VI. DEATH-CAPS AND DEATH THREATS
It never mattered how comfortable she was or how quickly she had fallen asleep, the first night back at the castle after having been away, Sirona never failed to wake up during some point in the night. Perhaps it was her subconscious, worried about the siblings she'd left behind; granted, three-fourths of them were now at Hogwarts with her, but little Zacharus was the one that needed her the most after all. It wasn't that Cybele Bordeaux was a bad mother, it was just that she could be a bit — careless sometimes; besides, she worked long hours, and though Sirona knew that Gus was probably a competent parent, she couldn't bring herself to believe that anyone other than a Bordeaux was able to adequately raise a Bordeaux child. They were all either too energetic or too curious or too dramatic or, worst of all, all three at the same time. Not to mention, the Bordeauxes had a habit of displaying magical talent far too early to be appreciated by any busy adult.
According to their mother, Saegon's first display of magic had been when he was three years old; he'd locked the nanny, whose wand had been in the den at the time, in the nursery. Cybele had come home to find him colouring the walls and himself with markers. Saegon always claimed that he nearly lost an eye every time Sirona threw a tantrum when she was a toddler because the objects around her always had a proclivity for throwing themselves about the room. Cissonia had only been three years old when she'd made the hinges of the door to Saegon's bedroom disappear because he'd been in a bad mood and refused to play with her; the door would have fallen on the girl if Saegon hadn't reacted fast enough. As for the twins, no one could be certain which one of them it was, but one of them had managed to set their nursery on fire just a month after their second birthday.
As Sirona lay awake in her bed, the thought of Zacharus setting the house on fire or knocking down doors on himself refused to leave her mind. It was for this reason that Sirona chose to roll out of her bed, put on her old house robe — it was getting a bit too small for her — and walk down to the common room equipped with her letter-writing utensils. As she passed by the first year girls' dorm, she had to refrain from peeking in to check on Damona as she would have done if she were at home and walking down to the kitchen for a midnight snack.
Sirona sat down at a writing desk once she reached the common room, flicking her wand to light the oil lamp that sat atop it. She carefully uncorked the inkwell on the desk and laid her parchment on the desk. Dipping her feathered quill into the ink, she began to write, the scratching of her quill against the paper calming her as she did so.
Saegon,
As per usual, I am writing this letter at an ungodly hour because I've woken up and cannot fall back asleep. First things first, Ravenclaw is without a doubt, the best house as evidenced by the fact that it now houses two Bordeauxes; Mona will do well here I think. Mara was sorted into Gryffindor, and while that's not exactly a big shock, I am worried about her. Not because I think she'll have a hard time making friends or anything but because I'm afraid she'll start making too many friends with the same knack for getting into trouble as herself; you know how those lions are. As for Sonia, she seems happy to be back with her friends.
Secondly, you are an absolute rat bastard for not telling me about this Triwizard Tournament! I know you knew about it; you were being far too taciturn whenever I talked about the school year. They cancelled Quidditch because of it. I think Roger might implode. Caroline, on the other hand, is elated; she doesn't have to sit through our Quidditch matches, and she's talking nonsense about entering the tournament — I'm a bit worried about that latter part actually.
Third and most important, as I'm sure you're aware, all of us older Bordeauxes are far, far away from little Zach. There's no one to look out for him. Well, there's mum. And Gus, I guess, but you know what I mean. Please make sure he's well taken care of, and make sure to tell him that his sisters love and miss him. Also, his birthday's coming up, so some pictures would be appreciated if you could manage that.
As always, I'll try and let you know in advance of any upcoming Hogsmeade trips. Sonia's old enough to go this year, so it'd be nice if you could pop in for one this year. Maybe we could all grab something to eat at the Three Broomsticks. And, yes, you do have to be nice to whatever poor boy Sonia will undoubtedly drag along just to annoy you, or I'll write the Ministry myself and tell them that one of their employees is intimidating poor Hogwarts students during his free time. Besides, even if the boy happens to be a git, you telling her that she can't see him will just make her want to stay with him. (Anyway, if he's too unbearable, I can deal with him in much more subtle ways)
I hope you're doing well.
Love always,
Sirona
Sirona cleaned the tip of her quill as she read over the letter. Ever since her second year, she'd been writing Saegon letters, usually at night when she couldn't sleep. It helped to clear her mind to write it all down and send it to her big brother.
"Thought I heard you get up."
Sirona turned her head to see Caroline coming down the staircase from the girls' dormitories; her curly hair seemed wilder than it usually did as it flew out in all directions.
