Howlers and Healers

Sunday morning, Hermione shook Siria awake and insisted she write to Sirius straight away. Although Siria rather felt it could wait until later, she crawled out of bed, dressed, and collected a quill, ink, and parchment. Halfalseep, Siria wasn't entirely sure what she wrote Sirius. She somehow managed to fill the front and back of a sheet of parchment, remembered to thank him for the joke Howlers, and hoped she made the part about hearing the disembodied voice small enough that he wouldn't worry.

As Siria had yet to get consistent at turning beetles into buttons, she left that part out of her letter. Hermione had promised to practice with Siria until she got it down. Ron didn't seem at all pleased to be practicing in Professor McGonagall's classroom on a Sunday, but came all the same. Even Neville, who had said he didn't have anything else to do, joined them. The four practiced from breakfast until lunch, when Professor McGonagall encouraged them to enjoy the rest of their first weekend back.

"I don't see why it matters so much." Ron said.

"Sirius's best subjects are Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration." Siria told him, as if this settled the matter. Ron shrugged.

"My dad was really good at Defense Against the Dark Arts too." Neville told them. It was the first time he had even mentioned his parents.

"Maybe we could all practice, together." Siria suggested.

"Doubt Lockhart will let us." Ron said.

"Ron!" Hermione snapped.

"We wouldn't need him. We just need to find a classroom that's never used, and can teach each other." Siria told them.

"That'd be too dangerous." Hermione protested, "how would we explain getting hurt?"

"We could just not get hurt." Siria suggested, but the trio turned to Neville. Neville was a very good hearted and natured person, but he was unbelievably clumsy.

"I suppose we could ask Professor McGonagall, but you'll have to stay out of trouble." Hermione directed the last bit to Ron and Siria.

"I'd like to remind you that I had committed myself to ignoring Malfoy, and had been doing well." Siria noted. She had, after all, not acknowledged his baits yesterday morning.

The four were sold on practicing. They would stay out of trouble and ask Professor McGonagall next weekend if they could commit to Sunday mornings. Hermione made them promise they would have their homework done by then, "even if it isn't due that week." To Hermione, this unfortunately included re-reading any assigned chapters or notes, and reviewing any potion instructions they'd gotten that week. Siria noticed that the instructions Snape had on the blackboard were slightly different than the ones in the book Hermione had checked out from the library.

When Monday morning's mail rolled around, it was no surprise that Siria had another Howler. She smiled and snatched it. Siria was just about to open it when she noticed Ron and everyone on the Gryffindor Quidditch team had gotten one as well. Her bright green eyes widened and met Ron's. There was a large thunk on the table, as another owl dropped a book on top of Siria's eggs. Hedwig hooted the other owl away and perched herself on Siria's shoulder. There was a letter, from Sirius, perched in Hedwig's beak.

The whole table sat in tense silence. By now, everyone had heard how the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams each lost a hundred points for their House by getting into a Muggle brawl. It seemed, however, the Slytherin parents had the care to shout any of their concerns and grievances.

"'Supose I'll go first," Siria shuddered. She extended her Howler out to arm's length, and tore.

"SIRIA J. POTTER!" The tone was very different than the almost laughing one of last week's letters. "KNOCK, KNOCK!" It was still stern. She couldn't bring herself to ask who was there. "WATER!" Hedwig and the other owls shot out of the Hall. Siria winced; she hoped, but dared not utter water who. "WATER YOU THINKING GETTING INTO A FIGHT? HANDS ARE FOR HOLDING AND HUGS! IF YOU GET INTO ANOTHER BRAWL, DUMBLEDORE HAS MY PERMISSION TO MAKE YOU HOLD THEIR HAND UNTIL HE THINKS YOU CAN GET ALONG!" The Howler ripped itself then burned.

"Well, don't know why there's a handwritten letter too." She whispered to herself more than anyone else.

