Chapter 50 - "You never had a heart."
Circe kept her head bent low and firmly in her book as the Staff Room was a raucous cacophony of gossip and clamour. She'd settled into a hammock at the back of the room and she was giving off enough signals of her irritability that most everyone had left her alone. She swung back and forth as she read her most recent checked-out text from the library: "A Study of the Magical Creatures that Inhabit the Grounds of Hogwarts, by Elvira Beaumont-Dark". She'd found what she'd been after and had spent quite a considerable amount of time reading and re-reading the pages of information on the emaciated and leathery creature she'd seen attached to the carriages.
A Thestral… Circe mused. Even their name, so full of sibilance and hissing, makes them sound sinister. But by all accounts they seem to be rather intelligent and gentle beasts.
But the real mystery of these strange and sinister-looking creatures, that Circe for the life of her couldn't figure out, was how she was able to see them… Thestrals could only be seen by those who had witnessed death, and that caused quite the puzzle; She certainly hadn't seen them before the start of this year., and when Circe herself was a student she'd not seen them as she'd not been present for the exact moment of her Mum's passing. For a sickening few days Circe had been left wondering if that poor Auror she'd stunned on the beach had died somehow, but a few probing enquiries with Tonks had confirmed that no Aurors had been killed recently. So what was it? Who was it?
The days were getting colder and colder, autumn was creeping in to Hogwarts, and Circe's arm was feeling a bit stiff. Once again she caught herself clenching and unclenching her fingers, stretching them to shake out a bit of the soreness in her muscles as she swung in her hammock. Circe sighed and pulled her sleeve further down over her scarred arm, eager to hide the wound from prying eyes. So far, she'd managed to keep it hidden from the other staff and the students, sticking mostly to long-sleeved tops and developing a neurotic obsession with how much of her wrist was on show at any given time. Still, she was making progress; she'd just about regained enough dexterity back to be able to grab on to the corner of the page of the book in her lap with her thumb and index finger, and turn it over. A small action that she wouldn't have thought twice about before her accident, but now heralded a small victory celebration. Nevertheless, the cold weather made her arm ache in the mornings and it had been a rather chilly day. Perhaps that's why she was in a bad mood, perhaps it was due to the late-night meeting that had been called by that loathsome Umbridge woman.
Sle looked up from her book just in time to catch Severus eyeing her up from across the Staff Room, by the great brass espresso machine. He nodded curtly to her and pointed at his mug with a querying look at her, asking if she wanted a coffee. Circe shook her head. She was still feeling the effects of Severus's potions and she wanted to sleep through the night to regain her energy. If she had coffee now, she'd never fall asleep. Severus glanced away from her and tucked his black hair behind his right ear.
Oh… Someone's feeling amorous. She thought.
Tucking their hair behind their right ear had become their non-verbal signal for "meet in the Room of Requirement later?".
Oh, go on then… she thought as a small smile reluctantly crept across her lips.
Circe closed her book and tucked her own hair behind her right ear, indicating a positive affirmation to Severus's request back to him. She glanced at him just to check he had seen her gesture and saw Severus stirring his coffee with the very faintest of smiles on his face. He looked up at her from his mug and Circe felt her stomach tie into knots as she experienced the burning intensity of his stare. She wondered if there would come a time when she didn't feel breathless and excited by Snape's dark eyes meeting hers, if her and Severus would ever exit their "honeymoon" phase, if there would ever come a day when she didn't live to find his face amongst the crowds of others. If such a day was ever going to happen, there was no sign of it coming anytime soon.
