(Harry Potter Fanfiction) But Title Erased For Security Reasons

Chapter Twelve

Malfoy Manor, Somewhere in Wiltshire

Pius Thicknesse was finally under the Imperius Curse. The scales had shifted in Riddle's favour, Umbridge would now be dancing to his whims. It wasn't too bad a Christmas present, and he returned Abraxas' smile. Harry and Riddle were spending Christmas at the Malfoy Manor, at the behest of the Malfoy Patriarch.

The Dark-Lord-in-Secret was pleasantly surprised to get a present from Harry; it was a nice set of pheasant quills; and he had given the boy a leather journal. It was a very useful thing, you could jot down all your ideas and adventures (and secrets too, once you've properly hexed it) and you could even keep things (a piece of your soul, for instance, but that was better left unsaid) inside. The boy wore a fluffy green jumper (courtesy of Molly, perhaps) and was busy sharing boxes of Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans with Draco.

After a sumptuous Christmas dinner with Narcissa's minty concoction for dessert, the two returned to Vine Cottage quite happily. Perhaps, after Umbridge was sacked and he was declared Headmaster, he would reconsider abolishing the Christmas holidays.

* * *

Hogwarts Castle, the Scottish Highlands

Three days into school, a sudden push broke the monotony of the cogs that ran Hogwarts. The school had gathered for breakfast in the Great Hall, and was getting the morning post when three owls dropped a heavy box in front of the High Table. The lid burst open with the force of the fall, and McGonagall shouted.

Well, it was more of a piercing cry of fear and shock. But it was very uncharacteristic of her, and the cause was a bald-headed male in tattered robes, with a smile of pure, grotesque evil. Riddle was amused when he noted that the intended recipient had been Umbridge. He had a fair idea of what this bald-headed man was.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! How in the world-" The Gryffindor Head of House breathed out. Professors Flitwick and Snape pulled out their wands and began firing hexes, when suddenly, the Great Hall was filled with giant snakes, banshees, werewolves and dead people. 'Voldemort' laughed in a high-pitched tone, his eyes glowing red. Riddle's theory was confirmed, and he chuckled.

"Quite the imagination, I must admit, Minerva. But hold your horses please. Riddikulus!" Riddle said lazily, turning all the boggarts in the Great Hall to stuffed sock-catterpillars. He frowned, if the 'real Voldemort' were to attack Hogwarts, these people would all be running around.

"Whoever sent these will be expelled with immediate effect!" Umbridge cried in shrilly, emerging from her cover under the table. "I will have the Ministry-" She couldn't complete her sentence because the boggarts turned into Treacle Fudges and chased her out of the hall.

"I am truly disappointed in my actions, as well as the reactions of the school. It seems mere theoretical education really is not enough." McGonagall admitted. The other professors nodded gravely.

"You are not to blame, Minerva. No one would have expected He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to appear in the Great Hall all of a sudden." Professor Sprout reassured her.

"But indeed, we must arm the students against any possible dangers. Might I suggest a duelling club?" Flitwick proposed eagerly.

"Merlin's beard, Filius, how are we going to get that idea past that wretched woman? Haven't you seen the way she disapproves of everything practical, even demonstrations?" The Herbology Professor said. It was rare for a person as gentle and forgiving as Pomona Sprout to speak so vengefully, but she became quite vocal since the day Professor Trelawney had been sacked.

Riddle smiled mysteriously, giving no opinions on the matter. A duelling club, hmm? Could be interesting. He could pull a few strings and see how it played out. After all, 'Lord Voldemort' was progressing smoothly, and 'Tom M. Riddle' had been out of the game for far too long.