The long table is filled with whispers and the sounds of paper rustling. I look around to see everyone holding a copy of The Daily Prophet. Mione has found herself one and her eyes bulge in fear and disbelief.
She sets the paper down and looks down towards the end of the table. "Poor Neville."
"What about Neville?" She hands me the paper and I quickly read through. My heart drops and I turn to see Neville staring down at the moving picture of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Excuse me."
I make my way towards Neville and sit down next to him. Everyone whispers and stares at Neville with pity written all over their eyes. "Nev?" No response. He stays staring down at the menacing face that tortured his parents into insanity. "Neville?" He blinks and looks at me, lost, angry, hurt, confused. Small tears start to gather in the corners of his eyes. "Oh Neville." I grab his hand, holding on tight. "Let's get out of here."
He hesitates, but soon enough I'm leading him out of the Great Hall and towards the Herbology classroom. The room is bright and filled with ever-growing plants. Butterflies fly around the room as well as ladybugs, dragon flies, and some friendly wasps. I admire them all, jealous of how innocent and carefree they are.
Small sniffles disrupt my thoughts. I turn around to find Neville gone. After looking around the rows and rows of plants, I find Neville in one of the darker corners, sitting on the floor. His head rests in his hands, his shoulders shake, his sniffles and sobs are quiet, but loud enough for me to hear. I approach slowly.
"Nev," I whisper. "I am so sorry." He moves away from me, shielding himself. I crouch, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Can I be alone?" he stutters.
"Of course. Come find me, alright? If not I'll be back in a while to check on you." He nods, sobbing more into his shoulder. I open my mouth to try and say something else, but I close it and make my way to the common room instead.
The Azkaban escape. Prisoners out. Death Eaters. Escaped. Inescapable prison. Escaped. Escaped. Escaped. Fuck. Damn it. Shit. Fuck. Fuck.
"FUCK." I kick the castle wall, running my hands through my hair.
This isn't good. With all those Death Eaters out, it's only a matter of moments when they reunite with Voldemort. It's only a matter of time. I just know that the ministry will pin this on my dad. What else could they possibly do? They have nothing else– no one else. It's only a matter of time until they come looking for me. I'm his daughter. It's only natural right? It's only fucking natural that his daughter would come out to be just as murderous as he was. Only he wasn't murderous, he was innocent, but they don't know that and they will never care to know it. Even in the Order, sooner or later they'll come to doubt me. They'll come to think the worst of me. I'm taking in the children of Death Eaters, of course, they'll doubt. By doing this one good thing I'm subjecting myself to doubt and too many chances.
"Fuck!" A loud thud rocks the ground, swaying me off balance. A heavy oak tree split in half lay a few feet from me. I take a step back in shock, looking down at my already spread hands. "I did that?" I whisper.
"You're full of mysteries aren't you?"
I recoil in surprise and take my wand out, pointing it at whoever spoke. My eyes meet brown eyes that are no longer surrounded by soft yellow bruises, but the bags underneath show that sleep is scarce.
He looks down at my wand. "Don't think you need that, do you?"
I grip my wand tighter, needing to distract or make him forget what he just saw. "Nott... I see the bruises have healed up."
He stands tense, losing all cockiness and confidence to him. "I don't know what you're talking about, Black."
"It seems that he didn't beat you over winter break. Let me guess... too drunk, too distracted, or incapacitated." He stood silent, staring down at me with narrowed eyes full of anger. "Which one is it, Nott?"
He takes a ragged breath, standing taller. "Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about."
I lower my wand, tucking it in my robes. "Bullshit." I look at the tree, debating on really opening up to Theodore Nott of all others. "Winter break... He was always too drunk during that time of the year for me. It still happened, just not as badly. I could handle those beatings. The bruises were gone in two, or three days maybe. I could pretend like it never even happened. I could pretend I had a perfect family. That I had an actual father." I shrug and meet his eyes. "We may hate each other, but I understand."
This seemed to spark him back to life. With fast steps, he gets close, less than an inch away. "Understand? You don't know bloody shite of my life." His voice is low and menacing. "You have it better. Like all stupid little Gryffindors do." His voice spits out the words like vermin that leave a bad taste in your mouth.
"Yes, I do have it better now, but for twelve years I didn't."
"And that makes us connected somehow?"