Her mood brightened considerably as she pictured the time to come that her and Severus would have in their "shag-palace", as she'd christened it. But it came crashing back down as Circe spied Dolores Umbridge bobbing amongst the amassed Staff. She placed herself right at the center of the room and coughed demurely. The room quietened and the Professors took their seats, Mcgonagall taking her place in the chair by Circe's hammock. Circe sat up and swung her legs onto the floor, casting Minerva a worried glance as she prepared for whatever Umbridge had to say. Late Staff meetings always equalled trouble. Nothing good ever came from a Staff meeting called in the evening… Minerva too looked perturbed, her face set into that signature wide-eyed, pursed lipped expression of hers that screamed "unimpressed". Minerva rolled her eyes at Dolores and looked back at Circe. Circe snorted a little, watching as Umbridge continued to wait for quiet, dressed head to toe in pink, as always.
"Pink every day… What is she? Ten?" Minerva whispered to her.
Circe snorted again, louder than the last time, drawing Umbridge's expectant face her way.
God, she is an ugly woman. Circe thought with a scowl. She was a small, squat woman and resembled the general shape of a pepper pot. Her slack mouth and almost non-existent neck told Circe why Tonks had instantly called her "toady" and she felt every bit as slimy and repulsive as a toad too… In the short time she'd been at Hogwarts she'd managed to get on everybody's nerves in one way or another: she never shut up about the Minister and managed to sneak him in to every conversation one way or another, she always had something to say about the way other Professors did things with a nasty, bitter dig that she tried to dress up as sweet as saccharine, and so far this month she'd had somebody in a detention every single evening for daring to voice that Harry might be right.
"Thank you Staff…" Umbridge said pointedly. The last of the mutters fell deathly silent. "As you are aware The Minister is very invested in the wellbeing of the students here at Hogwarts…"
"What was that? Eight seconds in and she's mentioned him already?" Minerva whispered again, glancing at her wristwatch. Circe giggled.
"Something to add, Professor Smith?" Umbridge asked, craning her head over the top of the crowd to where Circe sat in her hammock.
"No, Dolores."
"Then could you kindly keep your schoolgirl snickering to yourself for the time being?"
"Excuse me?"
Dolores smiled sweetly again and continued, completely ignoring the expression of outrage on Circe's face.
"Now, I have been relaying my experiences here back to The Minister and he also believes that it would be prudent if I were to be allowed to… make a few observations."
"Observations?" Flitwick asked her.
"Yes!" Umbridge said enthusiastically back to him, as if she were talking to a small child. Flitwick staggered back from her, quite offended. "So, starting from tomorrow, please do not be alarmed if you see me on my little "learning-walks" here and there. I shall be popping in to see every one of you. I shall watch you teach, ask a few questions and feed back my judgements to The Minister."
"To what end?" Rolanda asked, her arms folded glumly over her chest.
"Ah, well that is for me to know and you to find out."
Circe leaned in close to Minerva. "Of course. The issue right at the top of Fudge's list of priorities is giving Hogwarts an 'Ofsted' inspection." She said sarcastically.
Minerva tittered and Dolores's toady face snapped towards them both again.
"Professor Smith, showing a total disregard towards respecting your own colleagues shall not reflect well on your report."
"I was just saying, Professor, that The Minister might have larger issues to concentrate on rather than assessing the standards of teaching here at-"
"The Minister is dedicated wholeheartedly to the education our young witches and wizards receive. What else could be more important than that?" Dolores cut in before Circe could finish. "After the troublesome, worrying rumours that have circulated as a result of events at Hogwarts last year, the Minister wishes to investigate the performance of all teaching staff here. To route out any possible students or teachers peddling these ridiculous lies. So, your performances will be scrutinised. And, oh… I do hope your injury doesn't affect your performance too much, Professor Smith." Dolores finished with a faux-sympathetic tilt of her head.
Circe felt her guts seize up with embarrassment. How had Dolores clocked her arm? How did she know about it? Soon her embarrassment gave way to white-hot anger. But try as she might, she couldn't quite muster the words she needed to retort back at Umbridge. Dolores nodded primly to the staff gathered and left without another word. As soon as she'd gone from the Staff room, the gossip erupted anew again.
"This is outrageous!" Minerva stated, standing to her feet. "What does Albus have to say about this?"
