Chapter Twenty
Dark and Light
:.:.:
As it turned out, that bird who'd squawked at who I thought was Finn but ended up being George, was Pansy. I should've recognized the sound resembling screeching cats being tossed against a wall. Anyway, she'd gone and tattled on George for being in the Slytherin common room and now he had a week's worth of detentions with that foul toad.
"I'm sorry, George," I said for the umpteenth time the following Monday during our Potions class.
"Dem, you didn't do anything," he insisted softly. "It was my fault — I could've just met you outside your common room."
"You don't know what she does to students during detention," I said solemnly.
"I do," he darkly told me. "Lee landed himself a few detentions with her a while back. I'll be fine, love — it was worth it."
I looked down at the back of my right hand where the words 'I must not tell lies' remained scarred in red, and couldn't help but disagree. I could only imagine what his scar would soon read . . . by the end of the day, I no longer had to wonder, however. I snuck into the Gryffindor common room along with the crowd after dinner and kept Harry's Invisibility Cloak at the ready just in case any Gryffindors decided to rat me out as Pansy had done to George. And speaking of Harry, he had another week's worth of detentions as well.
Hermione filled me in on everything: how she'd arranged for Harry to give Rita Skeeter an interview during the last Hogsmeade trip, and have it published by The Quibbler, which Luna Lovegood's father was the editor of. The article gave the real story of what happened the night Voldemort returned, and when Umbridge found out, she was furious with Harry for "telling more lies" and gave him more detentions, in addition to instituting Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven: Any student found in possession of the magazine The Quibbler will be expelled.
I knew how late it would be before George and Harry finally returned from their detention, and so Fred, Ron, and Hermione all stayed up with me while we waited. I was laying across the scarlet sofa, feet over Fred, and underneath the Invisibility Cloak in case I fell asleep and someone came in. It was well after midnight when the portrait hole opened and the two of them stepped through, George looking absolutely livid.
"What's wrong?" I asked him, immediately sitting upright and pushing the cloak off.
When George noticed me, he tried to calm himself.
"Nothing, just — it hurts," he lamely fibbed; Fred and I weren't having it.
"Come here, both of you," said Hermione, with Murtlap Essence at the ready for them to soak their cuts. I noticed George's was nearly as bad as Harry's even after only one night.
"What'd she make you write?" Fred inquired.
"'I must not sneak into other common rooms,'" said George, quickly dunking his hand under the water and sort of covering it with his other hand. Harry wasn't looking at anyone. Something wasn't right.
"George," I said softly, moving closer to him.
"I'm fine, Dem, honest," he insisted.
But he didn't fight me when I gently reached for his injured hand. There on the back of his hand, fresh and bleeding, sat the words, I must not snog whores.
Everyone else saw too and displayed varying reactions of both shock, anger, and disgust. I, myself, wasn't sure how to react, and George began speaking immediately.
"She said, 'any young lady who invites you up to her bedroom before marriage is not a lady,'" recalled George with disgust. He was becoming angry again. "'She is a whore.' She kept saying it was your fault, Tri, that you bloody well lured me up there. And when she told me what to write, I told her to piss off —"
"That a boy, Georgie," said Fred heartily, face twisted up in repulsion. Even Hermione didn't scold him for encouraging his defiance.
"— she gave me extra lines for that, but told me if I refused, she'd give you a fitting branding of your own," he said darkly.
No one said anything for a moment, until Hermione spoke up, though rather quietly.
"The Scarlet Letter."
We all looked to her, and Ron asked, "What?"
"Er, it's a piece of Muggle literature, but it's rather popular," she explained sheepishly. "It's about a woman found guilty of adultery and is required to wear a scarlet 'A' to shame herself — At least, that's what I think Umbridge was referring to."
"I dunno, but I wasn't letting her anywhere near you with that quill again," said George gravely.
"Still think it was worth it?" I asked him, eyeing the words on his hand.
He paused in thought for a moment before replying with unwavering confidence, "Yeah I do, because it doesn't matter what she does — she won't win."
I saw the fire in his blue eyes, and I nodded. He was right, and it was time to really start fighting back.
"Hermione," I said, catching her off-guard with how determined my tone now was, "I reckon I have something to teach the D.A."
