“But why haven’t you got Occlumency lessons any more?” Hermione asked us, frowning.
“I’ve told you,” Harry lied. “Snape reckons we can carry on by ourselves now we've got the basics.”
“So you’ve stopped having funny dreams?” said Hermione skeptically.
"Apart from the occasional repressed memory, not really." I sighed, not really that bothered about the conversation. I hadn't had my medication in a few days, and it was making me more pessimistic than usual.
“Well, I don’t think Snape should stop until you’re absolutely sure you can control them!” said Hermione indignantly. “I think you should both go back to him and ask -”
“No,” said Harry forcefully. “Just drop it, Hermione, okay?”
It was the Easter holidays, and of course Hermione had written up a revision shecdule for us. Sam had taken great joy in helping her colour code it, reminding me of the Sam that Cole had told us about so long ago.
Ron had been startled to discover there were only six weeks left until their exams.
“How can that come as a shock?” Sam scoffed, as she tapped each little square on Ron’s schedule with her wand so that it flashed a different color according to its subject.
“I dunno,” said Ron, “there’s been a lot going on. “
"Well if you're so worried, use this." Sam said briskly. "You'll pass in no times."
Ron looked down it gloomily, but then brightened. “You’ve given me an evening off every week!”
"I didn't want to give you time off, you need a lot more help." Sam said briskly. "That was Hermione's idea, it's for Quidditch practice."
The smile faded from Ron’s face.
“What’s the point?” he said dully. “We’ve got about as much chance of winning the Quidditch Cup this year as Dad’s got of becoming Minister for Magic.”
"So glad you have faith in my strategies, Ronald." Gennie drawled, looking up from one of her strategies with a frown.
"I'm not saying that--"
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione interupted, and I realised that Harry had been staring at Minnie and Crookshanks play-fighting for the last five minutes.
"What? Nothing!" Harry said defensivley, opening up a book to a random page.
"I saw Cho hanging around with my evil ex-girlfriend earlier." Sam said casually. "She looked about as miserable as you. Have you both been fighting?"
“Wha — oh, yeah, we have,” Harry nodded.
“What about?” I asked. "Do you need advice?"
“No, we just argued about that sneak friend of hers, Marietta,” said Harry.
“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you!” said Ron angrily, setting down his revision timetable. “If it hadn’t been for her…”
Ron went into a rant about Marietta Edgecombe, which meant all I had to do was nod in agreement and widen my eyes every now and then. The only downside was, it got me thinking.
Ever since I'd discovered who my parents are, I'd only ever been told good things. I'd loved hearing from Hagrid and Sirius of how great of a man my father was, and thought that he was somebody to look up to.
I mean, I'd heard that him and Sirius was trouble-makers in school, like Fred and George--but I could never imagine them hanging somebody upside down for the fun of it. Unless they loathed them of course... But was there a legitimate reason to why they acted like that to Snape?
“It’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.” Did that mean he did it just out of boredom? For laughs and attention? How could Remus have just stood by and watch them do this, especially since he'd had so much prejudice from being a werewolf...
But the beaming bit of hope was that my mother had intervened, just like I would have. The shape of her face and eyes still startled me, they were so similar to my features it scared me. If my hair had been red.. well we would have been almost twins.
But the way she yelled at my father... it scared me. How could she go from hating him so much, to end up having kids with him five years later? Could my father have changed into a decent person so quickly, or was their marriage an unhappy one?
For the last two years, every time I was compared to my father, I felt proud to be his daughter. It made me endure Snape's insults towards him, because I knew he was a good person. But that memory made me think--was he a good person after all?
The weather grew breezier, brighter and warmer as the Easter holidays passed, but I constantly found myself torn between studying and Quidditch practice, which wasn't going much better.
"Rory, will you come with me to find Harry?" Ginny asked after practice was cut short, carrying a half-open box.
"Sure, what for?" I asked as I gave up on trying to put my hair into a ponytail.
