Serpents and Thorns: The Building Storm
By Jedi Blu, Lady at Large
Beta: Thank you, Foggy Librarian!
Disclaimer: Found in previous chapters of this fic.
Notes: Happy New Year!
.s.L.y.T.h.E.r.I.n.
CHAPTER THREE: What's an Umbridge?
.s.L.y.T.h.E.r.I.n.
Ginny Weasley was lingering in the doorway after her Defense class let out; she held her text book to her chest and stared into the room she had only just walked out of as if she stood on the brink of a cliff. One good gust of wind would probably propel her forward and she didn't seem to be sure that's what she wanted.
Professor Evans became aware of her only when she turned towards her desk to gather up the essays the students had turned in before going out. A flash of red caught her eye and she looked up—unsure of whether it was the girl's hair or house-colored scarf that turned her head. "Yes, Ginny?" she said in her low, strict tone of voice that kept most students in line.
That gust of wind struck Ginny, and she stepped back into the room, boldly. "May I speak to you for a minute, Professor Evans?" she asked, tilting her chin up. Her dark brown eyes flashed with confidence and her frown was serious.
"Of course." Rose leaned back against her desk and smiled—not a friendly smile, but an inviting smile that gave Ginny some measure with which to work.
The young witch came further into the classroom until she stood before her professor, then she shrugged her slim shoulders as she said, "Harry says you're his aunt."
Rose nodded, but her expression immediately closed. Her face, normally pretty and pleasing, was suddenly cold. "That is true."
Ginny swallowed. "I'm worried about him, Professor," she said at last. Her shoulders dropped some, but her eyes remained steady and sure. "He's not at all like he used to be. He's distant, withdrawn, and he doesn't talk about things...like he used to."
"Are you close friends?" Rose asked from curiosity, though her tone did not betray that she cared. She took in the appearance of the girl in front of her; coppery hair, a charming sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and brown eyes that crackled with fireworks. She was slim and small, unlike her tall and gangly brothers, and she had nerve. Ginny had also shown proficiency in Defense class, picking up spells and explaining the reasons behind many theories easily and with confidence. She was a very bright student, serious when class was in session, but often smiling and chatting away with her friends—most of whom were older than Ginny herself. This girl, in short, looked like the sort of person Rose would hope to befriend her nephew.
Ginny shrugged, and now her eyes dropped. "Not really. He's my brother Ron's best friend, so I'm around him a lot. I notice things, though. Harry—well, Harry's pretty well adjusted to things despite his horrible relatives—um, not you, though I mean—"
"The Dursleys," Rose interrupted evenly. She couldn't stand it when children stuttered. "What is your point, Miss Weasley?" Normally she called the children by their first names, unless she meant business. They knew this by now, but that did not fluster Ginny Weasley.
"My point," Ginny said slowly, regaining confidence, "is that the world is a bad enough place for regular people but for Harry it's worse. He doesn't know what is expected of him or why—and he doesn't know enough about his own background to find strength there. Oh, he knows bits and pieces about his parents, but nothing solid enough to...to encourage him. He's moody, and Harry's never been moody. Ron's worried about him, Hermione's worried about him, and so am I."
"What do you propose," Rose said, slowly, "that I do about that?"
"Can't you tell him more about his parents? Sirius can't—he's got limited communication with him from Grimmauld, and no one else was REALLY close to them."
Rose suppressed the urge to sigh and instead adjusted her glasses before looking pointedly at the clock on her classroom wall. "Haven't you a class to get to, Miss Weasley?"
Ginny did not hide her frustrated expression, but she glared at the professor before turning and storming out of the room.
.s.L.y.T.h.E.r.I.n.
"Your godson needs a holiday," Rose was saying to the fireplace, where Sirius's head was floating about. She was speaking to him from her own hearth, in her quarters, so no one unexpected would walk in. "He's an absolute mess."
"And what do you propose I do?" Sirius asked sharply, glaring up at her. "Your deranged potion's master has made it all too clear—to EVERYONE—that I'm useless and have to stay hiding in the shadows of this miserable house."
