The guilt followed me around like a shadow. I couldn't find the guts to tell Harry about what I did. I've barely spoken a word in two days. My throat is sore and I'm scared that if I open my mouth, I'll spill the whole story. Harry's going to be so disappointed in me. I can tell they're worried about me, but I still keep my mouth tightly shut, giving them some excuse like "I'm just tired," or "It's stress," every time. They've started to doubt my alibis, but I cant tell them anything. Not yet.
Harry and I were called to Snape's office yesterday evening, for another scheduled Occlumency lesson. These lessons have been so utterly draining and tiring, that I dread them more and more each time. I was petrified that Snape would see any of my encounters with Umbridge so, despite my exhaustion, I tried harder than ever. Completely brushing away my efforts, he still managed to scold the two of us for "not practicing enough" and "not clearing our minds" before we go to bed. I couldn't argue with that. Practicing Occlumency was the last thing on my mind at the moment, I barely give it a second thought in between our lessons. Dumbledore would be disappointed, undoubtedly, but I had bigger things on my mind.
The Cruciatus Curse seems to have taken a massive toll on me, that even I have noticed myself acting differently. I've been falling asleep in classes, loosing my appetite, spending most of my free time in my dorm, away from everybody else and leaving unfinished homework pieces to pile up in the bottom of my trunk, procrastinating doing them at all costs. My own brain was turning against me: shouting at me, guilt tripping me, making me feel nothing but negative emotions.
But, here I was, still standing. Standing in the middle of a DA meeting, to be precise. Watching my classmates cast spells at one another, taking it in turns to be on the receiving end of hexes and defending themselves from them. They were all so happy. They had no clue of the betrayal I had done. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My intuition was screaming at me: trying to tell me something bad was going to happen. I was standing against the stone wall, examining what was happening in the room, my fingernails pressing tightly against the sweaty palms of my hands, in tension. My face was burning, with what I assumed to be embarrassment or anxiety, but I was very wrong.
"You alright, Olivia?" a voice says. I look up and see Harry, Ron and Hermione surrounding me. They catch a glimpse of my face and their expressions warp into a confused, yet disgusted one.
"What?" I snap, eyes darting between their faces, fear seeping into my skin, heart pumping painfully in my chest. They stay silent. "Hello? What are you looking at?"
I huff in annoyance, pushing myself off the wall and sprinting over to the fireplace, where a large, golden framed mirror hung above it. I step in front of it and shriek at the sight: the skin around my nose and cheeks was a deep red colour and irritated. It looked as though I had been slashed across the face with a whip. I watched as my skin boiled almost, forming bulging, pus-filled pimples across my face. My heart sinks into my stomach as my eyes trace over the word they had spelt out: SNEAK.
I clap my hand over my mouth in shock. My whole body freezes. The air seems to have been sucked right out of my lungs. Oh Merlin. Please no. Not now. I curse Hermione's bloody enchantments, knowing that they had, obviously already seen my face. Fuck. They know. No, no, no, no.
I cover my face with my hands, spreading two fingers in front of my eyes to take a look through the mirror. I could no longer see Harry, Ron and Hermione staring at me. Their attention was focused on something at their feet. I whip my body around, my heart racing inside my chest, my breathing heavy and quick.
I quickly see Dobby the house elf, standing at Harry's feet, tugging on his robes, looking panicked. Most of the rooms attention was focused on him, his feet slipping under his body, making him topple to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, using the hem of Harry's robe to pull himself up.
"Harry Potter!" Dobby squeals, hitting himself around the head with a small, bony fist, "She... she's coming!"
"Who's coming?" Harry replies, anxiously. My whole chest tightens. Only one 'she' could have induced this much fear. Oh no. I ball my hands into fists to keep them from shaking too much, and swallow away a large lump in my throat.
"Umbridge?" Harry continues, when Dobby merely whimpers. He nods, jerking forward and bashing his head on Harry's knees as a form of punishment. Harry holds him at arms length and looks up at the group, horrified.
"She's coming now?" He asks.
"Yes! Harry Potter, yes!" Dobby exclaims, shaking, looking up at Harry with crossed eyes, before attempting to kick himself, failing and sinking to the floor. Harry's eyes fall on me, the words 'SNEAK' printed across my face, unmistakably. He's horrified. He doesn't give me a second more of attention, turning to the group.