"That doesn't make us mierda (shit), Nott. I just understand, alright?" He scoffs, backing up, and curling his fists. "The nights you'd cry yourself to sleep, wanting to kill yourself just to finally stop feeling pain, but never actually being able to go through with it out of fear of what would happen to those he didn't beat around you. The wishing, hoping, praying that somebody would come and take you away, but no one ever did. Feeling worthless and thinking that nothing you do will ever be good enough because it never will, not to them. Nothing you do will ever satisfy them enough because to them you're disposable, usable, a punching bag for when they need it. A servant to push, bully, and abuse in any way they want." He stares at the floor. "Theodore. I understand." He sniffles, looking anywhere but at me.
"Yet your life turned out for the better. You get a family that wants you. A home to go to."
"When I was little all I ever wanted was for someone to take me away." I take a deep breath. "If you ever want to leave that place and have a life where you do get to choose... you know where to find me."
I walk away, breathless and with tears in my eyes. I don't know why, but crying feels like the best option when the heart is too full of emotions. When my heart is too filled with emotions.
There are so many Slytherins that could be amazing and less hateful if only their families raised them with some kind of love or kindness. I was lucky enough to have had Mamá Gloria. She kept love in my life as much as she could, and taught me how to deal with anger. Taught me to always help others. I'll never forget the days when she'd take the beatings so I could rest my bruised body.
"Scars. Is everything alright?"
I look up through wet lashes. I sniff and inhale deeply, trying to mask my tears. "Yeah, everything is perfectly fine."
"Did you forget who you're talking to? You realize I can feel your strongest emotions?"
"Can we not talk about it now? Because if we do I'll cry y ya no tengo ganas de llorar. (... and I don't feel like crying anymore)"
"Bueno, basta, me doy por rendido, llorona. (Ok, enough, I give up, crybaby.)"
"Bruto. (Stupid.)" I sigh. "Where are you going?"
"Dinner, and then you know what," he whispers, leaning in close.
"Mind some company?"
"Let's go."
The hall is silent the moment we enter. All eyes watch, waiting and anticipating something to happen. It's been like this ever since school started. As soon as we enter a room, hushed voices fall and interested eyes turn to us, expecting the absolute worst. Seamus is the first one to stand and approach us as we make our way to the end of the table. His tense features and clammy hands make me defensive right away. I feel Harry getting ready for another conflict.
"Harry. Serena."
"Seamus," I say, clenching my fists.
"I, uh– I wanted to apologize," he stutters and adverts his eyes, but he sounds too sincere to be lying. "Me mum now thinks that the Prophet doesn't know what they're saying. I read it more carefully and I agree... I guess what I'm really trying to say is that I'm sorry."
I scoff. "Finally come to your senses then?" He looks at me with sincerity and a bit of hurt.
"Lighten up, scars," Harry says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "All is forgiven, Seamus."
"Never forgotten. Trust is easy to lose and hard to regain," I say, coldly, sitting down at the table.
"Give her time," I hear Harry say to him.
I scoff, grabbing my plate and helping myself to anything and everything. Sooner or later Fred sits next to me and spends the rest of the afternoon cheering up my mood and making me laugh.
----------
"How are you doing Neville?"
"Fine," he mumbles, staring at our mirror filled with moving pictures of the Order back then, Cedric, and Prophet news reports.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He stares at his parents, fidgeting with the wand in his hand.
"Talk about what?" Harry approaches following Neville's line of sight.
He exhales deeply. "Fourteen years ago... a Death Eater named Bellatrix Lestrange-"
"Nev. You don't have to," I remind. He persists, never taking his eyes off the picture.
"She used the Cruciatus Curse on my parents. She tortured them for information, but they never gave in." He inhales, taking my hand and giving it an anxious squeeze. "I'm quite proud to be their son... But I'm not sure I'm ready for everyone to know what really happened just yet."
Harry takes my other hand, squeezing it as well. "We're gonna make them proud, Neville."
"That's a promise," I finish, staring at my dad and mum as well.
After a long tense, meaningful silence it breaks thanks to Neville. "Serena, you really are the spitted image of your mum, hair and everything."
I let out a small laugh. "I know. It's hard to fathom how much I share with her." Another moment of silence passes. "What's on the agenda today Harry?"