"Albus isn't here, Minerva." Pomona chimed in gravely. "He's not been present for any of our Staff Meeting so far this year."
Circe had noted that the Headmaster had not been present, but she'd assumed that Albus was keeping himself busy with Order business. The other staff didn't know that though.
They must think he's abandoned them.
Circe glanced around the room and caught Minerva giving her a look she only ever normally reserved for her students. The homesick or poorly ones that needed a bit of motherly affection. Circe instinctively pulled at the sleeve of her arm and felt the throws of painful embarrassment grip her again.
"So you've all noticed it then." Circe muttered miserably.
"My dear, it's hard to miss." Mcgonagall replied bluntly. "I live next door to you, Circe. You think I won't notice when you can't hold your toothbrush in your right hand anymore?"
"And do you remember when you knocked your orange juice all over me at breakfast?" Trelawney butt in, leaning in close to Circe and making her presence known with her jangling bracelets and incense-infused frizzy hair.
"So it really is everyone who has noticed…"
"None of us said anything because, well…" Pomona began
"We didn't want to ask." Mcgonagall put gently. "What happened, Circe?"
"I… had a motorbike accident." Circe said, avoiding Minerva's eyes. "In Normandy."
Circe had heard somewhere that if you add an element of truth to a lie it made it sound more convincing…
"Oh Goodness…" Minerva breathed. "And I bet they took you to a muggle hospital after the crash."
"Yep. Stitched me up like a rugby ball before I could say "No, no, leave it for Poppy to mend"."
"Gosh it must have been a bad crash." Pomona said, shaking her head.
"Yeah, it was. Broke my arm quite badly."
"I didn't know you rode a motorbike." Mcgonagall said, eyeing her up suspiciously.
"Well… I was learning." Circe replied, her lie getting deeper. "Wanted to have a quarter-life crisis, you know?"
Trelawney tittered at that, making the beads around her neck rattle with the rhythm of her laughs.
"Think I'll leave the motorbike riding to Hagrid in the future." Circe concluded with a small smile.
"Still, it wasn't fair for Umbridge to bring it up in front of everyone." Minerva stated, rising from her seat and pacing agitatedly about the room. "That woman has a very mean streak."
"And what do you think will happen if we do "perform poorly" during her observation?" asked Rolanda.
"Who knows. With Dumbledore taking a very obvious step back from Hogwarts life, I'm afraid he's left a bit of a power-vacuum in his wake. And, well, when a power-vacuum is made, it creates the opportunity for something even worse to step in and seize control…"
"Yes, but "The Weimar Republic" this is not..." Circe said cynically. "At least then Germany went through a musical and cultural revolution! I think Dolores would gladly see anything not strictly part of magical study gone from Hogwarts."
"Like what?" Asked Flitwick.
"Like your choir, Filius. Like the MMAP. Anything fun. Anything that brings joy. Anything that makes her feel like she's not in control."
Circe was dozing in Severus's arms in the Room Of Requirement, both of them naked beneath the bed's covers and he wrapped tightly around her in a firm embrace. It had taken a while for Circe to coach Severus in the merits of cuddling, but now he was a firm convert he was rather wonderful at it. Circe had been forced to wait quite some time before she was able to slip out of the Staff Room and make it to the "shag-palace" unnoticed, but when she did eventually make it there Severus was quick to resume business...
"Don't fall asleep…" Severus whispered in her ear.
Circe groaned and pulled his arm tighter around her. She had indeed been drifting off but the bed was so comfortable and Severus's body so warm and she was so tired…
"I'm not falling asleep." She lied. "Just five more minutes…"
"You are. And if you fall asleep here again, you won't want to leave and go back to your own quarters."
"You in a rush to head off?" She asked, pressing her hips back into Severus's groin.
