"Bloody hell," groaned one of Briar's roommates, collapsing onto her bed. "I have no idea how you manage this, York. Five classes in a day, each Professor giving us homework all due tomorrow- and you're already done!"
Briar shrugged, tucking a wiry strange of hair behind her ear. "Pace yourself, don't panic. It's just school work, get an extension if you so badly need it."
Her roommate nearly groaned, burying her head back into her Muggle Studies book once more.
Briar tugged on her shoes, tucking away her wand and heading out. She had a meeting with Professor Lupin- regarding something.
Briar cast a look out a passing window- halting at a movement. She looked carefully, marking it off as only a tree in the wind.
She hurried to Lupin's office, knocking on his door before letting herself in. Lupin rose up from his chair and seated her behind his desk. Briar was growing nervous, she turned her eyes down at her hands, playing with her fingers.
"Your father asked me to discuss a matter to which he couldn't find the words for." Lupin spoke, sitting himself on the edge of his desk. Briar looked up, straight into Lupin's brown eyes.
Lupin smiled reassuringly, "It's to do with your career options. Your father has told me you're interested in becoming an Auror."
Briar relaxed, nodding with her consensus. She had wanted to follow her father's line of work since she was a child- and she had well enough grades to get her there.
Lupin knotted his fingers together, "Well, as it seems there is a low employment rate for Aurors, due to the many years of training and graduate requirements. And because of this, the Ministry has decided upon attempting an apprenticeship program for students."
Briar rose her brows, "So, what you're saying is- my father wants me to be a lab mouse for this "apprenticeship"."
Lupin chuckled somewhat, "It seems you've hit the nail on the head. During your sixth year, at what normally would be at Hogwarts, you'll instead be spending it alongside an Auror, and receiving your education and your training. If you choose to accept, by the end of your sixth year- you'll be a qualified Auror- but you'll still be expected to complete your seventh year."
Briar mulled the idea over, contemplating the pros and cons. She turned her serious eyes to her Professor, "I think I'll have to say-"
"You're leaving us?" Fred cried in distraught. Briar gave a menial shrug, "Not nessesarily, we can still Owl each other, and I'll be back for our seventh year."
George patted her on the shoulder, "Give 'er a try, just promise us you'll leave us something in your Will if you die."
Briar laughed, "Thanks for the support. And I'll be sure to write one up before I go."
Fred crossed his arms, obviously still unhappy about the idea. "Worst Christmas gift ever." He grumbled.
George nudged him, "What about that Dragon Prune sample Charlie sent you one year." Fred shivered, grimacing at an old memory. "Alright, second worst; but that's only because it burnt a hole in my stomach."
Fred lifted up his shirt to reveal a small round scar, poking it in equal distraught. Briar shook her head, laughing.
Thankfully, Dumbledore was generous enough to let them sit where they pleased, allowing Briar to be seated beside the pair. She had also noted that Professor Lupin was not in attendance either. She sighed into her Christmas pudding, feeling pity for the man.
Briar glanced up as Professor Trelawney cried out abruptly, "I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"
Fred laughed at this, unheard by anyone but her and George, "Crazy bat, she's off her rocker."
Briar shrugged, eyeing the Professor as she joined the table. "I think I'm off to see Professor Lupin, it's a shame he's missing out."
Briar took a Christmas pudding and stood, only for the two to grab her. "Mistletoe," Fred chimed, smacking his lips to hers, George following his lead.
Briar swatted them, laughing jovially. "You both are so troublesome."
She never would have expected to be here- in this terrible place…
She kept her head ducked, drawing her legs as close to her body as possible. Everything was red or gold, full of noise and laughter- the Gryffindor Common Room was truly the worst place to study.
Luckily, she had come for a mere article of clothing- red particularly, brandishing the Gryffindor symbol as she lacked any apparel with such markings.
"Here you are, Briar." George dropped a hooded jumper onto her head, "It's clean, I think."
She grimaced, but thanked him nonetheless. She pulled the jumper over her tank and stood, allowing him to take her hand.
There was nothing official but-
"Let's head down to breakfast, Fred is waiting for us." George tugged her from the Common Room, much to her relief.
