Chapter 11

O.W.L.s, Owls and Obssessions

Before the entire fifth-year cohort knew what had hit us, the O.W.L.s were looming large like the hippogriffs we had dealt with in third year, but infinitely more terrifying. The atmosphere had reached fever pitch; even the usually unflappable McGonagall was annoyed, harried and (if it was even possible), curter than ever. For the first time in my life, I found myself thanking Merlin that I had been placed in Gryffindor. To be placed in Ravenclaw, where everybody seemed to do well without even trying, or Hufflepuff, where everyone was insufferably hardworking, or, worse still, in Slytherin, where all students were, as though required by some unseen rule, to do well while pretending to put in no effort at all would have been sheer torture at this time of the year. I'd always detested the Gryffindor common room for the boisterousness of its occupants, yet now that exams were around the corner, noise levels had reached tolerable degrees. Best of all, when I wished to take a break every now and then, I'd look around and see at least five other people doing the same, effectively saving me from a good deal of unnecessary guilt.

All house-related fortunes aside, I wasn't having a particularly good time. Practical aspects came easily to me after years of practice. (Especially Defence Against the Dark Arts, thanks to hours spent practicing curses and hexes. Countering spells was always easier when one had experience with how they worked.) Theory, however, was quite a different matter-my retention was getting worse and worse, thanks to the late-night training sessions Father demanded that I attend three or four times a week. More often than not, I found myself sneaking around the castle soundlessly or waiting at the outskirts of the grounds for a Portkey. He'd been in a peculiar mood lately-snappish and impatient, almost as though one of his grand plans was in danger of falling through, yet I had glimpsed him pacing rooms, poring over schematics and diagrams with a wicked glint in his eyes. The one time I had ventured to ask him whether there were any new developments, he gave me such a venomous look that I'd completely lost my nerve and promptly backed out of the room. He had made no mention of Mother at all; however, hiding in the shadows as Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy conversed in hushed voices, I had managed to get updates on the situation.

"She's safe at my home," Snape murmured. "I've been giving her daily doses of three different potions-mood stabilisers and tonics for physical and mental health, but she's showing no signs of improvement. I've taken to locking her in while I leave the house-just three days ago she tried to strangle me with a spare robe. "

"Now, I mean in no way to offend my dear sister-in-law, much less the Dark Lord," Lucius Malfoy said in an oily voice that quite clearly indicated the contrary, "but do you not find this to be a waste of your time and considerable ability? Fifteen years in Azkaban, the poor, poor thing. I fear she's much too far gone to be saved-a great pity of course, since she was such a wonder in her prime. But then again, now that we have such an important task to carry out, we really can't afford to waste manpower on futile efforts... "

Oh, how I longed to fly out of my hiding place and hit him with a variety of choice hexes, watch his revolting face erupt in furious rashes and pus-filled boils. He cared nothing for any of our noble goals; all he wanted was power, to become Father's most valued assistant. A position that would be hindered if Mother made a spectacular recovery. At that thought, my hand positively crept towards my wand of its own accord as I envisioned him writhing on the ground in the clutches of the Cruciatus. Alas, I could not afford to do so; Father would have my head for such a blatant loss of control. All I could do was clench my teeth and swear to Salazar Slytherin himself that I would one day become Father's right-hand woman, so that place would never be open to Malfoy. Never.

The days flew past at an alarming rate. Most of the exams flew past in a hurry, and soon I found myself with only two left—Astronomy and History of Magic, neither of which I had interest in pursuing at N.E.W.T level. Most of my exams had gone fairly well—of course, with the exception of Herbology. During our practical session, the Fanged Geranium that had sported violently violet flowers at the start of the exam wound up shrivelled and throughly dead in less than an hour. Even Professor Marchbanks had to hide her twitching lips behind her clipboard—which gave me an even clearer view of the enormous T scrawled next to my name. (I still don't know what I did to the blasted plant.) Then there was the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, in which I had watched Potter conjure a corporeal Patronus—a majestic glowing stag. His display of power had shaken me so deeply that I could barely focus during the rest of the practical, resulting in awfully lacklustre spellcasting. My marks (or lack thereof), however, were dwarfed by the sticky situation I would soon find myself stuck in.

