It was a chilly Saturday evening in The Three Broomsticks, and Harry found himself once again in the company of Rita Skeeter. The smoky tavern was dimly lit, its warmth contrasting the cold winds outside. Rita sat across from Harry, her quill scribbling away at the parchment in front of her as he fed her more damning secrets about the Ministry.
This wasn't just a business relationship anymore—Rita had long since become smitten with Harry, and the time they spent together, well, let's just say she cherished their 'exclusive' moments. The last article about unsanctioned experiments had been a hit, sending shockwaves through the wizarding world. Now, Harry was preparing her for something even bigger.
Rita leaned closer, her red lips curling into a smile. "So, what's the next move, Harry? You've already put the Ministry on the defensive. What else have you got up your sleeve?"
Harry took a slow sip of his butterbeer, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Memory charms, Imperius curses, and other... unapproved spells. The Ministry has been using them to manipulate events, covering up their messes—on both wizards and Muggles. I've got proof."
Her quill froze midair. She licked her lips, clearly thrilled by the idea. "How juicy! You know, Harry, the more dirt you dig up, the more... interesting our meetings become." Rita's hand found its way to Harry's, giving it a suggestive squeeze. She had long since fallen under his charm, captivated by his wit and power, but it was Harry's way of making her feel like she was special—that their secret dealings were not just about information, but about them.
Harry smiled, leaning in. "There's more where that came from, Rita. But we release this when I say so. Timing is everything. And I'll make sure the Ministry never recovers."
Later, after their discussion had shifted to more 'private' matters in an upstairs room, Rita found herself lost in the embrace of what she could only describe as a Sex God. Every encounter seemed more intense than the last, leaving her weak and utterly besotted by Harry's dominance, both in the political arena and... otherwise.
Back at Hogwarts, the atmosphere had shifted dramatically. Dolores Umbridge was becoming a bigger problem by the day. Her petty rules were beginning to suffocate the student body, and her latest appointment as High Inquisitor meant she now had even more authority to abuse.
The pink-clad woman strutted through the corridors, her wide smile and condescending air making Harry's blood boil—though he didn't let it show. She had been doing her best to provoke him for weeks now, hoping to land him in detention and humiliate him. But every time she tried, Harry shut her down with quick-witted responses that chipped away at her carefully constructed image.
In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Umbridge's lectures had become increasingly unbearable, filled with ministry propaganda. Today was no different.
"Mr. Potter," she said, her saccharine voice dripping with false concern, "I hear you've been spending time in less... desirable company. Trying to continue your little fame-chasing games, are you?"
The class shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension.
Harry didn't miss a beat. He leaned back in his chair, offering a casual smile. "Only undesirable thing I've encountered lately is your teaching, Professor. Or should I say... lack thereof?"
The students snickered. Umbridge's smile tightened. "My methods are approved by the Ministry, Potter. I would suggest you watch your tone."
He shrugged. "Funny, I thought we were here to learn magic, not read a textbook like first-years. Or perhaps that's beyond your capabilities?"
Umbridge's face flushed pink, and Harry could tell she was close to snapping. Her attempts to insult him only backfired, each retort of his chipping away at her composure.
Meanwhile, Harry, Hermione, Daphne, and Tracey had been organizing something of their own. The suffocating restrictions on wand use, enforced by Umbridge, had driven them underground—literally. With the help of the Room of Requirement, they created a sanctuary for students who wanted to actually learn and practice magic.
They called it the Dueling Club, though it encompassed far more than just dueling. Harry and his girls had made it their mission to ensure students could defend themselves, especially with the looming threat of Voldemort's return.
In the room, various students practiced shield charms, jinxes, and hexes. Harry moved among them, correcting stances, adjusting wand movements, and giving practical advice. Hermione was teaching a group of first-years how to properly use Expelliarmus, while Daphne and Tracey ran a mock duel with some of the older students, showcasing advanced defensive spells.
The secret meetings had quickly gained popularity, and even students from other houses—like Gryffindor and Ravenclaw—attended regularly. What started as a small group of Slytherins had grown into a school-wide movement. Harry had ensured that everything was kept discreet. The Room of Requirement provided the perfect cover, and with Harry's knowledge of secret passages, they could come and go undetected.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before Umbridge caught wind of their activities. She had been snooping around, trying to find any evidence of defiance. One afternoon, after an exhausting practice session in the Room of Requirement, Harry overheard some whispers in the corridors: Umbridge had found out about the club.
Instead of panicking, Harry remained calm. He had been preparing for this eventuality. When Umbridge came storming down the hallway, her beady eyes gleaming with excitement, she barged into the Room of Requirement only to find it... completely empty.
Her face twisted in confusion as she searched for signs of any wrongdoing. But there was nothing—no wands, no students, no evidence.
As she fumed and began barking orders at Filch to search the castle, Harry and the other students had already escaped through an enchanted portal leading directly to the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had anticipated this moment, creating an elaborate escape route that connected the Room of Requirement to various hidden locations, including each house's common room. The portals were inactive unless Harry himself activated them, keeping them safe from prying eyes.
As Umbridge stomped through the castle, Harry couldn't help but smirk. She was outplayed, and for now, the Dueling Club was safe.
Days later, Harry met Rita Skeeter once again. This time, he provided her with the next bombshell piece of information.
"The Ministry has been using memory charms and the Imperius curse on Muggles and wizards alike," Harry said, watching her eyes widen with excitement. "They've been covering up their own mistakes for years, manipulating events, erasing memories—it's all there."
Rita grinned, scribbling furiously. "This will be front-page news, Harry. You really are something else."
"I'm just getting started," Harry replied with a wink. He left her with another kiss, knowing that when the time was right, the Ministry would be facing yet another storm of controversy—this time, one they couldn't charm their way out of.
With the Ministry in his sights and Umbridge constantly at his heels, Harry knew he had the upper hand. His battle was only beginning, and as long as he kept his cards close, there was no stopping him.