Chapter Text
Someone, and Harry has a very good idea of who, has set off what seems like an endless amount of fireworks in the hall right outside of Umbridge’s office. Just stepping out, he is nearly hit in the face with a neon green miniature Chinese dragon made out of hundreds of sparklers. Umbridge’s screech of rage and fear is lost within thousands of bangings and poppings noise. As funny as this is, Harry doesn’t think he should linger for long. Laughing a little, he quickly uses the massive distraction to step away. He only makes it around the corner when a hand shoots out from behind a tapestry and yanks him behind.
It’s Deidara, and beside him are Fred and George.
All of them are all beaming from ear-to-ear, but Deidara has this unhinged euphoric smile that really makes the older boy look like a maniac. Despite the craziness in his singular blue eye, Deidara’s I’m-so-happy-I-got-to-blow-things-up grin has become something of a comforting sight to see, and Harry cheerfully returns the smile with his own toothy one.
“Did you see it?” The blonde asks, his blue eye shining with glee, “ Beautiful , yeah?”
“Bloody beautiful!” Harry nods, feeling as light as a feather.
“‘ Bloody beautiful’ is right, yeah.” Deidara’s puffs out his chest, “The noise, the colors, the shapes! ” He shudders, “Fucking amazing, un.”
“Calm down, mate.” Fred laughs, leaning over Deidara’s shoulder, “It’s our fireworks, remember?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Deidara shrugs, his grin not lessening a bit, “Art is art, un. And this, right, here, is true art, yeah.”
“You hear that, Fred?” George chortles, “We’re artists, now. Maybe we should consider a change in career path, hm?”
“Oh, shut up and take the compliment, un.” Deidara huffs. “Now, come on, let's get out of here. Ron and Hermione’s waiting in the Great Hall, yeah.”
The fireworks continue throughout the day, and it feels like they are everywhere. You cannot take two steps without seeing something loud and bright wizzling pass in a cacophony of colors and noises. Fred and George have somehow managed to Charm the fireworks into exploding and multiplying when hit with a Stunner or a Vanishing spell, something Umbridge has found out the hard way when she attempts to get rid of them. From what Harry can tell, Deidara is in charge of spreading the fireworks as far and into as many places as possible. Harry thinks the blonde did a fantastic job, maybe a little too good. Being harassed by sparklers in the bathroom isn’t exactly something he enjoyed.
Despite the chaos, the professors do not seem particularly bothered by the disruption at all.
“Dear, dear,” says Professor McGonagall sardonically, as one of the firework dragons soar around her classroom, emitting loud bangs and exhaling flame. “Miss Brown, would you mind running along to the Headmistress and informing her that we have an escaped firework in our classroom?”
Deidara’s cackling laughter is drowned out as the dragon roars and spits out three tiny dragons, all of which immediately home in straight for Umbridge, sending her screeching. “That’s my idea, yeah.”
Absolutely the best part of all this is getting to see Umbridge running around the school answering requests from different professors to get rid of the fireworks infesting their classrooms. Harry is certain Professor McGonagall of Professor Flitwick already knows exactly how to deal with the fire hazards on their own, but they insist on calling Umbridge because, as the Charm Professor puts it, they weren’t sure if they had the authority to do so on their own.
That night, Fred and George are the heroes in the Gryffindor Common room. They stand in the center of the room, surrounded by throngs of congratulating students. Even Hermione approaches them to comment on the cleverness of their fireworks.
“They were very good bits of Charm works.” She says as she makes her way back to a more secluded corner of the room where Harry, Ron, and Deidara are sitting with their textbooks opened. The bush-haired girl glances at them all for a second before shruggings, “Oh, why don’t we take a night off? After all, the Easter holidays start on Friday, we'll have plenty of time then.”
Ron pauses halfway through a paragraph on the many ways magic can be used to accelerate the growth of Dittany, a fat ink drop drips down from his quill, splattering the page. “Hermione, are you feeling alright?”
“Now that you mentioned it,” She replies with a cheerful grin, “I am feeling quite rebellious. ”
Deidara chuckles, “Does this mean you’ll be helping us rebels, un?”
Hermione snorts, “Don’t push your luck. Just because I’m willing to turn a blind-eye this time…”
Ron grins as he eagerly packs away his homework. “Alright, who’s up for a round of chess?”
As the redhead and Hermione battle it out, Harry glances at Deidara. Fred and George have completely omitted the blonde’s involvement in the firework show, and he knows it is by his request. Deidara doesn’t seem that bothered by the lack of recognition, but Harry is glad his friend isn’t cast in the spotlight. If that had happened, he could already imagine the screaming match between Deidara and Hermione. Harry has no interest in having a repeat of what happened with Malfoy.
