Corrupted

Chapter Six

“Good afternoon class!” a sickly sweet voice called out.

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge.” The class repeated in dull, monotone

“Turn your textbooks to page one hundred and put your wands away- there will be no need for talking!”

There was no shuffling for books or to set away a wand. Even the most hopeful students had given up on actually casting magic.

Briar rested her chin in her palm, her eyes scanning the page but not really taking in anything.

“Oh, Miss. York.” Umbridge loomed over Briar’s desk, spreading her pudgy fingers across the wood. “I’d like to speak with you out in the hallway.”

Briar thinned her lips, nodding.

Fred and George spared her a piteous glance- even a Ravenclaw gave her hushed, “Good luck.”

Umbridge shut the door behind her, casting a look to either sides of the hallway before sinking into a sickly grin.

“Dumbledore has told me that you’re Head Girl- is this correct?”

Briar nodded, her brows knitting in confusion. So you’ve been researching me..?

“I have a proposal for you Miss. York.” Umbridge trilled, “I’d like to have you join a little team of mine; as I’m sure you’re aware, you can be quite influential on miscreants.”

Briar froze internally, although she kept her face passive. “I’m afraid, Professor Umbridge, that I’m far too busy for a club activity.” Briar denied.

Professor Umbridge’s smile became almost cynical. “Oh, pardon me. I was offering it as extra credit- I would hate to see you fail Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

The look on Umbridge’s face spoke the opposite of her words.

__

“That bitch!” Briar snarled, pacing around the Gryffindor Boys’ Dormitory. Her hands jerked in a way that showed she would very much like to throttle Umbridge.

“She has it out for me! If I fail Defense Against the Dark Arts it’ll be hard to keep my job and-“

“Briar,” George shook her shoulders, “you’ll be fine, just don’t give her a reason to fail you!”

Briar dropped her shoulders, her face full of agony, “That’s harder than you think- look I think I’ll heed your advice- I’m going to go before I’m in detention.”

She turned waving over her shoulder and starting down the stairs.

“Briar- wait!” She turned as George caught her hand. He tossed a look over his shoulder to his brother. “Don’t get caught, okay?”

She gave him a cheeky smile, “I’m a master of stealth, Mr. Weasley.”

“Please, call me George.-“

“Mr. Weasley is your father.” She interrupted, “yes I know; Good night, George.”

____

“’Not giving Umbridge a way to expel you,’ eh?”

Briar froze at the voice in her ears- it wasn’t the gruff voice she had heard before, but a creepily familiar voice- silky, but with an undertone of roughness from misuse.

She shook her head- I must be going crazy.

The library was abandoned for curfew- and Briar was certain that Madam Pince was occupied inside the staff room with Fred and George’s latest dungbomb attack.

Briar snuck through the restricted section- indistinguishable whispers increasing in volume as she drew further past the bookshelves.

The book was still in its display case- its whispers were calling out to her- purring and begging her to open it.

“Finite Incantatem,” Briar whispered, cutting through the shield charm with her wand. Tentatively she poked the display case with her wand, when she wasn’t deterred as she was last time she tucked her wand back in her sleeve and lifted the glass to the display.

“Don’t get caught,” the voice in her ears egged her on.

“I never get caught,” she responded grumpily, her hands smoothing over the cover of the ‘Book of Fate.’

She flipped it open- the pages were blank. She progressed further, turning through every individual page- nothing.

No writing- nothing written ever page was blank.

Briar flipped to the front page once again, blinking at the words suddenly carving into the page in black ink.

You write your own fate.

Briar mouthed the words over and over. Confusion drawing her brows together- Do I physically write in the book- or-

Briar drew out a quill and inkwell from her robe pocket, and carefully uncapping the inkwell’s lid.

“Certainly worth a try- vandalizing a book- why not write your name in it too?” The voice in her ears mocked her. Briar hastily shook her head, “Bugger off, would you?” she grumbled.

 She dipped her quill in the ink, and wrote beneath the already inscribed words:

‘Briar Rose York, esteemed Auror.

Born 1/1/78’

Briar halted, unsure what else to write.-Should she- could she really design her own fate?

“Briar?”

Startled, the book slipped from her grasp and toppled to the floor along with her quill.

Briar turned swiftly, “George?”

He stepped into the light, streaming in from the window. “I’ve never been in this part of the library before,” he mused, almost to himself.

Briar turned her eyes back down to the book, surprised to find that what she had written had disappeared.

“Why are you here?” he asked her, hazel eyes glittering. Briar gave him a slow smile, “I could ask you the same thing. I was just leaving anyways; c’mon, I’ll walk you back to the Gryffindor Tower.”

George gave her an amused look, “Shouldn’t I be walking , hazel eyes glittering. Briar gave him a slow smile, “I could ask you the same thing. I was just leaving anyways; c’mon, I’ll walk you back to the Gryffindor Tower.”

George gave her an amused look, “Shouldn’t I be walking you back?”

She waved away his question, “Of course not, the Gryffindor Tower is closer to the library than the Ravenclaw Tower. – We’d being wasting time if you dropped me off first.”

Briar cast a final look at the book, stooping down to pick it up. She contemplated her options.

“What’s that?” George questioned. Briar gave a shrug, a stuffed it behind a few other books.

“Nothing important.”

George took her hand, leading her from the display case- pausing halfway through the Restricted Section.

“Hey Briar,” George looked down at her- half his face illuminated from the moonlight, that streamed through the library’s windows.

“Yeah?”

He drew her close, pressing his nose to hers. “I like wasting time with you.”

And then he kissed her, right up against the bookshelves of the Restricted Section.