There was something very wrong with my telepathic connection. It hadn't exactly crashed, but rather faded out slowly. At first, I'd merely assumed it to be a dearth of messages. By the time I realised what was going on, it had degenerated to the point that all I could hear was intermittent buzzing—probably Father trying and failing to get through to me. Whoever had coined the saying Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned clearly had no idea what Father was like. A much more accurate saying would probably go Hell hath no fury like the Dark Lord made to wait.

A loud thump made me jolt in the middle of copying out a complicated star chart. Looking up, I saw a Great Grey owl throwing itself against the window, apparently bent on getting through. Everyone else was apparently too caught up in their revision to notice it "Oh, all right," I sighed. "Alohomora!" It came straight at me, then paused, circling frantically in the air for a few seconds before dropping a fat envelope at my feet with an air of finality.

I lifted it up, but promptly dropped it again as searing pain tore through my fingers and up my arm. It burned, but not the way fire did. As I stared at the plain envelope, inky black words started to appear.

I open for the twisty, the frustrating, the battle of wits, mind sharp as a knife though no skin it shall slit. Search for the true form, for it shall bring a mighty storm.

I stared at it. A battle of wits? The true form? Why was the sender playing mind games with his desired recipient? Wait. Mind games. Of course. Riddle! Father must have sent the letter. But why wouldn't it open for me?

Without warning, the words started to disappear and were replaced by a single sentence, written in silvery-green cursive. Time and tide wait for no women. Women? Didn't the original phrase use the word "man"? It was then that I noticed the plural. Could it be…? I had to find out, but not in here.

Quietly lifting the letter with a Levitation Charm, I slipped it into the outer pocket of my robe. The three layers of cloth acted as a barrier of sorts, but I could still feel the sharp burn against my skin. No one looked up from their books as I climbed out through the portrait hole and hurried to the nearest lavatory.

Just as I was about to duck into the girls' room, I found myself intercepted by Seamus Finnigan, an expression of glee lighting his features. (no, Bella, don't think about how that afternoon light sets off his cornflower eyes so perfectly, say something and get rid of him NOW)

"Hey Gemma," Seamus beamed. "D'you want to go out this Saturday? I heard Honeydukes is having an exam-period sale!"

(Stop. Stop. No. What if Father finds out? Tell him you can't. You're going to be a warrior; you've got no time for this frivolity!) "Yes, of course!" (Darn!) My traitorous tongue was always a step ahead of my brain.

"Amazing!" His smile became wider than I had imagined to be possible. "Fred Weasley says they're going to have all sorts of new sweets for the celebrating fifth- and seventh-years. He doesn't really know what exactly they're going to have, but he thinks they might have chocolate mice that squeak and run in circles! You love chocolate, don't you? I remember when we went out to The Three Broomsticks and we ordered that chocolate special…"

I couldn't resist a smile at that particular memory, which prompted a dazzling grin from him that nearly made me melt like the aforementioned chocolate. (No, Bella. The letter. Now.)

"Oh, yes, I do. But, ah, I sort of have to use the lavatory now, I'll talk to you after our Astronomy exam!" Ducking into the faintly moldy toilet, I locked myself in the stall at the end and let the glamour charms melt off me like wax, then carefully drew the envelope out of my pocket and opened it with a fingernail. As I lifted the blank piece of paper out, words started to form on it. Father's handwriting was nearly as neat as usual. Nearly. The curls of the g and the y were much less flamboyant than usual, curling in annoyance, and the s was sharp and spiky. I shuddered as I envisioned him sitting ramrod straight at his desk, his face a mask of carefully controlled rage as he composed the letter.

Belladonna, (theletterread)

I do not know why you have been unreceptive these few days, but for your sake I hope that it is not through wilful disobedience. Lord Voldemort does not pardon those who stray from the course, especially his own family members. There was a small puncture in the paper at the end of the sentence; almost as though Father had imagined stabbing me while he wrote.

Your inability to receive messages—intentional or otherwise has cost us a great deal of time. You must be on the alert and follow exactly my instructions to ensure the success of our mission. Tomorrow we will strike. You will, of course, be required to participate in combat. (I sucked in a sharp breath. Tomrrow? That was far sooner than I'd expected. True, I'd dealt with dangerous Death Eaters who didn't trust me as far as they could throw me, but I knew they wouldn't harm me as long as I was protected by Father's authority.)