The blonde now sits in his armchair with his elbows on his knees, observing the chess match while absentmindedly rolling a ball of clay between his palms. Despite his earlier reverie at the firework show, there is now a tenseness in Deidara’s posture. It’s the same kind of tension that has been following the blonde around lately, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Harry is no stranger to this feeling. Fred and George’s firework show has been a welcomed reprieve, but it still doesn’t change the fact that Umbridge is still hanging over them like a thundercloud, ready to make their lives hell at any moment. However, there’s something different about the way Deidara goes about things now. There’s a foreign sense of focus in him that Harry hasn’t seen before. In the last week, the blonde has been more quiet and withdrawn. He isn’t avoiding them, but half of the time he doesn’t seem to be there with them either. Right now, even when Deidara’s eye is looking in the direction of Ron and Hermione, Harry has a feeling the blonde isn’t really seeing them at all.
“Checkmate, Hermione.” Ron declares triumphantly.
The bushy-haired girl furrows her eyebrows, “What, how?”
As his two best friends begin a debate over chess tactics, Harry leans over to Deidara, “Hey, are you alright? You’re pretty quiet.”
Deidara doesn’t pause in kneading his clay, “I’m fine. Just getting a bit sleepy, yeah.”
“It’s only 9.”
“It’s been a long day, un.”
Just before Harry can say something snarky in return, Deidara finally stops what he’s doing to look at him, “You had a longer day though. What did she want with you, yeah?”
There is no need to ask who ‘she’ is. Harry quietly recounts what happened in Umbridge’s office earlier that day to Deidara. Half-way through the tale, Ron and Hermione have stopped their conversation to listen.
When Harry is done, all attention is on him. He turns to Hermione, “Is there any sort of potion that can force a person to tell the truth?”
She nods grimly, “Yeah, Veritaserum . It’s colorless and tasteless. Although, I read that it is very difficult to brew. I didn’t even know we had them here.”
“I bet Snape gave it to her, the git.” Murmurs Ron.
“I don’t think so, Snape might be a bastard, but he hates Umbridge as much as McGonagall does.” Harry shakes his head.
“Yeah, but she’s Headmistress now,” remarks Hermione, “If she ordered him to make her some Truth Serum, he can’t really refuse, can he?”
“Well, whatever the case,” Deidara huffs, “I’m glad you didn’t drink the tea, un. Good job.”
Harry shrugs, “I just thought about what you would do if you found out I drank from something Umbridge made and realized it was a stupid idea.”
That managed to pry a laugh from Deidara, but it was short-lived. The blonde returns to his contemplative silence soon after.
“So it’s confirmed, then.” Hermione says quietly, “She really has us all under lock and key. All communication channels are being watched. Owl posts, floo networks… She has those Slytherins read our private mail!”
Ron nods along with her, looking quite perturbed, but Harry’s attention is on Deidara, who grimaces harshly at the reminder. He thinks he knows what the blonde is thinking. Before Dumbledore was forced to leave Hogwarts, Harry knew Deidara relied on the Headmaster to stay in contact with his partner back in Grimmauld Place, and now…
A fresh wave of guilt washes over Harry. It’s his fault Dumbledore is no longer here and Deidara is deprived of his one connection back home. He wonders if the blonde blames him.
The sound of celebration is strangely distant to him now. Harry’s suddenly aware that he is, in fact, quite tired after all the excitement, and a yawn bullies its way past his lips. Standing up, he turns to his friends, “I think I’ll head up early today. See you tomorrow.”
Various “Goodnight,” and “See ya,” echoes from behind him as he makes his way up the empty dormitory.
After all the excitement, Hogwarts is back to its normal tempo with Umbridge looming in the background in all her hideously pink glory. It seems Deidara and the twins had caused her enough hassle to delay whatever punishment she intends to befall upon them, as for the next few days, the woman is hardly ever seen outside of class. Deidara is too busy trying to replenish his clay supply to complain or voice his suspicion over her behavior. The less he sees of her, the less he has to test his impulse control.
Another strange change is the fact that Harry dropped Occlumency out of nowhere after another lesson, saying that Snape deemed him competent enough to practice on his own. Deidara doesn’t buy a single word of it and neither does Ron or Hermione, but none of them say anything as Harry’s face would always darken whenever the subject is mentioned. Deidara mentally takes a note to investigate himself, if he ever has the opportunity to do so.
He doubts he would have the time for it, however, with O.W.L.s approaching fast. Normally, he shouldn’t have to concern himself with the exam at all, as the consequence of failing would simply mean he can’t take certain classes next year or, in the worst case scenario of him failing every test, retake the fifth year. Neither of which really bothers him all that much. However, with Umbridge as Headmistress, he fears the woman would actually expel him if he doesn’t perform up to whatever arbitrary standard she sets.