"WELL WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" He bellows, "RUN!"
No one hesitated. In less than a second, people were sprinting towards the exit, completely abandoning what they were doing. There was a rush of madness. People pushed each other, bustled each other, tripped over each other. We were out in the corridor in no time, running as fast as we could to places which were much closer than our dormitories, like the Library, Owlery and even the toilets. My heart was in the pit of my stomach, as my feet hit the floor every second, my face tingling and itching, the words SNEAK branding me like a prisoner.
~
We got caught. My hands were clamped tightly behind my back, my wrists being squashed together by one of Umbridge's stubby fingered hands, the other pressing down into my collarbone, painfully. Harry was in a similar position, being restrained by Draco. I didn't dare look at him. I couldn't face up to my guilty conscience. He knows exactly what I had done and I'm ashamed. I hang my head low, my hair falling in front of my face, shielding my face from the view of the people in the room.
In the room, were six other people: Professor Dumbledore, sat at his desk, his fingers entwined, tapping on his knuckles, Professor McGonagall, stood rigidly beside me, her face tense, the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge was rocking backwards and forwards on his toes, looking greatly amused by the situation. Stood by the door, were two people. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tough-looking wizard, with his arms crossed, both of them stood like security guards. My eyes fall on a familiar face, standing beside the fire, away from the crowd, a quill and a scroll of parchment grasped in his hands. His red hair and freckled face made it obvious that he was a Weasley. Percy I think his name is. One of Ron's elder brothers. I'd never met him before, but whenever any of the Weasley's spoke of him, it was never anything pleasant.
The Minister turns to Harry, as if ignoring my existence completely. "Well, well, well, Potter," He speaks, stepping forward, "I presume you know why you're here?"
Harry looks up at him, yanking his arm from Draco's grip, harshly. He hesitates, looking directly at Fudge with malicious eyes.
"No," He says cooly, stepping back on his heels, changing his look to one of perplexity. I eye him from the side. What the hell is he doing?
"I- you don't know why you're here?" Fudge says, looking incredulous between Harry and Umbridge.
"No," Harry repeats, firmly.
"So you are not aware that you have broken any school rules?" Fudge says. I could see his blood boiling behind his very eyes.
"School rules?" Harry asks, confused, "No."
"Or Ministry Decrees?" Fudge amended. His face was turning a violent shade of purple, and his lips were pressed together firmly. My heart was hammering inside my chest. My face burned and itched, everybody in the room had a clear view of the word spelled out along my cheeks. There was no point Harry trying to deny it. We would be sent packing our trunks any minute now. I felt embarrassed to be standing here, weak and intimidated, knowing that I had given away the one thing that was supposed to stay secret.
"Not that I'm aware of." Harry says blandly.
"So it's news to you, is it," Fudge says, his voice thick with anger, "That an illegal student organisation has been discovered within the school?"
"Yes it is," Harry says, his face morphing into one of an unconvincing innocent surprise. Fudge's breath was heavy now. He leans forward so he is eye level with Harry and sneers at him. I feel the grip on my shoulder loosen, as Umbridge steps away from me and towards Harry also. My muscles relax at the release of such tension and by brain floods with relief that she is gone.
"I think you're lying, Mr Potter," Umbridge says, silkily, "Your sister over here, has been telling me all about your secret little meetings, and we are here to put a stop to them!" Her face was inches from Harry's, bright red and infuriated. She paused, before continuing angrily. "Minister, you must remember that report I sent you back in October about Potter, his sister had met a number of fellow students in the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade-"
"And your evidence for this?" Professor McGonagall retorts, moving to beside me and placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
"I received a testimony from Willy Wildershins, Minerva, who just so happened to be in the bar at the time. He heard every word the Potter's had said and reported it right back to me. The purpose of this meeting with the students, was to persuade them to join an illegal society whose aim was to learn spells and curses that the Ministry has decided are inappropriate for school age-" Umbridge continues, looking rather smug, but she was cut off.
"I think you'll find that you're wrong, there Dolores," Dumbledore's voice speaks. I divert my gaze over to him. He had risen from his chair and was peering over his half-moon spectacles, looking down at the room. I stool there in shock, as his eyes fell on me, clearly examining the damage to my face. There was no way he could talk us out of this one. If Umbridge really did know everything we said then we were done for. Umbridge turns to him, a fire burning behind her eyes. Her chubby fingers were clenched into a fist by her side and took a deep breath.