Tomorrow, as your cohort takes their final exam, I will project the illusions into Potter's miserable head as planned. Being the fool that he is, he will no doubt attempt to rescue Black from the Department of Ministries. In the event that the Mudblood Granger tells him to contact Black first before leaving, Kreacher will be stationed at 12 Grimmauld Place to hold his master off. You must follow Granger, Potter and the Weasley. Enclosed is a device you may use to contact Lucius Malfoy. (Reaching into the depths of the envelope, I drew out a spherical silver device with slim filaments that waved about wildly. It had three buttons on it, red, yellow and green)

Green is the all-clear. Press it if certain that Potter and his friends are headed for the Ministry. In the event that you are unsure, press the yellow button. If something goes wrong, press the red button and speak into the device; Malfoy will receive your message. Once you have completed that, leave the castle with your Invisibility Cloak. Head straight for the Forbidden Forest, a six-o-clock Portkey will be ready for you. It will take you to the Ministry, where you will find Potter and force him to take the weapon I seek. I trust that you should be able to execute these simple tasks.

Shaking, I leaned against the flimsy stall wall. This was all happening far too quickly. I didn't feel half prepared. And what on earth was I supposed to do if I lost Potter in the huge, rowdy post-exam crowd? Or if I made a wrong assumption about his intentions? My telepathic connection made no signs of recovery; and the owl had left, I couldn't possibly write back to Father. I supposed I could contact Lucius Malfoy with the device, but…no. Never. I would sooner make a mess of the whole mission than give that slime the satisfaction of giving me any sort of help. I was on my own.

That night, I trooped up the stairs with the other Gryffindor girls. "What a pity that we have to take a stuffy old exam on a gorgeous night like this, " Parvati wailed melodramatically. "I can think of a thousand things I'd rather be doing." I scoffed inwardly. I've got a battle to fight and a mission resting on my shoulders, and you're fussing about this?

The words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop myself. "There are lots of things I'd rather be doing than stand here listening to you whine. " Parvati stopped like she'd been stabbed, looking like a puppy that had been kicked viciously by its owner.

"'I'm sorry, Parvati. Must be the stress. " (Oh, it was stress all right, just not quite the kind they were imagining.) "You're right, this really is a waste of a good night." I said quickly before she could kick up a fuss. She looked slightly mollified, but Lavender didn't look particularly convinced by my "apology".

Once we'd scaled the tower, I hastily began setting up my telescope next to Potter. His hands moved swiftly over the equipment. Would they move quite as quickly as we fought tomorrow? I felt as though someone had chopped up my brain and strewn the pieces all over the land; that was the extent of my distraction. Never mind, Bella. I said to myself. Astronomy's useless anyway. Just hang in there, finish the exam and get a good rest for tomorrow.

Halfway through the exam, my scattered focus began to wane. I looked up from my star chart just in time to see the front door fly open. Five or perhaps six elongated shadows spilled onto the sea of grass, moving forward rapidly towards the groundskeeper's hut. I could have sworn that the squat, toad-like figure was Umbridge. A distant knock echoed through the near-silent grounds, followed by the muffled barking of a dog. Lights flickered on in the windows of the hut. The door swung open, and all six figures entered. Strange, but probably just some trouble Hagrid had gotten into again because of those peculiar creatures he loved to bring in. Despite my dorm-mates' attempts at persuasion in third year, I adamantly refused to take Care of Magical Creatures. I did fancy graduating with all parts of my anatomy intact, thank you very much.

Lowering my head, I stared at the parchment covered with practically illegible handwriting and tried to continue, but only succeeded in adding a few pointless notes before my mind went blank again. Sighing, I rested my forehead against the cool metal of the telescope, pretending to inspect something more closely while I tried to visualise my Astronomy notes. My mind stayed stubbornly blank.

A sudden BANG! reverberated around the grounds, making me jump so violently that I poked myself with the eyepiece. Clutching my eye, which was watering in pain, I leaned over the parapet and stared with avid interest down at the grounds below.

The door of the hut had burst open. The massive groundskeeper cut a terrifying figure, brandishing sledgehammer fists as his six opponents made futile attempts to Stun him.

"No!" cried the Mudblood Granger.

"My dear!" said Professor Tofty in a scandalised voice. "This is an examination!"

Of course, he was summarily ignored. Everyone's eyes were fixed upon the fight down below. Hagrid was still standing despite the numerous Stunners he had taken. Just as I was wondering how on earth that could be possible, he gave a howl of fury that shook the very foundations of Hogwarts. Seizing one of the wizards, he flung him ten feet away. The man fell to a floor with a sickening crunch. Would I look like that tomorrow when, no, if I were hit by a curse? The thought made my vision go black for a few seconds, which I suppose was the reason why I barely noticed another figure flying across the lawn.