"Writing your nightly letters, I see," she teased as she walked closer to where Sirona sat. "You're so predictable."
"It's not my fault I have a hard time adjusting when a new term starts," Sirona defended as she rolled her parchment up. "Besides, you're just as bad; you always wake up when I do."
"Only because I'm a light sleeper, and you have lead footsteps."
"I most certainly do not."
"You know who else is a light sleeper?" Caroline asked rhetorically, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
"Rodge," they both said simultaneously.
"The honour is all yours, Miss Becker," Sirona said in a dramatic tone.
"Why, thank you, Miss Bordeaux."
Sirona watched as Caroline pulled up the sleeve of her house robe to reveal a simple, silver bracelet on her wrist. Sirona sported a matching one on her own wrist, and so did Roger. The friends had found the bracelets at a second-hand shop last year during a Hogsmeade trip with a label (that had undoubtedly been written by the previous owner) that read: The Most Annoying Friendship Bracelets in the Wizarding World. So, naturally, the friends just had to have them.
Caroline pulled her wand from the pocket of her robe and held the tip of it to her bracelet.
"Time to wake up, Roger," she said, smirking at Sirona, whose own bracelet started to shake with so much force that it would have shook her entire arm if she had not been expecting it to happen. The friends had often used the bracelets as a way to annoy each other in classes. She sniggered as she imagined Roger awaking with a startled expression on his face. It was never a question of the friends not having them on, as they had turned it into a competition: the first person to finally have enough and take their bracelet off had to pay the other two three Galleons each and would forever have to live with the shame of being forever dubbed "The Worst Friend." Sirona, for one, did not have six Galleons just lying about to throw away to her friends, so even if she didn't want to play along anymore, she still would be unable to take the damned thing off. Granted, Sirona wasn't about lose the competition to Roger and Caroline regardless.
It wasn't very long before they could hear footsteps coming from the stairs leading to the boys' dormitories, and when Roger was finally within sight, he stated in a groggy voice,
"I swear, I don't know why I'm friends with either of you."
The two girls both shot him cheeky grins as they stepped away from the writing desk and moved to one of the more comfortable couches. Despite his annoyance at having been woken up for seemingly no reason, Roger plopped down on the couch as well, wiggling his way between the two girls.
"You know you'd never find better friends if you tried," Sirona stated.
"No," Roger agreed in a tired voice, "but at least I'd sleep through the night. Honestly, just because you two can't sleep, is that any reason to wake me up?"
"You can always just take the bracelet off, Rodge," Caroline suggested.
"It's only a testament to our unwavering bond of friendship, but if you want to break that, I suppose we'd come 'round to understanding—someday," Sirona added dramatically.
"Oh, bugger off, you two," he said, causing them to snigger a bit.
"What d'ya reckon Moody's like?" Caroline asked after a moment of silence.
"Looks mad as a hatter," Roger quipped and Sirona nodded her head in agreement.
The three friends talked for a bit about nothing in particular before they all drifted asleep on the tiny couch. Sirona awoke to an annoying voice in her ear, her head on Roger's shoulder.
"Honestly, you three are setting a bad example," the voice was saying, and Sirona forced her eyes open enough to see a seventh year boy and prefect by the name of Gary Bishop. She rolled her eyes under her still half-closed lids. From the other side of the couch, Caroline stretched out her arms.
"C'mon, Bishop, we're in our own common room; it's not like we're all piled in Roger's bed having a three-way," she said crudely.
"Yeah, lay off," Roger said through a yawn, rubbing at his neck. "We're the ones that have to deal with stiff muscles all morning because of this lumpy couch."
"Well, I feel fantastic," Sirona said happily, having adequately pulled herself from the fog of sleep. "If you're quite done with your lecturing, I'm going to get dressed for the day. Come on, Caroline."
Sirona jumped up from the couch, grabbed Caroline's hand and whisked her away up the stairs before Bishop could say anything further.
"'. . . setting a bad example,'" Caroline repeated with a scoff as they entered their dorm, where their other roommates were already awake and getting ready for breakfast. "You'd think he'd found us in our knickers or something."
"He's obviously miffed about having been passed up for the job of Head Boy," Sirona said as she dug through her suitcase. "Lucky for us, he was. We've already got Connelly as Head Girl; could you imagine her and Bishop working together? The twins wouldn't stand a chance."
"Your twins or the Weasleys?"
"Either, I suppose."
The girls quickly readied themselves for the day and headed down to the Great Hall, where Flitwick was waiting with their schedules. Those unfortunate enough to not meet all the requirements for their prospective N.E.W.T. classes had the morning period off to meet with Flitwick to discuss their options. Luckily, the three Ravenclaw friends had scraped by the adequate O.W.L.s in all of the classes they'd hoped to take this term.