So, he keeps as low a profile as he can manage, makes more clay, actually puts real effort into studying for the written part of the exam, and tries to figure out what spell he can convincingly replicate for the practical part. Before he knows it, he has fallen into a new routine.
This monotony is broken one day when Harry proposes the most stupid and out-of-nowhere idea he has ever heard while they are studying in the library.
“You want to do what? ” He hisses, staring at the kid incomprehensibly.
Harry takes a deep breath and repeats, “I want to use Umbridge’s fireplace to talk to Sirius.”
Hermione and Ron’s twin look of bafflement assures Deidara that he didn’t misheard.
“Mate, why?” Ron asks, his voice cracking a little.
Harry adverts his eyes for a second before muttering, “I just need to, alright? There’s something I have to ask him.”
“What do you want to ask him so badly that you have to break into the office of the woman who would gladly hand you over to a pack of wolves and use her fireplace to talk to a convicted criminal, yeah?” Deidara asks, making no effort to mask the incredulity in his voice.
They are interrupted by the presence of Fred and George, who unceremoniously drop themselves onto the empty chairs around the table they are sitting at.
“We heard from Ginny you’re planning something potentially reckless.” Fred smiles.
“Something that involves our dear Headmistress.” Says George.
“Ginny?” Ron echoes, turning to Harry, “You told my sister you wanted to break into Umbridge’s office?”
“She’s the one who gave me the idea, actually.” Replies Harry irritably.
Fred laughs, “Sounds like her alright. Anyway, we thought we could lend a hand.”
“No, absolutely not!” Hermione says, glaring harshly at Harry and the twins. “You can’t do this!”
Harry grimaces but ignores her. Instead, he turns to Deidara, “You’ll help me with this, right?”
The blonde barks out a harsh laugh, “Fuck no. Are you kidding me, yeah?”
“Why not!” The boy frowns, “You’ve done it plenty of time before?”
“All for good reasons, un.” Deidara scowls, “I didn’t do it just because I wanted to.”
“I do have a good reason,” Harry protests.
“Which is…?” Deidara prompts.
The kid doesn’t reply. His expression sours, and he looks away from Deidara.
“Well,” George clears his throat, “Whatever the case, we’re planning another act tomorrow at 5, if you know what I mean.”
Fred nods, “It’ll draw plenty of attention. It might even draw our beloved Head out of her den. So, if you’re gonna do something stupid, that’ll be the time to do it.”
With an obnoxious wink, the two redheads walk off.
“Harry,” Deidara whirls on Harry the moment the two older Weasleys are out of sight, “I swear to Kami, don’t do it, un.”
Hermione nods vigorously, “It’s too dangerous. I mean, breaking into her office is bad enough, but doing so to talk to Sirius? I can’t even imagine what would happen if you were caught!”
“Why do you even want to talk to Sirius anyway?” Ron asks.
“I have my reasons, alright?” Harry says.
“No, not alright. ” Deidara cuts in, “Are you even hearing yourself, un? You’re talking about breaking into the office of the woman who is willing to torture kids to talk to a convicted murderer. I need more than ‘I have my reason,’ yeah.”
“If you won’t help me, that’s fine.” Harry snaps, “I’ll do it myself.”
Deidara can’t help but laugh coldly, “And what makes you think I’m gonna let you do it, un?”
“Let me?” Harry’s face turns a little red, “I don’t need your permission to do anything.”
“I don’t care.” Deidara snarls, “If I had to hog-tie you to the bed to stop you, I’d do it! I’m not about to let you get yourself kicked out of Hogwarts, un. That’s the only reason why I’m even still here instead of going with my partner who taking missions for the fucking Order. You know, the one you could compromise if you insist on being so fucking stupid, yeah.”
Harry shoots to his fist, his face contorted in anger, but Hermione grabs him by the arm and forcefully pulls him down.
“Alright, guys!” Hermione says, “Don’t fight again, please.” Sucking in a deep breath, she looks at Harry, “I agree with Deidara. Without a good reason, we can’t let you do this.” She grimaces, “If you still intend on going through with it, I’ll – I’ll tell Professor McGonagall.”
And that was that.
Harry attempts to protest, but against Deidara and Hermione (and even Ron, who joins eventually,) he is forced to give up on the idea. The boy spends the rest of the day in icy silence, ignoring all attempts at conversations from his two best friends, which suits Deidara just fine, really. He likes the kid, but he’s not about to be nice in stopping him from doing something moronic and getting his ass kicked out of one of the safest places on this side of the globe.
When the next morning comes, however, Harry seems to have come back to his senses. The boy still doesn’t say why he wanted to talk to Sirius so badly, but he does apologize for his temper yesterday, looking very mortified. Both Ron and Hermione take his apology in stride, and Deidara is just happy to put the entire incident behind him.