He chuckled and pulled her closer to him, feeling his desire for her stirring once again. "If I were Lucifer, then leaving this bed would be my casting out of Heaven." He traces his hands over her shoulder, the faint tickle setting her skin afire in goosebumps. He kissed her bare neck, trailing his kisses all the way down to her back. Circe smiled and reached behind her, running a hand through his long hair as she moaned. She turned to face him, opening her bleary eyelids just in time to see Severus's hungry, jet black eyes shining in the dark before he kissed her on the mouth.
"But if Minerva doesn't see you in your rooms tonight, then she'll start to ask questions. And you've kept enough from her already. She might be getting suspicious."
"I can't believe she didn't say anything to me about my arm…She'd clocked it the whole time."
"She was just probably trying to be sensitive, Circe."
Circe rolled her eyes and sighed. Had Minerva bitten her tongue just to spare Circe's feelings? And was her dexterity really that bad that it was noticeable? These questions woke her up from her dozing.
"Was Minerva ever in The Order?" Circe asked, sitting up in the bed.
"In the first war? No. The Order was seen as a bit of a renegade organisation and as Elphinistone was a government official, she had to keep a squeaky-clean image, you know? She spied a lot for the Ministry though. I mean, they would have been fools not to use her skills as an animagus to keep watch of a few suspected Death Eaters. She's the one who found me when I was… When I decided to defect to The Order. Put Dumbledore and I in contact with one another."
"You never told me that."
"I think Minerva's always been a tad embarrassed of what was allowed to happen between me and The Marauders. There were so many times when she as their Head of House had to leave them unpunished; Sirius and James were always so clever with hiding their evidence or masking their involvement in the "pranks" they'd play on me. If she'd punished them without proof, Mrs Black or The Potters would have been on her back in a heartbeat."
"So that's why she looks out for you now." Circe said, watching Severus's face flicker with bad memories. "To make up for those years…" Circe too slipped into quiet reflection as she thought back on all of the good times and happy memories Circe had made with Minerva. "Even once you've grown up, you never stop being hers to protect. She's probably the closest thing I've had to a mother-figure too…"
Circe rose from the bed and started re-dressing herself as her and Severus both slipped into morose thoughts.
"If I were her, I might be careful about following Dumbledore into The Order this time around too. When the Headmaster does eventually retire, she'll be the natural candidate to replace him." Severus mused as he buttoned up his shirt.
"Minerva won't let that get in the way. She's a lioness. A lioness protects her cubs. Even if it destroys her ambitions."
"I heard what you said earlier about "power-vacuums", Circe. If, for whatever reason, Dumbledore is replaced, who do you think would happen if Minerva was overlooked? Who would step into the vacuum?"
"Someone who didn't deserve it."
"And also possibly someone dangerous. You know as well as I do how many Death Eaters Voldemort has in the Ministry."
Now that was a sobering thought. One that made Circe shiver. Macnair, that slimy git, was firmly nestled into the Department of Magical Creatures. Lucius too as an Official of the Ministry. And Severus had hinted at more. Before, when Circe had heard Snape talk about "the rot running deep", she'd never realised just how chillingly truthful he'd been. Circe shivered as she imagined the next time she'd inevitably be called to a conclave when they all would be present... When she was dressed and presentable enough, she sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Severus as he finished tying his shoelaces. He gave her a curt nod to signal he was ready to leave and Circe moved to peer out of the door. She grabbed the handle and eased it open until she could see the soft lamplight of the corridor outside glowing through the crack. She listened for a moment, but heard nothing. It should have been way too late in the evening to run into any students out of bed, but one could never be too careful.
"I think we're all good. Who's going first?"
"I suppose I better "fall from grace" first." Severus muttered, moving to Circe's side and peering out into the deserted corridor before he left. He paused and looked at Circe one last time, before laying a sweet kiss on her lips. He lingered over this last goodbye, savoring the taste of her on his tongue and her openness beneath him, face turned upwards towards him like a lilypad.
"Until next time, my love." He muttered, stroking her cheek. His eyes swimming with passion.
