A/n: Hello, I'm back from a lengthy break, and I've brought along this somewhat subpar chapter. It hasn't been edited yet, so brace yourself for numerous confusing words and grammatical errors. Additionally, this chapter is quite brief. I'm currently lacking motivation to write :((, and I feel it reflects in my writing. Unfortunately, I'm struggling to find the inspiration since my cousin recently passed away - he drowned. His body was missing for a few days, but thankfully, it has been recovered. However, his life cannot be restored. It's truly heartbreaking, especially considering it happened just before Christmas :((. Anyway, If you're still here please do comment or just vote ty.
Edit : this is sorta edited (PLEASE READ I HAVE ADDED A LOT OF SCENES TY).
if you see this * it means it's the era of my mental block so you need to bear with it. PlEase.
*
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Hermione persistently questioned Harry during their timetable arrangements about his absence from Occlumency lessons with Snape. (Y/n), helping Harry sort his schedule, witnessed Harry's repeated irritated response: "Snape thinks I can manage on my own now that I've grasped the basics." Despite Harry's explanation, Hermione shared her opinion.
However, (Y/n) sensed Harry's deception. The previous night, during Harry's supposed Occlumency session, (Y/n) unexpectedly visualised an immersive scene. It disclosed a startling revelation: a historical link between Snape and James, shedding light on Snape's disdain for Harry, resembling his father, and his vexation towards James. (Y/n) realised she somehow shared Harry's vision, perceiving significant moments. Puzzled by this ability, she sought answers but remained hopeful of understanding and escaping this inexplicable connection.
Harry's lingering gloom since his last encounter with Snape drew Hermione's inquiries. He attributed it to Marietta or a disagreement with Cho, but (Y/n) knew better; these were mere fabrications.
She contemplated the reason behind Harry's detachment, suspecting it related to the Snape-James encounter he witnessed. Aware of Harry's inner turmoil, she waited patiently for him to open up, trusting his eventual confession.
During Quidditch practice, Ron's intervention saved Sloper from a disastrous fall, but Angelina's distress hinted at the team's bleak prospects. Their training halted, leaving (Y/n) to search for Hermione, eager to explore the contents of her notes for guidance.
However, on her way to the library, where she anticipated finding Hermione, (Y/n) unexpectedly crossed paths with Cho Chang. Initially considering ignoring her, she was surprised when Cho called out her name. Offering a smile in return, (Y/n) couldn't help but notice the redness in Cho's eyes, suggesting recent tears. She pondered if it related to Cedric or Harry. Despite Cho's reddened eyes, her inherent beauty was undeniable. (Y/n) couldn't blame Harry for being drawn to her - Cho possessed a captivating face and an enchanting smile, causing (Y/n) to involuntarily compare herself to the girl before her.
"Are you looking for Harry?" (Y/n) inquired, sensing that must be Cho's reason for approaching her. Cho hadn't made an effort to talk to Hermione, Ron, or herself previously, but that was inconsequential.
Cho swiftly shook her head.
"I want to talk to you," she admitted.
This confession surprised (Y/n), although she didn't display it outwardly.
"May I?" Cho asked, hoping for a positive response.
Feeling somewhat intimidated by Cho's beauty, (Y/n) felt she had no right to refuse her request and simply nodded. Cho smiled and began walking, with (Y/n) following suit, eager to hear what Cho had to say.
"So, what do you want to discuss?" (Y/n) asked as they settled in an empty classroom, standing a few paces apart. Despite the distance, (Y/n) noticed Cho was slightly taller, which momentarily made her feel insecure about her own height.
"I won't beat about the bush, Sabrina, knowing you're busy too," Cho began earnestly. "I just... I just want to ask you if..." Cho hesitated, struggling to continue her sentence.
"if?"
"If there's something going on between you and Harry," she finally asked, meeting (Y/n)'s gaze.
Unsure whether to laugh or be surprised, (Y/n) chose to smile, given Cho was awaiting her response.
She gently shook her head, stating, "No."
But Cho seemed unconvinced, giving her a look that conveyed disbelief.
"I don't know where you got that idea," (Y/n) started, feeling compelled to clarify. "Harry and I are just friends. Whatever others may have said, it's untrue. If you've noticed Harry and I are close, it's purely because of our friendship. There's no romantic involvement between us. He and I are friends, while you and he are dating. It's crystal clear where I stand and where you stand in his life. These two things shouldn't be confused," she explained sincerely.
(Y/n) expected Cho to comprehend, but instead, Cho stared at her, seemingly trying to decipher her expression.
