Umbridge."
“This is what happened to me,” Dolores said emotionlessly. She had to be calm and cool here, but she wouldn’t let them forget that she had been the victim in this, not a mere witness to Dumbledore’s wrongdoing.
She spoke quietly of her trip to St. Mungo’s, the way Dumbledore had approached her—though not the shocking things he’d shared—and how he had blocked her passage down the corridor. How he’d drawn his wand.
The shocked murmurs kept getting louder and louder, until Dolores could think of them as shocked murmurs only for convenience’s sake; they were really shocked shouts. Dolores finished speaking and sat with her head bowed and her hands folded in front of her. She let herself shake a little, as though feeling the fear now that she had when she realized Dumbledore had blocked her way in the corridor.
A quick peek up through her eyelashes showed that Dumbledore was staring at her with his jaw set, and most of the Wizengamot looked ready to faint through their outrage. It took several thumps of Madam Greengrass’s cane to get anyone to pay real attention. She stood up then and spread her arms, as if she was going to embrace all of them.
That threat made everyone shut up. Madam Greengrass stared down at Dumbledore and spoke ten burning words. “The Wizengamot finds Albus Dumbledore guilty of disobeying the sanctions.”
“You didn’t allow me to defend my side, madam.” Dumbledore’s hands were tightly pushed against his sides, but Dolores didn’t think his robes were the things he really wanted to wring right now.
“What defense can there possibly be for cornering the guardian of the boy you have an unhealthy interest in and aiming your wand at her?”
In the confrontation that followed, Dolores took a step back and ended up beside Harry again, where she ought to be. Where she belonged. She touched the back of his neck as they listened to Dumbledore and Madam Greengrass argue, but she knew what the outcome was going to be.
She might not have to have a replica of the Elder Wand made or threaten Dumbledore with using it against him after all.
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The Daring Win