He presses warmth and joy through our connection which instantly makes me smile.
"The Patronus Charm."
----------
"Make it a powerful memory, the happiest you can remember. Allow it to fill you up!" Harry walks around correcting everyone, helping with their memories. Selena Quintanilla plays in the background, trying to bring up the mood in the room.
I walk over to Blaise who is just watching Clara. "Not gonna try?"
He sighs. "Serena. I don't have any memory powerful enough to support the Patronus Charm. I didn't exactly have an amazing childhood. Especially with the news I just received."
"I'm working on that, Blaise. I made a promise and I intend to keep it," I assure him.
"Expecto Patronum!" A glowing horse nearly trips me over, but I move in time to see Clara's face completely lit up. Her eyes shine bright, reminding me of how bright the moon shines against the sea.
"If only I could do that," Blaise mumbles.
"If you can't think of anything happy enough, then try thinking of something pure, good, and light," I smirk. "Maybe you can think of Luna Lovegood."
He chokes on his saliva and I laugh. "Wh-why would you say that?"
"You think I don't notice you watching her?"
He clears his throat and adjusts his tie. "I'll try just not here," he whispers, casting his eyes down.
"Fine," I comply. "It's looking good, Kingswood," I call out.
She smiles. "It better be because I'm thinking of you and Andy. And Fred's face when I tell him you're actually in love with me and not him."
A sudden warmth glides through, making me grin and laugh. "I'd expect nothing less."
She laughs, casting her Patronus charm again. The glowing horse runs around the room once more, its tail smacking poor Neville on the head, and knocking into Fred, making his Patronus waver and fade. He looks over at Clara annoyed, scowling at her.
"Hey, easy tiger," I say, hugging him from behind. "No need to be mean."
"I was doing so well."
"You are doing well," I remind him. "If you don't mind me asking, what memory did you choose?"
He smiles. "Christmas." He winks at me which draws heat to my cheeks. I look down at the floor, hiding my smile. "Have you cast yours?"
I clear my throat. "No. And I'm not going to," I admit.
He furrows his brows. "Why not?"
"I don't think I'll be able to since..."
"Gloria died," he finishes. I nod. He lifts up my chin, placing a sweet kiss on my lips. "It doesn't hurt to try." He leans in close, slowly dragging a finger up my arm. "If it fails we could make some memories where I have you feeling all kinds of things."
"Fred Gideon Weasley," I exclaimed, looking around flustered. "What if someone hears you?"
"Then they'd wish they could rip out their eardrums." I whip around to find George, looking disgusted. "Next time, leave the room. I'd like to keep my virgin ears, virgin."
I roll my eyes. "If your ears are virgin, George, then I'm a flying hippogriff."
"And I'm a dancing Dungbeettle," Fred adds.
He steps back in fake shock, his eyes wide, looking at us. "I knew it!"
I laugh, leaning back into Fred when the chandelier starts to swing. My smile vanishes along with most of the Patronuses in the room. I walk towards it when another thud hits the room, making my knees go a bit weak. The room goes silent, everyone looking at the wall. A few seconds then another thud, then the glass on the front wall shatters, falling to the floor, and scattering everywhere. I walk up to the wall with Harry and notice a small hole in it.
"I'll make quick work of this... Bombarda Maxima"
Mierda. I grab Harry and push us both back away from the wall. As soon as the wall bursts through I throw up my hands, summoning air, and catching the debris. It stops from hitting anyone and I hold it in place, blocking the entrance and our view.
We need to get out of here. I need to get Fred out of here. Shit. Mierda. If they find Blaise, he'll know. If only we were in the common room. Or in the hall. Why couldn't we just be in the common room? A sudden desperate shock comes through my body, making me double over. My left hand shoots out with a burst of bright white light. A circular window, surrounded by small bolts of lightning and crackling fog, sits suspended in midair. Everyone stares in shock, but deep down I know that the common room is just beyond it. Everybody stares. Nobody moves. My arms grow heavier and weaker by the second.
"Go!" I call out. Everyone just stares in awe and shock. I feel anger build in me, pricking my throat. "GO!" I see myself in the mirror and flinch in shock at my eyes. The whites of my eyes are glowing white. The iris of my eyes is glowing an electric dark, almost midnight blue. Clara takes Blaise's hand and runs through with him. "Everyone out! Go!"