"Well, if you don't trust me, at least trust Harry," (Y/n) suggested, attempting to maintain patience. Irritation started creeping in. She couldn't fathom why Cho felt the need to question her when she and Harry were already in a relationship. Wasn't that assurance enough?
"Do you still have feelings for him?" Cho suddenly inquired.
(Y/n) held Cho's gaze for a moment, blinking in response.
"No, no, I don't," she murmured softly. "Why would I? I see him as a brother, literally. He's spent many summers at our house, and my parents regard him as their own child too. It would be odd. I mean, sure, I had a crush on him before. He's the 'Boy Who Lived'; what's not to admire? But it was merely a silly childhood infatuation, and now when I think back, it just makes me cringe," she chuckled. She made it clear that she didn't have feelings for Harry. Maybe the original Sabrina did, but she wasn't that person.
(Y/n) anticipated Cho would finally grasp that, yet she was taken aback by Cho's next words. "But does he like you?" she raised an eyebrow. The question struck her as absurd, and she burst into laughter. She couldn't explain why she found it so ridiculous, but Cho seemed perplexed.
"Sorry," she apologized once she managed to stifle her laughter. "Honestly, Cho, where on earth did you get that idea? Harry's with you! You're his girlfriend. Who do you think he's into? He's not some flirt. He's lucky to have a wonderful girl like you. And as for me? No chance! Haha." Cho appeared to feel reassured by this, even giving a slight smile, until she posed another question that almost made (Y/n) want to slap herself right in front of her. "Does... does Hermione Granger like Harry?" (Y/n) furrowed her brow at that notion.
She hadn't realized that even someone as lovely as Cho could feel threatened and insecure.
"No, absolutely not. Harry's a fantastic guy, but I'm rooting for Hermione to be with my brother, Ron," she clarified.
"Oh," Cho responded, nodding slowly in understanding. "I see."
(Y/n) was taken aback when Cho facepalmed herself. "I'm sorry for asking those questions... it's just that... you and Hermione are the girls closest to him, especially you, so I couldn't help but wonder if there's something between you two, or if one of you harbors feelings for the other but is afraid to admit it, fearing it might ruin your friendship," she explained.
(Y/n) couldn't help but wonder if there existed something like Wattpad in this world, considering the oddity of Cho's thoughts.
"To be honest, I'm jealous of you and Hermione. I'm sure Harry has confided in you guys about things he can't discuss with me. I'm not upset, just envious because I know he can't rely on me like he does on you both." There was a sincerity in Cho's eyes that made (Y/n) realise Cho likely had genuine feelings for Harry too. Although she couldn't fault Harry for keeping certain things secret from Cho, understanding it was part of the plot, she also knew she wasn't destined to be Harry's future wife.
"I think you both should talk things out, Chang. It's the only way to understand each other better and, you know, get to know each other more," (Y/n) advised.
Cho shook her head.
"He's angry with me," she confessed in a subdued tone. "And besides, things aren't okay between Harry and me right now because he's upset with Marietta. I know she messed up, but I hope he understands she made a mistake, and..." Cho swallowed hard, looking on the brink of tears.
(Y/n) didn't know how to comfort Cho. "Well, perhaps you should talk to him. I can go fetch Harry for you-"
"Oh, no, no, no, you absolutely mustn't do that," Cho interrupted, appearing on the verge of tears. "You mustn't," she said firmly.
At that moment, (Y/n) realised Cho might want Harry to initiate the conversation and offer an apology. She simply nodded in agreement.
They lapsed into silence before Cho whispered, "Thank you for listening."
(Y/n) responded with a small smile. "You're welcome."
"You know, you're really beautiful," Cho suddenly remarked, causing (Y/n) to blush sheepishly. "I swear I'm not lying. You're incredibly pretty and intelligent too. Sometimes Harry talked a lot about you when we were together or wandering around Hogwarts, and that made me jealous. But now that I know you don't have feelings for him and he doesn't for you, it feels like a relief. It's not that I don't trust Harry; it's just that-"
"You don't trust me because I used to like Harry? I understand, I don't blame you," (Y/n) interjected, making Cho blush in embarrassment.
Another silence fell before Cho broke it, commenting, "I like your necklace. Where did you get that? I haven't seen anything like it in Hogsmeade. Is it custom-made?"
"Oh," (Y/n) instinctively touched the pendant on her necklace. "Uh, thank you. I like it too. It's a gift, and no, I don't think it's customized or personalised," she replied, trying to avoid remembering the night Harry had given it to her. It felt awkward, especially with his girlfriend complimenting it.
"A gift? From someone special?" asked Cho, smiling.
