and into the new
January 14th, 1996
THAT NIGHT, SIRIUS heard some noise and went to check on Daisy's room.
When he pushed the door slightly ajar, he found her curled up in a ball, hugging the teddy bear she had brought from her old home, her shoulders shaking.
So he shut the door and let her be.
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January 18th, 1996
THE SOUND OF his mother's shriek caused Sirius to jump on his bed early that morning.
Throwing a random robe on, he dashed downstairs and found Daisy squatting on the floor, clutching her ears, silent tears streaming down her flushed face. Opposite her, Mrs. Black's portrait was proudly displayed in the open.
Its occupant didn't go berserk. Instead, she just crossed her arms and looked down at the poor girl, so full of hatred.
Her mouth was still so foul, her tongue sharper than double-edged knife, her tone so shrill and abrasive.
"I can't believe this rubbish! A Muggle. A filthy, low, unimportant creature as your kind, treading the holy, sacred ground of this Pureblood residence! How dare you? Do you think you're worthy? Let me tell you something, little girl, you are beneath us. There is a reason why we were given magical gift and you do not. You are a disgusting being —worse than a Mudblood."
"Mother! Stop that shite!" Sirius barked, standing between Daisy and the portrait. "Fact is, you are the worst of all."
"YOUUU! How dare you?!" Mrs. Black's shriek turned louder, and Sirius rolled his eyes. He scoffed.
"How dare me? How dare you! Stop trying to ruin children's lives even after you're dead!"
The hurtful banter was thrown to-and-fro as Sirius tried to shut the curtain close. Five minutes later, he managed to do that by himself.
Sirius huffed, tired from the sudden morning exercise.
Merlin, how he hated his Mother. No one could choose their parents, and he knew... He knew he had to love them despite of their flaws. He knew they ended up being like that partly because of their parents as well; they had been brainwashed by the Sacred Twenty-Eight society, their obsession for having pure magical blood. Sometimes Sirius wondered if they did that because they were afraid of losing this by-birth gift.
But this flaw of the Black family was entirely different from Fleamont Potter's inability of being tidy or Lyall Lupin's short fused temper.
Daisy's sob brought him back to reality.
"Geez..." Sirius sighed. Barry Allen's flaw was also on another level.
"Daisy," He tried calling, but she was still lost in her own world. He squatted down in front of her and tried again, "Daisy, hey. It's cool. It's just a talking picture, Dais."
The muffling barrier within her ears popped and Daisy lowered her trembling hands slightly.
Sirius glanced up at the clock, "Remus is better at this consoling thing. He's supposed to be here by now."
He finally noticed the seventeen-year old girl glancing slightly at him, sniffling.
"Feelin' better, Flower?"
She nodded.
"Good. Can you stand up? I'm gonna get a cramp, squatting this long. I'm old."
They straightened their legs, and Daisy patted down her crinkly dress.
"Don't take what she said to heart, alright?"
Sirius raised his hand to pat her head, but as he swung it down, Daisy reflexively flinched away with her head bowed.
He halted in his track. "What— I'm not trying to hurt you." Then he stroke her hair, slowly and rhythmically, feeling her tenseness thawing with every loving pat. He felt bad for her, how she always perceived danger in the presence of people who bear any slightest resemblance to her father.
Mr. Weasley told him a secret a few weeks back, when she had a freak reaction just like this. He wished he wouldn't need to cast that spell she hated so much just to put her at ease.
Then a rap of knocks on the door was heard. Sirius dramatically sighed, "Thank the heavens— Remus! You're here!"
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January 24th, 1996
Dear Fred and George,
You left your mittens at home, so I'm sending them over, just in case. The weather is exceptionally cold this Winter.
Don't forget to study for your N.E.W.T.s, boys. With these remaining six credits, would you two please at least graduate well?
I am doing well at home, and so is your father. Don't worry about us. Just study.
By the way, I found this wonderful poem in a random book. You two should read and learn from it.
──────⊱⁜⊰──────
First and Foremost
by DJA
I'm a flower of grass, in a great green meadow
Enjoying the loveliness of the world
This rocky path and this end of the rainbow
Place where I have bawled and laughed
Everything's grand in the great green meadow
Sorted with worthwhile ups and downs
At least, until the North winds blow, alas
Home goes the flower, mourn do the towns
All's transient in the great green meadow
Well and praise and victory, too
Here, ways and thoughts are shallow
Hoping for trivial breakthrough
There will be a better tomorrow
Too beautiful, and there I shall tell you
Love is the first and foremost virtue
You, in the great green meadow, shall ever pursue
Sincerely, me.
──────⊱⁜⊰──────
With love,
Mum
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A/N:
Stop right here if you want to guess and try to intercept Daisy's message yourself! It's too easy, though.
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January 25th, 1996
WHEN HARRY AND Ron got into the Room of Requirements for D.A. meeting that evening, they were surprised to find Hermione, Ginny, and the Weasley twins huddled in one corner, all furiously scribbling over parchments.