Clara pokes her head through and steps back into the room. "It's fine," she reassures everyone in the room. "Come on!" Without a moment left to think everyone is running through, ushered by Harry.
Fred lingers at it. "I'm right behind you," I say, straining to keep the debris up and the window open. He starts, trying to fight me on it, but a small female hand sticks through and yanks him in. Harry starts walking towards me.
"Harry, you need to go," I whimper.
"Not a chance." He grabs my waist. "Let go."
"Harry."
"Serena. Close that thing and drop the debris."
With exhaustion pulling my body I drop both my hands, dropping both the debris and the strange window. My knees instantly give way, but Harry catches me, sharing some of his strength through our connection. I bring myself up, holding onto Harry and mustering up as much courage as I possibly can.
Once the debris settles, all that I can see is Umbridge's sour face, sneering at us. Her face is triumphant until she sees the whole room and realizes it's only Harry and me.
Her smile drops, but that's when mine starts to lift.
----------
My smile quickly faded, especially when my dear old brother-in-law Percy was dragging Harry and me up the steps toward Dumbledore's office. I noticed that his grip was tighter on me than it was on Harry's, so I "accidentally" tripped and stepped on his toes. He winced and glared at me, but it was nothing a wink couldn't fix... At least for me.
My real surprise was when Cho Chang and Kingsley were already in Dumbledore's office, waiting for us. The look on Harry's face told me that the feelings he held toward Cho were instantly gone when he realized. Cho was the only one missing at practice today. Cornelius stares at me with such anger and hate that it sends a shiver down my spine.
"I should've known," he states, staring at me. "Of course, you'd be involved.
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Fudge," I state simply. Harry nudges my ribs.
"Minister Fudge," he corrects.
"Whatever gets your little wand going," I mumble, rolling my eyes.
"That is quite enough, Miss Black," Dumbledore interrupts.
"This is what I've been telling you about, Cornelius," Umbridge begins. "I've been watching them for weeks. And see-" she holds up a piece of parchment that looks all too familiar- " "Dumbledore's Army." Proof of what I've been telling you right from the beginning. All your fear-mongering about You-Know-Who never fooled us for a minute. We saw your lies for what they were: A smokescreen for your bid to seize control of the Ministry."
"Naturally," Dumbledore states, calmly, sitting at his desk as if this were merely a tea party.
"No, professor," Harry defends. "He had nothing to do with it. It was me. All me." I press through our connection, telling him to shut up for once in his life. He ignores it, of course.
"Most noble of you, Harry, to shield me, but as has been pointed out the parchment clearly says "Dumbledore's Army," not "Potter's," I instructed Harry to form this organization. And I, and I alone, am responsible for its activities."
"Dispatch an owl to the Daily Prophet," Cornelius barks. "If we hurry, we should still make the morning edition... Dawlish, Shacklebolt, you will escort Dumbledore to Azkaban."
Harry struggles desperately against Percy at the mention of Azkaban. I struggle too, but to try and keep Harry from going as well. I get myself a bit free to which Percy grabs the back of my hair, pulling it back.
"Gran hijo de puta, (Great son of a bitch)" I groan.
"My brother may be stupid, but I'm not," he whispers through clenched teeth.
"At least your brother is getting laid." I eye his terrible gray suit. "Unlike you."
Our focus shifts back towards Dumbledore when Cornelius steps up to the desk along with Kingsley and Dawlish.
"I thought we might hit this little snag," Dumbledore says, standing up and walking toward the back of his office. "You seem to be laboring under the delusion that I'm going to, what was the phrase? Come quietly? Well, I can tell you this: I have no intention of going to Azkaban."
"Enough of this," Umbridge grunts. "Take him," she demands.
A loud screech echoes through the room. Phoenix comes soaring through the air. Its tails are like actual firelight. The bird swoops down and meets Dumbledore's raised hands. A hot and heavy wind blasts through the room, stumbling me backward. I take the opportunity and push Percy to the floor. In another blazing light, Dumbledore is gone, only to have ashes spread on the desk.
As everyone gets up Kingsley approaches Fudge. "Well, you may not like him, Minister, but you can't deny... Dumbledore's got style."
I don't trust Dumbledore, but Kingsley is right. That man knows how to make an exit.