"WHAT? No, no, no," stuttered (Y/n), feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
"Pft. I can tell by the way you're blushing," teased Cho, chuckling softly.
"No, I'm not blushing," (Y/n) denied, flustered.
"But if you think about it, it has meaning," said Cho, still smiling as she looked at the necklace.
"Meaning?" (Y/n) asked, puzzled. She believed Harry probably picked it out somewhere, feeling guilty for not getting her a Christmas gift. Also, Harry was somewhat foolish to give something with significance.
"Yeah, it has meaning. You see, it's a snitch, right? He gave you the snitch as a pendant. And the snitch is something you seek when playing Quidditch, and when you catch it, you win. He probably wants to tell you that you're the only one he's seeking, that he won because he found his snitch... You're his snitch. What a romantic way to say he doesn't need anyone but you - he found the one he's looking for... Wait, he didn't tell you?" Cho sounded alarmed as she observed (Y/n)'s shocked expression.
(Y/n) shook her head in disbelief.
Of course! Here's a rephrased version:
"Oh, I bet... oh no, I ruined it for him," Cho exclaimed, looking anxious.
"Don't worry, you didn't ruin anything. It's just a gift without any hidden meaning, Chang," (Y/n) reassured her.
Cho seemed hesitant to say more and the silence lingered until Cho finally bid goodbye, thanking (Y/n) for the conversation.
Alone in the empty classroom, (Y/n) contemplated Cho's words. She questioned whether Harry would truly give her a present with significant implications. Reminding herself that Harry was dating Cho, she reasoned that discussing her with Cho around would be inappropriate and a form of betrayal.
"He's with Cho. He doesn't feel that way about me," (Y/n) scolded herself, pondering the intricacies of their relationships. Yet, the reminder that Cho mentioned Harry talking about her lingered in her mind.
Recalling Harry's explanation when he presented her with the Snitch pendant, referencing her newfound interest in Quidditch, (Y/n) concluded that the necklace likely held no profound meaning. It was probably a considerate gesture from Harry, acknowledging her changing hobbies.
"That's it. It doesn't symbolize anything deeper," (Y/n) reassured herself, attempting to dispel any hopes clouding her thoughts.
-----
(Y/n) felt a glimmer of hope dissipate like a candle snuffed out upon seeing Harry and Ginny together while making her way to the library. They looked perfectly suited, as if destined for each other. Was she deceiving herself? They seemed so right together, because they would eventually marry in the future. She paused suddenly, a twinge in her heart—whether from fatigue after Quidditch training or hunger, she reasoned.
"Sabrina!" Harry called out to her. Was it right to be addressed by a name that wasn't hers? Was it right to pretend to be someone else, to blend in as a different individual distinct from the rest?
"I've been waiting ages for you!" Harry's grin widened, his eyes regaining their lost sparkle. She wondered if Ginny was the reason for his renewed hope.
"Why were you waiting?" She tried to feign delight in her voice, although her true mood had been shattered. She didn't understand why she suddenly felt so vulnerable. Was she truly that tired?
"I have something to tell you," said Harry, "I never knew Ginny could be so brilliant." (Y/n) briefly glanced at Ginny when Harry motioned towards her. Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry's comment but then grinned.
Ginny, brilliant? Why was he sharing this with me?
A strange ache intensified in her heart, and all she wanted was to escape and leave Harry and Ginny alone.
"When will you realize, Harry? She's always been brilliant," she said.
Harry seemed like he wanted to say more, but hesitated and simply nodded.
"So, what did you want to tell me?"
"I've changed my mind. It's really important, and I don't want anyone overhearing," Harry glanced around, "so I'll tell you when Ron and Hermione are with us. Where's Ron anyway?"
"Oh, he took Sloper to the Hospital Wing. Angelina thinks he hit himself with his own bat." She didn't show her irritation when he mentioned changing his mind about sharing something important later with Hermione and Ron present. She knew she shouldn't be upset, but she was. She pondered how significant it was that he didn't want anyone overhearing. He could have simply come closer and whispered it in her ear, as he usually did when sharing something important or a joke. Was he doing it because Ginny was the one who imparted this crucial information to him?
"That Sloper guy's stupidity knows no bounds," remarked Ginny, causing Harry to chuckle.
It wasn't even remotely funny.
But (Y/n) forced a chuckle anyway.
-----
To emphasize the importance of their impending examinations, a slew of pamphlets, leaflets, and career notices appeared on Gryffindor Tower's tables just before the end of the holidays. Another notice reinforced the message:
CAREER ADVICE
All fifth years will need to attend a brief meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the Summer term, where they will have the opportunity to discuss their future careers. Individual appointment times are listed below.