"I do hope Gryffindor wins this year," she said when she was seated with the rest of the Gryffindor team. Briar gazed up thoughtfully, "I've never actually rode on a broom before."
Fred turned a wide-eyed gaze to her, "What about in First year during flying classes?"
Briar shook her head, "I couldn't even get my broom to come to me. Let alone mount it." Fred and George exchanged a look, "We're going to teach you how to fly once we win the cup, okay?"
Briar suddenly paled, seemingly terrified. "N-No that's alright."
Before they could question her fears, Oliver Wood, the Captain of the Gryffindor team called attention to his teammates.
Briar quickly slipped away, finding herself heading towards the Quidditch Pitch before anyone else even finished breakfast.
She wandered the area, kicking stones and hardly paying mind to her surroundings- an arm wrapped around her waist, startled she jerked her head back praying it was only George-.
Her scream was muffled by his grimy hand, the hand around her waist tugged her backwards, into his chest as he moved the pair of them from sight and into the Forbidden Forest.
Briar struggled- and although his arms were thin- the muscle rotted away, his grip was the one of a man surviving only on desperation.
She fumbled for her wand, coming up empty- she had forgotten it at the breakfast table.
The Forest had entirely swallowed them- she no longer knew which way lead her out- there was no escape- she would be murdered and be left to rot.
She halted her struggles, now aware he was muttering over and over.
"My beautiful Celeste, my beautiful little Celeste; I can't believe-"
"No." Briar broke through his ranting, when his hand drew away from her mouth, "She's dead, and she's been dead for fourteen years."
Black's body trembled, as did the grimy hand that stroked her hair almost lovingly, "But you're here now, I've seen you so many times, I can feel your flesh. You're alive. Alive."
"Celeste is dead," Briar broke away from his weakened grasp, stepping far away from him. "I'm not Celeste."
Briar's hands shook in fear, "My name is Briar York… Celeste is my mother."
Sirius Black trembled, reaching a hand out and touching her wrist delicately- only to grasp it harshly as he screamed a terrible, broken-sounding yell. Briar cried out in pain, positively sure the sound she heard was her own bone crunching.
Suddenly he was sobbing, curling his arms around her tightly. He seemed so much more… sane. Suddenly, and although her brain screamed contradictions- she no longer felt what the other's had said was true.
"I find it hard to believe," Briar admitted, rubbing her temple. She could hear the cheers and jeers of the Quidditch game from where they sat- shielded by trees. "But I've seen the map- Wormtail, Moony, Padfoot and Prongs- I've seen a werewolf, an Animagus- it all lines up."
Sirius Black was innocent…
He was quiet, his elbow-length hair draping around his face. His flesh rotten and shallow- she could see his skeleton- it was remarkable he survived.
"You're innocent," she repeated, this time aloud. His head rose, giving her an almost determined look. "I have to tell my Godson. He needs to know."
Briar rubbed her face, appearing very tired. "I'll help you."
His hand grasped her just healed wrist, eyes wide. "But, for now, let's go watch some Quidditch."
Sirius morphed into a mutt with a simple wave of his wand, allowing Briar to lead him from the forest. She and the dog seated themselves in the very back bleachers, easily blending into the mass of red and gold.
They had seated themselves just in time to see Harry Potter caught the snitch- securing the win for the Cup- her cheer was lost with the crowd.
Two gingers had thrown themselves at her, collecting her in a tight squeeze. George had swooped down and mashed his face against hers somehow in the fumble of grasping limbs.
When they drew back, she beamed at them in joy.
"Congratulations!" Briar cheered, although she felt guilty for missing the entire match. They accepted her praise, happily giving her an entire run-through of the entire game- and by the time that had finished- she had knew exactly what had gone down.
"Oi, Briar, who's dog is this?" Fred asked, finally noticing the large mutt seated obediently at her heels. She shot a hasty look at Sirius, wide-eyed with panic.
"Oh-uh- this is mum's friend's dog." Her brow twitched nervously, "Guess he got lost and wandered off, I recognised him immediately."
George, understanding the significance of her mother's friend, ruffled it's matted hair. "What's his name?"
Without thinking, Briar replied, "Snuffles."
She could almost feel the dislike rolling off of the Sirius.
I do not own Harry Potter/characters/etc.
-AL