"And why is that?" She said in a sweet, shaking voice.
"Dolores, I do not deny - and nor, I am sure, does Harry or Olivia, that they were in the Hog's Head that day, nor that they were recruiting students to join a secret association. I am merely pointing out that it is quite wrong to suggest that this meeting was, at the time, illegal. If you remember, the Ministry Decree, banning such activities was out into place two days after their meeting would have been, so therefore they were not breaking any rules meeting in the Hog's Head."
Fudge looked as though he had been smacked across the face with a frying pan. Percy's quill clattered to the floor, and he scrambled down to pick it up, flushing with embarrassment. My chest rose and fell quickly with the rate of my breathing, my mind whirring and trying got think of excuses that could potentially help us, if I was to be asked anything.
Umbridge took a deep breath, "That is all very fine, Headmaster," She says smiling sweetly, "But we are now nearly six months on from the introduction of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four. If the first meeting was not illegal, all those that have happened since, most certainly are." I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, trying to stop myself from just screaming right in here ugly little face.
"Well," Dumbledore says, examining her with polite interest over his interlocked fingers, "They certainly would be if they had continued after the Decree had been put into place. Do you have any evidence that such meetings have continued?"
"Evidence?" Umbridge repeats with a sickening toad-like smile on her face, "Professor Dumbledore, why do you think I have Miss Potter here?" My heart plummets into my stomach.
"Oh, so she can tell us about six months worth of meetings?" Dumbledore says, brightly, without giving me so much as a glance.
"Miss Potter," Umbridge says in a tone she has never used with me before. My heart pounds inside me and my face burns and stings. I cant give them away any more. I've already disappointed everyone. I cant let them down again. "Tell us how long these meetings have been going on, dear. Have they been happening regularly over the past six months?"
My whole body freezes. Do I tell the truth, or do I lie? I glance over to Dumbledore, slightly, making sure she doesn't notice, and I see him give me a small wink with his twinkly eye. I look back at her, dead in the eye and shake my head.
"I don't think you understood the question, did you, dear," Umbridge says with a threatening chuckle. My throat dries up and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I desperately try not to give in. "I'm asking whether you've been going to these meetings for the past six months? You have, haven't you?"
This time, I don't look at Dumbledore for confirmation. I tear my gaze away from the floor and meet her eyes. Those cold eyes. The ones that watch over me, enduring hours of endless pain. I shake my head.
"What do you mean by shaking your head, dear?" Umbridge say, testily. Her eyes were staring at me so intently and with such rage that I wouldn't have been surprised if they burned physical holes in my skin.
"Well usually when a person shakes their head, they mean 'no,'" Professor McGonagall said, coldly, placing both hands on my shoulders, protectively. "So unless Miss Potter is using a form of sign language unknown yet to humans-"
"But there was a meeting tonight!" Umbridge yelled, furiously, her whole body straightening up. "We caught them in the act!" I take a step back at her sudden burst of anger, fearing she might lash out at me. "I have evidence!"
My heart stops when she withdrew from her pocket an old, rather crumpled piece of parchment, a small rip at the top, where it clearly had been ripped off the cork board. I try to stay calm as she passes the list of all our names, that had been hanging on the wall of the Room of Requirement, to Fudge. so bite my tongue so hard that it almost bleeds. I have an itching desire to just storm over there and snatch it from her, giving her a good slap afterwards.
"The moment I saw the Potter's names on it, I knew what we were dealing with," Umbridge says with a thick sense of pride. I felt as though somebody had tied weights to my ankles and thrown me in the deep end of a swimming pool. There was no point trying to lie anymore. We couldn't get away with anything else. We should be packing our trunks right now.
Fudge gazed down at the parchment. His eyes skimmed over the heading that had been scribbled by Hermione six months ago. "See what they've named themselves? Dumbledore's Army." He says quietly his voice thick with disgust.
I see Dumbledore snatch the piece of parchment from Fudge. He examines it with great care, almost unable to speak. I feel terrible. Why did we ever think naming ourselves 'Dumbledore's Army' was a good idea? Dumbledore's going to get the blame.