"Easter eggs from my mother finally came," Ginny said, tossing me an egg. "Thought it'd cheer him up to get chocolate."
"Thanks," I said, instantly beginning to devour the egg. "I think he's in the library, wishing he was in the team."
"Ah well he'll be back soon," Ginny said dissmissley. "Then I can join you and Gennie as chasers."
We soon found Harry in the library, staring out of the window with a blank expression. We sat down opposite him, but he didn't notice.
"Hey there," I said to Harry, but he didn't respond.
"Harry, hello?" Ginny said impaitently, with no response. She huffed. "Harry, we're talking to you, can you hear me?”
“Huh?”
He looked round. “Oh, hi,” said Harry, pulling his books towards him. “How come you’re both not at practice?”
“It’s over,” I told him. “Ron had to take Jack Sloper up to the hospital wing.”
“Why?”
“Well, we’re not sure, but we think he knocked himself out with his own bat.” Ginny sighed heavily. “Anyway… a package just arrived, it’s only just got through Umbridge’s new screening process.”
“It’s Easter eggs from Mum,” said Ginny. “There’s one for you… there you go.”
She handed him a handsome chocolate egg decorated with small, iced Snitches. He looked almost emotional looking at the chocolate.
“Are you okay, Harry?” Ginny asked quietly.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Harry gruffly.
“You seem really down lately, and if I think you're down, I know you're down." I said quietly. “You know, I’m sure if you just talked to Cho…”
“It’s not Cho I want to talk to,” said Harry brusquely.
“Who is it, then?” asked Ginny, watching him closely.
“I…”
He glanced around to make quite sure nobody was listening. “I wish I could talk to Sirius,” he muttered. “But I know I can’t.”
I wondered if Harry wanted to see if our father had been a good person as well, first hand from somebody there.
Ginny watched him thoughtfully. “Well,” said Ginny slowly, helping herself to a bit of egg, too, “if you really want to talk to Sirius, I expect we could think of a way to do it.”
“Come on,” said Harry dully. “With Umbridge policing the fires and reading all our mail?”
“The thing about growing up with Fred and George,” said Ginny thoughtfully, “is that you sort of start thinking anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.”
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”
“Oh damn,” whispered Ginny, jumping to her feet. “I forgot -”
Madam Pince was swooping down on them, her shriveled face contorted with rage. “Chocolate in the library!” she screamed. “Out - out - OUT!” And whipping out her wand, she caused Harry’s books, bag and ink bottle to chase us out of the library.
Soon a batch of pamphlets, leaflets and notices concerning various wizarding careers appeared on the tables in Gryffindor Tower with yet another notice on the board, which read:
All fifth-years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the summer term to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below.
I was expected in Professor McGonagall’s office at half past two on Tuesday, which would mean missing most of Divination. I spent a lot of the week reading pamplets with everybody else.
"There's a lot for healing," I said nervously, scanning the requirements for St Mungo employmebnt. "You need at least an E at NEWT level for potions, herbology, transfiguration, charms and defence against the dark arts."
"Well I don't fancy that," Ron said, pulling a face.
“Well, it’s a very responsible job, isn’t it?” said Hermione absently. "Rory could do it if she wanted, she's smart."
She was poring over a bright pink and orange leaflet that was headed, SO YOU THINK YOU’D LIKE TO WORK IN MUGGLE RELATIONS?
“You don’t seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles; all they want is an OWL in Muggle Studies.’” Hermione commented.
“You’d need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with our uncle,” said Harry darkly. “Good sense of when to duck, more like.”
"Well I don't know if I want to get into the ministry now, there's too much of an emphasis on politics." Gennie frowned. "Unless I just pretend to like politics and then wing my way into the department I want..."
"Being a curse breaker sounds amazing." Sam sighed happily as she pored over booklets. "And I can actually use my arithmancy for something!"