"What're you all doing?" Ron asked curiously as he tried to peek at Hermione's paper.
Hermione turned to survey the surroundings, and when she saw that there were nobody else there except themselves, said, "Daisy sent a message through Mrs. Weasley's letter, and we're trying to decode it."
"What message?"
"A poem," Ginny replied distractedly, "I mean, it's clearly talking about loving someone, right? The first two verses said things like our lives are fleeting—"
"Huh?" George raised his head from his paper, now full of 'I GIVE UP' and random drawings, "How'd you get that?"
"It's as clear as day! The great green meadow is this world, and we are the flower of grass. The North wind will one day blow and we'll die. It says here, all's transient in the great green meadow."
"I still think it's the letter composition. But what? If I pair this word and that, or start crisscrossing—"
Harry stayed standing and peered down at the letter's copy in Ginny's hand. "Isn't it this: I'm enjoying this place. Everything's sorted at home. All's well here, hoping there too. Love you."
The other five kids looked at him like he had grown two heads. Or two brains.
"How did— how did you?" Hermione muttered furiously.
"Look, the title says something about first. So I just read the first word of every line."
They simultaneously turned to look at the pages once more and saw that... That it was right. The message was actually pretty simple. They were making it too complicated.
"Blimey!" Fred groaned, stretching in his seat, "I'll just tell Mum that the poem's too hard to understand. I'm not that smart."
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January 28th, 1996
THERE WAS ONLY one topic of conversation in the Hogwarts' corridors now: the ten escaped Death Eaters, whose story had finally filtered through the school from those few people who read the newspapers.
Rumors were flying that some of the convicts had been spotted in Hogsmeade, that they were supposed to be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack and that they were going to break into Hogwarts, just as Sirius Black had done.
Those who came from Wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of these Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as Voldemort's —the crimes they had committed were legendary.
There were relatives of their victims among the Hogwarts students, who now found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors.
Harry was the subject of much renewed muttering and pointing in the corridors these days, yet he thought he detected a slight difference in the tone of the whisperers' voices. They sounded curious rather than hostile now, and once or twice he was sure he overheard snatches of conversation that suggested that the speakers were not satisfied with the Prophet's version of how and why ten Death Eaters had managed to break out of Azkaban fortress.
In their confusion and fear, these doubters now seemed to be turning to the only other explanation available to them, the one that Harry and Dumbledore had been expounding since the previous year.
You-Know-Who was back.
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January 29th, 1996
"MY CELLPHONE IS not— working so well," Daisy said, limping into the kitchen where Sirius was eating his brunch.
"Why'd you need your cellphone?"
"I'd like to contact— some people. Also, I need to— charge this."
"It's like Hogwarts, isn't it?" Sirius shrugged, "All those substitutes for magic Muggles use: electronics, your celly and its signal —they all go haywire. There's too much magic in the air, it's jamming your device."
"Hogwarts is considerably much— more powerful than this— house, I presume?"
"Well I never had a Muggle thingamajig in my house before, so I dunno. Though Moony did bring his Muggle Mum's battery-powered hairdryer to school once and they were toast. The battery did."
"Huh..." Daisy frowned, thinking... Her face turned serious and calculative, her eyebrows furrowed, and no matter how many times Sirius called her name, she just sat there unmoving. Suddenly, robotically, she stood up, murmuring that she needed to see a book.
Less than two minutes later, Daisy reappeared by the door. "Why don't we put a— telephone here?"
"A what?"
"Telephone. The Weasleys have one— at the Burrow. We can call and talk— to Mrs. Weasley— without delay."
"There are owls for that."
"Yes, with delay of transport."
"There's also Patronus."
"You can send a message— with your Patronus as mediator?"
"Yeah!"
"But I can't," Daisy murmured as she retreated back to her basecamp (read: library). She had just found herself a new project to do.
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February 2nd, 1996
"OOF..." FRED AND George grimaced while Angelina and Alicia audibly gasped, seeing the back of Lee's hand, heavily bleeding and leaving trails of his heroic act all over the common room's floor.
Angelina pulled up Lee's sleeve against his resistance and revealed 'I will not challenge the authority' etched deeply into his dark skin. She hissed, "That awful woman!"
"It's fine."
"It's not fine!" Alicia exclaimed.
"I'm sorry, mate," George said apologetically, "You're our hero."
You see, the latest decree had been the subject of a great number of jokes among the students.
BY ORDER OF
THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS
Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-six.
Signed:
Dolores Jane Umbridge
Lee earned himself a detention after he had pointed out to Umbridge that by the terms of her own rule, she was not allowed to tell Fred and George off for playing Exploding Snap in the back of the class.
He shouted, "Exploding Snap's got nothing to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor! That's not information relating to your subject!"
"You should put it into murlap. Hermione has a stock made already."
"Yeah, Harry told me. I met him on my way back," Lee said.
"I'll ask Hermione for some," Angelina said, leaving her seat immediately.