(Y/n) perused the list and found she was due in Professor McGonagall's office precisely at two o'clock on Monday, which clashed with most of her Divination class. Like Harry and other fifth-year students, she spent a significant part of the final weekend of the Easter break devouring the career pamphlets left for their consideration.
The truth was, she hadn't settled on a chosen career path; the thought hadn't occupied her mind. After all, she didn't envisage staying inside here forever, so pondering it hadn't seemed necessary... until now. She found herself pondering, What would the real Sabrina Weasley pursue as her profession? Not having delved into the books following "Prisoner of Azkaban," she remained unaware of the potential career choices she might have made. She resolved to go along with Ron's often-teasing suggestion - working in the Ministry of Magic. Internally, she sighed at the notion.
"What's on your timetable?" Harry inquired.
"It's set for Monday, at two in the afternoon," she replied, her lingering annoyance towards Harry for withholding Ginny's comments that had impressed him not being obvious.
"We've got the same schedule," Harry announced cheerfully, oblivious to (Y/n)'s taciturn response.
"Well, I don't fancy healing," Ron declared on the final evening of the holidays. He was engrossed in a leaflet displaying St. Mungo's emblem of crossed bone and wand on its cover. "According to this, you need at least an E grade in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, and Defence Against the Dark Arts at N.E.W.T. level. Quite demanding, I must say... They ask for a lot, don't they?"
"I can't imagine you as a healer either... However, I can picture you being tended to by one," (Y/n) fired back, her annoyance stemming from the leaflets. Fred and George, seizing the chance, took playful jabs at her about potentially becoming Minister of Magic. This, predictably, prompted laughter from Slytherins whenever she encountered them during classes or in passing.
Ron shot her a stern glare in response.
"Hey," a voice murmured in Harry's ear. Glancing around, he saw Fred and George had joined them.
"Ginny's had a word with us about you," Fred stated, nonchalantly stretching his legs on the table. Several booklets on careers with the Ministry of Magic slid off onto the floor. "She says you need to talk to Sirius?"
"What?" Hermione interrupted sharply, freezing with her hand halfway towards picking up a leaflet on magical accidents and catastrophes. (Y/n) looked at Harry with a questioning expression, and Harry, feeling guilty for not sharing this information with her earlier, met her gaze apologetically. (Y/n) began piecing together the events, starting from when she saw Harry and Ginny leaving the library together.
"Yeah..." Harry continued, attempting to sound casual and avoiding eye contact with (Y/n), aware of the betrayed look she might give him. He knew they needed to talk about sharing things with each other, and he hadn't informed her about this yet. "Yeah, I thought I'd like-"
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione interjected, looking at him incredulously.
"With Umbridge snooping around in the fires and checking all the owls?" Hermione glanced at (Y/n).
"What? I didn't know about that! Don't give me that look," (Y/n) retorted, rolling her eyes at Hermione.
"Well, we think we can find a way around that," said George, smiling and giving Harry a pointed look that silently conveyed, 'Why didn't you tell your girlfriend?' "It's a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we've been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays."
"What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?" Fred continued. "No point at all, we answered ourselves. And, of course, we'd have messed up people's studying too, which would be the very last thing we'd want to do." He gave Hermione a sanctimonious little nod, leaving her somewhat taken aback by this unexpected thoughtfulness.
"But it's business as usual from tomorrow," Fred declared briskly. "And if we're going to be causing a bit of uproar, why not
do it so that Harry can have his chat with Sirius?"
"Yes, but still," said Hermione, as if explaining something very simple to someone obtuse, "even if you do cause a diversion, how is Harry supposed to talk to him?"
"Umbridge's office," Harry replied quietly.
He had contemplated it for a fortnight and could think of no alternative; Umbridge herself had informed him that the only fire not being watched was her own.
"Are you insane?" Hermione whispered incredulously.
Ron had lowered his leaflet on jobs in the cultivated fungus trade, watching the conversation warily. (Y/n) gave up pretending she didn't want to listen and observed them with furrowed eyebrows.
"I don't think so," Harry shrugged.
"And how are you going to get in there in the first place?"
Harry was prepared for this question.
"Sirius's knife," he said. "Christmas before last, Sirius gave me a knife that'll open any lock," Harry explained. "So even if she's bewitched the door so Alohomora won't work, which I bet she has-"
"What do you think about this?" Hermione turned to Ron, and Harry couldn't help but be reminded of Mrs. Weasley appealing to her husband during Harry's first dinner in Grimmauld Place.