Sirona's eyes quickly scanned the Great Hall for her sisters. Damara was already seated at the Gryffindor table, entertaining a small group of other first year Gryffindors with whatever story she was telling them, her arms waving around emphatically as she did so. Cissonia was nowhere to be found at the Hufflepuff table, but that wasn't unusual for her as she was difficult to wake up on the best of days. Damona was seated at the end of the Ravenclaw table, talking quietly to another first year Ravenclaw girl, and Sirona felt herself relax, relieved that the younger twin wasn't eating her breakfast by herself.
"You didn't drop Astronomy?" Roger asked as he peeked over at Sirona's schedule. "I thought we agreed that it was useless."
"You and Caroline agreed that it was useless," Sirona pointed out. "I, however, quite enjoy the stars."
"You've got to be the only N.E.W.T. student taking it," Caroline said. "What an absolute waste of time."
"Says the girl that is literally one of four students taking journalism," Sirona said.
"Well, someone has to write the school paper," Caroline said, piling food onto her plate.
"Yeah, what else are we supposed to make origami swans out of?" Roger teased; it was no secret that the school paper was actually read by very few students.
"You're one to talk, Mr. I-Quite-Like-Divination-Actually," Caroline said, mocking Roger's voice.
"It's not the subject matter that I like; it's just an easy class. Just write down in your essays that your tea leaves told you that the end of times was approaching and Trelawny will make you top pupil," he said, shrugging his shoulders.
The day's schedule wasn't too bad: Potions and Transfiguration before lunch, and after lunch, they had a double Defence Against the Dark Arts class. They were all quite curious to see how the new professor would hold up compared to their previous ones. Sirona was about to make a joke about how this year's Defence professor was probably going to end up being a real wanker, and at the end of the school year, they'd probably find out that he was involved in the illegal trafficking of endangered dragon eggs or something — the position was cursed, honesty — but a bit of folded up parchment paper was dropped onto her head. It slid off onto the table, only missing her plate full of food by a smidge. She looked up to see Lee Jordan smiling down at her.
"They told me to tell you, 'New plan. Only need one ingredient, but to be very careful with it. One phial should do the trick.'"
Lee didn't bother on staying around to hear her reply, and before Sirona could even grasp what he was talking about, he was already gone. She peered across the Great Hall to see the Weasley twins grinning at her from the Gryffindor table.
"New plan? I wasn't privy to their old one," Sirona said in an exasperated voice as she unfolded the parchment. On it were two words scribbled in Fred's terrible handwriting: Death-Cap Extract.
Sirona looked back up with wide eyes to see the twins now making various, overexaggerated begging motions, silently pleading with her from across the enormous room to just get this one potentially super deadly and harmful substance for them.
"How do they even know I've got Potions this morning? I only just found out not ten minutes ago!" she proclaimed, crumpling the parchment up and shoving it into her robes.
"Do I even want to know what it is?" Roger asked through a mouthful of toast and jam.
"Probably best you didn't."
Per Professor Snape's rules (because he was a complete tosser) only students who managed an Outstanding on their O.W.L.s could participate in his N.E.W.T. class. Sirona had always excelled in the class, so while Snape treated most of the students in his class like gum that he was trying desperately to scrape off the bottom of his shoe, he viewed Sirona as more of a sandspur — not entirely wanted, but he wasn't about to go out of his way to pull her off the bottom of his shoe. Though, he might do much worse if he caught her stealing from his personal stores, and this thought did pop into her head while she was working silently on her Wit-Sharpening Potion.
However, it did little to really sway her decision. She had found, over the years, that it was becoming increasingly difficult to refuse the Weasley twins. Perhaps it was because they knew how to push her buttons until she said yes, or maybe it was because favours for the pair were always rewarded by them in some way. Or maybe Roger was right, and she had turned into a complete pushover. Whatever the reason, Sirona found herself flinging her arm a little too carelessly as she went to reach for her scarab beetles, causing the sleeve of her school robe to tip her glass bottle of armadillo bile onto the floor.
The sound of the shattering glass in the otherwise silent classroom was met with curious stares as Sirona made a fuss about pretending to care about the mess she'd made. A disparaging noise came from across the room as Snape regarded the incident; he didn't tolerate the clumsy in his class.
"Miss Bordeaux," he drawled, "if you cannot refrain from making messes like an idiotic first year, perhaps you are not well-suited for a N.E.W.T. level class." Sirona kept her head down, looking at the floor as she gathered the bigger pieces of glass from the broken bottle; she rolled her eyes at his tone.
