The Last Gryffindor (Sirius Black)

Chapter III: Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

"I have no doubt that Voldemort has followers here this evening, corrupting a sacred passing on. My next words are to you: if you or your master are brave enough to attack an underage girl on equal terms, I am waiting. You were so afraid of children you had to murder them in the dead of night while they slept in their beds, so I don't hold much stock in your courage. Tell your Dark Lord I am not afraid, and neither should anyone else be. I will stand up for what is right, even if no one else will. I will carry on my ancestors' legacy."

With that, unable to contain her rage any longer, so she stormed off the stage and hurdled into her seat, staring straight ahead and not seeing or hearing for the remainder of the unbearably long ceremony.

To forego well wishers, Lia shot up from her seat at the funeral's conclusion. Dumbledore, as a representative of the school her ancestor founded, laid the Gryffindor family to rest with the flick of his wand, while Lia made a daring dash towards the manor. She, unfortunately, was somehow not faster than the hundred year old headmaster, and he stopped her before she could flee too far.

I should really start doing cardio if I can't run faster than an old geezer, she thought bitterly.

Dumbledore didn't speak, only held a light hand on her arm to prevent her oh-so-desired escape, until she finally looked up into his crystal blue eyes.

"I am afraid we have some unfortunate business to discuss, but I dare say you don't seem to want to enjoy the company here anyway?" he observed solemnly. "Let me deprive them of your presence for only a few moments."

With that, his grip on her arm tightened. She immediately felt her stomach lurch, feeling suddenly as though she was going to be sick. As soon as it began, it was over. The second she retouched ground, she keeled over, hacking up her lungs.

"This seems private enough," Dumbledore mused amiably, looking around at the plain surroundings.

Aeliana recognised this as a room in an old bar in Hogsmead. The Hogshead was anything but lavish; dust coated every surface the same way one might expect snow to coat the ground on a particularly cold winter night. Dumbledore pulled out his old wand to clear the grime from a pair of wooden chairs in the corner, indicating to Lia she should sit down.

She made no move to sit. "What am I doing here?"

"Please, sit. As I mentioned before, we have much to go over." He waited patiently until her curiosity got the better of her and she fell into the chair across from him before pressing forward. "As we mentioned in the owl we sent you earlier this week, you will not be expected to take the exams you missed in light of this tragedy."

Lia almost snorted when he said tragedy; that was the understatement of the century. The word was hollow and meaningless. And to even think she cared about her grades at this point was downright hilarious. She knew she must have made her thoughts clear on her face, because Dumbledore narrowed his eyes before continuing.

"Your teachers quite agree that your marks are good enough that you should move on to your seventh year unfettered."

The least of her worries, no doubt.

"The Ministry has designated that you be a ward of Hogwarts, at least for the next two months, until you turn of age at seventeen." He paused, waiting for a response, but she didn't deign to offer one. "The Sword of Gryffindor, naturally, will be returned to you-"

Lia cut him off. "Keep it. I don't care."

"You do care. You care too much, that's why you are upset."

"No. I really don't care." She set her features into their stoniest expression. "Caius sent the sword to Hogwarts for a reason, and it's not my place to revoke that decision."