"I dunno," Ron replied, looking alarmed at being asked for an opinion. "If Harry wants to do it, it's up to him, isn't it?"
"Spoken like a true friend and Weasley," Fred commented, clapping Ron hard on the back.
"What about you, Sabrina? What's your take on this?" Hermione asked as though (Y/n) was her only hope.
"Well, I think he could do whatever he wants. I mean, we're not the ones who are going to get in trouble if he's caught, right? It's him!" (Y/n) exclaimed irritably, pointing a finger at Harry, who appeared like a fish out of water.
"But Sabri-"
"Do you think I have the ability to stop him from making his own decisions, Hermione?" she snapped, annoyed. She didn't understand why she was reacting like this, but the ongoing conversation was wearing her out and testing her patience. She needed to escape from it as soon as possible.
"Ugh, I'm tired. I think I'm going to rest." Without waiting for any reaction, she stood up and walked away.
Where she's going? She doesn't know.
"Did you do anything to upset her, Harry?" Fred asked, grinning.
Harry looked at him.
Did he?
Hermione sighed and shook her head, mouthing, "boys," as she realized what had just happened.
Then, Harry glanced at (Y/n)'s retreating figure. He probably made her upset by not telling her about his conversation with Ginny. He knew he needed to apologize, but he didn't understand why she was so upset.
-----
With the sun casting its morning glow, Harry awoke before the break of dawn, feeling a familiar knot of anxiety reminiscent of the day of his Ministry of Magic hearing. His unease wasn't solely due to the daring task of breaking into Umbridge's office to communicate with Sirius through her fireplace; it was compounded by the looming encounter with Snape during their Potions lesson.
Contemplating the day ahead, Harry mulled over the necessity of apologizing to Sabrina, allowing the morning light to gently filter into Neville's room. The sky presented an ethereal canvas of opalescent blue, while the towering beech tree, witness to his father's past skirmishes with Snape, stood prominently in view. Sirius's side of the story held an allure for Harry, desperate for any justification or explanation for his father's actions, despite the unsettling memories from the Pensieve.
However, a flicker of movement at the edge of the Forbidden Forest diverted his attention. Squinting against the sun's glare, he spotted Hagrid limping out from the trees, staggering into his cabin. Harry lingered at the window, observing smoke curling from Hagrid's chimney, reassured that his injuries couldn't be severe enough to prevent him from tending to the fire.
Turning away, Harry returned to his tasks, dressing for the day that promised anything but tranquility. Amidst his preparations, Hermione's persistent attempts to dissuade him from his plans added to the mounting tension. Even during their History of Magic class, Hermione's fervent whispers of caution disrupted the lesson, causing a stir amongst their peers.
Unfazed by Ron and Harry's silence, Hermione continued her stream of warnings sotto voce, causing distractions even for Seamus, who checked his cauldron repeatedly. Sabrina, seemingly engrossed in her books, appeared to avoid Harry, adding to his frustrations.
Entering the dungeons for Potions class, Snape chose to disregard Harry entirely, employing a tactic akin to Uncle Vernon's frequent ignorance. To Harry's relief, this new approach was a welcome departure from Snape's usual taunts, allowing him to focus on brewing an Invigoration Draught with ease.
Yet, Snape's malicious delight was evident when he destroyed Harry's potion sample, denying him the chance for a better grade. Hermione's accidental cleanup compounded Harry's vexation, leaving him speechless and glancing at Sabrina, who seemed too absorbed in glaring at Malfoy to notice his distress.
Exiting the dungeon with Neville, Harry strategically reserved a spot for Sabrina at lunch, intending to discuss matters with her and avoid Hermione's nagging. However, Sabrina squeezed between Ron and Hermione, unintentionally neglecting Harry's unspoken plea for discussion about what occurred in Snape's class.
His mood soured further by the time Divination class arrived, causing him to forget his appointment with Professor McGonagall. Rushing back, he arrived slightly tardy, apologising breathlessly as he entered.
Despite McGonagall's understanding, the presence of the smug and vexatious Umbridge, with her clipboard and self-satisfied grin, added an extra layer of tension. Harry positioned himself, trying to ignore Umbridge's scratching quill, focusing instead on Professor McGonagall.
-----
Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and hastened out of the room, avoiding a glance at Umbridge. He caught sight of (Y/n), leaning against the wall with closed eyes, books resting on her chest as she embraced them. Though Professor McGonagall's argument with Umbridge continued to echo inside, Harry perceived a sense of tranquility in Sabrina, despite her closed eyes.
"(Y/n)," Harry uttered the name, causing Sabrina's eyes to flutter open abruptly. For a fraction of a second, Harry noticed surprise flash across her face before recognition set in upon seeing it was him.