"He's not my—"
Sirius interrupted her with a bark of laughter. "Yes, he is. I was informed by the potion's master, in no uncertain terms, that I was to keep my hands and eyes off a certain newly resurrected witch. He seems to be worried about my little crush on you," he added scathingly. "As if that's even a factor anymore."
"You need a girlfriend, Sirius," Rose muttered, "if you're still harping on that."
He rolled his eyes. "Back to Harry. How are his Occlumency lessons coming?"
She shrugged. "I don't know."
He gaped at her for a moment. "You've left my godson completely alone with that slimy, horrendous—"
"Brilliant Head of Slytherin? Why, yes, I have!" Rose pretended to beam at him and leaned closer to the fire. "What's Severus going to do, Black? He's on Dumbledore's side, or had you forgotten that?"
"How could I? He's always rubbing my nose in it," Sirius growled, then winced. "The pun was unintentional."
"Come now, Sirius—I'm sure Snuffles gets his nose rubbed in all sorts of messes," Rose responded, smirking condescendingly at him. "But enough. I'm tired of arguing with you, I just thought you should know there have been some concerns about his health and happiness."
"The boy was attacked by dementors during his summer holiday, put on trial like some common criminal, and has Voldemort running amuck in his head. I think it's about time someone was concerned. But who brought all of this to your attention, Professor?" he asked, turning innocent eyes up to her. "Surely whoever it was trusted you, as Harry's aunt, to see to his needs."
"I am not in a position to help Harry," she responded evenly. "I'm supposed to be walking the fine line between the Dark Lord and Dumbledore, after all."
"All the more reason to pay attention to him, and to Snape, equally," Sirius returned, finding it his turn to smirk. "The ultimate choice—an old love or the son of your sister. Tsk. I wonder who you would choose, if it came down to it?" He looked over his shoulder in the flames. "Krecher's bumbling around in the kitchen again."
"Was he really snogging your father's pants?" she asked, mentioning an incident Fleur had been giggling over. "That's very disturbing, Sirius."
"Believe me, no one's more disturbed by this house—or the Blacks—as I am." He sighed, his eyes dropped and he raised a hand to massage his forehead. "I can't do much so far away from Harry. Just keep an eye out for him, Rose. Pretend you really are his charming, kindly little aunt, okay? The boy needs family."
"I'm aware of that, Sirius. In fact, I think I know just how he feels." Rose sighed and sat back on her carpet, sitting Indian style. It was time to change the subject before they started arguing again. She seemed to have a knack for arguing with people, most especially men. "Any news from the Order? You must know everything, being there every time someone comes in or out."
"As a matter of fact, Arthur Weasley was in today and he sent a confidential report to Dumbledore. Of course, I was here while he wrote the letter." He flashed her his most charming, most self-assured and arrogant, Sirius-Smile. "It seems the Headmaster is about to get a bit of trouble shoved at him from the Ministry in the form of, what they're calling, a High Inquisitor."
"What on earth is a High Inquisitor?" Rose frowned. "It doesn't sound very good, does it?"
"I'm not sure what it is, I didn't catch all of that. Arthur babbled something about a toad, though. He said it'd be all in the papers tomorrow, so you might as well pick up a copy of the Daily Prophet."
"That sleazy piece of trash?" She snorted. "I'll not soil my hands with it anymore. But anyway...is that all? Any news about Hagrid?"
"None. Madame Maxime is home safe, though. She took back up her position at Beauxbatons. Otherwise it's just the usual. Mundungus is still bringing in contraband, Molly's still nagging everyone, Krecher's still...skulking around somewhere. Maybe I should behead the little rodent...or let Buckbeak have a go at him."
Rose chuckled. "Well, I've got essays to grade, Sirius. It's been...half-way pleasant to talk to you."
"Let's not make a habit of that," he replied, flashing her that lady-killer smile again. "You should stop by some time, keep me and Krecher company. I swear I'm going to go mad if I'm locked up here much longer."
Rose refrained from reminding him it was all his own fault, allowing Malfoy to see him as a dog at the station. "Good night, Sirius."
"Good night, Professor Evans," he responded, and then ducked back into the flames and out of sight.
.s.L.y.T.h.E.r.I.n.
