Harry Potter:Diamond Heart.

He arrived in the throng of students flooding into the hall, sliding into a seat alongside Neville and dispelling his pieces of magic.

'Hey, Nev.'

The shy boy jumped several inches, but didn't squeak like he used to. 'Harry,' he smiled, glancing nervously down to where Ron, Seamus and Dean had gathered with Hermione. The whole group seemed more subdued than normal, Seamus and Ron were whispering to one another, but their conversation seemed tired, like the arguments they probably still had about quidditch when the same points were repeated over and over. He's worried about their reaction to me, Harry realised.

'Don't worry about them, Nev,' he reassured him.

'They might be angry that I'm talking to you,' Neville said sadly.

'Will that make you stop?' Harry asked, knowing the answer before he gave it.

'No,' Neville denied fiercely.

'Then why worry?'

Neville seemed to consider that, then grinned. 'I suppose not, it's hardly anything compared to what the Daily Prophet has been writing about you and Dumbledore.'

'I have a very nice collection of headlines,' Harry smiled. He had a stack of about twenty in the chamber, all dedicated to the smear campaign against anyone who might disagree with the Ministry's version of events. Most of the articles focused on Dumbledore and his supporters in the Wizengamot, but Harry's mentions were normally equally derogatory, just fewer in number.

'I had to make Gran subscribe again so I could see what they were writing.'

He argued with his grandmother?

Neville's letters over the summer had started to imply a certain step up in confidence, with both changes in phrasing and words that were written more firmly onto the parchment, but saying anything against his grandmother was a way beyond what Harry had been expecting.

'Rita Skeeter is a very good journalist,' Harry laughed, 'a terrible person, though. I do wonder how she finds out some of the things she does. Her articles on some of Dumbledore's more outspoken supporters were quite personal and unexpected.'

'Just don't let her find out about your trips to France,' Neville warned, very grave, 'you know what the Ministry will do with that.'

Harry knew only too well. The first article, the one at the very bottom of the stack, was dedicated to the Yule Ball and the date he had enjoyed with Fleur.

A french veela, there are few girls that the pure-blooded bigots would hate to associate with more.

'Are you coming back to Gryffindor Tower, then?' Neville pressed.

Harry had said he was considering it in his letters. The animosity of his housemates had faded towards the end of last year, but after the summer of the Ministry smearing his name he wasn't sure it was the best idea.

'You should,' Neville told him, 'you can't keep using the room, it isn't fair that you're uncomfortable in your own dormitories.'

'I'll come back,' Harry decided. It would be best to act as normally as possible from the beginning to avoid the watchful eye of Dumbledore. He had a prophecy to find, and that would be far easier if he wasn't already under suspicion.

Somewhere at the front of the room the hat finished singing and the huddle of nervous looking first years began to be sorted. Harry wasn't particularly interested in the sorting. He knew by now that if Voldemort intended to try and get to him it would come through the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The new teacher, given she was the only new face, was a dumpy, wide-faced woman whose sickly smile and horrible pink, velvet attire were likely a step too far even for Riddle. If he was hiding somewhere under all that pink then Harry tipped his hat to him for managing to endure the mortification that must come with it.

His attention was swiftly dragged away from the new teacher to the sudden arrival of steak and kidney pie. It was, inevitably, accompanied by more pumpkin related products than he could shake a fork at, or ever desire to eat.

Further down the table, Katie, who had found herself wedged in between the twin, winked at him and gave a small wave of greeting.

Harry returned it with a small smile. He'd missed his friends, despite having the company of Fleur. Letters were simply not the same. As the tables cleared the headmaster rose to speak, approaching his lectern with a cheerful gleam in his eyes just as he had every time for the last four years.

Unlike the previous times he was cut off by the clear, precise throat clearing of Hogwarts' new teacher. Harry watched, fascinated, as the squat, pink-clad woman began to speak instead.

'My name is Dolores Umbridge, former Undersecretary to the Minister, and your new Professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts.'

That was all Harry needed to hear. He didn't need to listen to her spiel on slipping standards and ministerial concern, or Hermione's outraged proclamation, to understand what was about to begin happening this year.

The Ministry is afraid of Dumbledore's influence here.

He wasn't all that surprised. The children of most of magical Britain were within these walls and the old wizard's grasp. Riddle's Death-Eaters and Dumbledore's followers had all been interfering within the school at some point over the last few years. The Ministry were last to the party, which was almost amusing considering they were the only ones legally allowed to take action. The real dilemma was how Harry could get this to benefit him and his search for that prophecy.

Umbridge sat down, a satisfied simper spread across her wide, pale face. She was the catalyst, Harry decided. Her character and actions would determine what he had to do this year to get what he needed. He wouldn't be waiting for Voldemort to come and try to kill him, or letting Dumbledore move him around while he remained blind, not this time. This time he had his own plans, and they would be fulfilled. Dumbledore thanked the new professor very graciously for her words, but the twinkle had faded from his eyes. There were four sides at Hogwarts now. Riddle's, Dumbledore's, the Ministry's and Harry. His advantage lay in everyone assuming there were three.

It's like a game, he grinned.

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