"It's Sabrina, not (Y/n)," she corrected.
"Sorry, it's just... something came over me." Harry's words rang true. He couldn't fathom why her name, mentioned once during a drunken conversation, popped into his head at that serene moment. Observing her transition from discomfort back to normality, he found it peculiar.
"Any—"
"Go ahead," she interjected suddenly, meeting his gaze directly. Harry blinked, taking a moment to comprehend her words. "I sense something is troubling you. If speaking to him, to Sirius, is the only way to ease your mind, then do it."
"I—"
"We'll talk later, Harry. Go now," she urged, motioning for him to leave before approaching the door to knock.
"Thank you," Harry said gratefully, eliciting a slight smile from her. It stirred an indescribable feeling within him.
Professor Umbridge entered their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson that afternoon, visibly out of breath as if she had just concluded a race.
"I hope you've reconsidered your plans, Harry," Hermione whispered as they opened their books to chapter thirty-four ("Non-Retaliation and Negotiation").
"Umbridge seems to be in an even worse mood than usual..." Umbridge shot frequent glares at Harry, who kept his head down, gazing at Defensive Magical Theory with unfocused eyes, lost in thought. He imagined Professor McGonagall's reaction if caught trespassing in Umbridge's office just hours after she had supported him. Despite the temptation to return to Gryffindor Tower, hoping for a chance to question Sirius during the summer, a leaden feeling settled in his stomach. The matter of Fred and George's impending diversion and the knife from Sirius in his bag alongside his father's old Invisibility Cloak weighed heavily on his mind. Then, he recalled Sabrina's encouragement, her acute perception of his inner turmoil—how did she notice what others didn't? It strengthened his resolve, but the risk...
"Dumbledore sacrificed himself for your education, Harry!" Hermione whispered urgently, hiding her face behind her book from Umbridge. "If you're expelled now, it will all have been in vain!"
He could choose to abandon the plan and live with the memory of his father's actions over twenty years ago. Yet, the image of Sirius in the fireplace lingered in his mind. "You're less like your father than I thought..." Did he truly want to be like his father anymore? And Sabrina's expression when she urged him...she had always believed in him...
"Harry, please don't do it!" Hermione pleaded as the bell signaled the end of the class. Ron stayed silent, offering neither opinion nor advice. When Hermione tried once more to dissuade Harry, Ron intervened quietly, "Enough, let him decide."
"Good luck," Sabrina's voice whispered beside him, meant only for his ears. When Harry glanced at her, she was engrossed in her reading. His heart raced as he left the classroom.
As he hurried down the corridor, there came unmistakable sounds of a commotion in the distance. People stopped in their tracks, looking up fearfully at the ceiling, startled by the screams and yells echoing above.
Umbridge dashed out of her classroom, wand drawn, heading in the opposite direction. It was now or never.
"Harry, please!" Hermione's plea weakened, but Harry had made his choice. Adjusting his bag on his shoulder, he sprinted past students rushing in the opposite direction to see the commotion in the east wing...
Harry arrived at the corridor housing Umbridge's office, discovering it completely deserted. Stealthily moving behind a bulky suit of armor whose helmet creaked in response to his presence, he hastily opened his bag, retrieved Sirius's knife, and concealed himself under the Invisibility Cloak. Slowly and cautiously, he sidled away from the armor, making his way along the corridor until he reached Umbridge's door. With deft precision, he slid the enchanted knife into the crack around the door, maneuvering it gently before withdrawing it. A minuscule click echoed, and the door swung open. Slipping inside the office, he shut the door swiftly behind him and surveyed the surroundings.
The space appeared vacant; nothing stirred except for the unsettling sight of animated kittens frolicking on the plates adorning the wall above the confiscated broomsticks.
Removing the Invisibility Cloak, Harry strode purposefully to the fireplace, quickly locating what he sought: a small box containing sparkling Floo powder.
Crouching before the empty grate, his hands trembling, Harry prepared himself for a task he had never attempted before, albeit with a semblance of understanding. Leaning into the fireplace, he took a generous pinch of powder and let it fall onto the neatly arranged logs below. Instantly, they erupted into vibrant emerald flames.
"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" Harry declared loudly and clearly into the fire.
-----
(Y/n) found herself amidst towering bookshelves, each housing ancient tomes and peculiar manuscripts. The air hung heavy with the familiar scent of old parchment.
As she surveyed the room, a mixture of confusion and recognition clouded her senses. This was the library in her uncle's house! The books, the colours of the walls - everything seemed identical to when she had been away. Was this a return to reality? Had she truly exited the confines of the Harry Potter book? The excitement in her heart palpitated wildly, pondering if this was indeed real and not just another chapter in her magical journey.
