A/N: I worked with a lot more characters this chapter. Hope you like it. Whether you do, or don't, drop me a review.
Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter.
- x
"Very suave, Longbottom," Pansy laughed as he tripped and knocked over a Hufflepuff named Abbott. Neville's red face warmed her insides more than the ginger tea she drank. Outside, the October wind made every step feel like walking into Azkaban. Abandoning her eggs and kippers, Pansy picked up her satchel. Another Friday, another opportunity to be blown up, mauled or stampeded by whatever monstrosity awaited her in Care of Magical Creatures.
On the way out, she tried asking Draco about Hogsmeade this weekend, but Vincent and Greg had him surrounded. They howled at a Holyhead Harpies joke. Quidditch and Potter; the two topics Crabbe and Goyle could at least grunt about. An intelligent boy like Draco should really spend more time with the better Slytherins in their year. Like her. She let Blaise and Daphne catch up instead.
"So," Blaise looked down at her. "Any bets on what torture that Troll has prepared for today? Daph thinks manticores, but we're due for something poisonous, don't you think?"
"Let's see," she flicked through some pages in her textbook. "How about a Naga? A divine serpent native to India. Shows favor to those who revere it. If disrespected, will swallow you whole."
"Who knew Newt Scamander wrote a chapter on being friends with Pansy Parkinson," Blaise ruffled her hair. She batted his hand away with her book
"Hah, hah," Pansy pantomimed. "Fantastic beasts, what a laugh. That filthy half-breed teaching us, now there's a fantastic beast." Daphne snickered. "Imagine if we could get him and Lovegood together. Have us looking for Nargles or something. We could at least make it out of class in one piece."
"Shut up, Parkinson." Ugh, Ronald Weasley and his one talent: sounding like a petulant two year old.
"Weasley, I am having a polite conversation with my friends. Just because that oaf gives you a free pass for drinking tea in that shack every week, doesn't mean you have to defend his honor."
"Stuff it," Potter chorused. " Blimey. Just because Skeeter printed all that rubbish you said about me and Hermione doesn't mean anyone else cares what pug-faced Pansy has to bark about." Blaise stalked toward him. Potter drew his wand.
"Leave, it Blaise." Pansy caught the sleeve of his robes. She turned to Weasley and Potter. "If you enjoyed last year's exposé, just wait. I worked at the Prophet over holiday, and Barnabas Cuffe said I could have my own column this summer!" Weasley made a face like a deflated balloon. "Excellence of connections is the key to excellence, as my parents always say."
"Your parents can swallow Basilisk venom, " Weasley shot back. Granger tugged at his sleeve, but he shook her off. "And maybe you can join them."
"Ron." The bushy-haired girl got his attention. Dumbledore stood waiting for them a few steps ahead.
"Ah, Miss Parkinson." No doubt he heard Weasley.
"Sir, I..." the Gryffindor's ears steamed.
"Can I help you Mr. Weasley?" Ron shook his head. "Off to class then." Granger and Potter dragged him off. "You as well Mr. Zabini, Miss Greengrass." Blaise and Daphne shrugged, then walked away.
"I hate to deprive you of Professor Hagrid's class," Pansy detected a paper-thin edge around the word Professor. She thought air quotes would have been more appropriate. "However, I need to see you in my office, Miss Parkinson."
She followed him. Count on Dumbledore to let off that Griffindork after insulting her family. She'd probably get it for insulting 'professor' Hagrid, though. Not that her remarks should even merit a detention. She'd said the truth. The man was a half-giant after all.
"Chocolate buttons."
"Sorry?" Pansy felt the floor rumble. The base of a griffin statue twisted against the sandstone floor and left a spiral staircase in its place. She climbed the steps. What a mess. She saw a pensieve, piles of alchemy equipment, books everywhere, and an honest to goodness phoenix. A small black journal, wounded right through its center, lay on his desk. Junk he hadn't bothered throwing away.