The other team members who had all received Howlers opened them together. There was a mess of voices: Oliver Wood's mother, Angelina Johnson's father, Alicia Spinnet's mother, both of Katie Bell's parents, and two of Mrs. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley sent a Howler to the twins and another to Ron. With all the deafening noise, it was hard to make out what any of the parents had said until only the two by Mrs. Weasley remained. They concluded in chorus "AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE,WE'RE BRINGING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!" (B2, 88).

Though the rest of the Great Hall steadily continued their breakfast, those with Howlers needed a moment. Siria was fuming because Malfoy fought too, but was just sitting at the Slytherin table, eating an apple with a huge smirk on his face. Even more than she was angry, she was appalled. Reckless and rule breaking Sirius had scolded her. She tried to reason it as being because, no matter how close the call, he usually got away without being caught. Was that the real reason Sirius had been upset? She could be more clever about her battles, and fight more secretly.

"—Ria! Siria!" Hermione waved and snapped at Siria, but she couldn't hear.

"Let us," Fred nodded to George and the two clapped in sync before her.

"Huh?" Siria asked.

"You've got eat!" Hermione told her.

"Not hungry," for once, it was true.

"At least gotta read your letter" Fred told her.

"And clean the eggs off your book." George added.

Herbology that day was a blur to Siria. It wasn't until she was washing off the dragon dung fertilizer that she even realised she had gone to Herbology, let alone left it. Transfiguration was even worse. Although Siria had turned a beetle into a button the day before, she couldn't focus and ended up changing her beetle's shell different colors. She didn't even notice the smell of rotten eggs or thick, grey smoke Ron's wand was making (B2, 95).

Lockhart had given up on hands-on teaching. He spent the class continuing his dramatic reading of Break with a Banshee. Hermione took Siria's bag and rifled through for Sirius's letter, which she ripped open. Siria hadn't even noticed until Hermione put the opened letter on the desk and elbowed Siria. Dazed, Siria looked at her, Hermione pointed to the letter. Never had she ever encouraged Siria to do something that wasn't take notes. History of Magic was the only class Hermione didn't pester Siria and it was because Siria usually spent the time reading the book. Siria spared Lockhart a look, but he was too impressed with his accomplishments to notice her. She let her eyes fall on the letter.

Dear Siria,

He had dotted the "I's" with stars.

I am so very sorry about the Howler. Lucius threatened to bring all the parents to court, which he would never win, but it would have been exhausting. After talking with the other Gryffindor parents—

He called himself a parent!

—we agreed to his other demand of "compensation." Note the Howlers. Lucius hoped to take you all down a notch, morally. The git bought his son a place on the Quidditch team and no doubt wants to make people think otherwise, don't let them.

I know that it isn't fair you lot are the only ones who got into trouble. You may even feel guilty for fighting. As much as I was worried when I heard from Dumbledore, I was proud. Siria, you stood up for your friend. You probably didn't even know what "Mudblood" meant, but you jumped to Hermione's defense; James would have done the same.

Siria rested her arms on the desk and let her hair form a curtain over her face.

Obviously I can't very well encourage you to fight. You have to remember that words are your strongest weapon. Another owl should have delivered a book of helpful ones.

Please let your teammates know, for however upset we are they could have been hurt. We could not be more proud. I hope the other parents will write, but Molly is still furious. Most of all, Siria, beat that son of a slimeball, his team, and his fancy brooms with the skill and heart we know you've got.

Love,

Sirius

Although she smiled, Siria fought back tears. Under the table, she took hold of Hermione's hand. Hermione did not look up from her notes, but smiled. Siria tried to subtly dap away her tears with her sleeve, but Lockhart caught her when she sniffled.

"I know. I know." He told her. "Sometimes, I find myself moved to tears by my own acts of heroism." Siria nodded and kicked Ron under the table to stop his laughter.

She slid the letter some, so he could read it. Ron gave her a thumbs up, but then slammed his finger on the bottom. Under his signature, at the very bottom of the letter, in notably smaller writing was a postscript.