Everyone perked up, interested.
"What is it?" she fervently asked.
"Something incredibly dangerous," I said warningly.
"I think they're ready," Harry insisted.
"It's Dark magic," I admitted.
Harry's confident expression faltered a bit at that, but it was surprisingly Hermione who said, "Let's give it a try."
And so, at the next D.A. meeting, we did. Once everyone had arrived in the Room of Requirement, Harry began speaking.
"Evening, everyone," he said, and nearly everyone returned the greeting before he continued, "Glad you all could make it again. Tonight, Demetria has something she'd like to teach us."
All eyes were curiously on me as Harry stepped aside and I moved forward.
"This is far more advanced than anything we've done so far, and it is certainly the most dangerous," I said gravely, and did not appreciate some of the excited looks I was receiving. "I know it sounds great, but I need you all to take this very seriously. That being said, not everyone must participate. If you do not feel comfortable performing this —"
"Why wouldn't we be comfortable?" Zacharias Smith immediately spoke up.
"Maybe if you let her finish, you'll find out," snapped George impatiently.
"Something from Durmstrang, is it?" Zacharias persisted in a rather judging tone. "Dark magic, I bet."
"Well, at Durmstrang — er — they don't teach you to actually use Dark magic," Hermione defended uneasily. "Demetria simply learned about it and —"
"It's okay, 'Moine," I insisted before addressing the group again. "Yes, it is Dark magic, but I am not going to lie to you about where I learned it. Before I tell you, though, I would just like to reiterate that no one has to do this, and you're all free to leave if you'd like. I also understand if you simply do not want to be taught by me."
I noticed I was receiving some rather confused looks now, and couldn't believe no one knew what I was about to say.
"I was raised with the intention of becoming a Death Eater," I confessed, and though there were some wide eyes, it was a much milder reaction than I'd been expecting and I was thankful for that. "When you're a Pure-blood, that's sort of a difficult fate to escape — but somehow, I managed to do it. Before I did, however, I learned a spell from . . . Antonin Dolohov," — now the reactions were much more shocked and horrified — "I believe it's something he created . . . and as I said, no one has to learn it if they don't want — in fact, I'm really just sort of suggesting it. We can practice something else if no one's interested."
"I'm interested," Hermione said straight away.
"Me too," said Finn.
When other people began voicing their agreement, Hermione called for a vote and nearly everyone's hands were up.
"Your family's killed innocent people, then?" said Zacharias darkly, in the middle of the vote.
"No," I said at once. "The only Harris Death Eaters were my father, who joined to save my life and died shortly after, and my grandfather, who joined for the same reason, but has never killed or tortured anyone."
That caused the remainder of the hands to shoot up, including Zacharias's.
"All right then," I said, actually sort of surprised by the response, "since this spell is so dangerous, not everyone is going to be able to practice it at once — it just isn't safe. Also, we will be using the test dummies, not one another," — as I spoke, three test dummies appeared out of thin air, lined up across the room and spaced out a large amount — "There is to be absolutely no joking around. If it is not your turn to practice, silently observe. Any funny business, and you could be facing very severe internal injuries —"
"Aw, but that's our favorite kind of business," whined Fred quietly; George chuckled a bit.
"I mean it, you two," I said, startling them, as I appeared behind them.
"Dem, you're so sexy when you take charge," George whispered to me seductively.
I rolled my eyes and ignored the shiver it sent down my spine, moving back to the front of the group.
"You will make a slashing movement with your wands, like so" — I showed them — "and say the following incantation: Occidere Ferio!" I indicated for them to repeat it.
"Occidere Ferio!" everyone parroted.
"It literally means 'kill strike,' so careful aiming," I advised. "Let's set up three lines behind each dummy. If you're not waiting, you may move closer, otherwise, keep your distance."
Everyone obeyed, even Harry. It was sort of odd to be the one giving directions to him, but it was also rather . . . I dunno, empowering, I s'pose.
"On my count!" I said to the first group which consisted of Harry, Finn, and Ginny. "One — two — three —"
"Occidere Ferio!" chorused the three of them.