"How dare you!" McGonagall's Scottish accent had returned full force in the heat of the moment. "How dare you!"

"Leave him alone! Alone, I say!" Her voice cut clear and sharp through the darkness. "On what grounds are you attacking him? He has done nothing, nothing to warrant such—"

I screamed and stumbled back. At least five Stunners had shot out of the dark and hit the Professor squarely in the chest. For one second, she seemed to levitate in a cocoon of eerie red light, then she crumpled to the ground.

"Galloping gargoyles!" shouted Professor Tofty, abandoning all attempts at maintaining order. "Not so much as a warning! Outrageous behaviour!"

"COWARDS!" bellowed Hagrid in a voice that made my ears ring. "RUDDY COWARDS! HAVE SOME O' THAT—AN' THAT—"

He swiftly felled two of the men, hoisted his dog onto his enormous back and started off towards the gates in a lumbering run. Umbridge was yelling ineffectually at the last man to do something; she tried to Stun the groundskeeper but missed. Hagrid disappeared into the night within seconds. For the longest time, all of us were frozen in a twisted tableau, hands poised over our telescopes and parchments as we gaped down at the grounds. At last, Professor Tofty feebly broke the silence. "Um…five minutes to go, everybody…"

But I had no intention of even trying. Sweat was trickling down my back, and the air that had once seemed so clear was suddenly very thick. It hung around me like syrup, flowing viscously around my head but refusing to enter my nose. Once Professor Tofty gave the word, I leapt up and began to take my telescope back apart, hands shaking so badly that I dropped the eyepiece, nearly smashing it. It took three tries before I managed to shove the thing back into its holder and stumble back to the stairs.

My mind was a blur as I made my way down the narrow, winding staircase. Professor McGonagall, gone just like that…I knew I should be happy that a powerful member of the other side was out of commission, but still…

The woman had been my teacher for the last five years. Irascible and inflexible she might be, but it would be nothing short of slander to accuse her of being unfair or neglectful of her students' welfare. The way she had just crumbled under the sheer power of the Stunners kept flashing in front of my eyes. If a seasoned fighter who had survived two major Wizarding Wars could go down just like that, how was I to face Potter and his sidekicks tomorrow?

Caught up in my runaway train of disturbing thoughts, my foot narrowly missed the step in front of me and I toppled forward, nearly twisting my foot. Seemingly out of nowhere, someone grabbed hold of my arm, steadying me. "Blimey, Gemma, you look mighty shaken up," Seamus remarked next to me in the half-dark. "Maybe you oughta go lie down when we get back to Gryffindor."

"Yes, maybe I should," I agreed weakly.

"Blimey, though, I can't believe they did that," he said, shaking his head sagely as he steered me into the corridor leading to our common room. "Stunning her in the dark, without a warning! Bloody cowards, the lot of them. Bet they were all Slytherins. Only that lot would attack someone who's got their back turned." I couldn't help but wince a little at his statement. Not all of us are like that! I wanted to shout…but that wasn't exactly true, was it?

"Me mam's going to be mighty worried 'bout me again," he sighed as we entered the portrait hole. "She almost didn't let me come back to school this year, been reading The Daily Prophet too much and now she reckons Dumbledore's gone off his rocker. 'Course I don't think so," he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "but no one in their right mind would wanta argue with me mam when she's already in a right state."

Stepping into the common room was like being hit by a wave of light and noise. People were chattering frantically in every nook and cranny while the Weasley twins were gesticulating madly in the centre of the room.

"Horrible, wasn't it, the way she just fell?" Seamus continued, apparently forgetting that I was tired. "One second she was still up and runnin', the next she was down."

A wave of nausea rolled over me and for a few seconds, I could actually feel the bile rising in the back of my throat. "I've got to go," I said, faking a half-smile. "Tired and all, I s'pose, after what just happened."

Disentangling myself, I fled up to my dormitory hoping for a refuge but found none. The night was fraught with dreams of dark corridors and multicoloured beams that shot out of nowhere and surrounded me while a raucous voice screamed in the background, "Bet they were all Slytherins. Only that lot would attack someone who's got their back turned"