"But isn't it banking as well?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "You don't look like the person to have a office job on top of curse breaking, Sam."
"Trust me, if it was all office work, Cole wouldn't be looking into it." Gennie said without moving her eyes from the ministry booklet. "He told me to pick loads of curse breaking stuff for him."
Fred and George appeared suddenely, sitting down next to us. "Ginny's had a word to us about you wonder twins." Fred said, nodding at Harry and I. "You want to talk to Sirius?"
“Yeah…” said Harry, trying to sound casual, “yeah, I thought I’d like -”
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” said Hermione, straightening up and looking at him as though she could not believe her eyes. “With Umbridge groping around in the fires and frisking all the owls?”
“Well, we think we can find a way around that,” said George, stretching and smiling. “It’s a simple matter of causing a diversion. Now, you might have noticed that we have been rather quiet on the mayhem front during the Easter holidays?”
“What was the point, we asked ourselves, of disrupting leisure time?” continued Fred. “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.”
“But its business as usual from tomorrow,” Fred continued briskly. “And if we’re going to be causing a bit of uproar, why not do it so that Harry and Rory can have a chat with Sirius?”
"That's all fine and bloody brilliant," Sam raised an eyebrow, looking at the twins like they were dim. "You could set Hogwarts on fire, but there's still nowhere they can talk to Sirius."
“Umbridge’s office,” said Harry quietly.
"Even I have to admit, that's mental." I said. "We might as well have walked back into the dragon enclosure."
“I don’t think it's so bad." Harry shrugged.
"Dear God, the boy has finally lost it." Sam muttered skepitcally, biting on her nail anxiously.
"Englighten us," Gennie said, leaning foward. "How are you planning on getting in there in the first place?"
“Sirius’s knife,” he said.
“Excuse me?” Everybody chorused at once.
“Christmas before last Sirius gave me a knife that’ll open any lock,” said Harry. “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 demanded Ron.
“I dunno,” said Ron, looking alarmed at being asked to give an opinion. “If Harry wants to do it, it’s up to him, isn’t it? And it's up to Rory if she wants to follow him, right?”
“Spoken like a true friend and Weasley,” said Fred, clapping Ron hard on the back. “Right, then. We’re thinking of doing it tomorrow, just after lessons, because it should cause maximum impact if everybody’s in the corridors - we’ll set it off in the east wing somewhere, draw her right away from her own office — I reckon we should be able to guarantee you, what, twenty minutes?” he said, looking at George.
“Easy,” said George.
“What sort of diversion is it?” asked Ron.
“You’ll see, little bro’,” said Fred, as he and George got up again. “At least, you will if you trot along to Gregory the Smarmy’s corridor round about five o’clock tomorrow.”
Everybody still tried to talk Harry and I out of it for the rest of the evening, but we were adamant. If I could get the chance to see what sort of people my parents were really like, I was going to take the chance.
I was halfway up the stairs to my dorm, when Harry stopped me, clutching something. "I meant to give this to you ages ago."
"Thanks," I said, unwrapping a shard of glass that was wrapped up in an old t-shirt. "Is it a weapon against Umbridge?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "It's the thing Sirius gave me before we left Grimmauld place. I dunno what it does, but you like all sentimental crap like that, so..."
"Basically, you want to save up room in your trunk to put Quidditch stuff." I rolled my eyes. "Boys."
Later, as I rested the shard of glass on my bed-side table, I did notice something--momentarily the mirror flashed blue, and for a moment, I swore I heard a giggle coming from it.
I woke up too early the next morning; I was about as nervous as I was the day of my diagnosis. The whole process of breaking into Umbridge's office and finding out the sort of people my parents were was making me overly anxious.
But also happened to be the first time I would be in close proximity to Snape since he nearly hit me with a jar of potion ingredients.