By midday, Harry leaves to attend his career-directing meeting with Professor McGonagall. He returns to tell them that Umbridge has sat in on the meeting and the two Professors had engaged in a shouting match with each other regarding his potential future as an Auror. Later, when DADA class rolls around, Umbridge spends the entire lesson glaring daggers at Harry.
Soon, it is Deidara’s turn to meet with McGonagall to discuss his future career, or at least pretend to do so. He believes she’ll just have him sit in her office for a bit before dismissing him. Deidara intends on using the time to see if she has any news regarding the Order and Obito.
Unfortunately, with Umbridge’s iron grip over channels of communication in the school, the Transfiguration Professor hardly knows anything more than he does. She has not had any contact with the Order ever since Dumbledore’s escape. Additionally, she is under a lot more scrutiny as she has made no effort to hide her loyalty for Dumbledore and her distaste of the Ministry’s decisions regarding Umbridge and Harry Potter.
“So, tell me,” the Professor says over a cup of tea, her hawk-like eyes pining on him, “how are you taking the… changes around the castle, Mr. Akatsuki?”
Deidara shrugs, “Well enough, I guess.” He smiles grimly, “I haven’t lost it and blown a hole in the place yet, un.”
“Hm, and yet you did cause quite a racket the other day. You, Mr. and Mr. Weasley.”
Deidara grins impishly, “Not that anyone can prove it, yeah.”
He swears he can see a shadow of a smile across the woman’s stern face. She takes another sip of her cup. “It’s good you’re going fine. I understand this is a difficult circumstance for us all, but, well, you’ll pardon me when I say you hardly seem like someone who enjoys being under such overbearing authority.”
“You’re not wrong, un.” He sighs, “But I can handle it.” The ‘for now’ goes unsaid. “Do you have any idea how long this whole situation will last?”
“I’m afraid I can’t provide a satisfying answer to you.” Says the Professor wearily, “Professor Umbridge will remain here at Hogwarts for as long as the Minister believes Dumbledore is after his seat, and he will most likely continues to believe so unless we manage to bring him indisputable proof He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back.”
“Yeah, figured.” Deidara grumbles, slouching back in his seat. The two of them share a brief moment of commiserating silence.
“Well, Mr. Akatsuki,” McGonagall says after glancing at her clock, “I believe you have been in here for long enough. If anyone asks, what are you going to say about what we discussed?”
“I can just say I told you I haven’t made up my mind about my career path yet, un. It’s not that uncommon for students to be indecisive about their future, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” She agrees, “Especially with your, ah, made-up circumstances, I believe no one will look too hard at a lost foreign student who wishes to focus on his current studies before thinking about careers.”
Deidara opens his mouth to reply but is interrupted by sounds of thundering footsteps from the corridor outside.
Oh, right. He has nearly forgotten about Fred and George’s plan.
He and Professor McGonagall step out of her office to see students rushing by and shouting over each other. Deidara can hear the Professor’s raised voice over the cacophony, trying to establish some form of order. Leaving her to it, he slips into the crowd, following them downstairs to the Entrance Hall.
The scene he arrives at is somewhat reminiscent of the night when Trelawney was sacked: students and staff crowding in a great ring around the clearing. Some of them, strangely enough, are covered in a foul-smelling slimy substance. Cursing his lack of verticality, Deidara pushes and shoves his way to the front until he sees Fred and George standing in the middle, having been undoubtedly surrounded and caught. However, they don’t look too concerned about this. George catches his eye and gives him a wink.
Umbridge stands atop of the staircase just like last time, looking very much like a particularly ugly pink bird of prey, eyeing her captured meal. She says something about a school corridor being turned into a swamp, but Deidara’s attention is quickly diverted to Filch, who comes hobbling in with glee, waving a piece of parchment in the air.
“I've got the form, Headmistress,” wheezes the Caretaker, “I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting… oh, let me do it now…"
Deidara narrows his eye at the offending piece of paper and discreetly dips his hands into his pockets.
Even from all the way down here, he can see Umbridge’s pointy little smile spreading across her face as she says, “Very good, Argus. Now, you two,” she jerks her head down at the Weasley twins, “are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.”
“You know what?” Fred muses loud enough for everyone to hear, “I don't think we are.”
Turning to his twin, he grins widely, “George, I think we've outgrown full-time education.”
'Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself,' said George lightly.
“Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?” asks Fred with a tone of mocking ponder.
“Definitely,” replies George, grinning from ear to ear.
And before Umbridge can say a word, they raise their wands and say together, “ Accio brooms! ”
In the chaos that follows, no one notices Filch crying out in pain as the form he is holding blows up right in his hand.
As Deidara watches the twins turning into two tiny dots in the distance and listens to the thunderous cheers and applause all around him, he can’t help but think that things in Hogwarts might just turn for the better.