"Well the game is up," Dumbledore says, simply, looking up and smiling. "Would you like a written confession from me, Cornelius - or will a statement from these witnesses suffice?" Out of the corner of my eye, I see McGonagall and Kingsley shoot each other looks of fear. My heart leaped up into my throat, I almost choked purely because of the shock.
"Statement?" Fudge questions, slowly, "What- I don't -?"
"Dumbledore's Army, Cornelius," Dumbledore says, still smiling. He waved the piece of parchment in front of Fudge's face. "Not Potter's Army. Dumbledore's Army."
Fudge took a horrified step backwards, letting out a yelp. His face flushed a violent shade of purple and his eyebrows were so furrowed it looked like they could fall off his face. He stamped his foot so hard on the floor that several silver ornaments, that were positioned on a small round table nearby, clanked together and shook.
"You!"
"That's right," Dumbledore says, pleasantly.
"You organised this?"
"I did."
"You recruited these students for - for your army?"
"Tonight was supposed to be the first meeting," Dumbledore says, calmly, the corners of his lips turning upwards slightly.
"You have been plotting against me!" Fudge yells, his chest swelling with infuriation.
"That's right." Dumbledore says, cheerfully. It suddenly dawned on me what Dumbledore was about to do. My eyes widen. I couldn't just let that happen.
"NO!" Harry and I both shout, in unison. I look over at him, my cheeks flushing. His eyes examine my face quickly, but he snaps his head away, irritably. I sigh.
"I must ask you two to be quiet, otherwise I will have to ask you to leave," Dumbledore says, calmly, turning his attention to the two of us, standing awkwardly next to each other.
Fudge ogled at Dumbledore delightfully as he took a smug step forward, grasping the list of names and pulling it from Dumbledore's hand. He folded it neatly and stuffed it into the inside pocket of his cloak.
"Well, well, well, I came here expecting to expel the Potter's and instead-"
"Instead you get to arrest me," Dumbledore says, grinning, his spectacles being pushed up his nose by his cheeks. "It's like loosing a Knut and finding a Galleon isn't it?"
"Very well the Dumbledore," Fudge says, chuckling. I could see his upper lip bulge as he traced his teeth with the tip of his tongue, smugly. "You will now be escorted back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged and then sent to Azkaban to await a trial!"
"Ah," Dumbledore said, gently, "Yes, I thought we might come across that little snag."
"Snag?" Fudge says, his voice almost trembling with pure delight, "I see no snag, Dumbledore!"
"Well," Dumbledore said apologetically, "I'm afraid I do."
"Oh really?"
"Well- it's just you seem to be labouring under the delusion that I am going to - what is the phrase? - come quietly. Well, you see, I have no intention of going to Azkaban." Dumbledore says. I see his eyes flicker up to somewhere near the ceiling. I furrow my eyebrows. I couldn't see how we could escape this situation. I look around the room. Umbridge was growing redder and redder by the second I wouldn't have been shocked to see somebody putting boiling water directly into the top of her head. Harry was staying silent, obviously just as puzzled as I was. Fudge was still on cloud nine, rocking back and forth on his feet, in a heavy state of accomplishment. Percy was busy scribbling away at a piece of parchment, so frantically that his nose had been splattered with dots of ink. Professor McGonagall was subconsciously digging her nails into my shoulder but I didn't pay it much attention.
"Enough of this rubbish!" Umbridge barks, angrily, "Dawlish, Shacklebolt - take him!"
There was a cry - a song almost. It drew my attention to the ceiling. I look up and see Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, circling the room, his golden wings spread wide and proudly. It all happened within a second. Dumbledore gave me one last wink, before I witnessed Fawkes swoop low over the top of Dumbledore's head. He raised his arm, and grasped the phoenix's long, golden tail. There was a flash of blazing fire, before my eyes and the pair of them were gone.
I couldn't remember what happened next. I was still stood there, my eyes fixed on the point where Dumbledore had just been stood, when I was escorted out of the room by Professor McGonagall. I could hear angry yelling and quarrelling from inside the room and she ushered Harry's and I out of the room. As we stepped out of the room I heard the voice of Kingsley say:
"You may not like him, Minister... but you can't deny it. Dumbledore's got style."
The door was slammed shut behind us.