As expected, the day was filled with anxiety and stress. Harry and Ron ended up arguing with Hermione, and Gennie accidently disapeared Harry's potion which got him a zero from Snape. I was just about ready to sleep for the whole of divination when Gennie reminded me of my appointment with McGonagall.
So I ended up sprinting through the halls with my hair everywhere and tie askew, arriving to McGonagall's office almost five minutes late. "Sorry Professor, I lost track of time." I said as I entered, trying to keep my voice steady.
"That's alright, Miss Potter. Take a seat." McGonagall said calmly, but I heard an all too familair cough come from the back of the room. The pink nightmare herself: Umbridge.
I took a seat, trying to ignore the scratching of a quill on a clipboard.
“Well, Miss Potter, this meeting is to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into the sixth and seventh years,” said McGonagall. “Have you had any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?”
"I've considered--well decided--that I want to be a healer in St Mungo's." I said confiedently, though the scratching of the quill was making my voice shake.
"Well you'll need high grades for that." McGonagall said, pulling out the leaflet I'd looked at yesterday. You'll need either Outstanding or Exceeding Expectations in potions, transfiguration, herbology, charms and defence against the dark arts at N.E.W.T level.
“You’ll want to know which subjects you ought to take, I suppose?” she went on, talking a little louder than before.
"Yes," I nodded. "All of those, I guess?"
“Naturally,” said Professor McGonagall crisply. “I would also advise -”
Professor Umbridge gave another cough, a little more louder this time. Professor McGonagall closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again, and continued as though nothing had happened.
"I would also tell you now I don't accept people into my class unless they have at least Exceeds Expectations at OWL level. And I know for a fact that Professor Snape only takes students with high Outstanding grades--"
Another cough interupted her.
“May I offer you a cough drop, Dolores?” McGonagall asked curtly, without looking at Professor Umbridge.
“Oh, no, thank you very much,” said Umbridge, with that simpering laugh Harry hated so much.
“I just wondered whether I could make the teensiest interruption, Minerva?”
“I daresay you’ll find you can,” said McGonagall through tightly gritted teeth.
“I was just wondering whether Miss Potter has quite the right stability for a healer?” said Professor Umbridge sweetly.
I felt my insides go cold. "Professor, what do you mean?" I asked through gritted teeth, though I could feel everything getting very close and conscriting.
"I've seen your medical report from Madam Pomfrey, all those funny turns." Umbridge said in a very unsympathetic voice. "You simply can't work on healing people until you try not being so sad."
I felt my face heat up. Before I could fight back, McGonagall spoke up. "I've also seen Miss Potter's medical files, and see that she is working on recovery from the trauma she has endured in her short life." She sniffed and turned towards me with almost a smile. "If you can bring up your grades for OWLS for almost all of those subjects, I think you will be accepted into your classes with flying colours. And as for defence against the dark arts, your marks have been partciulary high for the last two years--especially with Professor Lupin-- Would you like a cough drop Dolores?"
“Oh, no need, thank you, Minerva” simpered Professor Umbridge, who had just coughed her loudest yet. “I was just concerned that you might not have Aurora's most recent Defense Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I’m quite sure I slipped in a note.”
“What, this thing?” said Professor McGonagall in a tone of revulsion, as she pulled a sheet of pink parchment from between the leaves of my folder. She glanced down it briefly.
“Yes, as I was saying, Professor Lupin thought you showed a pronounced aptitude for the subject, and obviously for a healer -”
“Did you not understand my note, Minerva?” asked Professor Umbridge forgetting to cough.
“Of course I understood it,” said McGonagall, her teeth clenched so tightly the words came out a little muffled.
“Well, then, I am confused… I’m afraid I don’t quite understand how you can give Miss. Potter false hope that -”
“False hope?” repeated Professor McGonagall, still refusing to look round at Umbridge. “She has achieved high marks in all her Defense Against the Dark Arts tests, not to mention during her first official year here -”
“I’m terribly sorry to have to contradict you, Minerva, but as you will see from my note, Aurora has been achieving very poor results in her classes with me -”
“I should have made my meaning plainer,” said Professor McGonagall, turning at last to look Umbridge directly in the eyes. “Se has achieved high marks in all Defense Against the Dark Arts tests set by a competent teacher.”