When Rose walked into breakfast the next morning she was startled by the hushed whispers of students as they clustered together in groups at their tables, bent over...something.
She drifted over to the Slytherin table, feeling more kinship towards them than anyone else, and stood directly behind the young Malfoy brat. She caught a glimpse of the Daily Prophet in his hands and he was softly reading it to Crabbe and Goyle—perhaps they really didn't know how to read. "Draco?" she asked, using her most authoritative tone of voice.
The handsome, white-haired young man looked up at her and hastily came to his feet, smirking as he always did when he thought her knew more about something than anyone else. "Yes, Professor Evans?"
"May I see your paper, Draco?" she asked in all politeness. She did not at all like the way he stood, just slightly taller than she. But he handed the paper to her, still smirking, and folded his arms to watch her reaction.
Rose glanced at the front page headline—'Ministry Taking Control of Hogwarts.' She winced, scanning the article quickly. "Umbridge?" she muttered when she came to the name of the newly appoint High Inquisitor—basically an enforcer of Ministry whims and a spy for Fudge—with some contempt. "What's an Umbridge?"
Draco stopped smirking to tip his chin up proudly and began to explain in a superiorly bored voice, "Ms. Dolores Umbridge is a very well known witch in political circles, Professor; she works closely with Minister Fudge at the Ministry Offices. She knows my father," he added importantly. His prefect badge caught the light momentarily, and he shrugged. "Things are going to change around here, Professor Evans."
"I wouldn't count on that, Draco," she responded then handed the paper back to him. "But I would count," she added, between clinched teeth, "on a pop quiz in Defense over vampires in a week." It didn't hurt to make the little eel think she liked him. She may need an advantage with Lucious Malfoy in the future.
He nodded smartly, not surprised he was given a hint, then retook his seat. Rose made her way up to the staff table and noted, faintly amused, that the seating arrangements had changed slightly. On Dumbledore's left there was now an empty seat and everyone had moved down one or to the opposite side of the table. Severus was sitting at the far left end, scowling darkly at his breakfast, and the chair next to him was empty. She took that one, noting that he didn't even glance up as she sat down.
"Good morning, Severus," she greeted, placing a napkin primly on her lap. "Have you seen this morning's paper?"
Severus grunted a response that said nothing.
Rose arched her eyebrows at him, smirking, and turned to her companion on her left hand. Charlie Weasley was skimming over a copy of The Daily Prophet and laughing under his breath at several articles. He caught her watching him and winked before turning the page—his version of 'good morning, and how are you today?'
"What do you make of this High Inquisitor?" Rose asked him impulsively.
At her other side, Severus again grunted something incoherent and moody.
"I think the old toad they're sending will do nothing more than irritate the staff and torture students," Charlie replied evenly, never glancing up from his paper. "Dad's worked with Dolores Umbridge quite a bit, you know, and he can't stand her. And it's difficult to get on my father's bad side."
The rest of breakfast passed pleasantly enough, with the empty chair next to Dumbledore never being filled and Severus managing to avoid all of Rose's attempts at conversation. Charlie Weasley made up for that, and Rose went to her classroom with a small smile and a hopeful attitude.
Sneak Preview: Chapter Four the fifth years get a surprise and some information in their "Interview with a Vampire." And Chapter Five Rose receives "An Invitation, and Minerva's Counsel." Chapter six will not be revealed at this time.
Author Note: Again, Happy New Year!
A hurried (though sincere) thanks to all those who reviewed: Evil Duckie of the BlackLagoon, Mage-Aurian, Sona Camdyn, Artzfreak, mione1, emikae, Turtle (HARRY IS IN HIS FIFTH YEAR, I'm breaking away from canon), Rinny Z, Black Sheep Alone, Loraliant Angelisa Snape, Lydia (Harry, like most males, has his moments of DENSENESS), maya)-sleepy, MoonLit-Night, and Rae Roberts.
Rae: HG/SS fics are EVIL! Stay far, far, far, far, far away from them! Goodness gracious me! I hope this update saves you from one of those!
Sorry this is so hurried, but I wanted to be one of the first to post a chapter in 2005!
Love,
-JB-