"Sorry, Professor. It won't happen again," she said, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice.
Once she was finished cleaning up the armadillo bile, she took a deep breath and silently raised her hand. Snape regarded her with an irritable expression.
"What is it, Miss Bordeaux?" he asked in a clipped tone.
"I need more armadillo bile to finish my potion," she said. Snape let out an exasperated sigh.
"Yes, well, perhaps you should have thought about that before you smashed yours all over the floor of my classroom. Ten points will be taken from Ravenclaw." There were a few sighs from her housemates in protest, but Snape continued. "Go fetch a bottle from the back, but I expect it to be replaced, on my desk, by this time next week, or I will deduct further points each day until you have done such. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, Sir," Sirona said, walking a little too quickly to the back of the room. She pushed open the heavy wooden door to reveal a dimly lit room. She didn't close the door behind her, but she pushed it a bit so that it was only slightly ajar. After all, she didn't want Snape to get suspicious.
Sirona had to work fast. She quickly grabbed a bottle of armadillo bile and pocketed it before her eyes scanned the shelves for the death-cap extract. She found it on the left side of the third shelf from the bottom. Out of her other pocket, she pulled out one of the thick cloth napkins she'd snatched from the Great Hall during breakfast. She made quick work of tying the cloth around her face so that it was covering her nose and mouth before pulling a small glass phial from her pocket. She took a deep breath before unstopping the death-cap extract. Using the tincture, she held her breath as she carefully filled the small phial.
In all honesty, death-cap extract, while used in helpful potions (some of them quite dull in purpose actually), was extremely dangerous in its raw form by itself. Sirona should have been wearing gloves and a proper mask to be dealing with it, but as she topped of the phial without spilling any of the red liquid, she couldn't bring herself to care too much about that. It was probably because she wanted to get out of the room as fast as she could, not only to avoid being caught, but so that she could breathe again — fumes from the extract, though odourless, could cause hallucinations and delirium.
She quickly and carefully corked the phial and placed it safely in one of the inside pockets of her robes. She made quick work of putting the extract back where she'd found it and ripped the cloth from her face, placing it in her pocket and grabbing the armadillo bile instead as she walked out of the closet. She inhaled deeply through her nose as she closed the door behind her before walking to her station and continuing work on her potion.
By the time Potions was over, Sirona was itching to get rid of the extract as quickly as possible. She didn't like having such a volatile substance on her person, in one of her pockets no less! The only problem was, she wasn't sure which classes Fred or George were taking this year. According to them, they'd only received three O.W.L.s each. As Sirona made her way to the Transfiguration classroom — walking far more slowly than was usual for her because of her cargo; Roger and Caroline had already gone ahead of her — she started to wonder how she was going to make it through another entire class if neither of the twins had Transfiguration on their schedule.
However, as she rounded her last corner, she caught a glimpse of a familiar head full of red hair standing with the other students as they waited for McGonagall to show up. Sirona relaxed when Fred turned to see her approaching, a grin spreading across his face.
"How'd it go?" he asked hopefully. Sirona gingerly tapped the side of her robes where the little glass phial resided just inside her pocket.
"It went well, but as you know, I don't do things as risky as this for free. You owe me, Fred Weasley."
"Name your price, love."
Sirona smirked.
"Oh, I'm going to need time to think on it before I de—"
Sirona's remark was cut short by an excited exclamation of "Sirona!" and before she knew what was happening, an arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her into a side hug. Her eyes widened in surprise as she was forcibly smashed into Kevin Chambers' side. Outside of having nothing in common with Sirona, Chambers also didn't seem to know that Sirona liked her personal space and only liked to be hugged by those people she was close to. However, more than that, Sirona found herself slightly terrified at the moment, and she wasn't the only one.
"Chambers, let her go," Fred demanded quickly in the calmest voice he could manage, his eyes just as wide as Sirona's. The Ravenclaw boy furrowed his brow in confusion, not quite understanding what the problem was. His grip on Sirona's shoulders loosened, but the movement was not fast enough for Fred's liking, and he grabbed one of Sirona's arms and gently pulled her towards him as he pushed Chambers away, much less gently, with his other hand.
"Oi, what was that for?" Chambers bristled as he stumbled back, but Fred had already turned his back to the boy, focusing on Sirona, who was gently reaching into the inside pocket of her robes with a shaking hand. Her fingers found the top of the phial, and she slowly pulled it from her pocket to reveal that it had not been damaged. The pair breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief, and Sirona grabbed the cloth she'd pocketed earlier and wrapped the phial in it carefully before handing it over to Fred discreetly just as McGonagall arrived to let them into the classroom. Fred placed the wrapped-up phial in his own robe pocket before turning back around to address Chambers once more.