If you think I'm joking about the hand holding, I'm not. I saw it on the internet and thought it was hilarious. Lucius, the idiot, thought I was serious and you might die of embarrassment —he doesn't realise you're as good as part Veela, and anyone stuck with you'll fall for you.

Also, if you want to learn anything fun this summer, you better pull a Hermione and learn the book I sent you. We won't cover anything until I know you've got it down. If you need anything, write.

So many emotions seemed to explode inside Siria: Pride, at Sirius being proud, was ricocheting around; Being-Loved was playing tug-o-war with Embarrassment, to see who got to be strongest emotion; Giddiness, for him indirectly calling himself her parent or, at least, grouping himself with the parents; and Determination because she would catch that Snitch, even if it killed her.

At practice that night, the team agreed to train harder and longer. They would beat Slytherin and make their parents proud. Wood made sure to drill them twice as hard as usual. He had Siria run dive and turn drills. Katie, Angelina, Alicia, and George played as two-people Chaser teams while Fred and Wood each guarded a set of posts. It wasn't until it was too dark to practice that Wood finally let them stop. When Siria finally landed on the field, her head hurt and her legs gave out; she felt like she had whiplash, which, with how many times she jerked a sharp turn, may be true.

After practice, though beaten and more tired than ever, Siria pulled out the book Sirius had gotten her, Helping Hands. The title made her laugh, but he had probably planned that. Though she wanted to get to the heart of the matter, Siria started with the Preface, which had been written by Madam Poppy Pomfrey.

The head of the Hospital Wing insisted that no matter how sure Siria believed herself to be after reading the entire book, none of it should ever be performed without the proper training. Even though Madam Pomfrey explained that the spells and potions had been tested countless times, revised, and explained down to the very number and a half of turns, they were meant to serve as a guide for those with the required N.E.W.T. scores who had already entered a Healers program.

Unable to go on, Siria circled "N.E.W.T." and readied for bed. Even Hermione had gone to sleep, which told Siria it was well past time for her to. She brushed her teeth and looked at the dental floss. Why wasn't there a spell to floss teeth? Where was the spell to brush teeth? Siria crawled under the blankets. How come she needed glasses? Wizards as old as Dumbledore used glasses, but no one had made a spell to fix eyesight? These questions filled Siria's head as the room seemed to spin and she swiftly drifted to sleep.

When Sunday finally rolled around, Hermione had to rip the blankets from Siria's bed. Siria grumbled in defiance and pulled the pillow over herself. They tugged on the pillow until Siria had grown too awake to go back to sleep. Ever since Siria had been freed from her cupboard, she started to enjoy sleeping in more and more. Though, even when she had been in the cupboard under the stairs, she was rarely woken before the sun.

"'Mione," Siria grumbled. Her messy mane of jet black hair was even more tossed and tumbled than usual. "Wha's it?"

"You stayed out of trouble, so we're asking Professor McGonagall, remember?"

"'Member what?" Siria yawned and sat up. She shook the largest part of her mane, which evened out to its usual mess.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Hermione sighed. She popped Siria's trunk open and rifled through for day clothes.

"Siria, do you own anything that isn't Moony & Padfoot?" Hermione asked. Siria yawned again and shrugged.

"Snuffles an' Sirius get all my clothes."

"Hmm." Hermione seemed to want to ask more, but did not. She threw a pair of dark jeans with white splatter at Siria's head, which knocked her back down. Then an ombre shirt of purple shades with white, star-like spots sprinkled across the top. Hermione removed a faux leather jacket, closed the trunk, and tossed the jacket onto Siria.

Despite feeling she could lay in bed all day, Siria changed into the outfit Hermione had picked out for her. Siria plopped onto the floor beside her bed, and Hermione parted her hair. She braided two small sections beside Siria's bangs back then together and tied them off. By the time she was done, Fay had woken up.

"Nice!" Fay told them. "You don't match, but you kinda do too." Siria hadn't noticed that Hermione had picked out a blue reverse ombre skirt for herself, topped with a cotton candy sunset shirt, and complemented with a soft, cloud looking sweater. Although Siria had never done more than a plain braid, she became determined to try. Ultimately, Parvati woke up and wove some of Hermione's hair into a charming crown braid.

