chaos ~ fred weasley

47. scar

**

                  "Now?"

                  "Yes, now, Ms. Yaxley. I wouldn't advise you to waste your time dilly-dallying," Filch sneers, his bony fingers wrapped like icicles around my upper arm. I've been approached in the Great Hall and asked—no, told—that I have to go and be questioned by Umbridge, and I was more than happy to comply, until I looked over and saw Harry staring blankly into space, no doubt thinking of nothing. The combination of the interrogation and the Occlumency lessons must be getting to him, as I'm sure they would for any person, and I'm not looking forward to submitting to the same questioning.

                  I look over at Julian, the twins, and Angie. "And if I say no?" I ask slowly, weighing out my options.

                  "Well, I have other methods that can be a little more... persuasive," Filch says, snickering a little and making my stomach churn.

                  "Then it would be my honour," I tell him, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

                  Eyes burn holes into my back as I walk past the Slytherin table, and I hear whispers coming from the direction of Draco Malfoy and his friends—when I look over, he grins and I glare, making his smile drop from his face quickly.

                  We walk up to the DADA classroom and Filch roughly pushes me to the front of the line of other students, all cowering fearfully against the stone. I stand at the top of the stairs outside Umbridge's office, and when I turn to look at the students behind me, I spot a number of people from Dumbledore's Army, as well as students I've never even seen before. Just as I try and catch the eye of some of them to give them a comforting smile, Filch's arms wrap round my shoulders and thrusts me into the bright pink office.

                  The walls are decorated with china plates with a cat in the middle, each of various size and colour but all of them grotesquely plump. They meow and lick their paws contemplatively, and I think with disdain: not even the cats will save you now. I avert my eyes and turn to Umbridge, who sits gingerly atop her desk, holding her hands as if she's afraid to even touch anything in her own office. She smiles sweetly at me, but her eyes don't change.

                  "Hello, dear," she says.

                  "Alaska," I reply sharply.

                  "Hm," she says, frowning as she picks up a piece of parchment beside her with two fingers. She scans the parchment with her finger, but by the way her eyes move so slowly I know she's found what she's looking for and she's just putting on a show. "It says here you go by Allie."

                  I tilt my head, my stomach churning with anger. In this moment, I feel a sense of hatred that I've only ever felt for Voldemort and my father, and I suddenly want to scream. Instead, my expression turns hard and cold. "My friends call me Allie. As I said—you can call me Alaska."

                  "Oh," Umbridge says, standing and turning away from a moment, tutting as she goes. "Now, dear, you shouldn't talk back to your elders."

                  I wonder briefly what Vee would do here. She always seems to just narrowly avoid trouble and control herself. Me on the other hand? "I'll give my elders respect when they've earned it."

                  Umbridge turns around again, and while I'm expecting to see something like a machete in her tiny, claw-like hands, instead I see she has a cup of tea. She twirls the spoon around the rim of the pink china almost contemplatively before offering it to me. "All I want is to just have a little chat, dear."