"I understand you're quite fond of lemongrass tea Miss Parkinson." Pansy sat in front of his desk; surprised he knew anything about her. "I make it a point to know something, or a few somethings, about everyone at Hogwarts," he smiled. "Would you care for a cup?"
"Yes, please. Headmaster, what is this about?"
"Just a moment," Dumbledore wagged his finger while serving her cup. "Minerva and Severus will arrive soon."
Her grades were fine. No one saw her jinx the Creevy brothers on her way to breakfast earlier. Maybe he wanted to know about the Inquisitorial Squad then. Thanks to her and Draco, his precious Gryffindors couldn't run about as they please anymore. It had to bother him.
"Minerva, as High Inquisitor - and a member of the ministry no less - I can inform Miss Parkinson of the situation better than anyone else." Umbridge. Being a junior inquisitor had its perks, Pansy admitted, but Salazar help her if she ever saw another tea dish with a kitten on it.
"Dolores. As the Headmaster, Dumbledore believes the Deputy Headmistress and Parkinson's head of house will suffice." She appealed to Dumbledore, who smiled. That same aloof smile of his, Pansy noticed, could show kindness, amusement, fondness, or in this case, annoyance.
"Dolores, you have a classroom waiting."
"Albus, please," she pleaded. "The poor girl's parents are DEAD! I'm something of a role-model to her..."
The blood drained from her face. A needle stabbed her heart. "What?" she demanded.
Snape's billowing robes separated her and the squat witch like a curtain. "Enough." He guided her out. "If Miss Parkinson wishes herself subject to any further insensitivity, we will send for you right away Dolores."
Umbridge peeked around Severus. "Leave, Dolores." Dumbledore's low voice carried across the room like a slammed door. Umbridge and her offensively pink robes swished down the spiral stairs.
"Is it true?" Her breath hitched, and the words squeaked out to her annoyance.
"Yes." Snape returned to the desk.
No, No. No. It couldn't be true. The room spun, and she curled into herself to stop it. Her fingers dragged through her hair. Her chest heaved. Her eyes stung. An accident? Impossible. Mother hardly ever left the manor. Pansy shut her eyes. She saw Lucius Malfoy sneering at her father again. The Dark Lord. No, Pansy pleaded with herself. The Dark Lord needs them. He wouldn't just kill mum and dad. A hand squeezed her shoulder, like the cold, dead grip of an inferius. Snape whispered condolences. Words as comforting as a dementor's hissing.
The professors around her didn't exist. She'd apparated into an abyss. An oblivion that echoed the words: Lord Voldemort killed them. Salted tears touched her lips, and spilled down her arms. She wailed into her hands. Pansy wanted to drown in that void. Wanted to dissolve into the air. Voldemort. The echo forced her eyes open. She had to know. "They were k-killed." She wept. "W-was it You-Know-Who?"
Dumbledore stared at her evenly. "Well, was it?" She demanded this time through a sob.
"A dark mark alerted the Ministry to Parkinson manor," Severus confirmed.
"How?" She turned to Snape. Her stomach clenched at the thought of torture.
"Avada Kedavra." She could shake him. Her parents were dead, and he couldn't say more than two monotone words. "Both of them."
"The Ministry informed us only hours ago." McGonagall kneeled, and wrapped her arms around Pansy. The closeness reminded her of mum and dad, and fresh tears erupted from her eyes. The professor's emerald robes muffled her cries.
"We'll see you end of term". Mum's last words at King's Cross. "Yes, I'll see you then." Not a hug or even a smile passed between them. She jumped on the train, not wanting to hear about her marks yet again. "Two Exceeds in transfiguration and history of magic; well that's salvageable. Just an Acceptable in potions, how disappointing. Professor Snape is a dear friend of the family." She choked out a laugh, remembering how Mum almost fainted at the Troll she got in muggle studies.
Every term, they dismissed her marks because she wasn't a maniac like that muggle-born, Granger. She would endure their ridicule thousands of times over to see them again. She would give much, much more for their better moments. Like walking into Olivander's for the first time. Her first wand: 10-inch blackthorn and unicorn hair. The warmth of her magic flooding her and the bright smiles on mum and dad.