"Severus…" she asked cautiously. The tone of her voice made Snape tense a little. It was a tone of probing, of someone about to ask something difficult. "What… what made you come back to Dumbledore?" She asked tentatively.
In all their time together Snape had never gone into detail about why he had abandoned the Death Eaters. Severus felt his heart rate double. He'd tried to keep his conversations around this area of his life positive, focusing on his change of heart and his feelings of remorse. Only disclosing to Circe exactly what was necessary about that black and dark time of his life. Partly because he was embarrassed at himself for ever falling into Voldemort's ranks, he didn't want Circe to think less of him. Partly also because of the crippling guilt he still carried with him after what he'd done...
"I… I told you that it was Lily who brought me back. I wanted to keep her safe."
"But why were Lily and her family in danger to begin with?"
"The Prophecy." Snape stated gravely.
Circe had been about to press him for more. She sensed Severus's unease around this topic and that alone alarmed her. But she was interrupted by the voices of students from down the empty corridor. They were drawing closer to them. Circe groaned, knowing that their conversation had been cut short by this intrusion… She looked back to Severus and almost gasped at how miserable and forlorn he looked.
Fuck, it must be bad…
"Go on.. you better go before they see us." She prompted, touching a comforting hand to his arm.
"But… I must tell you. "Honesty all the way"."
"Tell me later." She said hurriedly. She pushed him out of the door and he took a few reluctant steps from her, looking back at her with an unfathomable pain to his eyes. "Severus, there's nothing that you could tell me that would make me love you any less." Circe whispered resolutely to him. "Now go!"
That's not true… Severus thought cynically to himself. But after a tense few moments of lingering as the voices drew nearer, Severus turned and ran down the corridor.
Once he was out of her sights, Circe closed the door to the Room of Requirement shut behind her and waited on tenterhooks for the door to dissolve back into the wall. The voices were almost upon her, and by now she was able to distinguish a pair of boys and a girl amongst them.
Well, I can take a guess at who that's going to be…
Mercifully, the room disappeared just as Harry, Ron and Hermione rounded the corner at the far end of the corridor. She turned to face the group primly, as if she had just been patrolling the halls on nighttime duty and caught them out of their dormitories.
"Oh, Professor!" Hermione gasped, halting in her tracks. Harry and Ron both looked at Circe rather sheepishly.
"Bit late for a stroll isn't it, Gryffindors?" She asked. Hoping she didn't look too flushed, or that none of them twigged just how matter her bronze curls were at the back of her head.
"Harry's just had a detention with-"
"Umbridge." Circe grumbled.
"And we went to meet him after he was let out, Professor." Ron explained.
"I see." Circe was about to let them go on their merry way when she glanced down to see a small spot of red on the floor by Harry's side. Her brow furrowed and her eyes travelled up to Potter's robe sleeve and the arm that hung at his side. A red drop fell from his sleeve and smattered onto the floor again. Circe glanced up at Potter's face and noticed how pale he looked. How firm and angry his set jaw was. How he was shaking with barely-concealed rage.
"Harry…" Circe began slowly. "Show me your hand."
Harry was shaken out of his ruminative anger only when Hermione elbowed him in the arm. He locked eyes with Circe and remained utterly silent. Circe thought that he might refuse her or go running off before she could corner him. But eventually Harry raised his arm and slowly drew back his sleeve. Across his hand were several raw and oozing cuts, bleeding bright red blood over his knuckles. Circe took his hand gently and inspected the wounds and as she looked closer at Potter's injury, she noticed that the faint, criss-crossed lines were not haphazard cuts, but letters. Letters that read "I must not tell lies".
"Harry, who did this to you?" She asked breathlessly.
"Who'dya think, Professor..." Ron grumbled. Looking at Harry and Hermione both.
Circe gasped, utterly speechless. So this is what Umbridge does in her "detentions"... She's sadistic. She's evil.