From each of their wands, flew a streak of purple flame, all of which hit the dummies. Harry caused his to explode, while Finn and Ginny's dummies merely retained slashes across their cloth, stuffed bodies.
"Nicely done, all of you!" I congratulated. "The explosion represents what happens when the spell is cast to the fullest of its abilities —"
"The person explodes?" said Parvati, astounded.
"No, it causes internal damage and the person dies," I explained, "but since a dummy wouldn't exactly be able to show that, I Charmed them to explode, that way you can tell if you've done it — Also, it's more fun that way."
I continued to direct the lesson, and was rather impressed at how well everyone was doing. Not everyone made their dummies explode, and some were having trouble just making a slash, but that was to be expected when dealing with such advanced Dark magic. I was just glad that by the end of the lesson, nothing had gone horribly wrong. Every human being's insides remained perfectly intact, though the same could not be said for the dummies.
On the subject of things falling apart . . .
"No!" shrieked Trelawney in the entrance hall one night. "NO! This cannot be happening . . . It cannot . . . I refuse to accept it!"
It was right in the middle of dinner, but every student had gathered around the commotion. Trelawney was standing in the middle of the entrance hall with her wand in one hand and an empty sherry bottle in the other, looking utterly mad. Her hair was sticking up on end, her glasses were lopsided so that one eye was magnified more than the other; her numerable shawls and scarves were trailing haphazardly from her shoulders, giving the impression that she was falling apart at the seams. Two large trunks lay on the floor beside her, one of them upside down due to the fact that Umbridge had thrown it down the stairs.
"You didn't realize this was coming?" said Umbridge herself, sounding callously amused. "Incapable though you are of predicting even tomorrow's weather, you must surely have realized that your pitiful performance during my inspections, and lack of any improvement, would make it inevitable you would be sacked?"
"You c-can't!" howled Trelawney, tears streaming down her face, "you c-can't sack me! I've b-been here sixteen years! H-Hogwarts is m-my h-home!"
"It was your home," said Umbridge, enjoyment stretching across her toadlike face, "until an hour ago, when the Minister of Magic countersigned the order for your dismissal. Now kindly remove yourself from this hall. You are embarrassing us."
And though I'd never exactly been a fan of Trelawney, I despised Umbridge even more for doing this to her. McGonagall, who'd also voiced her indifference toward Trelawney, appeared then and was, naturally, on the side against Umbridge.
"There, there, Sybill . . . Calm down . . . Blow your nose on this . . . It's not as bad as you think, now . . . You are not going to have to leave Hogwarts . . ."
"Oh really, Professor McGonagall?" said Umbridge in a deadly voice. "And your authority for that statement is . . . ?"
"That would be mine," said a deep voice.
Students moved aside and out of the way of Dumbledore, who stepped through looking like a hero. He strode forward through the circle of onlookers toward the place where Trelawney sat, tearstained and trembling, upon her trunk, McGonagall alongside her.
"Yours, Professor Dumbledore?" said Umbridge with a singularly unpleasant little laugh. "I'm afraid you do not understand the position. I have here" — she pulled a parchment scroll from within her robes — "an Order of Dismissal signed by myself and the Minister of Magic. Under the terms of Educational Decree Number Twenty-three, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has the power to inspect, place upon probation, and sack any teacher she — that is to say, I — feel is not performing up to the standard required by the Ministry of Magic. I have decided that Professor Trelawney is not up to scratch. I have dismissed her."
But Dumbledore continued to smile, looking down at Trelawney, who was still sobbing and choking on her trunk, and said, "You are quite right, of course, Professor Umbridge. As High Inquisitor you have every right to dismiss my teachers. You do not, however, have the authority to send them away from the castle. I am afraid," he went on, with a courteous little bow, "that the power to do that still resides with the headmaster, and it is my wish that Professor Trelawney continue to live at Hogwarts."
At this, Trelawney gave a wild little laugh in which a hiccup was barely hidden.
"No — no, I'll g-go, Dumbledore! I sh-shall l-leave Hogwarts and s-seek my fortune elsewhere —"
"No," said Dumbledore sharply. "It is my wish that you remain, Sybill."
He turned to McGonagall.
"Might I ask you to escort Sybill back upstairs, Professor McGonagall?"