I couldn't help smiling into my lap until McGonagall asked if I had any questions
“Yes Professor, I was wondering what sort of things they'd be looking for in a healer at St Mungo's."
“Well, you’ll need to demonstrate the ability to react well to pressure and so forth,” said McGonagall, “perseverance and dedication, because healer training takes a good couple of years until you're fully qualified. So it would mean more study if your prepared--"
“I think you’ll also find,” said Umbridge, her voice very cold now, “that the Ministry looks into the records of those applying to be healers. Their criminal records.”
I was confused. I didn't even have a criminal record...
"Now, as I was saying--"
"This girl has as much chance of becoming a healer as Dumbledore has of ever returning to this school.”
“A very good chance, then,” said McGonagall
"Miss Potter has a criminal record of attempting to kill her foster father,” said Umbridge loudly.
"I didn't even touch him." I mumbled, my head starting to spin.
"Dumbledore and myself talked to the Ministry about this, she didn't lay a hand on Mark Oswin--he in fact was the cause for a fire and the death of his wife that day." McGonagall said.
“She has no chance whatsoever of becoming a healer!”
Professor McGonagall got to her feet, towering over Umbridge.
“Miss Potter,” she said in ringing tones, “I will assist you to become a healer if it is the last thing I do! If I have to coach you nightly, I will make sure you achieve the required results!”
“The Minister for Magic will never employ Aurora Potter in one of his hospitals!” said Umbridge, her voice rising furiously.
“There may well be a new Minister for Magic by the time Miss Potter is ready to join!” shouted McGonagall.
“Aha!” shrieked Umbridge, pointing a stubby finger at McGonagall. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Of course! That’s what you want, isn’t it, Minerva McGonagall? You want Cornelius Fudge replaced by Albus Dumbledore! You think you’ll be where I am, don’t you: Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and Headmistress to boot!”
“You are raving,” McGonagall shook her head. “Miss Potter, that concludes our careers consultation.”
"Thank you Professor," I mumbled, and hurried out of the room, feeling both vaugley sick and pleased at the same time.
Umbridge was awfully short-tempered in class after lunch, bringing up regret for the plan in my mind. I could simply head back to the tower and hope to speak to Sirius in the summer... But I wanted answers now.
Not to mention the distraction was already set up, and Harry had Sirius' knife located in his robes already.
But what if we were caught?
"Last chance to back out now, sis." Harry hissed as the bell went.
"I'm not leaving you in the dragon's den on your own, are you mad?" I said calmly, packing up my books and following him outside the classroom.
We were halfway down the corridor when the bang of a distraction could be heard. There were screams and yells, and soon enough Umbridge was hurrying down the corridor on her stubby legs.
We hurried off in the opposite direction, avoiding the tide of people heading towards the source of the noise. On the corridor of Umbridge's office, we ducked behind a statue, pulling out the cloak, map and knife.
"Let's do this." I muttered, my heart beginning to pound in my ears.
We casually walked down the corridor, and Harry inserted the blade into the door, until it opened with a tiny click.
Nothing was moving except the horrible kittens that were still frolicking on the wall plates above the confiscated broomsticks.
"Found it." I said, after a few moments finding the floo powder. "Should I go first?"
"Yeah, youngest first and all." Harry said, looking nervous.
I crouched in front of the fire, sticking my head inside, feeling rather stupid. I dropped the powder onto the logs, and flames burst up. "Twelve, Grimmauld Place." I spoke.
He crouched down in front of the empty grate, his hands shaking. He had never done this before, though he thought he knew how it must work. Sticking his head into the fireplace, he took a large
It was weird, my body was still in the office, but my head was back in Grimmauld place. Moments later I heard an 'ugh' and realised Harry had followed me through.