Amongst the neatly aligned shelves, she noticed the conspicuous absence of a particular book. Curiosity propelled her to peek through the gap where it should have been.
Through the slender openings between the bookshelves, she caught sight of a familiar figure - her uncle. He stood in a secluded corner, frustration etched on his face as he cast aside a book and paced anxiously. His mutterings were barely audible, an urgent undertone woven into words she couldn't discern - his appearance slightly altered, his hair shorter and messier than she remembered.
The space surrounding her uncle was as peculiar as ever, filled with tomes on wizardry, potions, and enigmatic artifacts whose purposes eluded her understanding.
As she attempted to comprehend this bewildering situation, her uncle's restless pacing abruptly ceased. She held her breath, witnessing him run his hand through his unruly hair in apparent frustration, wrestling with an enigmatic puzzle.
A sudden loud bang pierced the silence, startling her. Her thoughts raced to make sense of the noise, recognizing it as something akin to commotion or a disturbance.
Then, memories surged forth.
Fred and George's diversion! (Y/n) had lingered in the classroom, engrossed in a potion book, bidding Ron and Hermione to forge ahead without her.
With a sudden jolt, (Y/n) snapped her eyes open.
The musty library and her enigmatic uncle vanished, replaced once more by the familiar, empty classroom. Reality dawned upon her – what she had experienced was a dream, a memory from the world she'd left behind. Disappointment weighed heavy upon her; she had hoped to return to her reality, yet found herself still within the confines of the magical realm.
Why did she dream of her uncle? and why that particular memory? she remembered that memory; it was the time when she visited her uncle with her mum.
Shaking her head to dispel the remnants of her dream, she rose to her feet at the sound of another bang. Determined to uncover the cause, she hurried onward. The cacophony of shouts and movement drew her towards the entrance hall, where the school seemed to have gathered, its corridors abuzz with an unforeseen commotion.
It felt eerily reminiscent of the night Trelawney was sacked. Students had gathered in a wide circle, some of them splattered in what seemed like Stinksap. Teachers, ghosts, and members of the Inquisitorial Squad were among the onlookers. Hovering above, Peeves bobbed mischievously as Fred and George stood in the midst of the commotion, wearing expressions of defiance, trapped yet unyielding.
In the midst of the chaos, (Y/n) caught sight of Harry by her side, surveying the unfolding scene. His sudden appearance surprised her, and she knew he hadn't noticed her presence until that moment. Their eyes briefly met, and she sensed his astonishment before he was interrupted.
Umbridge, standing just a few stairs away, glared triumphantly at the twins. Her accusatory tone filled the air as she accused them of turning a corridor into a swamp.
"Pretty amusing, yeah," Fred retorted, facing Umbridge boldly, unperturbed.
Filch, elated, edged closer to Umbridge, clutching a parchment form and eagerly anticipating the impending punishment.
Umbridge declared her intention to discipline Fred and George, relishing her authority. But Fred, undeterred, expressed a sudden revelation.
"You know what?" said Fred. "I don't think we are. George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."
"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" George responded, echoing his twin's sentiment.
"Definitely," Fred agreed.
Without hesitation, they raised their wands and proclaimed, "Accio Brooms!"
A thunderous crash echoed in the distance. Reacting swiftly, Harry shielded (Y/n) and pulled her down just in time. Fred and George's broomsticks, yanked by the summoned spell, hurtled towards them, narrowly missing their heads.
Using the commotion as cover, Fred and George swiftly freed themselves from Umbridge's chains. They boldly announced their exit, inviting students to visit their new shop, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, offering special discounts to those seeking to rid themselves of Umbridge.
As Umbridge shrieked orders to stop them, Fred and George mounted their brooms and soared into the air, leaving behind a chorus of cheers from the students. Peeves, the mischievous poltergeist, offered an unexpected salute to the departing twins.
"Give her hell from us, Peeves!" Fred shouted, as they soared out of the school and into the glorious sunset, leaving behind a trail of applause and uproar in their wake.
-----
That evening, the Gryffindor common room buzzed with excitement, abuzz with discussions centered around Fred and George's daring exploits. Seamus, Neville, Dean, and Lee Jordan eagerly regaled the group with tales of the twins' audacious feats, each Gryffindor celebrating their remarkable bravery. In her usual manner, Hermione expressed apprehension to Ron about the potential repercussions the twins might face from their mother, fretting over their future. Yet, Ron assured her that Fred and George had resolved to face the consequences, encouraging her to avoid dwelling on their predicament.