"Of course," she said. "Up you get, Sybill . . ."
Professor Sprout came hurrying forward out of the crowd and grabbed Trelawney's other arm. Together they guided her past Umbridge and up the marble stairs. Professor Flitwick went scurrying after them, his wand held out before him; he squeaked, "Locomotor trunks!" and Trelawney's luggage rose into the air and proceeded up the staircase after her, Professor Flitwick bringing up the rear.
Umbridge was standing shock-still, staring at Dumbledore, who continued to smile benignly.
"And what," she said in a whisper that nevertheless carried all around the entrance hall, "are you going to do with her once I appoint a new Divination teacher who needs her lodgings?"
"Oh, that won't be a problem," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "You see, I have already found us a new Divination teacher, and she will prefer her own lodgings."
"Her own — She's going to travel in every day?" said Umbridge shrilly. "And what do you mean you've found — You've found? Might I remind you, Dumbledore, that under Educational Decree Twenty-two —"
"— the Ministry has the right to appoint a suitable candidate if — and only if — the headmaster is unable to find one," said Dumbledore. "And I am happy to say that on this occasion I have succeeded. May I introduce you?"
He turned to the spot he'd appeared from, and I noticed students rushing to make way once again. Standing in the middle of the circle beside Dumbledore now, was a tall, elderly woman, clad in dark floral-patterned robes and a burnt orange scarf wrapping up her long, unruly silver hair. Sound familiar?
"Dem, isn't that — ?"
"Yep," I said blankly, cutting Fred off.
"This is Kleio Alexakis," said Dumbledore happily to Umbridge, who was still rather shocked. "I think you'll find her suitable."
–
"How could Dumbledore possibly think Kleio would be a suitable teacher?" I said in disbelief. It was breakfast time a few days after the sacking of Trelawney, and I was still beside myself.
"She teaches you," Finn reminded me with a chuckle.
"Exactly my point," I said fervently. "She's not very good! Well — No, I mean she knows a lot but — she's so rough! She's not very patient or understanding . . . She's not someone you want as your teacher!"
"Well you don't even have to take Divination with her," he said, still amused by my outburst.
But to be honest, I sort of wanted to. I wondered if she would've changed her methods, if it was just me she was hard on when teaching. And sure, I could've simply asked Finn after he had class with her, but I decided to see for myself. So during Potions that day, I used a Nosebleed Nougat to help fake my typical Lumen-related emergency, and Snape immediately dismissed me to the hospital wing. I didn't eat the purple half to heal myself right away. Instead I held a handkerchief to my nose and headed for the Divination classroom.
It was odd how well Kleio seemed to fit in with Trelawney's set-up — Odd, and rather disturbing . . . Plus, they did sort of dress alike . . . I wasn't sure which of them would be considered the lesser of two evils, however, being that there were obviously things about each of them which I couldn't stand.
"So you're not even a Seer?" asked Lavender in a lofty tone. I'd forgotten that she and Parvati loved Trelawney, and were clearly not pleased with the switch. I was also rather excited to see how Kleio would handle those two miserable birds.
"One does not have to be a Seer in order to teach Divination, tzild," said Kleio impatiently, before catching sight of me popping through the trap door. "Ah, Demetria, I was told you do not take this class."
"I don't — just needed to get away," I said, gesturing to the bloody handkerchief.
"Fysiká to kánate," she said, clearly not believing it, but moving on nevertheless. (Of course you did) "Have a seat," she gestured for me to sit in the chair behind her desk, which I did, as she stood in front of it. "As I was saying, Professor Dumbledore has told me you have learned the names of the planets and their moons in Astronomy, and that you have mapped the stars' progress through the heavens. Lumens — since we are so in-tune with the Greek mythology — often rely on the night sky for answers about the future . . ."
Kleio then waved her wand and transformed the ceiling above into one that resembled the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, except instead of showing the sky outside, it was a dark canvas with thousands of tiny, glittering stars.
"Professor Trelawney did Astrology with us!" said Parvati, trying her best to sound unimpressed even though Kleio just pulled a night sky out of thin air.
"Did she?" said Kleio listlessly. "Go on then — impress me."