"Take all the time you need, dear." Minerva's hand circled Pansy's back. Pansy reached for the black handkerchief Snape held out.
"They would want to be buried outside the manor," she whispered, not ready to meet their eyes.
"Your father's law practice will handle the preparations," Dumbledore said. She could see grief in his eyes, in his smile, and in the creases of his face. Far away grief. Like a dot on the horizon. Like a ghost of a memory. They'd never shared a single word before. Not even when Dumbledore selected her as a Slytherin prefect. Now, without a word, she knew he understood her sorrow. "A service will take place in two days. You will be given leave on that day, and the remainder of class today."
"And however long you need," Professor McGonagall added.
"Thank you." Pansy's voice still shook as she got up.
"I am deeply sorry, but there is something else," The headmaster sighed.
"Am I in danger?" The thought occurred to her for the first time.
"We do not believe so," Dumbledore reassured her. "Hogwarts continues to be the safest place anywhere for a student like you."
"What then?"
"You suspect the Dark Lord." Severus accused. "When few believe he has returned."
Dumbledore continued. "If you have anything to share about your parents – "
"Stop," McGonagall shielded her. "This can wait until the poor girl has had some time."
"It doesn't have to. I do know something. Last summer, the Dark Lord…" she stared back at the floor for a second. Everyone around her stiffened; waiting for her to betray her parents. "…the Dark Lord came to my fifteenth birthday party. He gifted me a mummified chupacabra, drank all the champagne, and tried to eat the entire birthday cake himself."
No one said a word. Her Slytherin instincts should have realized it sooner. Snape and Dumbledore just wanted any secrets she knew, and they counted on McGonagall to lull her into confidence.
"My parents were not death eaters," she wanted to carve it on Dumbledore's desk. He probably didn't believe her. He probably thought her parents deserved what they got. "I don't know how this happened."
"Excuse our impertinence," Professor Snape bowed. "We do not mean to accuse."
"My humblest apologies," Dumbledore echoed. "The Ministry's silence has already cost us so much. Every piece of information, no matter how small, can save a life."
She thought of Lucius' visit, but would sooner be expelled than say something about it. It wouldn't help anyone; just create rumors about her parents. "I have nothing else to say."
Tense minutes followed before Snape moved on. "As for your guardianship, you are now a ward of this school."
"Will I live at Hogwarts all year?"
"If you choose," Dumbledore responded. "A Hogwarts professor will become your official guardian. You can stay with him or her."
She looked at Professor Snape, but he hid behind his greasy hair. McGonagall shifted next to her. "Professor Snape would be more than willing, I'm sure, but I thought to volunteer myself."
She couldn't exactly turn down a gesture of kindness, but knew Snape would at least stay out of her way. She didn't know what to expect from the head of Gryffindor. Pansy nodded.
Dumbledore beamed. "Excellent. I'll let Dolores know we've already made arrangements then." She supposed things could have been worse then.
McGonagall proved meddlesome straight away, and insisted Pansy go to the infirmary instead of resting in the dungeons. At least madam Pomfrey had the sense to leave Pansy to her thoughts.
The calming draught had done its work. She felt like Millicent had knocked the air out of her, but cried no more. Pansy studied the sandwich in front of her. They couldn't have betrayed the Dark Lord. She didn't lie to Dumbledore; her parents weren't death eaters. They had nothing to betray, and Dad wouldn't have refused him again.
The Parkinsons had gold and connections at the Ministry. They were valuable to the Dark Lord. She remembered the tremble of her dad's voice. Somehow, he'd known this wouldn't be enough. Voldemort would demand more. "Everyone who follows the Dark Lord is scared – or insane." His words rang clear now. Only a psychopath would murder her parents without cause. Only a psychopath would take everything from her on a whim.
Her calming draught crashed against the floor. She cursed the potion for muting the hate she wanted to feel. Cursed her selfishness and weakness. She'd sat at Hogwarts chasing after Draco and squabbling with Weasley, while her parents drew their last breath.