"Rory!" a small voice cried, and I couldn't help grinning to see my little sister drawing in a colouring book on the kitchen table.
"Harry! Rory!" Lupin cried, and I realised he was at the table as well. "Is everything all right?"
"Nothing--just fancied a chat with Sirius." Harry said casually.
"Can I find him? I'm bored." Hollie whined, and Remus nodded, and she ran off.
"Why isn't she in school? Is she ill?" I asked Remus worriedly.
"She's fine, Lacey is just taking her out for a couple of weeks, because it's believed Mark may be in the country somewhere."
"Right." I said, feeling sick again.
Hollie returned minutes later with Sirius. "What is it?" He asked, kneeling by the fire. "Do you need help?"
"No, nothing like that." I reassure him. "We wanted to talk about... about our father."
Sirius and Remus exchanged a look. "Hollie, why not you go feed Buckbeak, you can talk to Rory and Harry later."
Hollie pulled a face, but nodded. "Okay, Remus."
Once she had left, Harry began the story of what we'd seen in the pensieve.
When he had finished, neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Remus said quietly, “I wouldn’t like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen -”
“We're fifteen and we don't act like that!" I said hotly.
“Look, Aurora,” said Sirius slowly, “James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can’t you? I think James was everything Snape wanted to be - he was popular, he was good at Quidditch - good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts, and James - whatever else he may have appeared to you both - always hated the Dark Arts.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, “but he just attacked Snape for no good reason, just because - well, just because you said you were bored,” he finished, with a slightly apologetic note in his voice.
“I’m not proud of it,” said Sirius quickly.
Remus looked sideways at Sirius, then said, “Look, what you’ve both got to understand is that your father and Sirius were the best in the school at whatever they did - everyone thought they were the height of cool - if they sometimes got a bit carried away -”
“If we were sometimes arrogant little berks, you mean,” said Sirius.
Remus smiled.
“He kept messing up his hair,” said Harry in a pained voice.
Sirius and Remus laughed.
“I’d forgotten he used to do that,” said Sirius affectionately.
“Was he playing with the Snitch?” said Lupin eagerly.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Well… I thought he was a bit of an idiot.”
“Of course he was a bit of an idiot!” said Sirius bracingly, “we were all idiots! Well - not Moony so much,” he said fairly.
“Did I ever tell you to lay off Snape?” he said. “Did I ever have the guts to tell you I thought you were out of order?” Remus shook his head.
“Yeah, well,” said Sirius, “you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes… that was something…”
“And,” Harry added, “he kept looking over at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!”
“Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around,” said Sirius, shrugging, “he couldn’t stop himself showing off whenever he got near her.”
“How come she married him?” Harry asked miserably. “She hated him!”
“Nah, she didn’t,” said Sirius.
“She started going out with him in seventh year,” said Remus
“Once James had deflated his head a bit,” said Sirius.
“And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,” said Remus
“Even Snape?” I asked quietly.
“Well,” said Remus slowly, “Snape was a special case I mean, he never lost an opportunity to curse James so you couldn’t really expect James to take that lying down, could you?”
“And my mum was okay with that?” I asked. "I wouldn't be."
“She didn’t know too much about it, to tell you the truth,” said Sirius. “I mean, James didn’t take Snape on dates with her and jinx him in front of her, did he?”
Harry still looked unconvinced.
“Look,” Sirius said, “your father was the best friend I ever had and he was a good person. A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Harry heavily. “I just never thought I’d feel sorry for Snape.”
“Now you mention it,” said Remus, a faint crease between his eyebrows, “how did Snape react when he found you’d seen all this?”
“He told me he’d never teach me Occlumency again,” said Harry indifferently, “like that’s a big disappoint—”
“He WHAT?” shouted Sirius, causing Harry to jump and inhale a mouthful of ashes.