All of their faces were stone-cold somber. But Harry's had a resignation to it. A reluctant but realistic sorrow.
"And he doesn't want to say anything to Dumbledore." Hermione spluttered out.
"Dumbledore's not here. He's got enough on his plate already." Harry stated forcefully. The young man's resigned tone made Circe's heart ache. Did he truly feel that no one had the time to stand up for him? To make sure he was done right by?
"No… this isn't on. This is wrong." Circe mumbled. "All of you get back to your dormitory now"
Circe went marching off down the corridor, feeling her own blood boiling inside her veins, leaving Harry chiding Hermione for spilling the beans. But Circe internally congratulated the girl for telling her the truth. She thought about going to confront the spiteful, toad-faced old mule. Telling her exactly what she thought of her and the spiteful, nasty things she'd done. She felt like steam was coming out of her ears, she was so indignantly angry. But then Circe paused, stopping dead in the corridor as she thought of what Severus had said to her before about making enemies…
"The rot runs deep". Dolores could be another Voldemort infection deep within the Ministry…
She thought also on what Severus had said about Minerva. What was the right thing to do? Potentially risk being sacked after getting on the wrong side of Dolores because you'd stood up for the kids? Or bide your time? Choose your battles? Keep your head low and be seen to comply so you can protect them in other ways? Everything in Circe at that moment wanted to run straight into Dumbledore's office and demand the woman be removed from the school immediately. Or to scream in Dolores's face and call her a misguided, pigheaded old-mule. A killjoy. A dumpy, pink little demon. It was her instinct to lash out when someone had wronged her. But perhaps Severus was right. The lionesses needed to find other ways to protect their cubs.
She grumbled and kicked at the stone wall in frustration. The portrait hanging in the space above the place she'd kicked exclaimed in alarm, woken from his snooze with a jolt.
"Sorry…" Circe muttered to the old wizard, seated in his high-backed wooden chair.
"I should think so too!" the portrait shot back, adjusting the pince-nez perched on the end of his nose.
I can't do anything… None of us can. God, poor Harry is right. The Minister's got us all under a very big, pink thumb indeed…
She slumped down onto a nearby stone windowsill, holding her head in her hands and trying to come to terms with the fact that she had to do nothing. The night air was cold on her back as she leaned against the glass, but for a while she sat there in the gloom, eyes closed, and tried to block out the pooling sense of disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She was disappointed with herself, disappointed with the Ministry, disappointed with how little she could do compared to how much she had gone through. After a few quiet moments of despairing, Circe heard the steady approach of heels on the flagstones drawing closer her, but she was too resigned and saddened to open her eyes. The prim cough that followed when the clacks came to a stop in front of her confirmed who it was.
"Yes, Dolores?" she asked shortly.
"Do these belong to you?" Umbridge asked.
Circe opened her eyes and saw that Dolores was holding a box in her arms. She sat up in her window seat, recognising the box as Remus's collection of vinyls, feeling as if Umbridge was holding one of her children in her arms… and holding it over a cliff.
"Yes, they're mine." she responded, trying her best to mask her growing anxiety.
"Ah, then you're just the person I was meant to run into! I found them in one of the storage cupboards in my classroom and considering your rather interesting reaction to the disposal of those muggle things…"
"The CD's..." Circe mumbled.
"Yes, those. I thought I'd check in with you just to make sure I wasn't about to throw out something important." Dolores smiled sweetly and extended the box out to Circe. She took the handle from Umbridge as a suspicious look bloomed across her face. She was being too nice.
"Oh… Thank you." Circe uttered, a little lost for words.
"Now, have you seen Mr Filch? I need to ask him about installing a new announcements system here at Hogwarts…"
"Uh, no I haven't."
"Pity. Well, you better be off to bed, Professor Smith. I want you bright and bubbly and giving me your best in your observation tomorrow!"
"Um…."
