Circi | 2

EIGHTEEN

"Dumbledore's Army"

October 1995, 1 month later

Needless to say, Snape was the most furious the girls had ever seen him.

Of course, the professor always brooded behind the curtains of his greasy black hair but he took the time to tuck it back and peer long and hard at the raw scarring on the back of one of his students' palm. It was easy to determine that he cared mostly for the insult it had on Slytherin house above all but he still bore an undeniable look of fury. He had spun around, throwing the cape of his cloak out when he sat at his desk.

His arm flourished with every new line of the letter he was scrawling. Circi looked at Mica who was watching Carmen, who was writing her own letter in a similarly dramatic flare fueled with anger and abhorrence.

Since, Circi only saw Umbridge in lessons. The woman didn't talk to her but she assumed it was because she had gained all the satisfaction she could get from torturing her. The scarring on her hand was faint and performed a white braille imitation of the phrase; she had become accustomed to tracing the raised edges in nerve-inducing situations. And she was nervous more often these days.

Winter was fast approaching and, despite the summer threatening to melt them into puddles, the temperature dropped exponentially. In early November the students were wrapped in a rainbow of hats, gloves and scarves. Mica even went as far to sport leg warmers on days she trained for quidditch.

Despite the snow, which brought more joy through weekend snowball fights, and the frigid cold, the third years rejoiced knowing their opportunity to join the older years in Hogsmeade was drawing near.

Circi received her permission slip via owl the weekend before the trips began. She was fully prepared to spend her weekends alone, catching up on schoolwork and journaling the week- but she supposed the permission form was gesture of expected forgiveness from her father. He could revoke the permission by all means, but she did not considering sending him a letter of thanks.

After her detention with Umbridge, he had received letters from Carmen, Snape and herself. While her peer demanded answers as to how he could let it happen, and her Professor inquired with professionalism about the incident, Circi had written him a furious letter when the pain eased.

She had seethed over the parchment, watching as her handwriting morphed into a stranger's.

It was all his fault.

The cold weather had transformed Leslie. While Circi was glad to wear her gloves and keep warm, Leslie complained about the itchiness of his scarf and the restrictions the gloves gave him. He moaned whenever a passing professor instructed him to wrap up warm and even retired to his bedroom for the rest of the weekend when Mica attempted to initiate a snowball fight. The change concerned them, they figured he had forgiven them for dragging him to the Yule Ball. It was almost a year ago and, until the final task, he had been perfectly civil with them.

Of course, everyone was altered by Cedric Diggory's death.

Mica was much more careful with her words and had even taken to wearing the correct uniform; this changed, however, when the weather turned. She admitted that her parents, her mother more so, had insisted on her quitting quidditch and remaining in the stands- where she was definitely safe.

Leslie, despite his letters showing no change in demeanour, was all the more quieter. It seemed as though he had emptied his brain of all opinions onto his dinner plate and abandoned it for the rest of the year.

The girls encouraged him often but he simply brushed them away, growing reserved in anyone's presence.

As disheartening as his rejections were, the girls began to enjoy their down time more. They had already spent one weekend together at Hogsmeade.