“Are you serious, Harry?” said Lupin quickly. “He’s stopped giving you lessons?”
“Yeah,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “But it’s okay, I don’t care, it’s a bit of a relief to tell you the -”
“I’m coming up there to have a word with Snape!” said Sirius forcefully, and he actually made to stand up, but Remus wrenched him back down again.
“If anyone’s going to tell Snape it will be me!” he said firmly. “But first of all, you’re to go back to Snape and tell him that on no account is he to stop giving you lessons — when Dumbledore hears -”
“I can’t tell him that, he’d kill me!” said Harry, outraged. “You didn’t see him when we got out of the Pensieve.”
“Harry there is nothing so important as you learning Occlumency!” said Lupin sternly. “Do you understand me? Nothing!”
“Okay, okay,” I said, annoyed. “I’ll… I’ll try and say something to him… but it won’t be-”
I fell silent. I could hear distant footsteps. "Is that Hollie? Is there time to talk to her or Lacey?"
“No,” said Sirius, glancing behind him. “It must be somebody your end.”
“I’d better go!” Harry said hastily and pulled his head backwards out of the Grimmauld Place fire. I followed, feeling guilty I couldn't have talked to Hollie.
“Quickly, quickly!” I heard a wheezy voice mutter right outside the office door. “Ah, she’s left it open -”
Harry threw the cloak over us, just as Filch burst into the office. He pulled open a door triumphantly.
“Approval for Whipping… Approval for Whipping… I can do it at last… they’ve had it coming to them for years…”
He ran out of the room, almost gleefully. "Fred and George." I whispered. "No."
Harry dragged me to my feet, and we darted out of the room, before discarding the cloak and following Filch.
The sound seemed to be coming from the entrance hall, and we picked up to a fast run as the noise increased.
The whole school seemed to be surrounding Fred and George, who looked cornered.
“So!” said Umbridge triumphantly.So - you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?”
“Pretty amusing, yeah,” said Fred, looking up at her without the slightest sign of fear.
Filch elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness.
“I’ve got the form, Headmistress,” he said hoarsely, waving the piece of parchment Harry had just seen him take from her desk. “I’ve got the form and I’ve got the whips waiting… oh, let me do it now…”
“Very good, Argus,” she said. “You two,” she went on, gazing down at Fred and George, “are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school.”
“You know what?” said Fred. “I don’t think we are.”
He turned to his twin.
“George,” said Fred, “I think we’ve outgrown full-time education.”
“Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way myself,” said George lightly. "It's time to actually spend time with my girlfriend."
“Time to test our talents in the real world, d’you reckon?” asked Fred.
“Definitely,” said George.
And before Umbridge could say a word, they raised their wands and said together: “Accio brooms!”
Fred and George’s broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor towards their owners, stopping by their feet.
“We won’t be seeing you,” Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.
“Yeah, don’t bother to keep in touch,” said George, mounting his own.
Fred looked around. "If anybody wants to buy a portable swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety three Diagon Alley--Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Our new premises!"
"Special discounts for students who promise to use them to get rid of this old bat!" George shouted.
“STOP THEM!” shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.
“Give her hell from us, Peeves.”
Peeves saluted Fred and George, as people started cheering as they shot off through the entrance doors towards the open sky.
** * * * *
UNEDITED
A/N So this just hit 100k reads and I'm a little in shock considering this isn't even finished yet. Your dedication is astounding and I must thank you, considering Obliviate is at 240k, Obliviate my heart at 133K and votes and comments keep going up and up (I get like 20 email notifs per day, it's kinda crazy)
I love you guys, you're all pretty rad and make me very happy.
School is hellish with homework I'm not getting anytime to write anymore. I'm still determined to finish this book by 2015, so keep your eyes open. There's only a few chapters until the really exciting part of the book is coming.
Just to say: Cameron and Mark will be making apperances in the department of mysteries