Emerald Ink
My sixth year at Hogwarts started out, I suppose, like the previous four. My first year, of course, started out quite differently, what with me having to figure out how to get onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and shiver and shake my way through the Sorting and all. 1 September was a welcome reprieve after a typical hellish summer of being either ridiculed or ignored (or both) by Petunia and being continually asked by my parents why we can't get along or at least form some kind of armistice.
I was happily reunited with my unconditional best friend and true makeshift sister, Marlene McKinnon, at Kings Cross Station on 1 September, as usual. I was missing her terribly after nine long weeks with only minimal contact – my owl, Briallen (the name is Welsh for 'primrose', but I think just 'rose' would be accurate, because she's a terrible thorn in my side), is quite small and can't travel very far, and Marlene doesn't have one – and she had lots of stories to tell me about her trip to Italy ("Those Sicilian wizards, Lily, they were absolutely mad, do you know what they did? If you committed a crime of a certain class, you had to live without feet for six months!"). I in turn shared with her tales of outwitting the neighborhood girls, who seemed to get increasingly ditzy every time I saw them.
We found ourselves a compartment on the Hogwarts Express and were joined almost instantly by some of our fellow Gryffindors, Alice Gladstone and Dorcas Meadowes, and the prime topic of conversation for at least half the journey back to school was our O.W.L. scores – scores for exams we had taken the previous term, but had gotten results for over holiday. The only subjects I had done particularly poorly in were Divination, History of Magic, and Herbology, the three classes I didn't really have the patience or interest to excel in.
It was the only arrival at Hogwarts I could remember that wasn't tainted by rain or storm; for once, the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall showed a perfectly cloudless September night. The Sorting was entertaining, the school song head-splitting, and the food delicious, as was normal for the first night of term. I surprised myself by admitting to Remus Lupin that I was actually excited about starting my N.E.W.T.-level classes – for once, I would be surrounded by students who were as enthusiastic about our classes as I was, and I thought it would be a welcome change. I was right.
Those first four or five weeks of term were, as I remember, quite glorious – sort of like water-skiing on a day when the lake is perfectly calm and there's not another boat to be found. But in the first week of October, a troublesome wind began to pick up.
I had gotten the Daily Prophet delivered to me since I was in fourth year, and all it had proved to be thus far was a waste of Sickles, as most of what the newspaper contained was mindless political drabble. Now, for once, there was an article worth reading.
MINISTRY UNCOVERS REASON BEHIND MUGGLE KILLINGS
In the past few months, the Ministry of Magic has been befuddled by the series of seemingly random Muggle killings plaguing the area. Now, after a six-Muggle slaughtering in Gemmington, Yorkshire, the Minister of Magic and his advisors appear to have found a possible reason behind all this.
Since last March, there have been three recorded Muggle killings in Great Britain – Ms Catliane Fine, 34, of Carmarthen, Wales; Mr Jonathon Gabry, 52, of Beverley, England; and Sgt Benten Tantavius, 28, of Bodmin, England. While before yesterday the Ministry only kept these cases on file (the deaths were presumed to be simple non-magical accidents), it is now becoming clear that these deaths are important – and more than unsophisticated mishaps.
In each of the aforementioned three reports, as kept by the Muggle policemen (anti-crime officials dedicated to the safety of their community), the bodies were said to have been found in perfect condition – no sign of a struggle, nothing wrong with them at all. The last known case like this took place in Little Hangleton nearly twenty years ago; a very well-off Muggle family called the Riddles were all found dead in their dining room, in apparent perfect health – except for the fact that they were dead.
"What's the only thing that could cause Muggles to drop dead like that? The Killing Curse, of course! Just we don't know who done it, but once we do, they're sure to be locked up in Azkaban!" Tamara Fetlar, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister revealed.
Other Ministry insiders seem to be thinking along similar lines.
"It's the only logical explanation," Lepius Gardner (chairman, Magical Law Enforcement Patrol) said. "What else kills you and leaves no sign of… well… anything?"
The killings yesterday in Gemmington seemed to as good as confirm the Ministry's worst fears: that a Dark wizard is on the rise and will stop at nothing to dominate. The only recent development in these cases came yesterday – a green skull with a snake protruding from its mouth was hanging above the house where the four adults and two children were killed. Whether this really is the work of Dark wizards at large or just a few anti-Muggle pranks gone terribly awry remains to be seen, but at the moment, all we can do is watch and wait.
Ellsbeth Gabelle, staff reporter
"Oh, they are thick," said Marlene, her mouth full of croissant, reading over my shoulder. "Three Muggle killings since March, all of them found in perfect condition except for the fact that they're dead and a skull hanging over the house yesterday? Yeah, that's definitely just an anti-Muggle prank gone awry, I'm sure!"
I snorted – this was Marlene at her emblematic best, being completely mordant and dryly stating the obvious. I loved her for that, and I was pretty sure she loved herself for it, too. That was one of the reasons I had been compelled to be her friend in the first place back when we were eleven… she was in love with life and herself and she was never afraid to be anything but that. She screamed personality and she was proud of it, which was much more than any of the Muggle girls back home in Oakham could ever hope to achieve. I mean, she actually has a sticker on her bedpost up in our dormitories that says, 'I don't do conformity', which makes me laugh whenever I see it because it's just got so much truth to it. Marlene was always entirely honest, and it was perhaps because of this that I valued her opinion over everyone else's.