"Sorry, mate, but you really shouldn't just go grabbing people like that," he said, a sly grin spreading on his face. "You never know when the boyfriend might be lurking about."
Chambers' expression went from slightly angry to shocked in an instant.
"Boyfriend?" he asked.
"Come on, love, let's find our seats," Fred said to Sirona, putting his arm around her shoulders and gently leading her into the classroom.
"You shouldn't have lied to the poor boy like that," Sirona said as they sat at an empty table behind where Roger and Caroline were already seated.
"I didn't lie. It's not like I said that you had a boyfriend or that I was said theoretical boyfriend," Fred pointed out.
"No, but you heavily implied it," Sirona said, pulling her Transfiguration textbook from her schoolbag. Fred rolled his eyes.
"The way I see it, I just solved your Kevin Chambers problem for at least a month or so before he figures out that we aren't really together, so I'd say we're even."
Sirona scoffed.
"I could have been poisoned, so no, we are so not even," she said in an incredulous voice. "You owe me a lot more than making Chambers leave me alone for 'a month or so.'"
"Yes, but you weren't poisoned, were you? See how it all works out?" he said happily. Sirona replied by reaching over and thumping him on the nose. Fred quickly grabbed her hand and pushed it to the table; though, he didn't let go, and Sirona noticed that he had a cheeky grin on his face. She followed his gaze to see Kevin Chambers looking at their hands, clasped together on the tabletop. Sirona rolled her eyes and pulled her hand free from Fred's.
"Stop that," she scolded as she flipped her book open to the page McGonagall told them to, only half-heartedly listening to the lecture. She admittedly found it hard to focus on schoolwork in the presence of either of the Weasley twins, especially Fred because his main talent seemed to be that of distraction precisely.
"Oh, c'mon, Rona, it's funny," he said. "Besides, you'd be right lucky to have me on your arm. I'll have you know, I'm quite the catch."
Sirona smiled, raising a brow as she doodled on a blank sheet of paper as she pretended to take notes. "Is that right? How so?" she inquired in an amused voice.
"I'm funny—" he started.
"So you think," Sirona quipped.
"—I'm smart—"
"Says the guy who only got three O.W.L.s."
"—I've been told on numerous occasions that I look like Charlie—"
"Would you shut up about that already?"
"—and last, but certainly not least, I know my way around the bedroom," he finished, wiggling his eyebrows at Sirona in a suggestive manner, causing her to snort from laughter at the absurdity of it.
McGonagall cleared her throat pointedly, scowling at Sirona, who mumbled a quick apology as she brushed her black hair behind her ear. Once McGonagall resumed her lecture, Fred chuckled quietly.
"You could do much worse than me, Sirona Bordeaux," he whispered in a matter-of-fact tone. "Besides, you already know what a great kisser I am."
Sirona rolled her eyes at the memory from their previous year at Hogwarts, which involved a bottle of Firewhiskey the twins had nicked from the Three Broomsticks and a drunken game of Truth or Dare.
"I remember no such thing," she lied, as she always did whenever it was brought up.
"You remember. You know how I know you do?" he asked. Then, he leaned over, close enough that Sirona could feel his breath on her ear. "Your ears turn red whenever I bring it up."
At his words, Sirona blushed harder from embarrassment as she brushed her hair down to cover her ear. Fred leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile plastered on his face.
"You still haven't so much as told me what I risked my life for," Sirona said irritably. "I'm beginning to think I shouldn't do any favours for you."
Fred rolled his eyes, though his smile never faltered.
"George and I have decided that we are going to enter in the Triwizard Tournament, and since our birthday isn't until April, we need to concoct an ageing potion."
Sirona's jaw dropped as she turned to him to see if he were serious or not.
"An ageing potion?" she asked. "I risked expulsion and/or poisoning for something as utterly boring as an ageing potion?"
"No, no, of course not," Fred assured her. "You risked expulsion and/or poisoning for the one thousand Galleons one of us is going to win."
"I'm going to murder you one day," she said; Fred merely chuckled — she threatened to kill him at least once a month, "and they'll never even find your body."
"Can you hold off on the murder until after I win the Triwizard Cup?" he teased.
"Yes, Sir, it's going to be a long and painful death," she muttered, electing to finally ignore him so that she could actually focus on what McGonagall was saying.