But before Circe could muster a reply, Umbridge had taken off down the corridor, trotting away like a pig performing dressage as her heels clacked on the stone floors.
Circe felt suspiciously unsettled as she lugged the vinyl box all the way back to her and Minerva's shared rooms. She placed the box down on the mattress of her bed and looked at it for a long moment. It didn't look any different to the last time she'd seen it, on that long ago night of the Yule Ball, when she'd played 'Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters' on Remus's gramophone. But… it felt different.
"Circe, I'm just making tea. Do you want some?" Minerva's voice called from the conservatory.
"Um, sure. Thanks, Min." she called back, a little surprised that Mcgonagall was still up. Her attention drifted back to the box and with her fumbling fingers she began undoing the clasps on the lid. She struggled a little bit with the unclasping of the right one, given her bad arm was still woefully inept at the pinching movement required to release it, but eventually, after much trying, it popped open for her. Circe sighed heavily, and looked down at her misshapen hand. But she did not linger long on her wound, instead bringing her attention back to the box and throwing open the lid. The vinyls inside all looked as they should be and Circe frowned, wondering if she had perhaps been behaving a little paranoically and she picked up one from the front. She slid it up and out of the box, noting the black and white photograph of the man on the album's front and realising that it was 'Honky Chateau', the very album she had put on when her and Severus had danced together. She smiled as the memory came back to her, but her smile quickly faded as she moved the vinyl around in her hands, noticing that rattling sound that came from within... Like shattered glass.
"She didn't…"
Circe upended the vinyl and onto her bed poured out several smashed pieces of the broken record. A lump rose in her throat. Circe delved back into the box and took out another record. She heard the same ominous rattle and poured out the remains of the vinyl again onto her duvet. She chose another, and another, drawing record after record from the box and finding every single one smashed or scratched beyond repair. And Dolores had placed each one neatly back in its sleeve and back into the box…
"The bitch… The utter fucking bitch…"
Mcgonagall stirred from within the conservatory and called out through the doors. "Circe, your machine's buzzing again." she muttered.
Circe could hear the Cantuscope whirring and grinding from its new place in their shared conservatory. She walked into the greenery like a lost ghost, holding two halves of 'A Night at the Opera' in her hands. Mcgonagall looked at Circe over the rim of her glasses, perched delicately on the end of her nose. The old woman frowned as she saw how unsettled and pale Circe looked, glancing down at the snapped record in her hands and sitting up in the wicker armchair with a start.
"My dear, whatever is the matter?" she asked.
"She broke them all, Min. All of Remus's records that he left for me… I was going to look after them for him...until he had a home of his own…" she muttered.
The Cantuscope came to a grinding halt. "The Devil" displayed on the machine's front.
"You suck my blood like a leech
You break the law and you breach
Screw my brain till it hurts…"
"Who, Circe?" Minerva asked, guiding her slowly down into the seat opposite her before she fainted.
"Umbridge." Circe growled through gritted teeth.
"Misguided old mule with your pigheaded rules
With your narrow-minded cronies who are fools
Of the first division."
"Oh no…" Minerva said gravely. She took the vinyl from Circe's hand and gazed down at it morosely. "Remus and Sirius used to waste hours listening to these when they were young… Album after album, lazing about in the Gryffindor common room. Sirius used to get so excited when his cousin Andromeda would send him something new. And then they'd play it on repeat, non stop, until the next one came. All those memories..."
"And she's destroyed them." Circe spat.
"Death on two legs
You're tearing me apart
Death on two legs
You never had a heart of your own
Killjoy, bad guy, big-talking, small fry."
"This is war, Minerva..." Circe breathed. "I might just have let this go if she was just picking on someone her own size. But after what she did to Harry-"
"Harry? What's the matter with Harry?"
"Me and you, Minerva, we'll look after our students. We'll protect the kids from her."
"Circe, what has happened? What did Dolores do to Harry?!" Mcgonagall asked again forcefully.
"She picked on the wrong lioness's cub."