"Well, I don't think it's a prank… but they are being rather overdramatic about it, don't you think?" I asked her, nibbling on a piece of toast. "A Dark wizard on the rise? We haven't had any serious problems with Dark magic since-"
"Grindelwald in 1945, yeah, I know…." Suddenly and uncharacteristically, she seemed much more serious. "I do think it seems rather overdramatic, but… I suppose it's possible…." She had torn her gaze away from the article and was now staring at me with an expression of concern and – was that pity etched on her features? I looked away.
"Come on," I said quietly. "We're going to be late for Arithmancy."
It was fast turning into the worst day of the school year so far. Arithmancy was horrible – no matter how hard I tried, it was just one of those days when I simply couldn't concentrate on the text. In Charms, to my initial relief, we had a practical review lesson, but I couldn't seem to make my teacup waltz so gracefully across my desk, as I had done perfectly the day before, which made me ask loudly in agitation, "What's the bloody point of making a teacup waltz, anyway?" I was strangely disoriented, and my gaze kept drifting out of a window and onto the grounds, and I was somewhere else in my mind, dancing to a song no one else could hear….
"Miss Evans! Miss Evans, are you listening to me?" Professor McGonagall was standing over my desk in Transfiguration, staring down at me formidably, her lips drawn so tight in disapproval that they looked penciled on.
A second after I had snapped out of my daydream, a large number of bright red rubber balls was lobbed in my direction, and I heard snickering from the back of the room.
"Mr Black, that was not necessary," McGonagall said, directing her glare at a new victim.
"My apologies, Professor," Sirius Black said, innocently flicking his wand at the scarlet offenders, which were immediately gone with a small pop. "I just thought you might need some help waking up Evans here, but I guess I made the balls too close to the color of her hair."
Now it was my turn to glare at him, but Sirius only returned my death stare with a coy smile. Always the nonchalant prankster, I thought dryly.
"As I was saying," McGonagall went on irritably, "the mock-N.E.W.T.s take place upon your return from winter holiday so as not to interfere with your normal end-of-the-year testing" – groans – "but I am sure you will find yourselves well prepared for them, so they should be no problem, isn't that right, Mr Pettigrew?"
"Huh?" Peter Pettigrew's blond head snapped up from what looked like yesterday's Potions homework. "Oh - oh yeah, definitely, Professor."
"Good. Now, the N.E.W.T.s differ from the O.W.L.s in a few key ways-"
"We don't have to study for them?" James Potter joked.
"Honestly! Are you all determined to drive me mad today? If you want to fail your mock-N.E.W.T.s, that's perfectly fine by me, but I should certainly hope that's not the case! I've never seen a group of Gryffindors with so little ambition!"
"I'm sorry, Professor McGonagall," James said, trying his best to sound sincere. "I'm sure I speak for everyone in the class when I say that we really do want to hear about the mock-N.E.W.T.s, and we really do want to get good marks." He nodded, as if that would make his little speech all the more convincing, but I'm pretty sure we all – including Professor McGonagall – knew that if he had wanted to, James could have gotten top marks on the mocks without studying at all. That was one thing (among many) that made him absolutely incorrigible in my eyes – he was one of the top students in all of his classes, and I suspected he did only minimal studying. Come to it, that still bothers me. I'm always up to my eyes in books and notes - I have to work to earn my place in the class.
"Thank you, Mr Potter. Where was I? Ah, yes, the N.E.W.T.s differ from the O.W.L.s in a few key ways. These examinations are not to determine future class placement, but to attest that you are suitable for whatever career path you choose to travel. Thus, one of the areas the N.E.W.T.s and mock-N.E.W.T.s will test you on are your social skills. The ability to collaborate with our fellow witches and wizards – or even Muggles – is essential in almost any job. Your other Professors and I, as well as Headmaster Dumbledore, have discussed this, and as there has been… well… less that favorable behavior exhibited by you students to your peers, we think it very important that you learn to get along with each other, so from now on in each class, you will have a randomized seating chart for the rest of the year." More groans and protests.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and continued, "I implore you as Gryffindors to try to set the best example you can for the other Houses in this task. Now we will make up our seating chart by drawing names out of this jar. We'll start at the front of the room… Miss Gladstone, you may pick your assignment first."
It went on like that for quite a while, until we were all in completely different places in the room. I wound up in a cluster of desks with Remus Lupin, who, albeit friends with James and Sirius and Peter Pettigrew, was quite studious and actually tolerable; Eugena Solca, a quiet Romanian girl who I didn't know very well that tended to hang out more with the Ravenclaws; and, to my good fortune, Marlene.
The rest of the lesson went fairly well – I surprised myself by successfully transfiguring my own fingernails into claws, a personal first that made up for my abysmal performances in my other classes. Just as it looked like, despite the announcement of extra exams, the day was going to take a turn for the positive, I got to Defense Against the Dark Arts.