Meanwhile, Harry searched for Sabrina, scanning the room in the hope of catching sight of the familiar red-haired girl he yearned to converse with. As Hermione and Ron departed for their respective dormitories, Sabrina entered the common room, taken aback to find Harry seated by their cherished spot near the fireplace, lost in contemplation. While everyone else had retired for the night, Harry lingered, eagerly awaiting Sabrina's arrival. Though she tried to dismiss the notion, she couldn't shake the feeling that Harry might have been waiting for her.
Before she could call out to him, Harry spotted her and his face lit up.
"Sabrina," he exclaimed. "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you." Sensing her potential discomfort with the topic, as he hadn't disclosed certain information to her, Harry hesitated.
Sabrina seemed hesitant to share her whereabouts, prompting Harry to redirect the conversation. "Never mind where you've been... I just wanted to talk to you."
For a moment, Sabrina paused, studying Harry before responding, "I took a stroll around the Quidditch field, to clear my head." Intrigued by her response, Harry wondered if something troubled her but decided not to pry. "Well, I simply needed some fresh air," she added, with a soft laugh. Although Harry remained unconvinced, he understood her reluctance to divulge more and refrained from probing further.
"Well, if something's troubling you, you know you can confide in me," he earnestly offered. "I might not offer the best advice, but I promise I'm a good listener."
Sabrina couldn't help but let out a small laugh, eliciting a smile from him.
"Alright, I'll keep that in mind. Thank you," she replied, nodding her head. Her smile was evident, yet her eyes hinted at deeper thoughts, catching Harry's attention and stirring concern within him. However, he chose not to press her any further.
A comfortable silence enveloped them, reminiscent of the nights spent together on the Quidditch field—a memory that brought a smile to Harry's face.
"So, um, what do you want to talk about?" Sabrina asked.
"Well, I'm sorry," Harry blurted out, but his sincerity apparent.
Sabrina's eyebrows furrowed slightly, but her tone remained gentle as she inquired, "Sorry for what?"
"Sorry for not telling you what Ginny suggested to me about speaking to Sirius," Harry carefully expressed, sensing her vulnerability. His earnest expression softened Sabrina's heart a bit. Harry looked at her, puzzled yet grateful that she wasn't furious or shouting at him. Although he believed her screaming would have been excessive, he was still thankful.
"Oh, Harry, you're so sweet for apologising to me. It touched me, but you needn't apologise," she reassured him with a smile.
"Why wouldn't I? We discussed being open with each other. I wouldn't apologise for not telling you if we hadn't agreed on sharing things. Besides... I'd be upset too if I were in your position," he explained.
Sabrina stared at him, an unfamiliar expression on her face, but after a few moments, she smiled.
"That makes sense. Thank you for feeling guilty," she remarked.
Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. "Are we alright now? Are you no longer upset with me?" Harry inquired.
Sabrina chuckled again and shook her head. "I'm not upset with you, you silly thing," she teased, although Harry sensed she might not be entirely truthful. He responded with a smile.
"I'll tell you what I saw in Snape's office, if you'd like to join me, of course," he offered, patting the spot next to him in front of the fireplace. Sabrina smiled and without a word, dashed towards him and settled comfortably beside him. Harry ensured she was at ease before sharing what he had witnessed in the Pensieve to Ginny's advice in the library.
They sat together by the fireplace in the late hours, Harry divulging details while Sabrina listened attentively.
-----
My Dearest Diary,
When Harry spoke those kind words, it felt like a gentle embrace for my troubled soul. He offered his ear for my worries, but there's a chasm between his words and my unsaid sorrows. I could pour out my heart, share the midnight worries that stir me, the heartaches that weigh me down, and yet, they'd vanish into thin air, unheard, uncomprehended.
It's a peculiar irony. He's a character confined to these scripted pages, his mind tethered to predetermined lines, unable to fathom the depth of my existence. His comforting words and empathetic gaze, while tender, are like echoes in an empty chamber, unable to bridge the gap between our worlds.
In the tangible world, memories of my mum linger in pictures and cherished keepsakes. But in this ethereal realm, those memories blur like mist, slipping through my fingers. Playing a role not my own, answering to a borrowed name, it's an anguish I can't articulate. I yearn for the comfort of home, exhausted by the facade of being someone else.
Oh, dear diary, I pine for the embrace of familiarity, where I'm not a mere character on paper but a soul seeking solace. I tire of this masquerade, longing to shed the layers of pretense and be myself once more.
Lost amidst fiction's maze,
(Y/n) Wilkins