"Er — well, Mars causes accidents and burns and things like that," Parvati began nervously, "and when it makes an angle to Saturn, er, like now" — she drew a right angle in the air above her — "that means that people need to be extra careful when handling hot things —"
Kleio gave a full laugh at this, and I had to refrain from doing the same. It was rather entertaining to watch her act this way toward someone other than me.
"That is dzust human nonsense," she dismissed.
"But aren't you — ?" Parvati began cautiously.
"Perhaps," said Kleio, and the confused expressions she received for that only amused me even more. "There is mutz debate over this. I prefer to think Lumens are our own category — Demetria?"
Truthfully, I'd never really given it much thought, but I said, "I agree" because it made sense to me now that I was thinking about it — maybe even just a sub-category of humans.
"Now then —"
But Kleio was interrupted by Dean Thomas.
"Are you two related?"
"No," she said promptly. "Now, the art of studying the stars in order to predict the future was already very advanced before we came along — it started with the ancient Egyptians and Mesopotamians. We, the Greeks, added logical thinking and geometry, and then we — the Lumens — added our own observasons. For example Mars, bringer of battle, sines brightly above us. This tells us that a fight will break out soon — Fitting, as Wizard-kind is currently in the calm between two wars."
I was actually sort of disappointed I wasn't taking Divination now, until Kleio gave everyone something to practice and grew impatient with the students again. That was when I finally ate the purple half of the Nosebleed Nougat, healed up my nose, and took my exit. It was just moments before the bell sounded, though, so I didn't have to return to Potions. Kleio called out to me just as everyone was packing up to leave.
"Demetria, we will be meeting in here for our lesson tonight," she said, clearing away the enchanted night sky with another wave of her wand. "Six o'clock, do not keep me waiting."
"I never do, Professor," I said in jest.
"Ugh, please," she groaned, "to you, I am Kleio. I cannot be bothered with this Professor malakíes." (bullshit)
I was glad she felt that way, because just hearing other students refer to her as Professor Alexakis was strange enough.
The remainder of my lessons passed by in a bit of a dull blur and soon, I found myself back in the dim, crimson-lit attic that was the Divination classroom.
"I trust there has been no drinking," she said dubiously.
"I thought you could tell?" I challenged.
Much to my surprise, Kleio actually gave a hint of a grin. She then said, "We will be taking a break from mind reading tonight — focus on the first stage of controlling Light."
"All right," I said determinedly.
"You do not wear the gloves?" she inquired, noticing my bare hands.
"I keep them with me in case," I explained, "but I don't really need them anymore."
"There have been no . . . incidents?" she carefully pressed.
"No, it's been great," I said brightly. Kleio, on the other hand, looked as though it wasn't so great.
"Hmm. . ." She appeared deep in thought now, mumbling something to herself in Greek which I couldn't quite hear well enough to translate. Finally, she spoke to me.
"The incantation is Fos," she said slowly, still in thought.
"Fos," I repeated, knowing that it meant light.
"When you begin, it is something you think about before —" But she seemed to change her mind, instead telling me, "Let us just see what happens."
I didn't really know what to do, but it was clear Kleio wasn't going to give me any instructions. She distanced herself from me, standing on the opposite side of the room, and braced herself. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on my Light while thinking Fos, as I wasn't sure what else to try. Instantly, though, I felt it surging throughout my hands, and pushed my palms outward. The usual blast of white Light issued from them and knocked Kleio right off her feet.
"Sorry!" I said quickly, but Kleio ignored my apology and rushed over to me as soon as she was back on her feet.
"What did you do?" she urgently asked.
"I thought you wanted me to —"
"I did," she insisted, tone still crucial, "but what exactly did you do?"
"I just — er — thought about my Light and, y'know, thought Fos . . ." I said uneasily. "Did I do something wrong?"
But Kleio ignored my question and asked one of her own: "Have you been practicing this?"
"No," I said simply.
"My tzild," she began in amazement, "you have more control over your Light then I have ever seen in a Néo Aíma . . ." (New Blood)
"Well, that's good, isn't it?" I asked.
"Certainly," she said, still rather impressed (an expression I never thought I would receive from her), "espesally for me — this is always the hardest part to teatz."