"We've got to get a picture," Siria told Hermione. Never before had she a friend to dress with. There was a certain type of happiness that came from having an outfit coordinated by a friend. Although the picture wouldn't be able to save the feeling, Siria hoped it would always remind her of it.

On the condition Siria agreed to take a photo with Colin and sign it, he agreed to take two photos for them. As they knew the pictures would move, Siria and Hermione laughed and posed together. In his picture, Colin pointed at Siria, so she pointed at him. Unlike the photo with Lockhart, Siria looked forward to seeing these.

People actually complimented Hermione and Siria, and it was amazing. There was something encouraging about it that was the complete opposite of when people gawked at Siria for her scar. Ginny Weasley, who had hardly been near Siria since that day at Flourish and Blotts brought over another first year girl. The girl had a very dreamy and dazed expression on her face. Her large eyes seemed to both stare at them and not.

"Lovely for attracting Dorsickles." She told them.

"Thanks?" Siria looked to Hermione, who hadn't seemed to hear of them either. The girl continued to stare at them for a moment longer than most, before she took a seat at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny murmured something that Siria couldn't make out before she left and took a seat at the opposite end of the table. Siria clicked her tongue because she felt like Ginny was already her friend, but would never hang around her. She started to wonder if she was the only one that felt a friendly presence around Ginny.

After breakfast, Hermione, Neville, Ron, and Siria made their way to Professor McGonagall's office. The door was opened and she almost seemed to be expecting them. Four envelopes were on her otherwise clear desk. She looked over her glasses. "I was starting to wonder if you lost heart." She told them. They all looked to Hermione.

"Professor, as I'm sure you know from my letter" Hermione began. Ron mouthed "What letter?" and Siria shrugged. "We would like to practice Transfiguration and the practical skills of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I wrote all our parents, for permission, and it looks like you've gotten replies."

"Yes. I have." Professor McGonagall nodded.

"And they agreed?" Hermione asked, rather hopefully. Professor McGonagall gave one, short nod. Hermione jumped and grabbed Siria. "We can practice!" Siria pulled Ron and Neville into the hug. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.

They entered the Transfiguration classroom. Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk and pulled out a book for the time. Hermione collected a box of beetles for them to practice on. After an hour and half on the beetles, which was particularly difficult for Ron because his wand took to smoking again, they transitioned.

"What should we practice, though?" Hermione asked. "Professor Quirrell only covered how to avoid dangerous situations, and Professor Lockhart has been going over magic too complicated for us to start with."

"That's where I come in." Siria grinned at her. "Sirius and I have been practicing Shield Charms. I can even do one, sometimes."

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow of interest, but did not look up from her book. Siria hopped up from her chair.

"So it's Protego— pro-tay-go" Siria told them. "And, you just move your wand in a line."

"What kind of line?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Sirius showed me a straight line, for practice, but the first time I actually got it, I swing my arm like this" and Siria drew a slightly diagonal, mostly horizontal line across herself. At one point, Ron's wand shot through the air. Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at it and his wand froze then flew back to him. She told them that is was probably best to stop there for the day.

"Maybe we should start with something easier." Hermione confessed.

"It's a lot easier to see if you actually got it when someone is casting something against you." Siria said.

"But what could we use?" Ron asked,

"Sirius said any spell is a weapon, if you know how to use it." Siria noted. "I'll write him and see if he can't send something easier."

"Would he send you another book though?" Hermione asked. "You haven't finished Helping Hands, have you?"

"No." Siria groaned.

She'd read more every night, but the book felt endless. Each spell had a chapter to itself. There were extra notes at the end of every chapter, which felt like an entirely new chapter. At the end of the extra notes was a quiz, of forty to fifty questions, that would grade itself, tell her what she missed, and make her go back into the chapter— even when she only missed one question.